"The secrets we keep"

Thommy.

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After Thirsk, despite their newfound friendship, Thomas is still madly infatuated. And Jimmy, because of their newfound friendship, learns things he shouldn't have. It's hard to keep things close to your heart when your heart is in your sleeve and you haven't even noticed.

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Tags:

Slow burn, gay panic, some angst, fluff, more angst.

Definitely internalized homophobia and period-typical attitudes.


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I had a moment of panic this afternoon like: shite, I still haven't picked up with the rest of the writing and at this point I'll run out of chapters before I finish the fic. Which, must NOT happen. Focus, focus!

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Leaving this here for another while:

I format all my writing with spanish conventions, so dialogue uses –dash/hyphens-, quotation marks are mostly for thoughts (sometimes dialogue), and italics are mostly for emphasis. Parentheses and ellipses are used galore the way the gods intended.


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July, pt. II

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Later, that morning's breakfast proved to be the stuff of nightmares.

Everyone was quiet and staring intently at their plates, to Mr Carson's confusion. Mr Barrow was determined to hide behind his newspaper, not bothering to take the cigarette off his mouth; he wasn't even eating.

When Daisy served the porridge she splashed Jimmy's plate. Ms Elise didn't take her fulminating glare off him until Mr Carson remarked on it.

- Is anything the matter? – the butler insisted - Will anybody tell me what I missed?

- Nothing, Mr Carson – lied Mrs Hughes.

Mr Carson raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and all Mrs Hughes gave in response was a fake smile and a spoonful.

- Well, whatever it is that you are all so clearly hiding from me, I expect it will not interfere with your daily tasks.

- Not at all, Mr Carson – promised Anna.

Jimmy took a discrete look at Alfred, next to him, and noticed he had sat himself so as to leave half an empty chair between them. His porridge tasted like ash.

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It had been him, then. It had been all him. That vivid, all-consuming experience that he'd deluded himself into believing was Mr Barrow's doing, it had been all of his own making.

Suddenly, sparks of recognition began igniting in Jimmy's mind, and for the first time in weeks he was able to come to a conclusion on what those other unsettling dreams he'd been having and couldn't for the life of him remember might have actually been about.

"Please, no…"

- James… Jimmy! – called Alfred next to him, voice filled with urgency.

The dining room seemed to materialize around him, deep into his head as he was. Jimmy was delaying his servings. Who knows how long it'd been if Alfred had to call him out for it. Mr Carson was shooting daggers with his eyes. "Look alive!"

The Lady Grantham was kind enough to mollify the deluge of questions some at the table were giving Jimmy upon noticing his behaviour. He was walking in a daze, distant and automatic. He cleared his throat in shame at her Ladyship's reassurance, but managed not a single word.

It was Mrs Crawley who saved the day by initiating conversation on her newest charity venture, getting the Lady Edith excited for it was a topic she intended to write about next.

Once dinner was done and they were allowed downstairs, however, Jimmy found no more sympathy.

Everyone was either awkward, dismissive, or straight up angry. He took but a couple bites before excusing himself as exhausted and going to sleep.

Not that he actually would, of course. He was afraid he might dream.

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The change of tune downstairs was painstakingly evident. From Jimmy making light of things and setting the pace on Mr Barrow, to his being quiet and contrite and Mr Barrow being the one to walk away from any room he entered.

It wasn't surprising, of course, given how at least one quarter the staff had witnessed Jimmy's aggressive outburst, but it was still jarring.

For a couple days, Ms Elise even took to having all her meals early so that she could play some while everyone else ate. Mr Carson naturally opposed the arrangement, but to his never ending aggravation most everybody else supported it a little too enthusiastically. What was the option otherwise? Eating in sepulchral silence?

- It makes me feel like I'm eating at a saloon – had complained Mr Carson.

- Quite the contrary, Mr Carson – had interfered Mr Bates -. I hear that only the most sophisticated of places have this type of live musical performance.

- And where might that be, Mr Bates?

