July 12th, 1916

"Are you ready for this?"

Sybil glanced over and Isobel and smiled weakly. "Not really. You know I dislike days like today, when I know it will only end in pain and suffering." She adjusted her nurse's hat, the two of them standing before the twin oak doors that separated them from their destination. Isobel was dressed in a similar outfit, which had been throwing Sybil off for over a year since in her first life she'd never seen Matthew's mother dressed as a nurse. Oh, she knew she had been one, as Isobel was fond of telling everyone about her medical background, but she hadn't ever see her dressed as one. The few times she had stepped in to assist she had been in the casual formal clothing that many upper middle class women preferred, not the white gowns of a practice of medicine.

"I think you are being a touch dramatic. And besides, this is part of our profession, my dear. I know they try and make it seem glamorous when they are training you, that you are saving lives and rescuing brave souls… but there do come days like this and all we can do is face them head on and know that what we are about to suffer through will result in good things for those under our care."

"I know, I know… I'm not nervous. Just… dreading it." Sybil squared her shoulders and set her face like a mask of stone. "Well now… no use delaying a second more." With that she reached out and grabbed the door, pulling it open…

…to reveal a meeting room with chairs set up for audience members and those waiting to be called upon by the men seated at the table at the head of the room.

"Name and purpose?" a woman wearing a British woman's army uniform that was standing just inside asked.

"Nurse Isobel Crawley. Guest."

"Nurse Sybil Crawley, representative for St. Luke's Recovery and Rehabilitation Hospital."

The woman checked her notebook and smiled. "You will be third to speak, Nurse Crawley. Please have a seat in the first row. I assume the other Nurse Crawley is here to support you? Mother?"

"Not quite," Isobel said. "My son and her sister are married. So more like an aunt, if anything. Rather confusing, our family tree."

"Well, still nice of you to come. You may sit together. We'll begin in about 10 minutes." The woman passed them a typed sheet of paper that had the agenda for the meeting and motioned for them to continue on, the two moving past other nurses, doctors, and army personal to sit in their designated seats.

Sybil looked around. "Looks like we are some of the first to arrive." She nodded towards the only other person in their row, a young doctor who was going over his notes.

"It is a good sign you came when you did. Too early and you seem desperate, too late and it is seen as rude. This was perfect timing."

"Are you saying I need all the help I can get?" Sybil teased.

Isobel, however, merely patted her arm. "You will do wonderfully."

Sybil sighed.

She hadn't meant to go back into nursing. Much like Matthew she had dreaded the war that was coming. She knew he had nightmares, as she was the only one he could admit that to now (in his past life Thomas had been his confidante but in this reality only Sybil knew that he'd once served on the Front), and in turn he knew that she had them as well. More than once, early on in those first few weeks in reliving her life, she had awoken the entire house screaming and thrashing, either reliving her death or the horrors she had seen in the hospital before she'd been transferred to Downton. Her family had chalked it up to the "fever", something Dr. Clarkson had agreed with. Hallucinations brought on by the illness when she'd learned of the Titantic sinking, no different than believing she'd had a baby. As time had gone on they had lessened but as the war had grown nearer and nearer they had started back up again. Of Lt. Courtney's suicide. The man who had died in the snow. Countless others. Limbs torn off, eyes burst from sockets, faces caved in… they haunted her dreams like wraiths. The coming of the war meant that was all hurdling towards her and she wanted no part. No part at all.

Except… she was Sybil Branson. She cared for people. She helped people. And when Isobel had told them a month into their stay with the Lothrops that she had found a recovery hospital that would take her on as a nurse… Sybil had shared a look with Matthew and said she wanted to join up as well.

The training had gone well enough (she would have been concerned if it had gone badly, considering she knew it all already) and General Lothrop had even stepped in to help ensure she was assigned to the same hospital Isobel worked at (it paid to have friends in positions of power and their benefactor was currently one of the most powerful men in London outside of Parliament and his own commanders). Much to Sybil's relieve the recovery hospital wasn't one of the ones working with men who were deathly injured but rather was much like Downton had been at the end of the war, helping soldiers who had been saved from Death's Door but needed further aid before they could move back into society. Men that needed to learn how to walk again because they'd lost a foot or a leg. Or how to use their non-dominate hand because the other was too scarred and burned to function properly. Teaching men who had lost their hearing sign language or blind men how to get around the world. While it wasn't the most pleasant work at times it was a far cry from the nightmare she and Thomas had gone through.

