Just making it under the wire for this one, but it's worth it, I think. Hope you think so too ;o)

Chapter Five

"…So did you tell her then? That you loved her?"

Tom wasn't even surprised any longer by William's questions. In fact, what surprised him was his old friend's fixation on the possible progress in his pursuit of Sybil, than on the fact that he had more or less just admitted that the tears he had shed on the day of William's own passing were for his cousin. Like a priest at confession, Tom had confessed to William that while he was indeed very sad at William's death, he was upset because he felt that he was being "denied" the chance to mourn for his cousin. Didn't that bother him? Or hurt his feelings? Here was Tom, standing there in this foggy trench, feeling horribly guilty for the story he had just shared, and yet William couldn't stop grinning and looking eager to hear the next part, to learn what had taken place between himself and Sybil Crawley.

"No…not right away, I…aren't you upset?"

William frowned, looking confused. "Upset? Why?"

"Because of what I just told you…about…about my cousin, and—"

"Mr. Branson," William interrupted. "I'm here as your guide, not as your judge, and even so…what would be the point? Are you expecting me to be jealous because you grieved for someone else?"

Tom shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "…Yes?"

William threw his head back and laughed, before shaking it in response. "I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Branson, but I can assure you, I'm not upset, I'm not 'jealous', and I know…in your own way, you did grieve for me."

He had, and he did, that was true. And he was grateful that William was so understanding about it all, in fact this had been something he had been feeling guilty over for quite some time, so it was good to speak about, especially…with, of all people, William himself.

"But there's a reason you told me that story," William went on, never losing focus. "There's a connection to it and Lady Sybil; I'd like to learn more about that, will you tell me?"

Tom stuffed his hands into his pockets and sighed. "Well, as I told you, Sybil spent a great deal of her time volunteering at the hospital in whatever way she could, most of the time assisting Mrs. Crawley, but after you came back, she dedicated herself to being your nurse."

William smiled fondly at that. "I do remember, yes. She was always very kind, I thought, but when I came back, she was so attentive, so concerned, and like you said, so dedicated to her task," he paused and chuckled softly to himself. "She was the angel."

"Aye," Tom whispered, easily imagining that.

"Tom…"

"Did you say something?"

William looked back at him and shook his head. Tom's brow furrowed as he looked around them, trying to see if there was anything…or anyone else with them in this fog.

"Please continue," William encouraged, drawing Tom back to the present.

Tom glanced around one more time, before clearing his throat and carrying on. "Um…well, Sybil, she…she wanted to so much more than what was 'expected' of her…"

At that, William chuckled. "That sounds like Lady Sybil."

Indeed it does. "She said she wanted 'real work', to have a 'real job' that would make a difference, so Mrs. Crawley suggested she actually go to York and enroll at a nurse's training college there, take some courses and become a volunteer auxiliary nurse."

William's smile broadened. "Lady Sybil would have been perfect at that."

"Aye, she was—she is," Tom added, his own face growing tender at the thought. He remembered her coming to tell him about the course, how excited she was that she was, revealing that she had always wanted to go to school and now, at last, here was her chance. She couldn't wait to start, though she also admitted she was nervous, being so far away from home and completely on her own for the first time. But despite that initial fear, she was determined. And even though the news surprised him and caused his heart to break a little at the thought of her being away, he couldn't deny that he too felt proud for her, and knew without any doubt, she would excel.

"So when was this? That she went to nursing school?"

Tom looked down at the ground then, more so because the memories brought both a blush to his face, and tears to his eyes. "That summer," he murmured. "The summer after…" his voice trailed off, and he glanced sadly up at William, but William just continued to smile, showing no signs that he missed his mortal life.

"I see. And…" William turned expectantly to Tom. "What did you do?"

Tom's brow furrowed. "What did I do?" he repeated.

At that, William folded his arms across his chest. "Did you tell her at last, Mr. Branson? Did you finally reveal to her your heart?"

Tom's eyes looked off into the distance, the memory of that day playing out before him like a moving picture…

June, 1916
York

He hadn't gotten a great deal of sleep the previous night. For that reason he probably shouldn't have been the one to drive her to York, yet he honestly didn't feel tired; if anything, he felt anxious, and perhaps a little confused, and both emotions were due to the fact that he was still unsure what to do or say. Today was it; after today, he wouldn't see her again until the end of the summer, and who knows what would happen by then. What if she met some handsome doctor? Or a soldier she was nursing during her training? What if something happened to him? Conscription was taking place now, and while he had yet to receive his summons, it could happen at any day. And that was another thing he was anxious about, trying to make up his mind on what would be the best option if that ever should fall on his lap? And about Ireland? He still longed to be a part of his country's fight for freedom, yet he also knew he couldn't leave, not at least without telling her how he felt. If she didn't feel the same way, if she dismissed him, well…he would leave heartbroken, but at least he would leave knowing that he tried.

