A/N: I did not touch the scene referenced at the end of last chapter because it was by far the best scene in S3 of Downton. Feel free to youtube it and remind yourself of the passion and commitment shown by Allen and Jess. Dear god!

In your reviews, a lot of you mentioned Bridget being brought back and I figured I'd share my secret with you: Aside from resolving Bridget as this nice character with human qualities, there's also a tradition that many pregnant Irish women follow that involves them wearing a medallion of St. Brigid. She is said to protect women during their pregnancy. How fitting for the girl that helps Sybil safely to Liverpool be a girl named Bridget? It's something my family does and I liked the symbolism of it so I included it.

If I'm allowed to say it, I'm extremely proud of this chapter. Not for the writing necessarily, but because it really shows everything I believe to be true about Tom and Sybil and emphasizes how truly beautiful their love is.

Timeline: Re-writes of scenes (missing and implied) from 3x04.

Song: Blindsided - Bon Iver

Sybil had made a promise she perhaps should have told Tom about. She had no idea that such a promise would hold little weight after her husband, the same man she loved and adored, cast her in such a bad light. She was ashamed and hurt, but she loved him all the same. Maybe, as was typical of Sybil, she found herself loving him more, if only because he needed it.

She sat watching Tom unpack the things she had brought from Dublin. Sybil knew what this meant. She loved that he was sorry but hated that he needed a reason to be.

"You know," she began, breaking the silence. "I didn't think it was a bad idea until everyone else did and now that I do I hate myself for it…"

Tom sighed, looking over to where his wife sat on her childhood bed. She laid back, propped against pillows he had set up for her. Her feet were crossed over one another, covered in thick wool socks she loved to wear during her pregnancy. She rubbed at her tummy, feeling their child grow just inches away from where her fingers danced.

"But it was. I was stupid and dumb and so so foolish to leave you. I don't deserve you…"

Sybil sat forward. Her feet came crashing down to the ground as she stepped toward him. "Don't say that!"

"Syb?" They had barely said much, needing only the pressure of their lips pressed against one another's skin to reassure each other that it would all be sorted. Now, too much was being said. Things that neither of them were ready to discuss were being brought to light and emphasized by the silence previously welcomed in this house.

"Please! It's not true. Your mother had said the same thing when I stopped to say goodbye after I got your note. She just kept whispering it as if I couldn't understand her. Katherine agreed and I knew that I was giving in to the same thing that kept me apart from you all those years. We have to stop listening to them. Your parents and my parents," she said, throwing her body weight to signal both groups. "Just because there's a consensus doesn't mean it's right. I need to trust myself."

Tom stepped in to her. His arm was laced around her back, resting on her hip. He used his other hand to push her bobbed hair out of her face. "Do you though? I'd understand if. God, it's-"

Not wanting to hear his words anymore, she captured him, pressing a searing kiss to his lips. "No," she whispered, pulling away. She smiled as she continued. "I'm sure. I've always been sure. You're a good man, Tom."

Tom looked down, still not feeling worthy of the gaze she cast upon him. "How's the baby?"

Sybil beamed. "S'good. Missed you. Hated the boat ride."

His brows furrowed, searching her face for evidence of hurt and worry he had perhaps overlooked when deciding to kiss her instead of speak at the main door downstairs. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Hungry, but fine. I want tea and fruit," she said, referring to her favorite late night snack.

"Together?"

Sybil looked down to her protruding stomach. She rubbed at her belly through her dress. "What my baby wants, my baby gets." She paused and then: "Do you think Mrs. Hughes will mind me stopping down to get something?"

Tom smiled, loving how scattered her mind was lately. "Of course not."

"And you're coming?" she quickly asked.

He dropped her hands, returning his attention to their almost empty suitcases. "Sybil-"

Not wanting to give up or allow him to do the same, she walked to him to grab his face. Her thumbs caressed his earlobes while the rest of her fingers performed slow dances at the back of his neck. "Tom, this may not be my house anymore but part of it always will be. Do you understand that? I'm serious. We need to ignore them." A moment passed. She grabbed her stomach before pressing a palm to her forehead. "I'm growing awfully tired."

