Some trigger warnings for this chapter: forced kissing and violation of personal space

Chapter Three

"…I had always wondered…" William murmured after a moment.

Tom looked at the man…or angel, as he was now, with confused eyes. "Wondered?"

William nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "About you and Lady Sybil."

Tom's face flushed hotly and just as he had done all those years ago on the night he first held her in his arms, he found himself bashfully looking down, like a boy who had just asked a girl he fancied to go for a walk with him after school. "Are you surprised?" he found himself asking, doubting it very much. Looking back, in some ways it was amazing people hadn't put two and two together.

William simply continued to smile. "I suppose you were the right man to go to when I was 'overwrought' with feelings of 'unrequited love'."

Unrequited love; that did amuse him.

"I confess, I miss the Servant's Balls at Downton," William wistfully sighed, before chuckling at a memory. "It was Lady Sybil's doing that they didn't have one the following year, isn't that right?"

Tom nodded his head. "She didn't think it was right to hold them while members of staff had gone to war. That we should 'wait' until they returned."

William smiled at that. "She's a very considerate person, Lady Sybil," to which Tom did easily nod his head I agreement to. However, he stiffened slightly when William murmured, "It's interesting that you begin your story there, at the Servant's Ball...which…can only lead me to conclude that the reason you're here, is somehow connected to Lady Sybil?"

Despite what William had told him, about only knowing so much, it was obvious to Tom that his angelic friend knew a bit more than he was letting on. Was he trying to get Tom to reveal something? Was this meant to be some version of "confession"? But I have no shame; I take great pride in the love of that young woman and I shall strive to be worthy of it!

Was he worthy? The thought…or fear…came to him once again, something he had been struggling with ever since he left Britain's shores to fight in its war.

"So what happened next?"

Tom turned back to William and despite the fact that the man was now an angel, he couldn't help but frown at his friend. "Nothing happened, as you know. You were still working at Downton then, and despite your suspicions, Sybil and I never—"

"Forgive me, Tom," William cut in, looking apologetic. "I didn't mean to sound as if I were 'accusing you', not at all." A bit of the fight deflated within him then, and now Tom was the one who looked apologetic for thinking William was angling for something. "And you're right; I didn't leave for the War until the following year, in the early spring of 1915."

Tom remembered. William was finally granted permission to go and so go he went, despite Mrs. Patmore's protests and Daisy's misgivings. Tom thought the younger man a fool, but also knew it wasn't his decision to make, so he did not interfere.

"But what happened after I left? Between you and Lady Sybil?"

Tom shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Nothing…really," he mumbled. Which was true, nothing really did happen; they continued to be friends as before, and despite the line that had been crossed at the previous year's Servant's Ball, they "kept to their places", his dreams being the only place where dances or kisses were exchanged.

"Mr. Branson, I'm honestly not trying to accuse or accusing you of anything bad or inappropriate. But I am trying to understand how the story of an innocent kiss under the mistletoe at Downton's last Servant's Ball brought you to the War?"

Tom closed his eyes and sighed. 1915 had been a year where both he and Sybil, while being polite and friendly to each other, had also kept their distance from one another…especially after something that had nearly happened. But, as William had asked, it couldn't be denied that this particular moment that Tom was thinking about, did push things forward for the both of them…

Late June, 1915
Downton Abbey

It was no use. Reading the newspaper, tinkering with an engine, nothing could distract him from the thoughts that were flying through his head. Thoughts about her and…and that git.

The git had a name: Larry Grey. The Hon. Larry Grey, son of Lord Merton, a close family friend of the Crawleys, apparently. The Hon. Mr. Grey and his family were dining at Downton that evening, "celebrating", as it were, Mr. Grey's "last night" before leaving for London the following the morning, and thus leaving for France. Perhaps under any other circumstance, Tom would have felt a touch of sympathy for the man; calling this Mr. Grey's "last night" could be taken quite literally, certainly in this War. Yet such sympathetic feelings quickly vanished as soon as Mr. Grey sneered at him, thrusting his suitcase into Tom's arms the second he had gotten off the train, before muttering, "don't just stand there gaping, we're late enough as it is," before turning to another man in his party (a brother, Tom assumed) and chuckling, "mustn't keep Sybil waiting."

