A Hard Sacrifice

Part 6

By: piperholmes

A/N: *waves awkwardly* Hi everyone. Sorry for the long silence on this story. I'm afraid I had an emotional detachment to this story thanks to the events of S4. But because of the marvelous Angiemagz requested an update for her birthday I couldn't say no. She is a wonderful person and I owe her a great deal. She has done so much for me, cheering me up time and time again, and it was her gif that first inspired the drabbles that I wrote for this AU. And as I wrote this I finally began to feel inspired again. So hopefully (for those who are willing to forgive my long absence) I will be able to update regularly again. So, once again, Angie has inspired me!

Happy Birthday Angie!

November 1916

He kept his eyes forward, the quiet occasional sniffle coming from the back of the car breaking his heart. He allowed her the privacy of her pain, knowing this new step in her life was daunting and overwhelming. His instinct to comfort her forces his fingers to grip tightly to the wheel, fighting the impulse to pull over and take her into his arm as she'd done for him.

But he knew his Sybil; knew how important it was to her that she be the one to make the decision, to seek him out.

He wasn't going to see her for two months. That meant 8 weeks, 60 days, 1,440 hours…a lifetime. He dreaded the coming days. He had friends below stairs but his position as chauffeur kept him separate from the house staff; too high to be staff and too low to be family. He ate by himself often, not included in the everyday running of the house. He was the odd man at Downton. Her presence was all that kept him there. It was those moments with her that excited him, that added meaning to his day.

And two months of meaningless days stretching before him left a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It left him afraid.

She was a beautiful, smart, engaging, unique, funny, and he'd never loved a woman as he loved her.

He didn't care what it would cost him. He could see her leaving, leaving him. Desperation was a powerful motivator. He remembered the feeling of her in his arms, the way her lips caressed his. It couldn't be so meaningless to her; not when it moved his entire world.

He was going to do it.

He was going to ask her to marry him.

He shook his head.

Marry her? An Earl's daughter?

Doubt had kept him quiet for so long. She was too far above him. There was no changing that fact. He was an Irish nobody and she a member of the peerage. Yet in their world at Downton, hidden away in the garage, or in the car, or long walks away from prying eyes, they were just a man and a woman.

Was that enough?

The war raged on, men dying, countries bleeding. Women no longer simply marrying and baring children, but working, nursing, fighting. The world was changing.

Tom slowed the car to a stop, allowing a farmer and his sheep to cross the road, when he heard her clear her throat.

Turning, he took in her red eyes, and thinned lips.

"Are you alright m'lady?"

Sybil smiled, her lips turning up slightly but her eyes remaining sad.

"I am," she answered. "Just…I was so excited about going that I didn't allow myself to consider what it would actually feel like to leave. It's only two months and I know I will be busy learning but…"

Tom nodded. "I felt the same way when I came to work at Downton."

"Did you?" she asked, her head tilting slightly at the revelation. "Tell me."

Tom's brow knitted together. "Not much to tell. It wasn't coming to England so much as just the chance to live somewhere new, to meet new people and have an adventure. I had a good job in Ireland; it was just very…staid. I knew I wasn't going to be a voice anyone would be interested in listening to if I'd lived so much of my life driving around one old lady in a quiet Irish village."

Sybil listened, her eyes on his.

"I was really eager to just go and then the night before I left I suddenly felt…unsure. I didn't really know what to expect, being Irish and all. I think it's just natural to be scared."

Sybil nodded, turning to look out the window.

Tom's heart ached for her. "But it can all work out in the end. Because of course I get here and find everything quite agreeable. And…I met you and any uncertainty or fear was well worth it."

Sybil's gaze flew to his, her blue eyes wide, surprised, before a small, genuine smile appeared.

"Tom—"

A honk sounded, alerting Tom that the sheep were across and another motorist was waiting to move.

Whipping around, Tom eased the car forward, giving a wave out his window.

The two young people remained quiet as they continued down the road, browns and greens of the cold autumn day blending together. He heard her shift, felt her body close to his as she leaned forward, her lips just behind his ear.