No, he had to do it today, this was his last chance, and while he hated himself for doing this to her, putting this sort of…pressure on her, just as she was about to embark on this new venture, he knew he couldn't keep quiet until the summer's end. It had to be now; it had to be today…

At least they were someplace away from her family and anyone either of them knew. If she rejected him, at least the embarrassment would be minimal in terms of anyone seeing them.

"Gracious…" Sybil breathed, and Tom looked up at the stone arches with which they passed under, and beyond to a courtyard where several rehabilitating soldiers (some of whom were missing limbs) were going about doing their morning exercises with an instructor. Indeed, it was a great deal to take in…and he was feeling his courage wane with every step.

"This is it!" Sybil gasped, stopping in front of a particular archway and glancing down at a slip of paper she held. "Monroe Hall," she read, and sure enough, the name was there above the arch.

Tom let out a shaky breath as he put down her suitcases, his palms sweating beneath his gloves, and nervously tugging at the ends of his livery jacket. Sybil turned back and smiled up at him, oblivious to the storm that was raging inside him. "It will be hard to let you go…my last link of home," she murmured with a smile and delightful blush to her cheek. Words of friendship with which she spoke, because at the end of day, if all else failed, at least they were that…friends.

He swallowed, removed his hat and tried to push past the lump that seemed lodged in this throat. "Not as hard for you as it is for me…"

She laughed then, probably thinking he was making a joke…but her smile began to fade as she no doubt noticed the seriousness of his expression. Oh God…this is it…this is happening…

"Branson…?"

His mouth fell open, but no sound came out. It was as if his voice were lost. No, no, don't be a mindless fool now!

"Branson, are you—?"

"I…I know I shouldn't say such things…" he stammered, stumbling over himself and inwardly cursing at the mess he was making. "And…and I've told myself and told myself you're too far above me…but…but things are changing…and when the war is over, the world will be different, and I'll make something of myself, I promise—"

"I know you will!" Sybil interrupted, her eyes holding his gaze firmly, a mixture of concern, confusion, faith, and…something else, in their depths.

"Then bet on me!" he blurted out, wincing as soon as the words escaped him. You've gone this far, you might as well finish, you daft idiot.

She blinked…and her eyes narrowed a little. "Bet on you?" she repeated, her voice soft.

"Aye," he answered, his entire body shaking, but he pushed onward. "Sybil, I…"

Her breath caught, as it was the first time he had ever spoken her name so freely, though for so long it was how he thought of her. She looked at him, her eyes wide and clear and for a moment he was lost in the beauty of their blue, and despite his racing heart, he managed to finish what he had meant to tell her from the beginning.

"Sybil, I'm in love with you."

She sucked in a breath, and her hand flew to her mouth as she took a trembling step back. This was not good.

"I…I am," he went on. "I…I've been in love with you for…for a very long time—"

"You're telling me this now?" she asked him, and he winced at what sounded like outrage in her voice. You do know how to pick your moments, don't you Tom? He sighed and looked down, already feeling a sense of defeat flood his being.

"I know my timing is bad," he murmured, to which she made a sound that could no doubt be interpreted as agreement, but he carried on, because what was the point in holding back now? "But I had to tell you…you deserve to know and…and I hated keeping this to myself any longer."

He lifted his eyes then, but saw that she was looking down now herself. You're a fool, Tom Branson; it's clear she doesn't feel the same and you've just ruined a precious friendship. God, could lightening please strike him dead now?

"Alright," he said after an awkward pause, placing his hat back on his head. "Alright," he repeated once again. "When…when you return, I won't be there."

"What!?" she gasped, her head whipping around, her eyes wide and her face pale.

"I won't be there," he repeated. "You won't have to see me and I won't bother you again; I'll hand in my notice—"

"No, don't do that!"

"I must," he went on, trying to sound braver than he felt. "His Lordship won't want me there when they hear—"

"They won't hear…not from me," she stressed, but if it was meant to be a comfort, it wasn't. She was trying to be sweet, she was trying to be as gentle as possible in her letting him down, but nothing could console him now, not after laying his heart out like that.