At first Sybil had tried to keep her head down and just do her job quickly and quietly, so that she didn't draw attention to herself. She would work with Matthew's mother often, able to use her as a cover for her ideas and suggestions ('Is there any way we can prevent this?' 'What if we were to try something like…'). Unlike Dr. Clarkson, who seemed to be utterly set in his ways and who had also seen her as the Earl's daughter and not as a colleague, Isobel was far more accepting of her thoughts and encouraged her to always question things and puzzle out better solutions. Thus Sybil could quietly fake her knowledge onto Isobel, making her gain all the glory. And she was happy to do that.

Things had been going well until one patient, Sgt. Reynolds, had snapped.

Reynolds had been brought in after he had taken shrapnel to the face, which had left the right side of his head with scarring, damage to his eye that blinded him, and his ear torn off. He had been sullen and quiet, brooding on his cot, and Sybil had known that if he weren't brought out of his brown study something bad would happen. She had seen too many men focus not on the fact that they were alive but that they had been altered; Matthew was a clear example, as rather than be happy that he at least survived the War he had wished he'd have died rather than live in that chair (pre-actual death; after he had died and came back he'd admitted to Sybil that if he'd awoken in that hospital bed he'd have been giddy as a child on Christmas morning that he was at least alive, even if he would have been stuck in the chair forever). Reynolds she had feared would kill himself.

She hadn't expected him to attack another patient.

Later, after it was all done, she had learned that another soldier who had just been brought in had gone to school with Reynolds. But rather than be happy to see a familiar face the new arrival had mocked Reynolds, for in their youth the Sergeant had been considered a charmer and all the girls had loved him. The new arrival, suffering nerve damage in his left hand, had insulted him, taunting that while he would have trouble holding a cup of water no woman would want to be with a monster like him. Reynolds had let out a roar of fury that scared the nurses before smashing a glass on the counter and driving it into the new arrival's face. That had started a brawl as other soldiers attempted to pull Reynolds away while the new arrival had begun to thrash and scream, striking his would-be saviors as he whipped about on his back.

Sybil had rushed in to find several nurses staring in horror, dumbfounded at what to do. But she had merely taken in everything before snapping off orders, even slapping one woman to get her to pay attention and follow her commands. Military police had been called, doctors pulled away from their dinners to assist, and the nurses organized into treating the wounded and restoring order. Sybil had then ensured that eye witness accounts were recorded and evidence gathered before going back to barking directions. It had only been when all was settled and she demanded status reports that she'd realized that the person she was demanding respond to her was the head doctor, Bullworth. The man had ordered Sybil to his office and she had followed after… not quite meekly as she didn't think she had it in her to do that, but at least bracing for him to begin screaming in her face.

"Tell me, Nurse Crawley," Dr. Bullworth had said, closing the door before walking over to his liquor cabinet and pouring a glass… which he passed to her, "how does a woman fresh out of training have more sense than my nurses who have three years experience on her?"

Sybil hadn't said, "Because I actually have five years now" but merely stated that she saw the situation and just… reacted. She'd also mentioned Isobel and Matthew and how she had been helped by General Lothrop. Dr. Bullworth had accepted that before asking her to give her thoughts on the hospital and what they were doing right and wrong.