In the time he had worked at Downton, Tom had never met or seen a suitor of Sybil's. It was impossible to imagine that she didn't have admirers. While the two of them didn't really talk about her London season from the previous summer, Tom had heard enough from both Old Lady Grantham and the Countess that Sybil had been a "success". He had no idea what that meant exactly, but honestly, how could she not be? Though he had the sinking suspicion it meant she had turned quite a few heads (she was destined to do that anyway, in whatever she did). Still, Tom had been spared having to see her interact with any of these suitors…until now.

No, this is worse, he thought to himself. He wasn't seeing her interact with the git, he was imagining it, and it made him sick to his stomach.

He knew it was impossible; it was absolutely mad to even try to think the two of them could have a future together. Even though he had told her he wouldn't always be a chauffeur, he still was just the chauffeur, and she was a Lady, the daughter of his employer. That, and…well, while he did like to think she thought of him as a good, close friend…he doubted he meant anything more to her.

But even so, she deserved so much better than…than that git!

Surely Sybil doesn't return Mr. Grey's affections? Granted, while his time in Mr. Grey's presence had been extremely brief (thank God), he highly doubted the man had better qualities than what he had already witnessed. And she's not so shallow to be won over by just a handsome face.

The sound of hurried footsteps could be heard on the gravel just beyond the garage. Tom's head perked up, and even though he thought it impossible, he moved quickly to the door because he recognized those footsteps, knew them by heart…

"Milady?"

Sybil gasped, stopping just before she crashed into him. Tom's eyes widened as he took in her appearance—her hair had come undone and was falling down her neck, and there were tears running down her cheeks.

Something coiled in the pit of his stomach, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and the muscles in his back tense and his knuckles crack as he unconsciously balled his hands into his fists. "What happened?" he asked her, doing his best to keep his voice calm, but at the same time, feeling the sudden violent urge to scour the house and grounds, looking for Mr. Grey who he knew, without any doubt, was the cause for her distress.

Sybil shook her head at his question, and glancing over her shoulder, turned back to him and slipped past him, into the garage. Tom looked beyond the garage, scanning the area around them, making sure she wasn't being followed, before shutting the door and turning back to her. "Milady," he cautiously moved towards her, not wanting to startle her further. She was sniffling and trying to wipe at her eyes, turning her head so he couldn't see her tears. It broke his heart, seeing her so upset. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to her and grateful she accepted it. "Would you like to sit down?" he offered, motioning towards the bench she usually sat upon when she came to visit him in the garage. He wished more than ever it was a chair like those in Lord Grantham's library, or that he could offer her a cup of tea or…or that he could hold her until her tears stopped…and never let her go.

But he pushed his own selfish thoughts aside and concentrated on her, waiting to hear her decision. Instead, after dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose with his handkerchief, she gave a little sigh that was followed by a somewhat self-mocking laugh. "I'm being silly—"

"You're upset," he interrupted. "There's nothing silly about being upset."

She looked down. "You'll think me silly when you hear my reason."

"No I won't," he was quick to argue, though his voice and eyes were tender. I could never think that of you.

Sybil sighed and shook her head. "You say that—"

"I'll be the judge of what I find 'silly' or not. Besides, you would have to tell me anyway, and while I hope you will because I do want to help, at the same time, I won't press you to tell me…however…" he held her gaze and looked at her with very serious eyes. "I…I don't mean to presume, but…if this has anything to do with Mr. Grey…"

He wasn't wrong, because as soon as he mentioned the git's name, Sybil stiffened, and then rolled her eyes and groaned. Clearly there was no love lost between her and Mr. Grey; he could set aside his fears in that regard.

"Milady, if he has upset you, you need to say something to his Lordship—"

A snort escaped her nostrils then, and Sybil started shaking her head. "Papa would say that I was being silly," she muttered. "And I know how favorably he and Mama find Larry."