- In America.

- Hardly an example of sophistication, then.

The butler was grumpy through all of it, but still he allowed it and in doing so unknowingly gave everyone an easier time.

Everyone except Jimmy, that is. If there was one way to have him feel worse about his confrontation with Mr Barrow it was to have Ms Elise on the piano all day long.

It became so unbearable that Jimmy yearned for work upstairs. He even volunteered for it. Anything that kept him busy. Anything that exhausted him to the point of dreamless sleep.

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The one thing Jimmy would have wished he could trade places for, was winding the clocks. There was something about them that was so fundamentally Mr Barrow that he felt queasy so much as touching them. He was trying his hardest to not think about the man (nor the things he had done to him), but if there'd been one time Mr Barrow had been unnervingly close to him, it'd been when first winding the grandfather clock in the entrance hall.

"Don't think about it – Jimmy repeated to himself -, don't think about any of it". The words were becoming an almost desperate mantra, one that his traitorous mind seemed a little too eager to ignore. Jimmy had to stand still, readjust himself. He had half his work ahead of him, after all, it made him no favours to dwell on meaningless memories.

He climbed the stairs towards the corridor's clock and, curse his luck, came across Mr Barrow on his way down.

For a moment, they stayed put, like statues at each end of the staircase, staring at each other. The ambiance was tense, the silence prolonged.

- Afternoon, Mr Barrow – Jimmy managed with a hoarse voice.

The man looked down at him with eyes distilling pure disillusion. Jimmy was taken aback by such a stare.

- Mr Kent – he replied, his two meagre words digging a pit in Jimmy's chest.

He said no more, looked no more. He simply hurried past Jimmy and walked away.

For half a second, Jimmy wanted to say something, to do something, to apologize. But the coldness in Mr Barrow's voice had left him so stunned he couldn't follow.

"But this means nothing" Jimmy insisted. It didn't matter that Mr Barrow avoided him. First of all, it wouldn't last; everyone knew Mr Barrow didn't have it in him to ignore Jimmy. And anyway, Jimmy didn't care, he didn't want to apologize. He didn't. He had so much work to do, after all.

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Safe to say, by the time Thomas made it to the kitchen, he was mortified, upset and broken-hearted all at once. Oh, but he held up high, he'd be damned if he lost his dignity.

- Anything to drink? – he asked in the kitchen as he lit up a cigarette.

Daisy paused and looked around.

- Uhm. Maybe some tea.

Mrs Patmore was down at the village and she was in charge of finishing luncheon, but she still made time to brew something for Thomas and bring him his cup to the servants' hall.

Thomas took it with a grateful nod, and Daisy stayed around, waiting for him to taste the tea before speaking.

- Thomas, can I ask you something?

He raised his eyebrows, mouth still on his cup. Daisy went on.

- We've known each other a long time, near me whole life, we have. We're friends, right? Proper like.

Thomas had to put the cup down and stifle a sad, self-hating laugh.

- Even after the whole thing with William? Me treating you like that? You'd call yourself my friend?

Daisy seemed offended he would even ask.

- 'F course! 'Twas a long time ago, and things change, don't they?

- We can be friends, yes – Thomas gave in. He was really moved, to be honest.

Pulling out the chair next to him, Daisy took seat beside Thomas, looking him straight in the eye.

- And as friends, and I know is silly, but… y'know you can trust me, right? If you have a problem.

- Mind you, you're being quite the gossip.

- No, I'm not! – she dared take Thomas' gloved hand, soft and kindly – I just want you to know, and have it real clear in your head, proper like, that you're not alone here. 'Tis no longer the war, Thomas, you don't have to fight us, you don't. You're still here, after everything. That means something.

It took Thomas a moment to realize that his eyes were filling with unshed tears. He pulled his hand away from Daisy to wipe them off. Not in a rude manner, of course, simply in that of someone who isn't used to kindness.

- My, when did you become this sharp, Daisy?