From that conversation Sybil had eventually found herself in her new position as spokeswoman for the hospital. Not at first, of course, but slowly, over the span of several months. Sent to this meeting, asked to attend that events When the military wanted to discuss funding or someone needed to talk to the press or organize an event Sybil was pulled off her duties and put in charge. When the brass needed someone to dine with the rich and powerful and get them to open their purses who better to send than the woman who had been summoned to dinner most nights by a gong? Soon it wasn't just the minor events or stuffy parties she was being sent to but truly important meetings, ones where true changes were put in motion. Other women and even a few men were put under her command and they quickly came to respect her. While not having an official title Allen had proudly stated that Sybil was a Lance Corporal in all but name and taken to addressing her by that title at times as a warm endearment. She still helped patients, cleaning bedding and changing pans and helping with wraps, but just as much she found herself dressed in her uniform discussing budgets and other matters with top ranking officials, sometimes in halls like the one she found herself in now and other times at the high tables of London's elite.

She knew, in the beginning at least, that part of the reason she was given such assignments wasn't merely because of her talent but her connections. The first was obviously her father; most didn't know of the falling out and thus she was still seen as Lord Grantham's daughter and that helped with some rich lords who liked talking to the daughter of a peer rather than a 'jumped up doctor with delusions beyond his station', as Granny had once called Dr. Clarkson. Then there was the support of the General. While Sybil had moved out of the Lothrops' home to share rooms with Isobel she still saw Allen and Catherine often and apparently Allen had told many of the personnel in London that the Crawley girls were like his adopted daughters now, meaning that everyone who respected the gruff but fair General looked out for her too. And a LOT of people respected the man, considering his worth in the war effort. Finally there was Isobel herself… it had been shocking for Sybil to learn that while in the countryside Isobel Crawley was merely 'Matthew the heir's mother' at best and 'that loud-mouth woman' at worst, in London she was 'The wife of the great Doctor Reginald Crawley'. Matthew had never really realized it but his father, during his time in London before moving to Manchester, had been a highly respected doctor amongst the medical circles and Isobel nearly so. Had he not chosen a more simple life it was quite likely Reginald Crawley could have become the head of Barts. So she being seen as Isobel's apprentice had only made her more impressive to those in the know.

She drew herself out of her thoughts and listened as doctors moved to stand and talk, giving their prepared statements. They were… passable… in some cases. Painful in others. Some people weren't built for conversation, focusing far too much on facts and figures. They failed to realize that people needed a connection, not just data. Others were too emotional and that made them seem unhinged… the second doctor had been like that and it had made her grit her teeth and close her eyes because she knew even if he did need the money he wouldn't get it. Balance was the key.

"We will now hear from Nurse Crawley concerning a proposal to expand St. Luke's."

Sybil stood and marched forward. Shoulders squared but body loose. Head held high but with a light look in her gaze that wasn't intense or overpowering. Smile but not too big of one. Own the room. Own their hearts. "Thank you. Recovery is important not just for those who wish to return to the Front but those who, through serving to protect our nation, have found their lives altered forever…"

One six minute speech and a few questions later Sybil had secured the hospital enough funds to renovate another disused section of their building to provide more beds for men in need. Isobel had flashed her a proud grin and even having to spend another hour listening to other reports did not dampen her mood. Yes, it was hard work but it was something she was good at and while it didn't serve others as she had originally intended it did help nonetheless.

They were making their way down the steps towards the sidewalk to hail a taxi when Sybil heard her name called out repeatedly. No, not just her name. 'Lady Sybil'. So few people called her that anymore (only Molesley and the other servants at the Lothrop household, as well as the occasional Lord or Lady) that it took her a moment to get over her shock before she turned-

"Oh!" Isobel exclaimed. "Dr. Clarkson! Why this is a surprise!"

"I should say so!" the doctor said, hurrying over to them. He was dressed in his army uniform and it took all of Sybil's willpower not to snap to attention, as she had to remind herself that he wasn't her superior in this life. "I never thought I would see the two of you here! You, Mrs. Crawley, perhaps, but Lady Sybil…"

"I went through the training early on, Dr. Clarkson," Sybil said warmly. "That's why it took so long for me to respond… frankly I am far too used to being called Nurse Crawley nowadays."

"Ah, no harm then. Whatever are you two doing here though?"

Isobel puffed up a bit, taking hold of Sybil's hand. "Sybil here is the official nurses' spokewoman for St. Luke's."

