Once again all the thanks in world for being incredible readers. I truly appreciate everyone who has made it this far on this journey with me :)

This is the third chapter in the "I thought this was going to be 1 chapter but it turned into 3" saga. It ended up turning out rather heavy, so be prepared for a lot of feelings. Also, it gets a little more T rated near the end (not quite M yet... but don't be surprised if it turns M in the future).

Chapter 11: Phase Eleven- Safe and Sound

This is how I die, Sybil thought certainly.

Maybe they would kidnap her and hold her for ransom. Her father was certainly rich and would pay it.

Or maybe he was looking for an opportunity to touch, to fuck a Crawley sister. Her stomach churned as she thought about how this situation could easily turn.

Or maybe this guy would kill her on the spot. She should have done like Mary and moved back to Europe where it was far harder for loonies on the street to get guns.

Of course, her phone was dead. Of course, there was no one the block.

I'm so stupid, Sybil thought, And soon I will be stupid and dead.

"Don't scream," He voice said, "Drop your purse. Drop your phone. Don't try to run."

Sybil's heart was slamming in chest. Her hands were shaking. She didn't need to be told twice.

She tossed her valuables out of her hands and down the street, behind the mugger. They hit the ground with a thud. She saw the man turn to grab them.

Sybil took that as her opportunity to run. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and letting her run faster than she ever had before. She didn't dare look back over her shoulder. She realized that the man must have not recognized her, or else surely he would have asked for more than just her purse. She worried he would come after her once he looked at her driver's license.

She reached the corner, but the next block was empty as well. Wasn't this a big city? She kept running, not feeling tired, only desperate to get to anywhere that wasn't there. Where should she even go? Find someone with a phone to call the police? Find a metro station and try to see if she could make it back to the hotel?

All of a sudden, her heel snapped underneath her and she felt herself tumble onto the ground. The concrete bit at her knees and palms and she scramble to catch her fall. The nylons she was wearing ripped. She didn't care. She couldn't stop. She was so pumped full of adrenaline that she hardly felt the pain. She took her heels off, tossed them into the street, and scrambled back to her feet.

She pounded the pavement once more, trying to dart to the end of the block. She was so so stupid. She was stupid to think that she could ever move to a city she didn't know. She was stupid to think that she could find the metro. She was stupid to think that she was good enough for the internship. It was evident that she couldn't handle herself.

Her feet took her to the next street corner. This street was bigger. She came to a brief stop, scanning the street, deciding her next move. There was a bakery about to close, a coffee house, a 7-11, a plush bistro, a bank, and-

"Tom!" She screamed, "Tom Branson."

His face looked up. He was on his phone, but the second he saw her, his phone was shoved hastily in his pocket. His face was crinkled with concern.

"Sybil," He said, his voice full of worry, as he sprinted over to her, "God, what happened to you?"

The second he was close to her, she flung her arms around him. She began to sob, her body still shaking in fear. His arms tightened around her.

"Shh, shh, Syb," He said into her hair, soothingly, rubbing his hands on her back, "It's okay. You're safe. Whatever happened, I'm going to keep you safe."

She just started sobbing harder. You're safe, she repeated to herself. You're safe.

"Hey, hey," He said softly, "Let's get you out of here. I know you are in shock, but I don't want you to end up in any papers tomorrow. I'll take you back to the AirBnB I'm renting. I mean, sorry, is that too forward? Can I take you back? I promise I don't have any untoward motives, I just want to get you out of this street."

She nodded into his chest. He kept one arm securely around her, as he took his phone out.

"I'm just calling an uber," He explained.

Right, because Tom was smart and called a car when he was lost and needed to go home. Tom wasn't stupid like she was.

"It'll be here in a minute or less," Tom explained, his hands still rubbing soothing circles in her back.

He pocked his phone and used that hand to draw her chin in his hand. She felt his gaze on her, assessing for what was wrong.

"Sybil," He asked softly, lowering himself ever so slightly so that he was eye level with her, "Where is your purse? Your phone and things?"

"Mugged," She said, her voice shrill and shaky, "I got mugged."