"That's very kind of you, milady," he whispered, going back to using her title once again. "But…but I can't stay, not now."

"But—?"

"I wish you the very best with your training," he told her, meaning it and even finding the strength to put on a smile for her. "You'll be a wonderful nurse; I have no doubt about that."

Go, you fool, go now before you humiliate yourself further and burst into tears in front of her! He gave a stiff bow of his head, and then promptly turned on his back, biting the inside of his cheek and keeping his eyes firm and steady straight ahead as he began the walk back, through the archway, to the car—

"TOM!"

He actually to reach out and grasp at one of the stone walls to keep from stumbling forward. He honestly didn't know what shocked him more, the fact that she had said his name for the first time (and that she knew it) or the fact that she was calling out to him at all.

He drew in a shaky breath…and then slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

She was coming towards him…

"Tom…" she said again, her voice softer, but every bit as clear. "You can't go yet."

He drew himself up and turned to fully face her, unsure exactly how to respond. "I…I can't?"

She shook her head, and she didn't stop moving until she was just a few feet in front of him. "No, not yet," she repeated, and it was then that he noticed she was trembling too, and there were tears in her eyes, though she didn't look sad.

He swallowed. "Why not?"

"Because…" she paused to take a deep breath. "Because I'm ready."

His brow furrowed. "You're…you're ready?"

She nodded, and a large smile broke out across her face. "Yes…I'm finally ready."

He didn't understand. "Ready for…what?"

Her smile only grew more, despite the tears that escaped her eyes. "…For my first kiss."

He blinked. His heart was beating so rapidly and so loudly, he wouldn't be surprised if all those men in that courtyard could hear it. Did she just say…?

"Your…your first kiss?" he repeated, slowly. Her answer was simply a nod of the head. "But…but you said," his mind easily recalling that summer evening a year ago when she had come to him in the garage. "…You said that you wanted your first kiss to be with—"

"—To be with the man I love," she finished for him. "Yes."

His eyes only widened. "Yes?" he repeated, his voice so soft, he wasn't sure he had even made a sound, but he must have, because Sybil, without blinking, nodded her head, and repeated the simple word once again.

"Yes."

He drew in another breath…and was thankful he still held to the building, because surely his legs were about to give out. Was she saying…? Did he dare hope…?

"Sybil," he whispered her name, somehow finding the strength in his legs to take a step towards her, his hand reaching up to remove his hat, while the other moved through the small space between them…and crossed the physical boundary Society had set by reaching out and touching her cheek. He bit back the groan in his chest as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Yes?"

She opened her eyes and smiled back at him. "Yes, you can kiss me," she invited.

A gasp escaped her lips as he moved close, his face mere centimeters from hers, his nose brushing hers, his lips literally a breath apart, but he held himself back just enough to let her move the rest of the way, to let her cross that final threshold as she had invited, and he moaned softly as finally…for the first time, her lips touched his.

It was better than any dream. Better than any imagining. Better…than anything, really. Her lips were every bit as soft as they looked, and far warmer and sweeter than he ever thought possible. They moved against his, and Tom thought his body would melt at the sweet sound of her moan. Everything inside him screamed at him to deepen the kiss, but he held himself back, just a little, not wanting to push or frighten her with his passions. He was not going to ruin this, not now, so help him.

Their lips parted at last, a shaky breath escaped them both. "Oh…my…" Sybil breathed, and Tom couldn't help but smile at that. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, her face turning the most beautiful shade of pink.

He saw it then. He saw the love in her eyes, the same love he felt for her, only reflected for him! There was no shame, no revulsion, no regret, nothing but the purest love. She was in her right mind, she knew what she wanted…and he, by some miracle, was what she wanted.

"Can we…?"

He looked at her, his eyes filled with curiosity and wonder, and he felt like a boy on Christmas morning, which was no doubt how he looked because he couldn't stop smiling. "Can we…?" he repeated.

She licked her lips, and he bit back a groan at the brief glimpse of her tongue. "Can we…do that again?"

He laughed, but quickly nodded his head, his fingers still holding her cheek, while his other hand dropped his hat completely, and moved his arm around her waist, which Sybil seemed to like because she moved into him, pressing her chest against his, her hands coming up grip his shoulders. "God knows it's enough that I can kiss you," he whispered, before covering her mouth once more and letting his groan of pleasure escape at last, as again, they lost themselves to their kiss.