"…you are the nurse that is the talk of all the medical circles?" Clarkson said, shocked but not in a bad way. He wasn't looking at her like 'how could you do that'; more like 'my word, how wonderful!'. It made Sybil smile all the brighter. "My my my, that is impressive, my lady… truly impressive."

"Thank you, Dr. Clarkson."

"I hope you aren't too mad at us," Isobel said.

"Whatever do you mean?" Clarkson asked, motioning for them to follow him so they weren't in the way of other pedestrians. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"For poaching Thomas, of course," Isobel stated. "I know he talked with you about enlisting but Matthew got to him first…"

Leading them back into the building Clarkson moved towards a bench and sat down, Sybil and Isobel joining him. "Oh no, don't worry about that. I only promised to put in a word for Thomas; he wasn't going to work for me. Most likely he would have been assigned to a unit. In fact I admit I am thankful Mr. Crawley was able to help him… he mentioned rumors about avoiding the worst of the fighting by signing up for the medical corps but I can attest now those claims were false. I fear he would have rather hated me had he signed up and thought I tricked him. What is he doing now?"

"Matthew and him work for General Allen Lothrop. They handle supplies."

"Well, I suppose I should look into talking with them both soon… would be nice to have someone who could help get more equipment and bandages when there are shortages."

"Always seems to be a problem, wherever one is stationed," Isobel said sadly. "But the men in charge of giving the funds aren't the ones who need to spend them, I suppose, and they don't see the need to waste good money, in their opinion."

"At least not on the care for others," Sybil said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "They have enough money to give generals wonderful command centers and batmen to serve them but not enough to patch up their soldiers." She shook her head. "If it weren't for the fact that the Germans were just as bad, if not worse, I'd be concerned about our chances."

Dr. Clarkson sighed. "It's like that during times of peace too. No one wants to pay for the cost of living until it is them in my hospital bed."

"So what brings you here?" Sybil asked.

"Discussing locations for other medical facilities," Dr. Clarkson stated. He let out a sigh. "You know how it is… we are short on everything at times but the worst of it is space."

Sybil did know. It had been that reason that Downton had become a recovery hospital during the war. 'The sad thing is that while it might be the one thing to get papa to finally see the light I honestly don't believe it will happen now.'

The rift between the Downton Crawleys and the London Crawleys had not healed with time. Mary refused to speak of papa and Sybil had a feeling that while Matthew was still very much angry with her father he would have been willing to extend an olive branch had Mary asked. But she refused, feeling that it was papa's fault this had all happened and that it was up to him to take the first step. And with how stubborn he was that would never happen. He hadn't even set a letter to them after news of Mary's marriage had broken, let alone offer to assist. Sybil remembered how utterly angry he'd been with her and Tom but he'd at least given them his blessing and a bit of money, though he hadn't come to Ireland for the wedding. In this life he not only didn't attend Mary's wedding (not that he was given a chance) but he refused to acknowledge it, or any of them honestly, existed.

The rest tried but Sybil didn't fault them for their less than strong attempts. Mama had been pregnant when they left and from what Thomas had heard from O'Brien (and Sybil had a sneaking suspicion that mama was feeding O'Brien information to feed to Thomas) it had been a hard one that had left her bedridden for nearly a month. By the time she had regained her strength the trenches had been dug in; oh, she had tried to convince Mary to come and see their new sibling but Mary had utterly refused, stating that since Matthew was not welcomed in Downton and she was Mrs. Matthew Crawley that disinvite applied to her as well. Edith had agreed ('And how surprising that those two are thick as thieves now that they aren't competing over paramours!') and Sybil knew that while she did want to reconnect with her family she could not betray her new one for her old one. As for mama coming to see them or bringing the baby that was out of the question as well. Papa had apparently decided that London was far too filthy and dirty for a woman who had just given birth and she needed to stay in the fresh air that surrounded Downton. Mama could come later on but she couldn't bear to leave the littlest Crawley alone for too long, and thus where the baby stayed so did she. Letters were the most communication that was sent out but it had been ages since any of the girls had written as for every three letters they sent to their mother they got one in return and it was filled with the standard breezy information one might get from a distant aunt than their mother.

