"What shoud we call him?" Matthew suddenly said, startling Tom from his thoughts. Not that he'd been thinking of anything truly dramatic or important; in fact it was rather silly. He had been musing how much syrup would be polite to pour upon his hotcakes, as too little would make him look like a fool when he added more but too much would result in a giant puddle of syrup that one would normally expect to find on the dish of a child-

"Who?" Sybil asked as she walked over to one of the warming trays and dished out some scrambled eggs for herself before examining the sausage patties; normally they'd have had bacon but meat was getting scarce even for Downton and that meant making do with what they had. While all three had felt that they should simply eat with the other soldiers and staff Mrs. Hughes had flat out said that Mr. Carson would have their heads if they did that even with Robert and him away. Thus Sybil, Tom, and Matthew were eating breakfast, waiting for Dr. Clarkson to join them; the poor man had been forced to perform surgery the night before when a soldier had taken a turn for the worse and thus was still sleeping while the rest ate.

"The Fake Patrick," Matthew said. "It doesn't feel right to keep calling him 'Fake Patrick' as that is a bit of a mouthful. Yet I'm not for sure we should ever call him Patrick as that makes it seem like that is truly his name."

"But isn't it?" Sybil asked. "Edith said his name was Patrick as well. I forget the last name…" she waved her hand as she sat down across from Tom, Matthew in Robert's spot at the head of the table. "Which is rather annoying but honestly I am amazed at times we remember all we do."

"Not so surprising for Matthew," Tom said. "I imagine being a lawyer helps with that."

"Very true," Matthew said as he used a small knife to cut into a small apple; it was far too early in the season for them but Mrs. Patmore had managed to get a hold of them all the same. Tom had tried one the other day only to choke down the sour thing but Matthew popped a slice into his mouth like it was candy. "Which is sometimes as much of a curse as it's a blessing. Such as here." He sighed, shaking his head. "I feel like we are chasing shadows sometimes."

"I can't imagine what it's like," Tom admitted. "To know what is coming tomorrow or next week and having to decide if you will change it or not."

"It's far worse than that," Sybil stated. "We have changed so much Tom… there are many events that will now never come to pass." She looked down at her plate. "How I treated Sir Anthony... I remembered crimes that he hadn't committed… that he was never allowed to commit. Edith and him? I honestly don't know if they ever shared a word. But I was so worried about what he had done and what he might do that I allowed it to color my judgment and I made a horrible mistake."

"I thought you corrected that," Matthew said.

"I did," Sybil said. "But it doesn't make it right. Nor does it mean I will forget it."

Matthew frowned "So we just allow this… False Patrick-"

"Still a rather clunky name," Tom said.

"-to continue on?" He sighed, shaking his head. "He is going to press his claim. And I can't allow him to do that this time."

"You don't know if he will do that or not," Sybil pointed out. "He's done nothing so far."

Tom frowned, looking between the two of them. "Would one of you go over exactly what happened with Not Patrick?" The two shared a look and Tom sighed. "And would you please not do that?"

"Do what?" Sybil asked.

"That…" he motioned between the two of them, "silent communication thing. I've seen married couple not as close as you two are."

Matthew and Sybil both shuddered at that. "Let me assure you Tom, you have nothing to fear when it comes to me and Sybil."

"It is… wrong," Sybil finally said, unable to figure out the right word. So instead she just moved on. "As for this fraud who claims he is Patrick when he arrived he began to drops hints to each of us, trying to get us to believe that he was our cousin Patrick. I believe he was trying to determine which of us was the 'soft touch' as it were; the one that he could apply the most pressure to in hopes of making them an ally. He mentioned things in passing to Mary and myself but it was Edith who in the end was more receptive to his claims."

"And those were?" Tom asked.

"That our cousin Patrick survived the sinking of the Titanic only he developed amnesia and that caused the authorities to believe he was a Canadian-"

"With his accent?" Tom asked. "That would be like assuming I am French."

"I'm sure he would have had some reason to explain that away," Matthew stated. "Our wounded soldier seemed to constantly have a new excuse for everything, to try and cover up for every little bit of his story that never made sense." He sighed stabbing at a bit of egg on his plate. "I was too much of a bitter little prig to realize it at the time but thankfully Mary saw through all of it."

"She is stubborn like that, our Mary," Tom said with a smirk.

