Note: Sorry for the long delay in updating this, I think it's been over four weeks! I had a disaster after writing the second scene. I wrote it, it was perfect, I pressed save and...it didn't. I had no time to immediately re-write it – I had to wait until the following weekend – hence the huge delay. On the plus side, the re-written second scene turned out better than the original. Hope you enjoy.

A heavy drizzle dotted the darkened kitchen window, the grey morning light muted by the weather not yet bright enough to prevent Thomas from seeing his reflection in the glass as he stood over the sink. He yawned into his elbow, his hands wet – a white ring of bubbles wrapped around his wrist. Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind – the same hands that had taken care of him so lovingly last night.

"You can leave that to me,' Richard said from behind him, his head practically resting on Thomas's shoulder. "You've got about ten or fifteen minutes and it's raining. I don't want you to be late."

Thomas let the cup that he'd had partly submerged in the sink, float down to the bottom. He hastened to wipe his hands on a towel. He felt good, despite the fact that he'd still not dealt with the matter of those letters. The only thing that pained him was the fact that he was in no mood to go waiting hand and foot on a load of aristocrats: he wanted to stay with Richard. "Are you so eager to be rid of me?" he sighed, leaning back against Richard.

"If it were down to me, we'd still be upstairs." Richard relaxed his hold on Thomas, who took the hint and turned around.

"You read my mind." Thomas made a point of caressing Richard's hips with methodical hands. He liked Richard's hips. "I should tell them to shove it and stay here with you, tell them I've got another more important person to tend to."

"Oh I wish."

"Tell me, if we were to stay upstairs, in bed the whole morning, what would we do?"

Richard shrugged with faked innocence. "Oh I'm not certain Mr Barrow, anything that takes our fancy?" Richard said, kissing his neck just below Thomas's earlobe.

"I'm not going to get away on time at this rate am I? Thomas chuckled as Richard pulled back.

"Suppose we should be sensible, but you've got the morning free on Sunday?" Richard flicked his eyebrows up suggestively.

Thomas smacked his arm. "Impatient?"

"Majorly," Richard breathed. They met with a lingering kiss, Thomas's fingers hooking around the belt loop of Richard's trousers. He would be late...he didn't care.

An unexpected gust of wind whipped around Thomas's legs. The side door to the kitchen flew open, knocking against the wall. Thomas and Richard jumped apart startled, their attention on the unwelcome interruption. "What the..." Richard trailed off.

A familiar figure sauntered in. "Sorry. The wind blew the door right out of my hand."

"Larry!" Thomas exclaimed, exasperation mixed with the relief that he and Richard were not in trouble. "Are you not capable of knocking?"

"Ah yes, that bad habit of mine strikes again. Sorry." Larry looked back and forth between them both. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No," Thomas said quickly. "I'm just getting ready to leave."

"Everything okay Larry?" Richard asked. It was Richard's way of asking what Larry wanted. To Thomas, Larry looked fine and much more like his old self. He'd shaved, styled his hair, and was dressed smartly, with the intricate details that Larry always added to he outfits: delicate cufflinks – silver most likely, deep purple tie and his overcoat which had been cleaned to remove the mud and oil stains – the coloured lining visible when he lifted his arm to remove his hat.

"Oh yes! Perfect in fact. In fact I've had a brainwave!" He pulled out a chair and sat down with a flourish.

"I hope you left Downton unseen?" Thomas asked.

"No need to worry about that Thomas, I left yesterday. I've spent the night in a small but neat little room above the Grantham Arms."

"Not what you're used to then?"

"No Richard, but I liked it well enough."

"So what's this plan of yours?" Richard prompted.

"I know what to do to make a start of fixing myself and my relationship with Seb." Larry crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back, slouching slightly. "I'm getting a job at the farm David works at."

Thomas gawped at Larry who only blinked in response as though he'd said nothing unusual. Richard met Thomas's eyes and noticed Richard's fight to hold back a laugh. "What?"

"You? Working on a farm?" Richard added, meeting Thomas in the eye again though unable to restrain himself any longer he burst out laughing, Thomas joining in unable to resist since Richard's laugh was infectious.

"Larry, when was the last time you did any job that involved physical labour outside in all weathers? You've had some ideas before but this takes the biscuit for sure."

"Richard, I know it seems eccentric—"

"Could say that again," Thomas mumbled.

"But I should clarify I'm more specifically looking at the machinery on the farm. I confess I had a nose around yesterday, no one saw me, but I think there are several vehicles I could get stuck into."