Tom reached out to support her as he lead her to sit on the bench beside her vanity. "Do you want to lie down?" he suggested, hoping she would take him up on the offer.

"I'm afraid it's not that kind of tired, love."

They both managed a chuckle, perhaps their last for quite some time as Cora, Mary and Edith invited themselves into the room. With them, they carried the telegram Robert had sent from London discussing Tom's situation. As Sybil listened, her mind went black thinking of the possibilities such news could lead to. Not wanting to go there but feeling she must, she wondered if this was all a plan for her parents to keep her at Downton. Maybe they thought Tom would feel the strong pull of going back to Ireland and once again leave without her.

Sybil knew better, and as she listened, she did nothing but hold Tom's hand in her own. He stroked her skin with his thumb, running his anxious fingers up and down the area around her wedding ring. When he grew tired and rather apologetic, she'd take over, paying the same attention to his hands, if only to let him know that like him, she wasn't going anywhere.

Throughout it all, they said little and did even less. When the rest of the family excused themselves, Sybil stood to begin readying herself for what she hoped was a short dinner. She no longer dreamed of tea and fruit but instead just wanted a meal without talk of politics or the mistakes her family had undoubtedly believed her to make in marrying such a passionate man. Never mind him being Irish and a former employee.

She didn't regret it though and no matter how much their words stung she thought back to the promise she had made to herself and as she said it aloud later in the week, to him as well. This love was not conditional or fleeting. It did not come and go as it pleased or hide away when things got tough. It was stationary and steady and always evident. It hurt her sometimes more than it healed her, but that's what he was there for, to remind her that someday it would all be perfect.

It was not something she could run away from and as the night dawned, she found she didn't want to. Though the words she heard about the things Tom had witnessed hurt her, she couldn't find it in herself to hate him the way she was told she should. He had stood by but he did not initiate such hateful actions. She knew him to be better, but she also knew that he was a man, and like many, he would make mistakes. After all, she had made many, and she felt him only love her more because of them. The parts of her that she was sure were meant for hate and despise were only converted to compartments where she wished to shower him with love.

Such time would have been made had she not been so stubborn, sitting on the edge of their bed leaning against the bedpost as she waited for him to break the silence. The time never came. "Meetings?" she began. "I thought it was only one meeting," she spat, referring to the meeting he had told her about. Their conversation came a month earlier, when gently he broke the news to her that he would be attending Republican meetings at a pub on the other side of town so that he could write a piece for the paper.

The money he was receiving from work lately was steady and it brought comfort to the two of them in a way that maybe Sybil was afraid to acknowledge. She did not consider herself a lady and maybe she never would, but parts of her did expect a certain standard of living and she wouldn't lie and tell him and the rest of the world that the way she was treated with nice meals and flowers due to his regular wages were more than comfort to an English girl in Dublin.

Sybil felt just as guilty as he did. Had she pushed him here? Was it her words and affirmation of his hard work that led them here, back to Downton and so far away from their home?

"I didn't lie! I told you I was going to do stuff for work and I was. But after the article was posted I kept going. I was interested. They had good things to say-"

She was standing now, walking toward him with force and fury. He wanted to step back and he thought that maybe he would have if such a vision of her wasn't so beautiful and sure. This wasn't a fight, he knew that much. This was everything she had been meaning to say, the words she wished and cherished on a boat ride he left her to take by herself.

"They want to kill the English, Tom!" She was in front of him now, her long blue nightgown sweeping at her feet as she brought it in herself to still her body. "I AM ENGLISH, TOM!" She gestured, placing a steady hand on her heart.