"Are you okay now? You don't have any shoes," He looked her up and down again, "Sybil, you're bleeding."

"I fell," She muttered, "Running with heels and I was trying to get away and I kissed the pavement and…" She hiccupped a sob, as she tried not to descend back into hysterics.

"He did…" Tom started, a hint of rage in the back of his voice, "He didn't… do anything else than mug you?"

Sybil shook her head, knowing what he asking. There were still tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She knew that she had been so close to something worse happening. He had a gun. She would have done whatever he asked and that terrified her.

"I just want to get out of here," She murmured, ducking her face back in his neck.

"I think I see the uber now," He affirmed.

He kept his arm around her as he walked with her to the car. They slid into the back seat, Sybil tucking herself into the Tom's side. She held her breath while the driver made small talk. He didn't comment on the fact that she was both sobbing and bleeding. Or that she was Sybil Crawley. Whether he noticed or not, she wasn't sure.

She watched as DC swirled around them outside the windows. She had had such high hopes when she arrived earlier that day. Now she just felt a weird sense of emptiness. She had failed on all accounts. She wasn't going to get the internship. She wasn't going to move here. Nothing mattered really.

They arrived at the apartment Tom was renting and shuffled out of the car.

"Can you do stairs?" He asked.

When Sybil shrugged, he picked her up in his arms and carried her up the steps. The apartment was on the third floor, but if he was uncomfortable, he didn't show it. He placed her on the ground and unlocked the door. He led her inside.

It was nice apartment, with that kind of exposed piping and brick walls that seemed to be in vogue for young apartments these days. Gwen had one just like this in New York. He led her to a chair at a kitchen table.

"Let me go get a first aid kit," He said, walking into one of the bedrooms. She used his absence to roll the bloodied, ripped nylons off her legs. She left them in a ball at her feet.

Tom came back and wordless tended to her wounds. She had stopped shaking a little. She winced as he sprayed antibacterial spray on her knees and palms. He put large band-aids over them. He used a damp cloth to clean the blood from her legs.

"Roll your wrist," He instructed, his words making her jump after the long silence between them. She followed his instruction and she couldn't hide the visible pain on her face. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, pain was returning to her knees, her palms, the soles of her feet, and apparently her wrist as well.

Tom frowned, "You must have hurt it catching your fall. Let's keep an eye on it. We can call Isobel later and ask her what she thinks if it gets worse."

"Isobel is Matthew's mum?" Sybil asked.

"Yup," Tom said, "She's been a bit of a second mam to me. She was real kind to me when I first got to New York."

"Was it your first time in New York?" She asked, indulging in Tom's personal comment. Anything to distract herself from the events that just happened.

"Me first time in America," Tom told her, "I was terrified I'd muck the whole thing up. Luckily I made friends with Matthew and he and his mother took me under their wing. Made the whole thing easier."

"That's sweet," Sybil said, "I like Matthew. He's good for Mary."

"Are they really doing it for real?" Tom questioned, as he poked around the kitchen.

"They are," Sybil said, "And they seem quite happy together. Mary's meeting Isobel tonight for dinner actually."

"That would be quite a pair to see together," Tom said, biting his lip for a moment to think on it, "Speaking of, have you eaten yet?"

Sybil shook her head, "I had just finished my interview when-"

"I'll order a pizza," Tom said, "I laid out some old sweats in the bedroom if you want to change out of your suit."

"Thank you for being so kind," Sybil said, as she rose carefully from the kitchen chair, the floor cool on her bare feet.

"Think nothing of it Syb," Tom replied, as he punched in the number for a pizza.

It was no time at all before Tom and Sybil were sitting on the couch of the rented apartment. Jimmy Fallon was chirping away on the TV. Sybil was dressed in Tom's faded grey Trinity t-shirt and black sweat pants. There was a pizza spread out between them and two beers.

"You are legal to drink, correct?" Tom had teased, after he'd returned with the pizza and a six-pack.

"Oh please, I'm twenty-two," Sybil had quipped.

While they had waited for the pizza, Sybil had used Tom's phone to call he bank and credit card companies to freeze the cards. She'd called Mary as well to let her know what had happened.