"Well that does seem a tad more realistic at least," Thomas admitted, though he still struggled to see the immaculately dressed man doing something so menial.

"Forgive me," Richard began, "but how does this help you and Sebastian?"

"I said how I came to Downton to escape the wealth and privilege that led me astray from what really mattered. I was reminded yesterday of how good it felt to start working on something broken, to put the effort in and struggle but eventually see it mended and on the road again. I think a bit of good honest physical work would do me good. It's been a long time since I've actually earned money directly, usually I make my money earn itself."

Thomas nodded in understanding. He could see where Larry was coming from. The plan was extreme and how Sebastian would come to know of how hard Larry was trying to improve and make up for his mistake, Thomas didn't know, but there was little point trying to put him off. "You'd best speak to David first instead of Mr Tomlinson Larry. He knows you and can make introductions."

"That's what I intended."

Richard looked Larry up and down. "You're not going to turn up at the farm like that are you?"

A look of genuine concern filled Larry's face as he stood and peered at his reflection in the window. "I thought I looked great. Is it the rain? Has that spoiled my appearance?"

"No, that's not what I mean. You look too neat Larry. Loose the cufflinks and the tie, be more casual. It's a farm."

"Hmm." Larry smoothed down his damp hair in the fading reflection regardless. "Suppose you are right."

Thomas looked at the time. "I've got to be going."

"Yes, sorry. I won't detain you a moment longer Mr Barrow." Larry stood and picked his hat up off the kitchen table. "I'd best be getting back to my room and sort out this awfully perfect appearance of mine."

Richard picked up Thomas's coat and held it out for him to put on. "You let us know how it goes and good luck."

"You don't think it's so stupid then?"

"If it's what you want Larry then no. There's no harm in trying and Mr Tomlinson is a good man, be honest with your reasoning and I'm sure you'll be fine," Richard encouraged.

Larry opened the door. "Sorry for interrupting earlier." He stood silent for a moment observing Thomas and Richard. Larry smirked and pointed a finger at them. "So I was interrupting something earlier then?"

Thomas rolled his eyes whilst folding his arms. "Yes. Just like the first time I met you, now off you go."

Larry chuckled. "Yes Mr Barrow. I'll see you two later, you'll be seeing a lot more of me for the foreseeable future," he grinned before stepping out into the alley, closing the door behind him.

In the silence of the kitchen, Thomas blinked. "What just happened?"

"Larry happened."

"Do you think he stands a chance?"

"At getting work? I think Larry could charm his way into or out of almost anything. Regarding Sebastian, I know if it were me, I'd be pleased at least to see how much he was making an effort. That would count in my eyes for something."

"Sebastian is goodness knows where though. He probably doesn't even know Larry is here."

Richard straightened out Thomas's black tie. "No, but one way or another he'll find out. Larry might tell him... or someone else might."

"You're not going to meddle are you?"

"No Thomas." Richard shot him a mischievous look. "I wouldn't dream of it...not yet anyway."

A heavy drizzle fell all around the farm, coating everything it touched in a wet layer of droplets, cutting off any distance of more than a few feet from view. David vigorously rubbed his hands together, blowing into them to bring some life back into them. Low cloud played tricks with sounds: he stopped, straining his ears to the sound of someone approaching. The outline of a man's figure emerged into view carried forward at a fair pace by a keen stride. "Morning Larry," David said as the stranger was identified, being eventually free from the shroud of the gloomy winter weather.

"David!" Larry exclaimed with his usual cheeriness. "Aren't you just the man I wanted to see!"

"Larry what are you—?" David's own snigger cut his question off as he did a double take in Larry's direction, looking him up and down. "What are you wearing?"

"Ah!" Larry spread his arms out wide and turned in a full circle slow enough to show his outfit off. "You like it?"

"Um...it's different from what you usually wear, I'll say that," David said honestly. Larry's normal fashion style was sharp and smart, whilst paying attention to the tiny details that would catch the eye – a brightly coloured tie, coordinated handkerchief in his breast pocket, or silver cufflinks of an intricate design – above all Larry was neat. The clothing before David told a different story though: his shirt looked like it was second hand and a common man's shirt at that – the fabric being cheap – but on top of that he displayed a tweed jacket and matching hat. His trousers were of a similar quality to the shirt and his boots were unpolished. David decided Larry looked like an aristocrat who'd gone out hunting only to turn his hand to the work of a common labourer. David knew Larry could be eccentric but he couldn't work out what he was doing dressed that way.