She wasn't crying, but he was sure she had wanted to. She had never yelled at him like this, or ever. They never raised their voices to one another, not even in the various fights they had over the things she picked up at the grocery store, how the stress of his job wasn't healthy, or what they'd pay for first each month; hot water or gas.

Though tears refused to fall, Tom wanted to hold her, and kiss her cheeks and promise her it would be okay. They may have been here now but he knew that someday it would all be different. They would find a place far from here, wherever they were, to breathe and settle down.

It was his hand that separated them now. "Sybil, please, you can't think I want anyone dead. That's not why I went…"

"But you lied!" She exclaimed, collapsing on the edge of the bed. Now she was crying and it broke Tom's heart to know he was the cause.

He sat next to her. "Sybil, please calm down, alright? You're pregnant and-" As he had done many times before, usually when the baby was giving her nausea or when she had stated she had missed her family, he rubbed at her back. To his surprise and maybe her own, she did not flinch.

"Do not tell me what to do, Tom! I know I'm pregnant and I know I'm emotional but excuse me for being upset when the person I call my best friend, my world has been lying to me!" Her words were abrasive, but her body warm as she leaned further into him. Sybil's usually hoarse voice was growing more strained as her face's current red shade intensified. There was a certain pain here, clearly not to be outdone by the palm of his hand running up and down the expanse of her back. She allowed it though, needing it all the same.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never-"

She cut him off. Sybil didn't need to hear the rest of his words to know he was sorry. She didn't need to hear any words to realize such a thing. All of that was so clear, written across his face in worry lines and wide eyes. "Well you did! You get so passionate and I love that about you but dear god if I don't want to slap you across the face right now!" she screamed, gritting her teeth.

She was sure that the rest of the house could hear them, but she didn't care, not really. Her life, how simple and perfect they were in Dublin had made it clear that none of this, the decisions they made or the love they felt, was to be understood by anyone but the two of them.

Let them hear, she thought. Let them think and feel what they want.

Tom softened, as if ready to accept his fate. "Do it. I deserve it. I deserve all of it," he finished with a long look downward.

Sybil turned away from him. She rubbed at her eyes as her cheeks began to return to their usual pink color. "No. I don't fancy violence either," she muttered over her shoulder. From this vantage point she could see how much distance she had put between them. Or perhaps he had put it there; it really didn't matter now.

Such a thing was highlighted as he stood, walking to the armoire to retrieve a blanket and pillow. "I'll go into the sitting room."

Sybil bit her lip. She turned to him, her eyes meeting his for perhaps the first time that night. "No you won't."

"Sybil, I-"

She was on her feet now, standing up at the head of the bed. Now, it was impossible for her to keep her eyes trained on him. Not when he was looking at her like this. She rearranged the pillows before pulling back the comforter.

"I'm done talking about this. I'm tired and I've been without you for one too many nights this week. You're going to change and then sleep in bed with me." It was an order, and then, "please", she whispered, reminding him that he needed this just like she did.

"Right," he muttered. "Yeah…of course."

He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He needed the cold water before seeing her again. When he returned, the light on her side of the bed was already off. He mimicked the actions she must have performed while he was gone, hitting the lamp on his side, sending them both into darkness.

He didn't know what she wanted. Settling in the middle, he turned to her, resting his arm above her head before slowly placing a kiss to the back of her neck.

Tom turned over. He was staring at the ceiling, doing his best not to train his eyes on the small of her back, rising and falling as she breathed in and out. Her body was curled into a ball, much like he assumed their child was, nestled perfectly inside of her. Such love had made their baby and such love would bring it into this world. If only such love was here now.

"Tom?" She asked, breaking the silence in the room. But he didn't have a chance to answer her, for her body was already pressed into his. Her hands were wrapped weakly around his neck, but he felt her use him for strength. Her body was still small, curled into him now creating a mess of limbs between the two of them in the center of her childhood bed. "I got that nursing position in Malahide."