'These days Catherine and Isobel are more mother to us than our own and the General has been far more attentive to our futures than I dare say papa would have been had we never fallen out. Papa would only look for marriages that would give status to Downton; Allen wants to see us happy and successful-'

"Well, I am sorry but I really must be off," Dr. Clarkson said, pulling Sybil from her thoughts (and causing a flash of guilt to spring into her soul that she had been ignoring him). "I need to get to my meeting. That said, I am sure we'll see each other more often in the future, now that I know where you are working. And I hear talk that Downton will begin holding fundraisers soon to aid in the war effort so I am sure I will see you-"

"I am afraid you will not," Sybil said, cutting him off gently but firmly. "There is… a reason so many of us Crawleys are in London now."

Clarkson, not a stupid man by any means, quickly nodded. "Ah, of course."

"Dr. Clarkson, if I might give you a piece of advice?" The doctor nodded. "Be prepared that Downton will not be what you are expecting. I don't know what it will be like but know it has most likely changed."

"I… will keep that in mind, my lady." With that he said his goodbyes and hurried off.

"Was that wise?" Isobel asked. "Scaring the poor man like that."

"Better he know what he is walking into. Could you imagine him seeing papa and offhandedly mentioning talking to us?"

Isobel pulled a face. "Right. Yes, that would end badly, I agree."

Sybil stood and offered her arm to Isobel. "Come now, buck up. We got the money, the hospital will expand… today is a good day!"

"And tomorrow will be better. After all, you have your weekly lunch date with Tom."

Sybil blushed at that. "Please don't call it that. We merely-"

"He is courting you, even if he doesn't realize it. And you've wanted him to court you for a while. As you said, my dear… buck up. Now, the meeting was shorter than expected so I think the two of us should grab a small bite to eat and take a walk through the park before we return to work."

Sybil couldn't argue with that and Isobel slipped her arm through her's, the two heading off.

~A~O~O~O~F~

Edith paused before entering the bullpen, watching with a slight smile as Tom, who was working at his typewriter, did his best to make it seem like he wasn't paying attention to Edgar Brickland, whose desk bordered her own and Tom's. Edgar, a 30 year old man with sandy brown hair and a small van dyke beard, made up the final member of their War Opinion Trinity, with him handling the patriotic articles that forever praised the government and the war effort while Tom handled the rebellious side and Edith the moderate between the two. While in the paper the two of them might have seemed like bitter enemies in real life they were merely caustic friends, trading barbed insults but also more than willing to stop in at a pub for a drink after work. They knew the roles they had to play and did so with a gusto, to the point that for some hard hitting news articles the two of them, along with Edith at times herself, wrote up featured adopted pennames so that people wouldn't be startled that the Union Jack loving Edgar was condemning the government for a poorly thought out law or the Irish Radical was extolling the virtues of a bobby who had rescued a small child from a tipped over carriage.

"I just want to know when you will finally take her someplace proper, Branson!" Edgar said, leaning around his desk to try and catch Tom's eye.

"And I told you it is none of your business, Brickland," Tom said, jaw working as he pounded at the keys, making it sound as if heavy fire was coming from the bullpen.

"She is beautiful, charming, smart, and kind. I'd warn you that someone else was going to snatch her away but everyone can see that she loves you and only you."

"He's right you know," Gladys, one of the advice columnists, said as she walked by.

"No one ask ya!" Tom snarled, earning laughter from the other reporters. "Damn it all, why is it that people think my entire bloody life begins and ends with Sybil?"

"Because it does," Edith said as she finally made her presence known. "Or it should, at the very least."

"Not you too!" Tom complained.

"Yes her too!" Edgar exclaimed. "Thank you Edith!" He reached over and grasped Tom's shoulder, giving it a shake. "Even the lady's sister is rooting for you!"

"And I do so not just because she cares for you but because I know for a fact you care for her, Tom."

He blushed at that. "I just… want to take it slow, okay? With the war and all the changes I don't want to rush things." He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Could we drop this? Please?"