Sybil nodded. "She pointed out all the things he 'remembered' could apply to so many other wealthy families. The governess that we hated, the games all children play, so on. Add in the fact that he clearly was fishing for information from us…" She shook her head, sorrow written along her features. "He played upon Edith's loneliness, getting her to admit things that were private in an attempt to steal from us."

"What drove him away?" Tom asked.

"Papa had Murray investigate and found out that there was a man Patrick worked with who later moved to Canada. Once it became clear that they would look into him the False Patrick fled."

Matthew frowned. "Edith mentioned that he tried to convince her that there might be another possibility… that the man Patrick worked with just so happened to enlist and ended up in the same company… she tried to assure him but he knew it was over."

"So, what should we do?" Sybil said.

"Nothing," Tom said.

"Nothing?" Matthew and Sybil said at the same time only to glower at him when he snickered at they synchronization.

"As you said with Sir Anthony… this man has done nothing. Going after this soldier will only make people ask questions. He hasn't contacted you and Sybil. He hasn't made any play to try and take Downton. And even if he does…" Tom shot them a look, "with how Robert has been do you honestly believe he will fall for it?"

"…I suppose that is rather cruel of us to assume Papa, after all he has done to make up for his past actions, would toss Matthew aside," Sybil said.

"It very much is," Tom said, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin before finishing his coffee. "In this case you need to wait and see. Doing anything else… it will only cause problems." He shrugged just as the door opened and Dr. Clarkson entered. "It could all work out. Dr. Clarkson, are you doing well this morning? I hear you were up late?"

"Well enough," the doctor said with a slight smile. "Matthew can tell you that doctors learn how to function on little sleep. And many times they don't get such wonderful breakfasts."

"Don't let Papa hear that or he will demand we do this every day," Sybil stated.

"Would that be so terrible?" Matthew asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The General commonly has meals for his direct staff where they eat and discuss their days. I was part of them several times. The five of us?" he gestured at the four seated in the room, Robert clearly being the final member of their party. "We are the ones that keep Downton running. That ensure this Hospital stands. I think it a rather grand idea to have these breakfasts together. Not formal like a dinner would be… but allow us all to touch base."

Tom wasn't quite sure why he was lumped in with the rest of them. He just wrote articles, after all. Though he supposed that if one were to be objective his actions could make or break the hospital. Still… should have Matthew known he'd never do that.

'What is marriage?' Sybil's voice echoed in his mind. 'A bonding of souls.'

He didn't know how truthful she was being with that theory and how much of it was merely desperation on her part but the fact remained that in her eyes she and Tom were married… and he had come to see it the same as well. That made her family is.

Tom finally made his leave, the others staying behind so that they could talk to Dr. Clarkson. That was perfectly fine with Tom as he had something else in mind. He made his way through Downton, politely nodding to soldiers and staff, before finally arriving in one of the rooms that had been converted into a dining hall for the wounded soldiers that were now staying at the Abbey. He scanned the room, several of the men that he had made friends with through interviewing them nodding in his direction. Normally he would have stopped and had a conversation with them but today he had other plans in mind.

Spotting at last the soldier he'd been looked for he walked over and sat down across from him.

"I was wondering if you'd ever come and talk to me," the man said, slowly lowering his spoon to his bowl, it taking nearly a minute to gather up some of the porriage before lifting it to his mouth.

"You knew I would?" Tom asked.

"I know people do their best not to stare but," the soldier guestred at his burned and scarred face with his wrapped hands, "its hard not to notice me. You tell the stories of the War, to show people what its really like. If there is anyone who is the perfect example of what the war can take away from people…"

Tom nodded. "I didn't want to be rude."

"I would have been more offended if you never came to me. If what happened to me… all I have lost… help others? Then so be it."

"Of course." Tom paused. "Though it would help if you had more to add to the story. I mean no offense-"

"I understand," the soldier said. "And believe me when I say that I know how to truly gain the attention of your audience." He paused, his mutilated flesh stretching into what was for him a smile. "And I think it would help me very much."

"Then I suppose we should do this right," Tom said. "I am Tom Branson."

"Patrick… Gordon."

~MC~MC~MC~

"-is where you do most of your interviews?"

"Not all of them."

Anna looked up from the table she had been cleaning (Imogen had the morning off as Mrs. Bright had asked if the girl could be spared to help her with the laundry and Anna had allowed it; Mrs. Bright always paid well for help and Imogen deserved a bit of coin) as Tom entered with a… well, he was a soldier, she could tell that from his uniform, but he looked horribly scarred. It was like he'd been, well, melted. His skin was like a candle that had been allowed to burn for far too long and then someone had shaken it as the wax dried, causing rivets and rises to form in its surface. Smooth but… too smooth… while also being highly textured.