But now it all done and they were settled on the couch together, Sybil's energy fading fast as she realized how exhausted she was. So much had happened in one day.

"I don't think I'm cut out for DC," She admitted.

"What? That's rubbish," Tom argued, "There are bad people everywhere. You grew up in New York. You're a city slicker if ever I saw one."

"Cute," Sybil said, "But Larry was right. I can't handle this. I'm best to stick to my wedding planning and volunteer work."

"He told you that?" Tom said, shocked.

"More or less," Sybil shrugged, "He said that DC was stressful. He said the internship might be overwhelming, that it would be better if I stayed in New York and volunteered and shopped and got brunch and-"

"Sorry for being forward, Syb, but what do you see in him?" Tom asked bluntly.

Sybil paused, twirling the ring on her finger. Tom wasn't the first person who had asked her that. She felt a weird sense of defensiveness flair up inside herself. She may be incapable of making it in DC. She may be floundering at making a career for herself. But she definitely knew her own heart. Right?

"He's driven. He has political connections. He's a congressman," Sybil offered.

"It's just that, if I was in his shoes, I would be doing everything I could to encourage your dreams instead of deflate them," Tom admitted.

Sybil didn't know what to say, so she took a huge sip of beer. Tom's phone began to ring, saving Sybil from having to make up something to reply to Tom's candid remark.

"Yes?" He said, answering, "Ah, Mary. Really? Is that so? Yeah, we can go pick it up. That's so curious. Nothing, really? Okay. Thanks for telling me."

Tom hung up.

"What did Mary say?" Asked Sybil.

"The police just called her. They found your bag, apparently right in the street where you'd been mugged," Tom told her.

"No way!" Sybil said, "So they just took the wallet and left the bag? I guess that is something. It's a very nice purse, custom made by Mary."

Tom sat up straighter, "No, Syb, this is the thing- Everything is still there. Your cards, phone, all of it."

"What?" Sybil gasped.

"I know, it's insane," He said.

"But why?" Sybil wondered out loud.

"Mary supposes whoever robbed you didn't know who you were. She thinks that they must have taken one look at the names on the cards and realized they were out of their league. They could quite easily be traced and being sued by the Crawley's is no light thing," Tom told her.

"That makes sense," Sybil agreed.

"But I also wonder if maybe," Tom said, frowning, "Maybe they knew it was you? Like a set up?"

"I don't understand what you're implying?" Sybil asked lightly, curious.

"No, sorry, forget what I said," Tom said, "Let's get back to pizza. We can pick up your stuff in the morning."

Sybil started to drift off not long after Seth Meyers began. She woke to Tom lifting her off the couch.

"I can sleep on the couch," She muttered, "You don't have to give up your bed."

"Nonsense," Tom said softly.

He took her to the bedroom. He peeled back the covers and placed her in the bed, tucking her in.

All of a sudden, Sybil felt very small and very afraid. She hadn't been afraid of the dark since she was a child, but she was afraid of being alone after everything that happened today.

She caught Tom's hand and pulled him back.

"Tom, this is silly," She said, "But can you stay until I fall back asleep. I just don't- I don't want to be alone."

"Of course," He said kindly, sitting beside her. His hand reached out to stroke her hair. She was too tired to scold him, so she let his calming movement coax her back to sleep.

Isobel left hours later, after a few more glasses of wine and a few rounds of cards. Mary and Matthew were left on the couch together. The night had felt long, especially with the two calls from Sybil. The first- saying that she thought the interview went badly. Then a second- saying that she'd been mugged. The third call from the police with news that her bag had been recovered was weirdly chilling. Mary felt a cryptic bit of anxiety cling to her still.

But there was also a sense of something else here as well. Safety, might be the word for it. The TV was purring with a late night show, an actress Mary had met a few times was chatting with a host about a new movie. The lights were low now and Mary felt an energy lingering in the air. An electricity between her and Matthew, waiting to be tapped. Maybe safety wasn't the word for it. Sensuality? Anticipation? Sex?

But there were things to discuss first.