Sybil's body was wracked with sobs. They said nothing, but he stroked her hair and let her cry. When she finally fell asleep, Tom remained, staring at the ceiling thinking over the things he wished he was given time to say. The moment was gone now, and nothing but the darkness of her room (their room, he wondered as he thought about how long they'd be here) was there to comfort him. He deserved this though, and he wanted to believe that he deserved her as well even if such a thing seemed dismal a few short hours ago.

~!~

Tom awoke, rolling over in bed to find the spot next to his empty. A housemaid must have come in because the tall windows on the far wall were opened, creating sun spots on the carpet and the canopy of the bed he was previously seeking slumber in. He thought about what the housemaid could have possibly seen, but he left the thought, realizing that the cold space on the bed next to where he lay was evidence enough that Sybil had been up long before the sun. Even without all of this stress, she never slept the way she always wanted to. Although she'd never admit it, she would nap while he was at work. Her body was just as tired as her mind was, and he wondered where she was, somewhere, anywhere in this large house.

Tom got out of bed and hopped quickly in the shower. He was thankful for the rather luxurious renovations that had been performed on Downton since their last visit, for the new shower was warmer and fit his broad frame better. His movements underneath the steamy water were hurried. Tom hated that she had let him sleep in; he could only imagine what her family already thought of him and he hated to be late for breakfast as well. As if such a thing would change their mind, Tom laughed off.

He was getting dressed now, thanking whoever had laid out his newly clean clothing that such a choice left him with no other options. As he unfolded them, the same pants and shirt he wore yesterday in exchange for the ones he had left by the door, he realized it was Sybil who had folded the material and set them aside. He could picture her, talking to a housemaid and instructing her on how to starch the fabric and then insisting that they be returned to her so she could fold his clothing. Then, he heard her. He stopped, allowing the noise of her familiar voice to pull him out of his reverie.

"Tom!" It was louder now and quite possibly even full of worry. He stopped, then began to run, out the door and down the stairs to where the voice was sounding. "Tom!" she said upon seeing him, holding her clasped hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Come!" she ordered, reaching out to grab his hand.

His shirt was not fully buttoned and he had not yet put on socks or a belt, but she didn't seem to mind and neither did he, not as he felt it, his hand on her stomach receiving pressure from the other side. "Syb," he began. His mouth dropped open as he felt it again, the kick of the child, their child, moving beneath his wife's delicate skin. "Oh, god," he let out, not sure if he wanted to join her in laughing or cry.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

He could only nod, feeling as their child stilled to a little heartbeat beneath his fingers, like a fish flopping over to dive before swimming away. He stood, and that was when he really felt it; the eyes of all of the house on them. A housemaid or two were near the main door, rearranging a floral bouquet. Mary and Matthew had come out to see what the commotion was, and Robert and Cora were standing behind them, also taking in a view. At the top of the stairs, Edith stood, staring down at the entire thing. All of them wanted to walk away, to leave the couple to it, but for some reason unknown to the lot, they were unable to.

Tom and Sybil were oblivious, sharing a kiss that left them both breathless. It left them wanting more, evident in the way they smiled at eachother before Sybil hid her beaming face in the crook of Tom's neck. It was then that the rest of the family disbursed. Robert, in particular, thought back to the night before, how he had heard the dull roar of voices in distress a couple rooms over from his. He knew the voices to be Sybil and Tom, and when he was able to get over the fact that they were still married and sharing a room in his house, he thought of how his daughter must have loved this boy for her to ever allow him to stay. Now, such a thing was clear, written all across the young lovers faces as they ascended the steps, Sybil clutching her stomach as she continued to rest her head on Tom's shoulder. He pulled her in close, pressing a kiss to her temple, then the top of her head, then her cheek.

Thanks for reading! Now please go review and let's talk about our feelings! (haha)

Also, please go check out Beautiful Collisions if you have yet to do so. And the answer is, no, I will not stop shamelessly promoting that fic.

Ever.

You're welcome.

:]

x. Elle