Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Thank you to RandomPerson and Mango Supreme for reviewing the last chapter.

As the sound of the TARDIS engines finally ceased, signalling that the ship had finally reached its destination, the Doctor took a deep breath to prepare himself for what was to come.

It had been a little while now since Sybil Crawley had returned home to her life of dinners and ballgowns and etiquette, though the Time Lord could not quantify that time in hours, or days, or even weeks. After all, he never had been able to, and had never needed to. Time made no difference to him.

She had said that she had needed a little time, to recover from what she had witnessed on the Titanic, and that then she would return to travelling with him. She had loved the freedom of being able to go wherever, or even whenever, she liked, and she did not want to give all of that up forever. But she had told him to wait, and so he had waited. And now, it was time to return to Downton Abbey.

Seeing no sense in procrastinating any further, the Doctor made his way over to the TARDIS doors, throwing them open and walking outside before he had a chance to change his mind. He would have to return for the young woman one day, he had promised that he would do, and putting off their meeting would not make it any easier to see how much she would have been changed by what she had seen at his side.

He had no clue how long it had been for her since he had dropped her back in the little Yorkshire town, nor how long it had been for him to tell the truth, but the classical elegance and beauty of the huge manor house had not changed in the least. Not a single detail seemed to have been changed since he had come to collect the youngest daughter of the house, perhaps not even since he had first stumbled out of his blue box, his mind addled by the force of his regeneration, and stumbled into a small child wondering who was the stranger that had appeared on Christmas Eve night.

Summoning the route from the deep recesses of his mind, the Doctor began to make his way towards Sybil's bedroom. If he was going to find her anywhere, he supposed that that would be a good place to start.

As he moved through the corridors of the grand house, the TARDIS key around his neck ensuring that he remained unseen, he contemplated what he should say to the woman that had almost become his companion. A greeting? It probably wouldn't be enough after all this time. An apology? He didn't wish to begin the meeting with a negative. The truth? He did not even know what that was anymore.

By the time he reached the immaculate wood of her door, he was no closer to finding the right words than he had been when he had stepped out of the TARDIS. After all, what could he possibly say to her, particularly as he had no clue how long he had been away? The same thoughts ran through his mind, over and over again.

Tentatively, he knocked on the door, a tiny part of him wishing that there would be no response from behind it. He had been so certain about coming back to see Sybil, but now he wished that he could simply walk away. After all, he had a time machine, and another few days wait would not do any harm.

But before he had a chance to move, he heard a call of summons from inside the room and his brow furrowed in confusion. That voice was most certainly not that of Sybil, as it was male and had a thick Irish brogue, a stark contrast to the airy English tones of the young lady's voice. But he had knocked the door now, and had been summoned. Now, there was no turning back.

And so the Time Lord pushed open the door, the confusion still not gone from his face. The room looked precisely like Sybil's had always looked, and so it must have been the same room. And yet she was not here, and did not look to have been here for some time.

The source of the voice stood beside the window, his hand pressed against his brow. It seemed as if he had been stood there for a while, although his posture remained stiff as a board, as if he was trying to put across a persona to hide his feelings, something the Doctor had done many times in his life.

When the man turned, the Time Lord was not surprised to see the redness around his eyes, and the tracks of water down his cheeks that had not yet dried. It was clear that he had been crying for just as long as he had been stood at the window, perhaps even longer. He had suffered a tragic loss by the look of it, but it had not yet crossed his mind the reason for this.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, his voice cracking a little at the question. He was obviously in no fit state to be talking to people, particularly not strangers like him, and so he resolved that he should leave as soon as possible.

"I was looking for Sybil, Sybil Crawley." he explained, and immediately, the Irish man's face fell, his eyes glazing over once again with tears. Now, the Time Lord knew that something was wrong, very wrong, but he would not allow himself to believe what his mind was beginning to tell him.

"I'm afraid that there's only one Sybil you will find here now, sir. My daughter." the man told him, his tone quite blunt, although it was laced with pain and grief. The Doctor felt his heart slowly begin to break in his chest, and felt it shatter, as his worst fears were finally confirmed. "My wife, Sybil Crawley, died three days ago."

A/N: I'm so sorry to do this to you guys, but I felt like I had to. Two more chapters to go! Please review!