"Do you think Isobel likes me?" Mary asked, timidly. She had spent half the night trying to access what Isobel thought. She was the sort of person that sweet on the outside, but Mary supposed that in she had a world of thoughts in her head. And she also supposed that if it came down to it, she would fight fearlessly for whatever cause was at her heart. She could see exactly where Matthew had gotten his passion.

"Of course, she likes you," Matthew said, pulling Mary beside him and letting her settle against his side. Her legs naturally curled over his lap, like they always seemed to do. "You are intelligent and thoughtful and organized and creative."

"Are you sure those aren't the reasons you like me?" Mary said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"What? No," Matthew teased, his voice light and teasing, "I don't like you, my darling, I'm only dating you for the money."

"Is that so?" Mary asked coyly, and Matthew turned to kiss her full on the lips.

She felt the electricity that was fizzing in the air between them spark, filling her with a melty warmth. His lips were soft, eager, pressing into hers- her own thin small lips eclipsed by his larger ones. She felt his breath warm on her neck, something distinctly minty about it.

Oh fuck, Mary thought, thinking of Isobel's pasta and how garlicky her breath must be. She hated that. She knew that a lot of people didn't mind garlic breath. Matthew probably didn't. But she felt a constant, self-inflicted pressure to present herself elegantly.

"One second," she whispered, grabbing her purse and running to the bathroom.

Once she slammed the door, she smiled at Daisy, dolefully hoping around the bottom of her bag. She wondered if the bunny needed some space to move around, so she picked up her and placed her in the bathtub. Mary found her toothbrush and toothpaste tucked in her bag and set to work brushing her teeth.

She was the sort of person who found teeth brushing soothing, if not addicting. She seemed to always be keeping a mental note as to the state of her breath, so it surprised her that things had gotten so far without her noticing. Maybe it was the wine, or the way she felt so comfortable with Matthew.

When she was done cleaning her teeth, she assessed herself in the mirror. What was she going to walk back into? She knew she could go back to Sybil's if she needed to and she did have a key. But she also knew that they had an unspoken understanding between them that she would be staying at Matthew's tonight. She had even thrown a clean pair of underwear and a romper in her purse, so she'd have clothes to wear the next day. Mary Crawley could not be caught doing a walk of shame (well maybe she could if it was with Matthew and the papers saw it). But she didn't know if there an implication that she would sleep with him tonight. She wasn't really sure if she was ready. She adored Matthew, but so far all they'd done was kiss and cohabitate a bed. He couldn't possibly think that they were going to have sex tonight? But the fiery tension before had been so real. She gulped and fished out her phone from her purse as well. She sat on the edge of the tub.

Mary: Anna, are you up?

Anna: It's like 6AM, but yeah, what's up?

Mary: Do you think Matthew expects me to sleep with him rn?

Anna: Eh? Sleep? I want sleep.

Mary: Stop it. I'm sleeping over at his apartment in NY tonight. Does that imply sex?

Anna: Didn't you say that he made it clear that it was up to you to set what you guys did?

Mary: Yeah

Anna: Then I'm sure he's fine with anything you want to do.

Mary: I guess that's true. I just don't want him to get his hopes up and then-

Anna: He'll survive. He cares about you. He's not going to run away.

Mary: Right.

Anna: Wait, where are you now?

Mary: Hiding in the bathroom.

Anna: Oh my god, you loser!

Anna: I mean you're a rich loser. But still.

Anna: You are Mary Crawley. Go out there and do whatever you want with that man or don't. But you are too radiant a goddess to hide in the bathroom. Off you go!

Mary: I have I mentioned you are my best friend. Xo!

Mary stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. She squared her shoulders, tried for a sultry smile, and checked her breath one last time, before opening the door and heading back to Matthew. He was still on the couch, looking through his phone.

"There you are," He said softly, "Are you alright?"

"Quite alright," Mary agreed, settling beside him. "I just realized that Daisy might want to not be stuck in my bag, so I set her in your tub to hop around a bit, if you don't mind."

"That's more than fine," Matthew said.