Used to men with injuries coming down to the Grantham Arms for a quick bite Anna didn't allow her gaze to linger but also didn't make a move to jerk away or purposely look anywhere but in the injured man's direction. 'Stare for too long and they feel like one of those poor fellows in an American circus, forced to showcase their deformities just to survive. But refuse to stare at them at all and they know that you are seeing their wounds and are terrified of them.' She tossed the cloth she was using to clean the table aside and moved towards where Tom and the soldier had stationed themselves, right near the fireplace.

"Can I get either of you something?"

"Water, if you would be so kind," the soldier said, managing a smile but otherwise paying her little attention.

"For me as well, Anna," Tom said and she furrowed her brow at how he stressed her name.

What was even more startling though was the sudden change that came over the soldier. A stiffening of his posture, a lifting of his head, a straightening of his shoulders. He went from a man casually relaxing to acting like he was a lord who had finally returned to his castle.

She glanced at Tom but he didn't say a word so Anna moved to fetch some mugs and get some water only for the soldier to suddenly call out to her, "Anna, I don't suppose M… Lady Mary has stated if she was coming for a visit soon, did she?"

Anna frowned at how utterly… comfortable he was in saying Mary's name. "No," she said, biting the word off a touch. "She did not."

"I am terribly sorry," the soldier said, "if I offended you in some way. I merely… wished to see her again."

"Do you know Lady Mary?" Anna asked. It was possible, as there had been plenty of men Lady Mary had met during her first Season and the seasons that came after that. Poor little puppy dogs, the lot of them, with a few prim and proper show dogs who stuck their noses in the air and thought themselves to be better than all. All of which had been tossed aside by Mary. None of them understood that she was a cat, not a dog, and needed another feline. Matthew was such a person, just as proud as her in his own way but with the sly and sneaky ways to get what he desired. This soldier was very likely an old suitor…perhaps thinking he could earn pity from her because of his wounds?

'That would all depend on how she felt,' Anna thought. Mary was humbler and kinder now, her marriage to Matthew having dulled some of her sharpest edges… but she still could cut someone.

"Oh yes, Anna," the soldier said again and now he was being rather familiar with her which made no sense because she would have remembered some like him, with his… well, she wasn't quite sure where his accent was from but it wasn't British. "I am quite familiar with her."

Tom shot the man a look and that caused him to suddenly seem to remember his scars and he smiled with utter bashfulness before turning towards the fire. As such he missed Tom flicking a folded piece of paper at her feet, Anna swiftly picking it up and heading to the kitchen.

"What's going on in there?" John asked, sitting with their cook, sharing a cup of tea with her. "Guests?"

"Tom and a soldier who is acting rather… odd." She jerked her head to the right and John set his teacup down before moving to join her. "He was rather… familiar with me." She saw John's eyes flash dangerously and she hurriedly added, "Not in that way. Rather as if he knew me."

"And you don't remember him?"

"Not at all. He is very heavily burned and scarred, so I wouldn't be able to recognize him. Yet… he behaved like I should. He's not a former servant though, I know that. He says he knows Mary yet there were very few men she met that I also did."

"Someone from when she moved to London?"

"We were only together for a few lunches and there was no such company as what that man hinted at. I rather suspect he was a suitor of hers, or thought himself to be."

"How very odd. What else?"

Anna went over what had happened. "His entire demeanor changed when he learned my name. Before he thought nothing of me but once Tom told him my name…" She paused. "And Tom took a great deal of trouble to stress my name."

"Meaning he wanted the fellow to know your name." John said. "Wanted to see how he'd react to you being Anna."

"How very strange." She rubbed her fingers against her palm before letting out an annoyed scoff. "And I completely forgot that Tom tossed this note to me."

John chuckled, smiling in bemusement. "Ah, the key to the chest right in front of us."

Anna unfolded the crumpled up not and stared at it. "Well, this doesn't explain things much better."

"What does it say?"

"'Play Along'. Whatever is Tom getting at?"

John's forehead creased in thought. "I have a few suspicions. Tom is not one from pranks and jokes… if this were Thomas I would assume he was preparing to do something rather mean spirited to that soldier. No… this is something else."