Soon her arms were weaving around his neck, and his hold on her tightened. He pulled her closer, needing to feel more of her, wanting to feel more of her, and when her mouth sighed open, he moved his tongue, softly and slowly, to hers, and she whimpered and moaned again…before drawing her own tongue out to play with his.

God, she was a natural. And just like that, their kiss deepened and grew more and more passionate, and who knows what might have happened if they weren't interrupted by the giggles of two young women who came around the bend of the buildings.

Tom and Sybil gasped, and with his arms still around her, he moved them further back, obscuring them from view, but just barely, behind a stone column. Even though they were in another city, one that was a good hour's drive from Downton, they were still very much out in the public, and he was still in his livery uniform.

"Now it really will be hard letting you go," she breathed against his neck, before lifting her head to look back up at him.

Tom couldn't help but give her a bit of sheepish grin then. "My excellent timing," he sighed.

"Indeed," Sybil giggled, before her face grew seriousness. "You mean it, then?"

His brow furrowed. "Mean it?"

She blushed and swallowed. "What you said…about loving me?"

His face softened then and he brought his hand back to her cheek. "Oh my darlin'," he murmured, his accent thicker than usual. He brought his brow down until it touched hers. "I do love you…so very much."

She smiled and sniffed back the tears that threatened to fall, though he knew now there was no sadness behind them. "I love you too," she whispered at last, confirming his greatest hope. "And…and I believe—no, I know," she pressed on. "I know that I have…for…for a long time too; I don't know if I could say when exactly, but I do know that I love you and that I've been in love with you, but was too afraid to say or think—"

He cut her off by kissing her again, something which she happily gave into, hugging him even tighter and moaning deeply as their tongues met again. They were both shaking and breathing raggedly when they parted at last. "Oh, Tom…" she moaned, which did make him smile.

"God, that sounds so good," he groaned. "Say it again?"

"What?" she blushed and giggled. "Your name?"

"Aye…I…I can't begin to tell you how long I've waited to hear you say those words, how hard I wished—"

She placed her fingers against his lips. "Tom," she murmured, a sweet (and somewhat devilish) smile spreading across her face. "Tom," she repeated again. "I love you…Tom. Tom Branson, I love you—"

He couldn't stop kissing her, now that he knew what it was like, he couldn't stop! Kissing her was as essential to him now as breathing! And a man couldn't survive without oxygen so honestly, how could he survive without kissing her?

"I love you, Sybil Crawley," he groaned, when their lips parted once more. She smiled, clinging to him for strength and to keep her own knees from buckling.

"Mmmm, yes, it does sound lovely, hearing you say my name as well," she murmured, opening her eyes and gazing back at him, her love for him shining for all the world to see. But he saw sadness there too, and knew what that sadness was. "But…but I still have to go."

He swallowed, knowing this would be hard, parting now after everything that had been revealed, but he knew they could do it. They had the strength now. "Thursdays are my half-day off," he told her. "Every Thursday, I'll come to York; I'll take the bus from Ripon and…and I'll come to you not as 'Branson the chauffeur', but as—"

"My beau?"

His heart melted with delight at her words. "Aye…and…and if you'll let me, I'd like to court you properly then."

"I'd like that too, very much," she giggled, blushing and clutching him even tighter. "And will you write to me? Please?"

As if he could deny her anything right now. "Aye, I will. Every day."

She giggled at that and shook her head. "I'm not asking for 'every day'."

"Even so, I'll still do it."

She laughed again, and God, it was a beautiful sound. But time was ticking by and they both knew it would be even more difficult to part if they didn't do it soon.

"I'll not say 'goodbye', because I'll be seeing you next Thursday," Sybil told him. "So instead I will say…till then."

He kissed her brow and nodded his head in agreement. "Till then, love."

She smiled at that and with great strength…they managed to somehow disentangle themselves from each other, forcing some space between them, and even managing to take several steps away. Though the pull was stronger than ever before.

"Till then…Tom," she repeated again, bringing her fingers to her lips and pressing them there, before lifting her hand.

"Till then…Sybil," he replied back, and picked up his discarded hat and put it back on, once again adopting the persona of Downton chauffeur.

He missed her the second she disappeared from sight, but sadness did not follow him on the drive back to Downton. He was a man renewed, hope was flowing through his veins, and his heart felt ready to burst.

Sybil Crawley was in love with him. And she had asked him to give her her first kiss.

And in many ways, she had given him his first kiss too. Because any memory of previous kisses or encounters had been purged from his mind; all that he saw, all that he could think about, was her.

To be continued...