"Brickland, be nice and let it go," Edith said when Edgar opened his mouth, her tone making it clear he was to drop it. Most men would have chuffed at taking orders from a woman but Edgar's father had died young and he had been the baby of a family that consisted of his mother, an aunt, both his grandmothers, and three sisters who had been at minimum ten years older than him. He was long used to strong women. "Besides, we have other things to focus on." Edith reached into her handbag and pulled out an envelope before sitting down at her desk.

"What is this?"

"Just came in. Go ahead… read it."

Tom raised an eyebrow at that but opened it up and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Let's see… To the traitorous Irish scum Tom Branson and his editor at The Strand. Once I enjoyed your magazine greatly but now, thanks to the German-loving writings of the bog trotter in your employ the only thing your magazine is good for is wiping shit from my shoe…" Tom looked up at Edith. "Wow…"

"I know," Edith said before breaking out in a massive grin. "Our first threatening letter!"

"Finally!" Tom declared with a whoop, Edgar clapping his hands. "Damn it all, I was wondering how long it would take for us to really get them rattled!"

"Well, you know what they say," Edith replied, "if we aren't upsetting them then we aren't doing things right!"

"What set them off?" Edgar asked with glee. "I'm guessing your complaints on the draft."

"It says further down," Edith commented. "It was the article about how too many are using dead men as props to make themselves look patriotic."

"Oooo, that was a good one," Edgar stated. "Almost got me on your side."

"Almost you tea swilling dandy?"

"Almost, you potato-sucking-"

Edith held up her hands. "Yes yes, you are very careful in your language."

"Thank you, milady," Tom and Edgar said as one, bow giving her a mocking bow. Edith laughed at that, shaking her head as Tom began to read more of the letter aloud to Edgar, using a nasally, mocking voice. When they'd started at the paper things had been awkward, as Tom had still thought of her as his employer's daughter and had been mindful of his words and tone. But months spent working long hours together, their desks butted up close and needing to consult one another often, had torn down the walls between them and Edith now counted Tom and Edgar as her dearest friends. It was hard for Tom not to act casually around her when he'd seen her asleep at her desk with drool leaking out of her mouth or squirt jam all over her shirt and then spend the rest of the day working with a massive stain on her clothes. Closeness had bred familiarity and allowed the two of them to develop a strong bond.

'If it weren't for how close I was to Michael I dare say people would think Tom and I were courting,' Edith thought to herself, tapping her pencil against the notebook she had for article ideas. 'Though maybe if I did come on strong with him it would get Sybil and him to stop dancing around…'

After about another 30 minutes Edgar stood up, stretching until his back gave a light popping sound. "Ugh… I need to get some air and some food. Either of you coming?"

"I packed," Tom said, pulling out a paper bag.

Edith frowned. "You remembered-"

Tom pulled out a small envelope and from it withdrew a pill. "I did."

"Because the doctor said with your heart murmur-"

"I will take it, Edith, no need to worry." Shortly after he had started Michael had required both her and Tom to have physicals done, as he wanted to make sure his reporters were healthy. While Edith had gotten a clean bill of health Tom was found to have a heart murmur. Nothing serious but it did mean he'd never be drafted and that he'd need to take a pill a day for the rest of his life. Edith had taken it upon herself to ensure he took his medicine as even after nearly 2 years he still forgot at times. "But Edgar, I can wait for you to get back and we can eat together on the bench outside? It is a lovely day."

"That will work," Edgar said, grabbing his suit jacket. "Edith, you free or are you planning something with our glorious leader?"

"Michael has asked me to lunch, yes," she said with a smile. "But I have nothing tomorrow and Tom will be on his lunch date-" she ignored his sputtering, "so we could go then. Maybe try that little sandwich place down the road?"

"Sounds good… what the-" Edgar looked past Edith and she spun in her chair, jaw dropping.

"Granny?!" she exclaimed as her grandmother stepped out of Michael's office.

"Oh!" Granny said, giving a tight lipped smile when she saw Edith. "Good, I was afraid you'd be off before we got done." She walked over to Edith, looking down at her with a bemused look on her face. "I know you have been gone a long time, Edith my dear, and I can look past your… cluttered workspace-" Edith grimaced, knowing how much of a pigpen her desk must have looked like, "-and how casual you are with your co-workers-" Edith blushed and squirmed, "-but I will NOT overlook you just sitting there and not giving me a hug!"