Anna sighed. "I thought when we left Downton we'd be leaving such games behind." She had no problem being a servant; she'd rather enjoyed the position, honestly. In a different life she could have sene herself remaining in it. But one thing she didn't enjoy was getting roped into the games that high society seemed to thrive on. The lies, the schemes, the deceit… Mary loved it and honestly Anna could tell there were some days she missed it greatly. But Anna was quite fine with how things were now. A simple life… that's all she desired. Where her biggest scheme was now getting Noah to keep his clothing on.

She walked over and retrieved two mugs and poured the water. But as she made to leave John was suddenly there, taking them from her. He plastered a smile on his face and there was a twinkle in his eye. "Let's see if things change when I'm introduced."

Anna bit back a groan. She'd forgotten that for as stable and down to earth as John appeared… he loved to play such games himself nearly as much as Mary and the rest of the Family.

Moving out of the kitchen she stopped to check on Lang and made she he was okay while John threaded his way through the empty tables. It was mid morning, that awkward and quiet time just after the late risers (the retired old men who had earned their rest, the lads that worked late into the evening, and the sleepy travelers who'd gotten in on the last train) had gotten their breakfast but before those looking to beat the noon time crush arrived. As such the Grantham Arms was mostly empty, with only Tom and the soldier he was talking to being their only guests.

The part of her mind used to dealing with Lady Mary and her schemes whispered that Tom might have planned for exactly that.

"Hello Tom," John said, handing him the glass.

"Oh, John!" Tom said and Anna just knew that Tom, while surprised, seemed happy to see him. Most likely because if he was trying to do something underhanded John was the better person to conspire with. Anna could be cunning and sneaky when she wanted to be but she liked to have a plan; she wasn't a fan of trying to bluff on the fly. Give her an hour to come up with something and she could match wits with Thomas easily. Put her on the spot and she just felt put out and annoyed. "John, this is the latest person I'm interviewing for the Sketch. Patrick Gordon." John smiled and held out his hand, the soldier, Patrick, taking it in his heavily wrapped palms. "John Bates was Lord Grantham's valet for… why, it was 6 years, wasn't it?" Anna didn't miss how once again Tom casually dropped John's name… even though there was no need to.

"After I left?" John smoothly lied, for it had only been for a couple years at most. Certainly not six. "I believe it was 6. Probably could argue six and a half but that would be just acting pedantic. Besides, I haven't been his valet since the War."

"But you were a part of Downton for quite a time," Patrick said. "I can't imagine the Abbey without you."

"Much like Mr. Carson," John said. "Though I say he beat me."

"I don't know about that," Patrick stated. "A butler is a very important part of a home, I will admit. It has been so very odd for me this last week not to see him around. But a man's valet… he is very important. The most important member of the staff."

John stared at the wounded and scarred soldier. "I'm sorry but… you make it sound like we have met."

"We have," Patrick said. "Though I doubt you'd remember me… not like this."

"You've stayed at Downton then," John said.

"Before all this?" Patrick said with a casual sigh, waving his free hand at his bandaged form. "Oh yes." He looked down at his lap. "Oh yes. Memories of Downton… they are the only thing that has gotten me through the War. At least… when I remembered it at last."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. "Remembered?"

"You see… I've had an interesting life," Patrick stated. "For the last few years my first memory was awakening in a hospital in Canada and being told that I had been rescued from the ocean… after the Titanic sunk."

"Truly?" John said, leaning forward.

"Indeed," Patrick said and he began to lay out his tale. Of how he had awoken with no memory and all he had to identify himself were water damaged papers from a Patrick Gordon. He knew now that during the chaos of leaving the ship he had found a jacket to wear in order to keep warm and it must have belong to this Patrick Gordon fellow. But with no memory he had assumed the papers were his own and thus begun a life as this Patrick Gordon. He'd lived in Canada for a time but when the War stated he had enlisted… only for his memories to finally begin returning on the Front. They hadn't fully come back, stated, until he had arrived at Downton.

"I knew the place but not the name. It was… rather like a dream. But as I have seen people I have remembered it all. Carson, Mrs. Hughes… you Bates." He smiled. "I remembered you fully once I saw you. You and Anna. It makes my heart feel very full to know you two found love." He sighed as he looked down at his cup. "The love I thought Mary and I would have."

"I thank you for your well wishes," John said, reaching down and patting Patrick's shoulder… before locking his fingers around it like a vice. Anna stood up a bit straighter but made no move to come closer, knowing that John had this handled…whatever this was. "Except I don't accept the congratulations from liars."