"They won't think favorably of him if they knew he had upset you," Tom urged. "If not his Lordship, then perhaps Lord Merton?" Unlike his son, Tom did think Lord Merton a decent man during their brief introduction at the station.

But again, Sybil just shook her head. "Sadly, I think they would all dismiss my tears as just having…'over-romantic sensibilities'."

Tom's brow furrowed. What on earth did she mean by that?

Sybil nibbled her lip and looked up at him, before sighing and moving at last to her bench. "Larry, as you know, is leaving tomorrow; he'll be going to France."

He nodded his head, but didn't say anything. The bench was small and only had enough room for one person to sit, but that didn't matter, he simply knelt down next to her on the floor.

"I…I know this sounds terribly arrogant of me, but…well, Larry has always been a bit keen on me," she looked embarrassed at the confession, "and while I do remember getting along with him when we were children, I never cared for him beyond 'friendship' and I'm even reluctant to use that particular word," she admitted. "We did dance…several times, during my Season, but…other than that, I never encouraged him to pursue me or give him cause to think—"

"It doesn't matter," Tom broke in, unable to help himself. "You are not the one at fault here." He took a deep breath and prepared himself as he asked his next question, being careful with how he approached it. "…Did Mr. Grey…do something?"

Sybil turned her face away and Tom noticed how red it had become. Please don't feel ashamed or embarrassed…not with me. I'll not judge you; I'll stand by your side, always.

She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to the ceiling…before finally lowering them and murmuring so softly he had to lean in to hear, "…he kissed me."

Larry Grey had kissed her.

And…based on the way which Sybil said it, Tom could only guess it was not welcomed or reciprocated.

"Did…did he do anything else?"

Sybil shook her head and for that, Tom was relieved, but still, he could see that she had been quite shaken from the uninvited kiss and for that alone, he yearned to sink his fist into the other man's face.

"It's a silly thing to be upset over—"

"No, it's not," Tom all but growled, before quickly apologizing as the harshness of his tone did cause Sybil to jump a bit. "It's not," he repeated, his voice a bit calmer. "If you didn't want him to kiss you, then he shouldn't, plain and simple."

Sybil looked down at her hands which were folded on her lap. "He asked me during dinner to…to take a stroll with him through the gardens, since it's such a 'fair evening', and Mama insisted that I go, reminding me again that this is 'Larry's last night', so…I don't know why, but I agreed, foolishly thinking that he wouldn't dare try anything, but…not long after we had begun our stroll, I felt his hand snake around my waist to draw me close to his side, and I turned to shrug his hand away, and…and that was when he suddenly seized me by the shoulders and I opened my mouth to protest and…and that was when I felt his mouth…" she stopped there, thoroughly disgusted and looking as if she might be sick upon recalling the memory. Tom felt his own stomach twist and turn as well, but he also felt intense rage at the thought of this so-called "gentleman" violating her, and knew that tomorrow, he would have to fake an illness and let Pratt be the one to drive Mr. Grey to the station, otherwise Lord Merton's son would be in danger from more than just Tom's fists.

"I'm sorry that happened," he spoke at last. "What he did was wrong, milady, but let me repeat that; what he did was wrong. He broke your trust and overstepped the boundaries, you are blameless here, completely."

She did smile a little at his words, and Tom did feel his heart lift just a little at the sight.

"I did leave him writhing on the ground," she whispered, her smile spreading. "I shot my knee up and hit him hard, right where it counts."

Despite the seriousness of the matter, Tom couldn't help but laugh then, and his chest swelled with pride for her. That's my girl. "Well done, milady," he congratulated.

She grinned and nodded her head in thanks, but then her expression changed once more, and again she looked sad. "That was my first kiss…" she whispered, more to herself, but he did hear. "It wasn't exactly how I imagined it would be…"

Tom began shaking his head. "It wasn't your first kiss."