She shot him a wide smile, and then, to his surprise, hugged him. Even more unexpected was the fact that he hugged her back with his gloved hand.

- Thank you – Thomas whispered.

Daisy let go and picked up her tray.

- That was very inappropriate, though – Thomas added, more light-hearted.

- 'Tis no scandal if no one knows – she beamed.

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Jimmy needed some fresh air, maybe even a smoke. He was heading towards the servants' entrance when Mr Carson spotted him.

- James, do give me a moment.

Jimmy responded to the call and approached, waiting until the butler was done revising the pantry lists. It took a lot of willpower from him to give the appearance of patience as he did so. He then followed the butler to his office.

- Do close the door for me, please.

That was never a good sign. Jimmy felt cold sweat in his hands as he did what was instructed. There was an unusual, unsettling edge to Mr Carson's voice that he wasn't liking one bit.

- What can I do for you, Mr Carson?

- I'll be very direct, James. Should I be concerned about the sudden antagonism between you and Thomas? Has anything happened?

Jimmy's face went blank. It seemed Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore had made good on their word not to let the news of the recent incident reach Mr Carson. He wondered what kind of promises (or threats) they'd rained upon the witnessing staff. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it.

His genuine shock about an entirely different situation served him well to sell his lies to Mr Carson.

- Not that I know, Mr Carson. Nothing's the matter.

- The thing is it seems to me that your behaviour towards each other has been inconsistent as of late – he said in disapproval -. If you, and I'm not trying to imply anything here, consider it should be necessary for me to have a word with Thomas- - -

- Mr Barrow's done nothing wrong, Mr Carson – Jimmy quickly put forth. It was the only truth he would tell today. He schooled his face into bored professionalism before proceeding -. I may have been distracted with some family issues, is all. I'm waiting for a letter.

Mr Carson raised his eyebrows, somewhat confused. He clearly expected the conversation to go in a wildly different direction.

- Well, if nothing is the matter…

- May I be excused now?

Mr Carson gestured towards the door in permission. Jimmy nodded politely and headed out.

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It was a half-day and most everyone had gone down to the village. Ms Elise being the exception, busy as she was on practicing the music from the new book she'd asked Thomas to get for her in London. Good english music, to please Lord Grantham.

She'd been so focused on her task that she almost missed Jimmy standing by the hallway entrance. He'd been there for a while, trying to muster some courage.

- Those are new – he said, working that smug charm he was so prone to into his voice.

He sounded so natural that Ms Elise hated him all the more for it.

- If you're learning english melodies, I know all the popular dances. Maybe I could help you with that – he went on.

There it was, the sign that gave him away. His words were so carefully strung together that they were nothing if not rehearsed. But if it was nuance, Ms Elise thought, it was still a little shallow.

- And why would I want that, Mr Kent? – she replied, not bothering to look at him.

The name-calling stung.

- I know I was… rude that one time you asked me, but- - -

- Thank you, Mr Kent. But I'll manage on my own – she cut him off.

The fake smirk he'd so carefully constructed on his face vanished. Jimmy felt his shoulders weigh with regret.

- Mr Barrow won't talk to me, and I thought maybe you'd- - -

- And why might that be? Mr Kent? – Ms Elise slammed the lid closed and turned to face him.

They were on opposite ends of the servants' hall, and yet the air between them filled with such tension that Jimmy took half a step back.

- It could not possibly be that you've done something horrible, humiliating, heartless!

The habitual softness in her voice as she spoke her accusations made her sound incredibly chilling.

Jimmy looked away, ashamed.

- If you want to talk to Thomas, Mr Kent, do it yourself. Do not try to make me a messenger for more of your hideous words.

She walked out through the kitchen door, so determined to avoid him that Jimmy was sure she'd walk out of a window if necessary.

Mr Barrow was being even more extreme in his avoidance. Most of the time in the last week he didn't as much as walk into the room when Jimmy was there.

Jimmy felt so utterly alone.

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Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore were having tea and biscuits in the former's parlour, seizing the little respite of the day.