"I'm glad you were brave enough to come."

May 1918

She kept her eyes forward, her gaze following the curve of his ear, the skin of his neck—skin she had stroked so often over the last year—disappeared beneath the collar of his uniform, his shoulders broad and strong, the memory of his strong muscles moving beneath her fingers as they made love to each other caused her chest to rise as she took a deep breath.

She was tired, the long work day having drained what little energy she had these days. Her stomach rebelled against the sway of the motor, and she wished she had forced down some lunch, not looking forward to the burning bile from her empty stomach searing her throat.

"Tom," she called, "Pullover, pullover."

He looked back at her, his brow low, eyes concerned, but wordlessly he turned the wheel of the car, stopping suddenly enough to cause Sybil to jerk forward, her hand pressed against the back of his seat.

"Is everything alright?"

But Sybil didn't wait to hear the end of his question before she was scrambling out of the back. She headed for the bushes, going as far as she could before the urge to gag could no longer be repressed.

She heard movement, knew he was just behind her, but she could spare no more attention for him than that as her body reject the contents of her stomach. Her eyes watered, her nose running, there was a stinging in her throat and a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Sybil?"

His voice was soft, the tone so often used in the hospital around the ill, meant to as deference and concern, and she appreciate it.

She took the offered handkerchief, wishing she couldn't smell the faint sent of motor oil that seemed to never wash off. But she'd taken off her nursing cap as soon as she'd gotten in the motor and didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she held her breath and wiped her face as well as she could.

"Thank you," she mumbled, forcing in deep breaths, trying to calm her stomach.

"Are you alright?"

She had felt him step closer, and in a moment of complete trust leaned back, knowing he'd accept her weight.

The smell of her sick wafted up, and turning her head she caught his eyes, saw his question.

"Alright?"

With a nod she allowed him to move her back toward the car, his hand on her elbow.

The sun was quickly dropping behind the trees, casing long shadows, painting the sky with pale pinks and oranges. The air was still, the warmth of the day slowly beginning to ease as summer teased spring's last desperate attempts at prominence.

The motor shielded them from the road, though she doubted anyone passing wouldn't recognize the Earl of Grantham's car. Yet she couldn't wait, she had spent the day preoccupied, distracted, not at her best.

She was going to do it.

She was going to tell him.

She turned suddenly, her hand moving to his arm, gripping the firm strength beneath the thick fabric that always left him a little sweaty in heat like this. His eyes were soft as a rough hand came to cup her cheek.

"I'm so sorry my darling; I didn't know you were ill."

She looked away.

"If only it were that simple," she said softly.

"Sybil?"

"I'm not ill…at least I don't think I am."

She moved slowly, that last moment just before doing something terrifying where the decision had been made but the strength to take the last step still needed to be garnered. Her hand slid up his arm, her fingers winding with his against her cheek, holding still for just a breath longer before tugging his hand down, pressing his hand against her stomach.

"I don't—"

He stopped.

She could see his mind working, trying to understand what she was telling him.

"You're not ill?" He asked dumbly, he eyes glued to where their hands rested against her abdomen.

"No, not in the way you were thinking," she confirmed, knowing how difficult it was to accept the idea.

"You're not…there's not…Sybil?"

This time his eyes flew to hers, petitioning the truth.

"I think, that is, I believe I'm pregnant."

Her heart pounded as she finally spoke the words aloud. She knew him, knew the way he could read her, and she knew he could see the way her lips pressed together, the way her shoulders dropped.

The breath rushed out of her body as he grabbed her, wrapping her tightly in his arm, her body pressed against the buttons of his jacket as he held her.

She couldn't remember having ever been held in such a way. They'd clung to each other after making love. They'd buried themselves in each other the nights they'd been allowed together.

But this felt different.

She heard his own breath catch.

His voice shook, heavy with emotion, a reverence she'd only heard once before.

"Oh my darling."

to be continued

thanks for reading! (Sorry again for the long break between updates)!