He pulled Mary into his arms, and she let her legs drape over his lap- just as they had before. Matthew smiled as her with a look of genuine tenderness, she felt her heart might melt. He took a loose strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear with such a reverence and Mary felt herself return the smile.

"I can't tell you how incredibly privileged I feel to be able to kiss you, Mary Crawley," He whispered.

Then his lips were on hers, gently demanding a response and she felt like she truly was melting. She let out a tiny sigh. God, he was getting noises out of her from just kisses. He was brilliant. She was the lucky one.

What if they kept going? Mary thought, her breaths becoming more labored as Matthew ran his hand from the top of her neck, down her arms to settle low on her back and pull her closer to him. This felt so good. And she knew that Matthew was a good guy. She was quite certain that he didn't have the intentions as Pamuk, or Tony. Trust. Trust was the word. She could trust him.

And desire. She did want him. He was attractive, strong, and oh so good at what he was doing. She felt that electricity sizzle between them with each caress of his hands, with each press of his lips against hers. What if they kept going? What if she slept with Matthew Crawley tonight?

Then his face was diving into neck, his teeth giving the tiniest of nips before running his tongue over it to sooth. She let out a full on moan. She couldn't even help it. He was so good. She felt the words stuck in her mouth, "Make love to me, Matthew. Have me, Matthew." She wanted to cry them out, but she couldn't will them out of her throat.

Then he was running his hands over her shoulders lightly. The back of his hand brushing lighting over her collarbone. He tugged gently on the strap of her dress.

"Mary," His voice was full of reverence, "Can I see you? Can I touch you?"

Bless this beautiful man, full of more respect and adoration than she deserved.

"Yes," she sighed, as he eased the strap off her shoulder, as he pressed a kiss to the faint freckles that rested on the newly bare skin. He slipped off other strap, repeating the same movement.

He grasped the top hem of her dress, his hands toying with it gently, his fingertips tinkling the tops of her breasts. Then he was pulling the dress down, so slowly, revealing her strapless, lacy nude bra.

"So lovely," He murmured, as she felt his hands return to top of her breasts, beginning to ease the bra off.

Kamal, no.

I said no. You've got to stop.

This could ruin me.

Stop touching me.

Mary jerked back from Matthew. Her mind suddenly feeling sabotaged. She took deep gulps of air trying to catch her breath, the world spinning a bit.

She thought of Matthew in Central Park on their first date.

Was this is it? The same thing?

"Love, Mary, are you okay?"

She took a breath. God, she felt stupid. She was sitting there shaking, her dress still pooled at her waste, trying not to cry. She felt so vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice chocked.

"Oh Mary," Matthew said, putting it together, "Pamuk, the elevator. I'm so sorry. I should have thought of that. God, are you alright?"

Mary took another deep breath. Her stomach was still churning. She was afraid to talk because she thought she might be ill or faint.

"Sorry," she managed, "I really wanted to do this. I wanted to keep going. Oh Matthew. I thought I was okay. I thought I had it under control."

Matthew raked his hand over his face. "If you put your head between your knees, it might help. It will help get the blood back in your head."

Mary was desperate to stop feeling as if she were about to pass out, so she followed his direction. She felt even more embarrassed; half dressed, bent over and still trying not to cry. But she felt could feel the blood coming back to her head, which was taming the nausea and the ringing in her ears.

She felt Matthew rise up from the coach and her heart sank a bit. Whatever heat and passion had been between them had now fizzled away. She slowly rose back up, slipping her dress back over her torso, so she felt less exposed. She heard Matthew enter the room. She looked up at him and was surprised to see him holding Daisy in his hands.

"Here," He said softly, "She might help you calm down. I'll go get you something comfortable for you to change into."

Mary watched him disappear, a bit in shock at his kindness. She had thought he'd be disappointed in her for ruining the moment. Goodness knows, she was disappointed in herself.

William looked up from where he was curled on the floor, his interest piqued at the new animal. Mary flinched, holding Daisy tighter as the dog trotted over. He gave her a sniff, then too two steps back and let out a small bark. Mary placed her hands on Daisy protectively. Then William took a step closer and gave Daisy a good-natured lick on the ear. Mary let out a small laugh. At least things seemed to be harmonious between their pets.