Edith leapt to her feet and gave her grandmother an embrace that was perhaps a touch too demonstrative but honestly she didn't care. "I'm sorry, I'm just surprised. I haven't seen you since… since Christmas!"

Of the Downton Crawleys only granny had truly kept in touch with the newly established London Crawleys. Mama could be forgiven as she was focused on the baby but Papa had made it clear that he had no interest in connecting with any of them. While he hadn't been to London in over a year in the first 6 months of their stay word had reached them that he had gone to his club but had made no attempt to contact them. Aunt Rosamund had sent a letter, asking to meet Mary and the girls for lunch so that they might 'mend things with Robert and make up for your mistakes'; Sybil had delighted in burning that letter. Granny though had come to see them three days after they had begun to settle, the only sour spot being when she'd clearly gotten upset upon the news that Mary and Matthew were married and she had not been able to witness it. But she had never blamed them and when she could she visited, mostly around Christmas. She'd even joined them last year in taking part in the Lothrops' tradition of everyone taking turns reading A Christmas Carol (with Granny actually doing a fair impression of Marley, in Edith's opinion).

"Well, there is nothing wrong with a grandmother coming to see her grandchildren, is there?" Granny said.

"Yes but you always come to the house, not here."

"Here, take my seat, milady," Tom said, standing up.

"No, no, Branson, I think not… chairs with wheels, whoever heard of such a thing? I dare say I am a good sport but that is a fun ride that I am far too old for."

Edith looked at Michael's door before letting out a sigh. "You aren't trying to get Michael to side with you, are you? Because he won't do it." After about a year granny's visits had begun to serve a second purpose: trying to convince the girls to return to Downton. Not to do as Aunt Rosamund wanted and beg papa for forgiveness but so that Granny could arrange a meeting between them and papa to try and settle matters. She felt that if she could just get them all alone together everything would work out, that blood would win the day. "Even if he did it isn't I you need to convince."

"I know, I know," Granny said, waving her hand. "It is Mary. She remains loyal to Matthew and I can't fault her for that. Robert still is quite pigheaded when it comes to him and Mary will not choose, even slightly, her father over her husband. And good for her, it means the marriage is a good one."

"Then why are you here?" Edith asked. "Why come-"

"I asked her to come," Michael said, stepping out of his office. Edith felt the corners of her mouth tug up as they always did when she saw Michael approach her and she moved to cover her mouth with her hand but he caught her fingers and clasped them in his own. "You see… I knew I couldn't talk to your father. And while I have already talked with Allen… I wanted to speak with the true head of the Crawley family. She missed her chance with one granddaughter but I will not cause her to miss another."

And with that Michael dropped to one knee.

"Oh my god," Edith whispered, her vision blurring.

"Edith… it's funny… I practiced this so much. Practically from the day I met you, if I am honest. Worked out the words, what I would say… but now that I find myself here… there is nothing that feels right. That doesn't feel fake. So… I'll just ask… Edith Crawley…" he pulled a box from his pocket and produced a ring. "Will you marry me?"

Now Edith's hand did fly to her mouth and she sniffed and cried even as she smiled, bobbing her head up and down.

"I believe that is a yes," she heard Tom whisper and she let out a laugh.

"What he said," she managed to get out before Michael leapt up and pulled her into an embrace, the entire bullpen breaking out into applause and cheers.

Author's Notes: And this chapter lets us catch up with the other two groups of the London Crawleys. I love the idea that Sybil is now a spokeswoman as it just fits her talents perfectly. I did competitive speech giving in high school (and yes, that is a thing, involves command of the stage and knowledge of the topic and how you handle audiences) and Sybil is a natural at it.

And Clarkson makes another appearance! And we learn a bit more about the falling out between the Downton and London Crawleys through him while setting up that rather infamous fundraiser that happened on the show.