Larry noticed his expression. "You don't like it?"

"No I didn't say that," David blurted out, "it's just unusual...on you."

Larry's spirits perked up again. "Good! I like being unusual. There's a purpose to this I promise and I'll get to that, but Thomas and Richard advised me to wear something more casual before coming here to see you and Mr Tomlinson." A fond smile split across Larry's face. "Seb likes this style. They never wear anything like this where he's from you see. He thinks it's very British and well...an interesting outfit for a bit of roleplay between us if you get my meaning...though if not I don't mind elaborating—"

David interrupted him by holding his hand up. "No, no Larry I get the idea. What do you need to see me and Matthew about?"

"I have a favour to ask of him and you. Is he around?"

"Yes, hang on." David walked a short distance to a small granite stoned outbuilding with the door open and called inside. "Matthew, are you busy? There's someone here to see you."

A moment later the farmer appeared at the door, rubbing his forehead with a dirty hand and looking less than his normal laid back self. "I can't be long David, been working on that thing all morning and still got nowhere."

Larry stepped forward and offered his hand. "Larry Ferroland."

"Matthew Tomlinson," Matthew returned.

"Pleasure. I've been hoping to speak with you. I'll get straight to it, since you are busy. I have a favour I'd like to ask of you. I hear from good sources that you're a decent fellow."

"Hmm... good sources?"

"Thomas Barrow and Richard Ellis, to name a few," Larry explained.

"Friends of yours?"

"Firm friends, yes. Now, I arrived in Downton only a few days ago unexpectedly and now I find myself needing to stay here a while longer. I was hoping to find work here with you on your farm."

David gawped in Larry's direction. Neither he or Matthew spoke until they both, with Matthew's mood remarkably lifted, started chuckling at Larry's expense. "You're serious?" Matthew asked upon seeing Larry maintaining his polite businessmen-like smile. "Forgive me Mr Ferroland but you're not looking like the sort of person who'd need to be seeking out a job let alone one on a lowly farm? When you said you came to Downton the first thing that appeared in my mind was the abbey, since you look as though you'd be more at home there, though you meant the village didn't you?"

"I did Mr Tomlinson, yes. I have been staying at Downton Abbey though not in a typical fashion. Mr Talbot is an acquaintance of mine but he has no idea I was there, nor do any of the other members of the family. I was staying, with Mr Barrow's help, in the servants quarters for a few days...it's a long story but I needed his help. I'm staying elsewhere in the village now."

Matthew rubbed his chin clearly needing some time to take it all in. Even though David knew of Larry's situation, he was almost as confused. "Keeping a low profile then?"

"Nothing untoward Mr Tomlinson, but yes I'd rather keep things under wraps right now."

"I'd love to help Mr Ferroland, but I don't think this is the right place for you. You don't strike me as a man who'd be used to getting his hands dirty with such work as I am stuck with now," Mr Tomlinson said politely but firmly.

Without a word, Larry strode past David and Matthew towards the outbuilding and peered inside. He returned to them showing a confident smile and David noticed the gleam in his eye. "What's wrong with her?"

"Oh too many things to count," Matthew groaned. "I bought her new, most of the vehicles I own are second hand but not her. Had that old dear for a while, but I think – even though I'm sorry to say it – her days are numbered. I don't have the time to sort it nor the skills I fear. I was hoping to get her fixed by the time my grandson Alfie comes to visit soon since he loves to ride in the front seat with me in that one – I think I'll have to disappoint him."

"That's the van I heard misfiring in the village a day or so ago, am I right?"

"It is Mr Ferroland. That is one of the problems."

"I should have been more clear with my proposal Mr Tomlinson. When I said I am looking for work here, I meant with anything mechanical. I am good at those."

"That so?"

"It is," David answered for Larry.

"I trained as a mechanic for a local garage near where I lived with my mother, started there as an apprentice as soon as I was able to leave school, became fully trained and then got a job there. I made some early connections, took a few risks, and from there – to cut a long story short – made my fortune in the motorcar industry, among other things. I never forgot the basics though so if you'd like me to take a look and sort out anything else that needs tweaking, fixing or maintaining then I'm your man."

"Your help would be appreciated, but I'm afraid I am not in the position to hire anyone now. It's not a cheap business running a farm."

"You don't need to pay me," Larry interceded, "I don't need money, that's what's caused all the trouble in the first place. I only ask for a chance to do some honest work, to remind myself of how it was before."