Matthew returned a moment later with a pair of grey sweatpants and a navy Columbia Law t-shirt. It was the kind of thing she'd never be caught wearing in her public life, but here with Matthew it was safe. She was touched by his act of kindness. She went into the bathroom to change, her legs still shaking, and returned to see Matthew with a glass of water waiting for her. He had changed into a pair of athletic shorts and long sleeved Oxford t-shirt.

"Let's go sit," He nodded to the bedroom.

She gave him an uncertain look. What did he mean by that? He didn't assume that they were going to resume whatever they had been doing before.

"Just to chat," Matthew said, reading her face, "And maybe sleep or watch TV, until you feel safe."

Mary nodded and walked to his bed. She crawled up onto the plush mattress. It was luxurious soft. He passed her the glass of water and she took a small sip. He settled himself beside her.

"Would touching you help or make things worse?" Matthew said, his hand seeming awkward, as he wanted to wrap them around her, but were hesitant.

"Maybe not just yet," she said, still a little terrified of her reaction to his touch before. Everything had seemed safe- but then turned to ash a moment later.

There was a moment of silence between them, while Mary took small sips of water. Then Matthew asked, "Did this happen with Tony? When you-"

Mary shook her head, looking down, "No, Tony, the island, it was like a drug or something. I was so eager to drown everything with Pamuk, that I let it all bliss me out till I couldn't think about what happened. When he betrayed me, it was like I came crashing down really fast. And I guess this is the result."

"I'm so sorry, Mary," Matthew said.

"No, I'm sorry," Mary said, "You deserve better."

Matthew gently chuckled and shook his head, "I can only laugh at that, Mary. I can hardly believe every day how I ever came to deserve you. Each day with you is a privilege."

She looked up at him and he continued.

"Mary, we have all the time in the world to have sex," Matthew said, "Truly. We're still new. You are still healing. Goodness knows I'm healing in my own ways too. That's what we said when we agreed to this. We couldn't fix each other, but we could heal together. I want you to feel safe, always safe, with me, and I'll wait with you until you feel it."

Mary smiled at him timidly. She drained the glass of water and it put it on his nightstand. She looked up at him and then moved closer to him, letting him take her into his arms. She did feel safe there.

"So what did you say about watching something until we were tired?" She asked.

"Ah yes, the tried and true Matthew Crawley anxiety coping technique," He announced, reaching for his laptop, while still keeping an arm around Mary.

Mary laughed, "Ah yes, your tried and true technique- Netflix and chill?"

"I think we've scrapped the 'and chill' part of that for tonight," Matthew said, pulling up the aforementioned site, "But yet, typically watching a happy TV show is known to take my attention from less cheerful realities."

"And what is your prescription for tonight?" Mary asked. To be honest, she so rarely had time to watch TV that she didn't even know what shows one would watch to cheer themselves up.

"I usually go for this one, after an anxious night," Matthew said, holding the cursor over a program, "It's akin to watching sunshine."

"Yes, that sounds good," Mary said, nestling against Matthew as he pulled his soft duvet over her.

For a moment, as the ding of theme song began to play. She let out a sigh of contentment and Matthew put a kiss into her hair. The show began and she found herself letting out a laugh within a few seconds. She felt like a normal 26-year-old in a way she never had ever felt normal before. Here she was, wearing her boyfriends clothes, watching Netflix, snuggling. Yes, this recovery process was going to be a journey. There was a part of her cringed to think that she didn't feel like she was enough for Matthew. Maybe time would tame the pain in heart.

But there was beauty in this moment. There was beauty in the way he was taking care of her. There was beauty in shot at normalcy in a way she never experienced before. It had always been "Mary, do this interview," or "Mary, make sure you dress for this event," or "Mary, don't forget the cameras are always watching." But there was a freedom in the face that in this quiet moment she didn't have to be anything or anyone, she just simply had to be. Her heart flickered with gratitude for hope, for Matthew, and for this moment.

The next chapter will take us to Wimbledon for some more Crawley shenanigans!