"But it was," Sybil told him, blushing and looking embarrassed at this revelation. "I…I don't mean on the hand or the cheek, but…I've never been kissed on the lips before, and…" she looked down then and Tom could see a stray tear roll down her cheek. "I know it's silly, but…when I imagined my first kiss, I always wanted it would be with the man I love…"

She lifted her eyes then and met his gaze, and time seemed to freeze then. Tom couldn't help it, his eyes dropped to her lips for a moment, and Sybil parted them as if to say something further, but instead, her own eyes just seemed to do as his did…fall and gaze at his lips.

Was it his imagination? Were their heads…swaying?

"…That's not silly," he whispered after a moment, forcing his eyes back to hers. His fingers yearned to reach out and stroke her cheek, to wipe away her tear, but somehow, with some kind of divine strength, he resisted. "You alone should decide how and with whom your first kiss…or any kiss for that matter, should be…but I repeat again, that wasn't your first kiss."

Sybil's brow furrowed. "But Branson—"

"Didn't you hear what I just said, milady?" he asked her, his tone light and teasing. "You alone should decide how and with whom you kiss…and from what you tell me, Mr. Grey…he made that choice, not you. He kissed you, but against your will and you didn't kiss him back, did you?"

She looked horrified at the thought. "Lord no!" she gasped, which did earn a small laugh from the both of them.

Tom smiled and nodded his head. "So you see? It wasn't your first kiss."

He watched as her smile slowly began to grow, and he could see some relief fill her eyes at this explanation. He leaned back, glad that he had been able to provide her some comfort in her moment of distress, but still concerned about what was going to happen next. Someone had to say something; Larry Grey couldn't—shouldn't—get away so easily.

"How old were you, when you had your first kiss?"

Tom's eyes widened at her sudden question. "I…" he suddenly felt tongue-tied and his face was burning. "I um…" he swallowed.

Sybil blushed and pressed her lips together to hold back her giggle. "Sorry, I know it's terribly forward of me, I…well, I was just curious. I'm sure it sounds rather strange…nineteen and never having been kissed."

I would kiss you if you wish; I would gladly kiss you if you asked me…

"I…I don't think that's strange," he replied, a slight squeak to his voice. "And…and I was fifteen," he answered, blushing more so at her smile than at the memory of that first clumsy kiss.

She grinned as if she were imagining his fifteen-year-old self in that moment. "Fifteen? My, aren't you the charmer," she giggled. "I have a feeling you were quite popular with the girls back in Ireland."

He could only imagine how red he looked. He bashfully looked down. "I wouldn't say that, milady, but whether you're fifteen, nineteen, or…or a hundred…when the moment is right and you desire it…that will be when it happens."

She smiled at that and reached out, surprising him by taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. "Thank you, Branson."

He looked back at her…and naturally squeezed her fingers in fingers in response. "You're very welcome, milady." Her hand felt so right in his…

They both rose to their feet then, and Tom reluctantly released her hand and stuffed both of his inside his pockets. "I better go back," Sybil sighed, glancing at a window and observing the night sky. "I'm sure Larry has recovered from his ordeal and Mama and Papa will be wondering what's kept me."

Tom's face grew serious then. "You should say something," he urged. "Tell her Ladyship at least; what Mr. Grey did was wrong and he needs to be dealt with."

Sybil looked down, her hands still folded in front of her. "I don't know if it will do any good…but I know you're right. And while I don't wish Larry any permanent sort of harm, at the same time I know I wouldn't mind never having to see his face at Downton again."

Tom did smile at that and felt relief fill him at her words. He trusted her to do what was right.

There was a brief and somewhat awkward pause that passed between them then, as if neither were sure how exactly to say goodbye, but finally Sybil moved to the door, pausing just briefly at it to look back at him. "Well…goodnight then."

He nodded his head. "Goodnight, milady," he murmured, smiling softly as she pulled the door open and began to step outside. But before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out, "He's a lucky man."

Sybil paused and looked over her shoulder, a curious expression on her face. "Who?"

"The man with whom you'll share your first kiss," he answered. "The man that you'll give your heart to love."