Matthew frowned in interest. "You need to be humbled then, to do honest work as you say?"

"I suppose so." Larry sighed heavily, as though carrying a great burden. "I came to Downton because I needed help. I've tried to remain grounded, but my ambitions and my money got the better of me. I did something that hurt someone I hold most dear, I betrayed their trust in me. I want to make things right so they'll forgive me, but I need to be able to be honest with myself, to change things and then if I can forgive myself, my apology to him would be meaningful. He'd see right through any lie – he knows me too well. I don't need money, just the chance. I don't hide what this is, not from you as I know you are a decent man and can be trusted with important secrets such as the one that I am sure you have worked out by now – that the person I refer to is my lover and no lady."

"I think I am beginning to understand Mr Ferroland. You are right, I keep secrets of this nature for a few friends of mine, and willingly too."

"Matthew," David began, "I have a suggestion. Larry could earn his keep here. Roof over his head, three good meals a day – all a humble man might want for. If you're happy there's the empty room in the farmhouse, next to the spare room. Or I could squeeze him in at mine?"

"I think that could work," Matthew agreed. "What do you say Mr Ferroland?"

"I'd call that a wonderful arrangement." They shook hands warmly.

"Two conditions though: you lose the tweed: if you are to fit in here you can't look as though you own the farm and the land it's surrounded by."

Larry blushed and looked himself up and down then at David. "I thought...?"

"I'm sorry. I was trying to be polite." David shrugged. "Save it for Sebastian though, if he likes it."

"The second?" Larry prompted.

"That when you feel happy, you tell me the details of the mess you've got yourself into Larry." Matthew gave Larry a wry look that made David smirk. "I have been known in the past to offer a word or two of helpful advice to those who need it."

"He has. Usually he's right," David admitted, thinking back to a few conversations he'd had with him concerning Chris.

"No pressure to tell everything, and only if you're happy. I promise to keep it to myself," Matthew said.

"I can agree to that. Thank you Matthew— may I call you that?"

"If we're to be working and living together it would be best."

"Matthew, you know he's actually Lord Ferroland. You'd have to bow to him every time you see him," David joked.

"Not a chance," Matthew jested back.

"It's fine, I'm not keen on it anyway. Plain old Larry, that's me."

"Plain?" David gave him a playful shove. "Never anything plain about you Larry."

...

Rain pattered its rhythm against the window behind closed curtains which, along with the soft glow of light in the bedroom, made for a cosy feel that Richard had longed for all day. They'd started off the evening in the living room by the fire, but after a while Richard's toes began to complain of the cold and so they moved to the bedroom. Tucked into bed, Richard finished his tea and Thomas occupied himself with reading. Richard savoured the warmth with each sip that flowed down through him. He allowed himself the pleasure of watching Thomas uninterrupted: he had three pillows behind him so he could sit up comfortably, his dark-as-the-night hair, flopped lazily over his forehead, one knee bent upwards under the sheets, the other leg flopped over the side of the bed. Only one thing was out of place – it brought concern welling to the surface – Thomas's forehead was knotted with a deep frown, and Richard was sure he'd been stuck on the same page for longer than necessary.

"Thomas love," he began, putting his near empty cup down on the bedside table with a gentle clatter, "everything alright? You've been on that page for ages now."

"What does that matter?" Thomas mumbled, a defensive edge to his voice. His fingers flicked back and forth over the edge of the book.

"Can't be that riveting surely?" Richard moved closer, laying on his side at eye level with Thomas's shoulder. "Talk to me."

The book snapped shut, Thomas not bothering to save the page. He let it drop into the narrow gap between their legs. "It's nothing."

Richard reached out his hand, hesitating to touch him, as he wondered if pushing Thomas for more was a good move or not. "It's something, unless you just need to sleep."

Thomas snatched the book up and turned over to put it into the draw on his side of the bed. Items clattered in the draw as he rummaged for something. He pulled out an envelope and pushed it into Richard's hands. "Read it."

"This is from your sister?" Richard pushed himself upwards, back against the pillows and headboard. "I thought you got rid of them all."

"Not all. Just read it. I'll change my mind otherwise, but it's about time you knew what's going on with me." Thomas looked at him, his grey eyes tired from more than just a long day.

Richard pulled out the sheet of letter paper, noting that the envelope had been carelessly torn open instead of properly with a letter knife. He skimmed over the words and clasped his hand onto his chin as he gasped in shock. He'd had all sorts of theories, some so mad most would think them unbelievable, but in the end he saw how incredibly simple it was. "Thomas I..."