As for Edith I enjoyed filling out the bullpen with characters that can interact with her and Tom. I wanted to show that he and Edith are now very good friends, now at the point they were in canon in the final season when Tom as Edith's brother in all but blood.

And yes, at long last… Edith and Michael are getting married! Now, I know some of you will be upset about Bertie but don't worry, while he might not get Edith I will ensure he gets a happy ending.

Next time we leapt to Downton, first the Downstairs and then the Upstairs, to learn how everyone there took the falling out, what life is like… and finally meet Baby Crawley.

And now our plot bunny. And it is another return to Episode 1 idea for you all. The Titanic sinks, blah blah blah, you know the drill. We get to Matthew and Isobel having breakfast when the letter arrives and Matthew reads it… before telling the cook to leave them. In fact he tells her to send the maid away as well, they have the day off with pay. Once they are gone he tells Isobel, "Robert Crawley has named me his heir."

To which Isobel finally whispers, "…father, how did they find you?"

And no, I didn't mistype that.

In this story Matthew is an immortal. More than that… he is a fallen angel. Originally the angel Sahaquiel, he did not fight with Lucifer when he rebelled against Heaven but he also did not think the punishment fit the crime and thus he chose to leave the Silver City and head down to Earth to live his life there in self-imposed exile, rather than stay with his siblings. And yes, in my mind this Luci is the Lucifer of Lucifer, and thus less the bringer of all evil and more a fallen angel who loves to drink and have sex and do drugs. Whenever Lucifer came up from Hell to have some fun on Earth before Amenadiel dragged him back down he would visit his little brother, one of the few members of the family he still likes, and they would have a grand old time. And in turn many of the angels of Heaven have visited Sahaquiel and asked him to return, since he hasn't done anything wrong he just chose exile. Sahaquiel has lived a VERY long life and done many things… he is a good person but he also has had fun. He's fought in wars and tried every drug there is in the world and at least three queens of England have screamed his name in a fit of passion. Every 20 years or so he will fake his death and start a new life somewhere else. One time he was a samurai who fought for glory. Another time he was a bank robber in the West. One memorable time he and Lucifer listened to Nero fiddle as Rome burned. He lives his life, tries something new, and then moves on.

Except now something he didn't expect has happened. See, about 50 years ago Sahaquiel, in the guise of Vincent Turnbull, adopted a daughter, Isobel. He'd never had a child before and decided to try it out; oddly enough everyone in the family liked the idea. Lucifer thought it was a grand joke, a chance to prove to dear old Dad that someone was a better father than him. Amenadiel and Michael hoped that when the girl eventually died Sahaquiel, heartbroken, would return to the Silver City to be with her. So they let him adopt little Isobel. Eventually she married a man, Reginald, and Sahaquiel allowed her to reveal the truth about him. Reginald took it well and welcomed him into the family. Sahaquiel had been preparing to leave only for Reginald to die and knowing that Isobel had suffered greatly from that, decided to stay, changing his identity to be that of her son, Matthew. He just looks a lot like his grandpa! They moved to Manchester and that was that.

Well turns out Reginald was related to Robert… and now Matthew is a Lord's heir.

Huh.

Well this will be fun.

What happens when a Matthew who actually MET Andromeda ("Oh, there was no sea monster… she made that story up to explain why she wouldn't eat seafood. Odd how that got around thought") arrives at Downton. One who says what he wants… does what he wants… arrives. An Isobel who is the adopted daughter of an angel and who calls the Devil and the Archangel Michael "Uncle" decides to shake things up. And what happens when Matthew/Sahaquiel meets Mary Crawley… and finds her rather interesting… and in fact is quite drawn to her.

…and what happens when his family begins to show up at Downton? Amenadiel, who shocked Robert and Violet due to the color of his skin and yet Cora swears she remembers seeing him when she was trying to get pregnant. He had such nice advice. And Lucifer, who pats Pamuk on the shoulder and tells him that he can't wait to see him down there (and then loses the smile when he finds out just what the man did to Mary… no heart attacks in this story!).

Humor, romance, drugs, sex, and Matthew with wings. What's not to love?