- You know, Mrs Hughes, sometimes I'm glad not to have a heart – said Mrs Patmore, clanking her spoon against the cup as she stirred her tea.

- My, my. I wasn't aware you had such a condition.

- Oh, you would think it the way the kitchen girls talk about me – Mrs Patmore giggled -. But I'm happy the way it is. It's more trouble than it's worth, really. I got me hands to work and that's all I need.

- I remember you showing a bit of heart one time at a fair in Thirsk.

- A brief lapse in judgement, is all.

They both laughed.

- But well, what's brought this conversation about? – asked Mrs Hughes.

- Just been thinking. Sometimes when I get lonely all I must do is look around and be glad I'm on me own.

- Meaning?

- Well, Thomas, for example. He's had it rough for some time. He's not as good at hiding it, is he? Now that we truly know.

- Well, Thomas' situation is very particular.

- And then you have Jimmy, making it all worse. Getting a little sick of the lad, not gonna lie. Ivy won't talk of anything else. She won't leave poor Susie alone.

- I'd try not to get involved with that, Mrs Patmore – Mrs Hughes reprimanded.

- And I would very much like not to! It's inescapable, that is. Every time he walks into me kitchen, I'm reminded of it. Been carrying a storm cloud with him, he has, that Jimmy. And here I was thinking he had no heart, only fists.

Mrs Hughes pursed her lips, surprised.

- Are you insinuating something, Mrs Patmore?

- What? You take me for a gossip? Not taking those liberties, no. I'm too old for that. But he's been brooding, I tell you that. He likes attention and no one paid it to him like Thomas.

- Unfortunately for Thomas – mused Mrs Hughes -. But you know what youth is like, all intense emotion.

- And not enough sense – Mrs Patmore chipped in -. Well, he dug his own grave, that Jimmy. Needs a good shake, he does. Always causing this kind of trouble! Young, handsome and cheeky is the worst combination of all, truly – she lamented -. Tell you what he needs do: stop begging and say his sorries. We'll all be better for it.

- I think Jimmy has too much pride to simply apologize.

- Didn't have enough of that to avoid a scandal. What a shameful display that was. If he thinks he can be mopey like a wet pup and it will all sort itself out then he's underestimating Thomas. Thomas has always been a long game player, what with all his intrigues back in the day. He's settled down now that O'Brien's gone, but, my, he had a real wicked bone.

Mrs Hughes put down her tea.

- We must be getting old if these are the kind of conversations we're having – she chuckled.

- The young always make it easy to talk about them – defended Mrs Patmore -. Anyway, I just want for things to settle. This is all too much excitement for me poor old heart.

- For the heart you do not have? – teased Mrs Hughes.

- For me poor old bones, then!

They laughed for a bit, then Mrs Hughes turned pensive.

- We all want for it to settle – she admitted -. Any longer and Mr Carson won't help but notice.

- I will not allow it! It's been too much work keepin' those girls quiet. I won't let it go to waste.

- I'm afraid it's no longer up to either of us, Mrs Patmore.

- Silly chap, that Jimmy – sighed Mrs Patmore, rolling her eyes.

Now, it is safe to say that Jimmy was extremely offended. He just wanted to ask for a key, not hear an entire wives' tale on his personal life.

Part of him, however, was glad he'd overheard the whole thing. If this is how he was being perceived, by the oldest staff, no less, he had to correct course immediately.

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Me, tapping the hood of my docx file: This bad boy can fit SO MANY tropes in it!

Who knows when in my life will I ever be able to write anything again so you bet (you BET) I'm packing all of the tropes in here. I just want everyone to be friends and happy.

Though I also like to cause pain and suffering so we'll see how it goes. I'm just having a blast. Love writing little snippets to practice characterisation and interiority.

Still aiming to finish this fic and right after jump into one of my stories. Someone's gotta traumatize the OCs. Might take a while, but for the first time in years I'm hopeful.

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See you next friday!