"Don't worry, you don't need to be polite and say you are sorry. I'm not," Thomas reassured him, curtly.

"But Thomas, you shouldn't have kept this to deal with on your own." Richard read the letter over again. "Your father died, and you've—"

"Carried on as normal as though nothing has changed?" Thomas finished for him. "I did."

"Margaret has been persistent though. She's sent countless letters, have they all said something similar to this?" Richard folded the letter into the envelope again, Thomas taking it without saying a word, or a look towards him.

"Pretty much. She doesn't seem to get the hint."

"She wants you at the funeral Thomas, I can understand that." Richard recognised Thomas's state of mind from his worst times. He looked dead ahead of him, vacant and unfeeling – Richard knew he wasn't without caring, but in moments like this he preferred to pretend he didn't – he closed himself off. "She probably wants your support, your mother too?"

"Support?" Thomas questioned, with an acrid sneer. "How much support did they give me? Why should I return any of that? I wrote to Margaret not long after David and I ran away. I pleaded with her to help me. I didn't get a single reply. The last letter I sent was from Downton, a few days after I got my first job there. That is how she knew where to find me."

A sinking feeling fuelled up in Richard's stomach. "Thomas I—"

Thomas hadn't finished. "The only reason she wants the disowned, banished, shame of a brother back is so she and mother can avoid any awkward questions as to why his only son was absent from the funeral. Well I won't be playing the dutiful son, not for them."

Richard did push himself closer to Thomas this time in an effort to come back to him, to drop the mask of defence he's put on. He placed his hand lightly on Thomas's shoulder but still Thomas remained rigid, coiled up inside, as though ready for an attack. He moved his hand down to Thomas's and held it within both of his. Thomas flinched and looked at him with a questioning look, one that begged to be understood. "I'm not having you deal with this alone anymore so don't think you snapping at me will put me off."

"Should do."

"It doesn't, but Thomas...don't you think going along, if only for your own reasons not for your family's, will be the right thing to do?"

Thomas narrowed his eyes in contempt at him. "Why? You think I need closure or something? I don't care if he's gone. He's been gone from my life for decades, why should this change anything?"

"But Thomas he's your father," Richard pleaded.

"And? If it were you I know you wouldn't hesitate on going, you'd want to be there. You'd feel loss and grief. I feel nothing. If that makes me a terrible person then so be it." Thomas pinched his eyes shut. "I should feel something, I know that. I've grieved people I've lost whom I've loved, but I can't...not with him."

"I just don't want you to make a decision you'll come to regret later in life. You only get to do this once. Please think on it some more, consider it. I could go with you." Richard stroked Thomas on the forehead with his finger. Thomas resisted at first, but leaned into him eventually. They cuddled down in the pillows.

"That won't be the best idea. If I did go – not that I am – I'd love you there, but they aren't like your family Richard. You won't be welcomed with open arms. It wouldn't be wise, under the circumstances."

"I suppose I'll have to agree with you there. Someone else could go with you, be your back up?" Richard suggested, Phyllis Baxter coming into his mind without a second thought.

"Maybe. I'll think about it, but I don't think anyone will change my mind."

"At least talk to me if you need to, about your father. Even if all you want to tell me is bad stuff. It will help you get it off your chest. I know from experience that bottling grief or whatever you're feeling up is never a good idea." Richard's mind flicked back to last winter, when his trauma from almost dying brought back long buried memories of the war and his first serious love, Jack Firth. He'd found peace thanks to Thomas's patience, he hoped Thomas would feel the same sometime. He'd loved Jack though and Jack had loved him; Thomas's relationship with his father was far from similar.

"Thank you, I'm sorry for just now. It's not your fault."

Richard nuzzled his nose against Thomas's and kissed it. "You can lean on me Thomas. I can take it." He placed a comforting, gentle kiss on Thomas's lips. "I promise if you change your mind about any of it, I won't say 'I told you so'. No need to stand on your pride with me."

Thomas nodded. "Sorry," he repeated into Richard's chest.

Richard held him close, as he felt Thomas grow heavy in his arms, he stayed that way until Thomas's breathing slowed into a rhythm that meant he was sleeping. Sleep took longer to come to him. Thomas could be tricky when it came to family and feelings associated with them. Richard stood by his view that Thomas should attend the funeral, but he felt like an outsider not being able to relate to a hateful family. He drifted off, his last thoughts being how he had no idea how to change Thomas's mind.