"What," Patrick stammered, trying to sit up only for John to apply his full weight onto the soldier's body, forcing him to remain in his seat, "what are you doing, Bates? Unhand me at once!"

"No… no I think not." His smile had fallen, turning to a cold look that chilled Anna even though she wasn't on the receiving end of it. "You are trying to use grief and tragedy to make yourself a tidy little profit and that is something I can not stand."

"Please," the soldier begged, reaching up and trying to rip John's fingers from his shoulder but unable to do so. "Please, Bates, I know that this is outlandish but I swear it to be true! I do! You… I don't blame you for not recognizing me! I looked so much different from when you last saw me."

"I dare say you look exactly as I remember," John stated. "After all, the last time I saw you was now." Patrick blinked. "I started with Downton on the day news broke of the Titanic sinking. The one you yourself claim to have been on. I wonder… was that a lie too? Do you pick and choose your tragedies?"

The soldier's face, even with its scarring, managing to twist into several different expressions before settling into cool disappointment. "You tricked me," he said to Tom, his tone that of a school teacher scolding a student.

"That is rich, coming from you," Tom said. "I've been listening. People don't realize it, especially those I am close to because I tend to speak my mind, but I am very good at listening. One has to be when they find themselves joining the Crawley family." He smiled at that before his face hardened once more and Anna took a few steps forward, not intruding but merely growing closer. "You've been spending weeks trying to find someone to be your ally. Asking questions, dropping your little hints, hoping you could find someone that would back up your claim. Tell me… was the plan to get someone like Sybil or Carson to agree that you were Patrick Crawley before you went to Robert? I think it was. You knew just going to him would be risky, that you'd need proof and someone he trusted might help.

"When did this plan form in your head? Obviously when you were injured but did you want to come to Downton?" he paused, as if remembering something. "You did, didn't you? You've mentioned enough things in passing that it's clear that you know of the place and the Family."

"I know because-"

John squeezed again. "Speak out of turn again and the next one is around your throat."

"You knew Patrick, didn't you? If you were an old friend of one of the girls or Robert or her Ladyship you would have claimed that connection. No… you knew Patrick. Maybe you were a friend. Maybe you worked with him-" something twitching around the man's mouth and Anna knew at once that was the answer, "-and you decided to use the memory of your dead friend to try and trick his family into accepting you."

"Did you know of the fight they had?" John asked, Lang now coming around from behind the bar and moving to stand next to Anna. She reached out and patted his arm, smiling in thanks that even though he didn't want to fight… he would to protect her. "You must have heard… Lady Mary was quite vocal about letting people know what her father did to her and her family. He heard about the falling out and decided to take advantage."

"I am his heir," the soldier said when Tom and John both paused. "I am Patrick."

Tom though shook his head. "You are either a deluded fool or a foolish confidence man. A good one would know when to stop the game." He nodded to John and Anna's husband gripped his shoulder, making Patrick cry out, then forced him to his feet. Tom reached into his pocket and counted out a few bills. "This will get you're a ticket on the next train and room and food if you are wise with it." He shoved the money into the soldier's wrapped hands, making sure he had a good hold of it. "You are going to leave now and never come back, you understand? They won't investigate because you were close to being discharged anyway and you are Canadian. So you'll go and you'll do something else with your life. I don't care what it is. But you will never darken Downton's door again."

Something twisted in the soldiers features, anger for the first time truly appearing on his face, and he glowered at Tom in disgust. "You have no right to do this. They will believe me. They'll never-"

Suddenly Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gun, pointing it right at the man's head. Pressing it against his forehead. Lang move instantly, pushing Anna back and away while John merely stood there, forcing Patrick to remain in place.

"Robert has become a good friend of mine. Matthew too. Edith is my employer and might just be my best friend. Mary has shown me kindness I never expected. I have not spent much time with Lady Grantham or little Lillian but I hope to change that." He cocked the gun and the soldier was only remaining upright because John was holding him in place. "Sybil. Is. My. Wife." He leaned in close. "Run."

John let Patrick go and he stood there.

"I said…" Tom pulled away, ever so slightly, "RUN!"

The soldier bolted from the hotel, the door slamming behind him.

Anna stood there, panting as if she herself had just run a marathon, while Tom calmly put the gun back in his jacket pocket and tucked on his cuffs before turning to John. "Sorry about all that."

"Not the first time I've had to deal with something like that," he admitted.

"So…" Anna finally said, "when were you going to tell us you and Lady Sybil were married?"

The look of horror on Tom's face caused her to burst out laughing.