"No luck?" Matthew asked Robert as he entered the drawing room. They had all gathered there after Dr. Clarkson and Sybil had taken charge and moved to get Allen to his room, wanting to look over him carefully. His children had gone with him, Thomas letting Catherine lean on him as the normally strong and determined woman seemed utterly shell shocked at the sight of Allen's crumbled and battered form. Even with the promise that he was alive hadn't helped matters. Everyone else had gone to the drawing room though it had taken a while to get all of them there as the party had spread out as they waited for the dinner gong, exploring the house and admiring Lord Merton's art collection, and thus it took nearly a half an hour for all to arrive with Tim Gray being the last as he'd been forced to run downstairs and inform the cook that dinner would be delayed when the Cavenham Butler, Oswald, hadn't been found. One of the maids had said he'd gone to the wine cellar and apparently it was common for him to lose track of time, something Lord Merton himself had admitted.

"None," he said with a sigh, looking utterly worn down. "No… that's not quite right. Worst than none. I dare say it feels like our luck has been twisted to the absolutely worst variety."

"How so?" Mary asked from where she was sitting. She rested her hand on Matthew's knee, forcing him not to get up and leave her. At the moment she didn't want to be parted from him, even if he was merely moving to stand up to talk to her father.

"I first called for medical assistance… even though I am sure Dr. Clarkson and Sybil have things under control I would prefer it if General Lothrop was taken to a hospital."

Mary silently agreed. 'The man misdiagnosis Matthew… and because of that no one believed him when he said Sybil was in need of medical attention. How different would things have been had he never claimed Matthew would be crippled for life?' She had to reminder herself that this was a different world, that her sister was alive and well and currently with Dr. Clarkson struggling to help The General. 'He's made other mistakes too… he is human, of course, but that doesn't mean that I trust him on his own. The General needs specialists and a team of doctors to see him well.'

"You were able to reach them?" Tom asked just as the skies roared with thunder, making the house tremble.

"I did but that," Robert waved his hand at the ceiling, "is making things utterly impossible. The roads are flooded and they don't know how long it will take to get an ambulance here. Apparently while the main road to the house isn't that bad all the roads moving out of the village are little more than mud and water. And even if they were able to… well…"

Edith frowned. "They wouldn't want to risk transporting him in this storm. Here at least he is comfortable."

Robert nodded. "I ended up agreeing with them. And when I told them Dr. Clarkson was here they said the best thing we could do is simply leave Lord Oakheart settled. He is comfortable."

"What of the police?" William "Billy" Skelton asked, leaning forward in his chair and fingering the fencing sword he'd nabbed. Billy Skelton had always seemed rather mad to Mary in her first life, due to how he seemed to grab onto any fad or new idea and embrace it at once; in her new life she thought him a genius and was trying to build a relationship with him, his views against hunting be damned. Many at the party weren't comfortable with him holding that bare blade but honestly Mary thought it rather smart as clearly someone had attacked Allen and could be in the room at that very moment.

"That is when our luck truly became horrid," papa said. "The phone lines are now dead."

Thunder cracked overhead and the lights flickered before thankfully remaining on.

Mary looked up at the lights and frowned. "I don't suppose we have candles?"

"That might be a good idea, just in case," mama said, standing up and moving to ask one of the footmen to see about getting candles at the ready, just in case they did end up losing power.

Matthew though frowned, giving Mary's hand a squeeze more to comfort himself that her; at least that was what Mary was going to tell herself because if he thought that she needed to be coddled… "So I'd like to summarize where we are at: the General is injured. He had a weapon that has been fired that he did not use and that none of us heard being used, the roads are out, and the telephones don't work." Thunder pounded again. "And the storm is getting worse."

"That about sums it up," Mary said.

"What… what are we going to do?" Lady Penelope Winters, the widow of Lord Farmhill, asked with a slight tremor in her voice. Mary knew that the Winters were friends of the Crawleys but honestly she couldn't remember the last time any of them had attended a party.

"We keep calm," Mary said firmly, rising. "I am going to go talk with the staff, see if we can get dinner started."

"You can't mean to eat when Allen is injured," Matthew said.

"Why not? We do no good if we are starving; he would be most wroth if he knew we were doing that. Of course we'll need to have some dishes prepared for Sybil and Dr. Clarkson as I doubt they will be taking a break any time soon but for the rest of us the best thing we can do is eat and keep up our strength."

"Do you think it wise to go off on your own, Mary?" papa asked.

"Hmmm… you're right. Anna! If you would?" Her former maid blinked but quickly came towards her.

"Would I what?"

"I need to talk to the staff about supper and you will be able to help me find the downstairs better than anyone else. If you could…"

"Oh… yes, of course."

Her father though frowned. "I meant you might take someone who… well…"

"Is a man, papa?" Mary asked with a dark look. "I can handle myself just fine. Unless you'd like to argue that I am too weak to do so…"

Her father, seeing that he'd stumbled into a minefield, decided to simply back away rather than attempt to wander through and get to the other side. Which was very wise because not only was he still dealing with them rebuilding their relationship (even if the pain of all that was muted a touch thanks to her second set of memories) but also the fact that said second set of memories let her remember being the one in charge of Downton and she was now far too used to being in control.

"We aren't going to deal with dinner, are we?" Anna asked as the two of them made their way down the hall.

"You know me far too well," Mary said softly as the two of them made their way down the hall, the sound of the drawing room and everyone crammed in their slowly fading away. "We are going to ask about dinner, as it wouldn't do any good if we didn't do as we said-"

"We?" Anna complained but Mary just continued on.

"-but after that I want a look at where we found Allen."

"Why?" Anna asked.

Mary shot her friend a look. "The general fell off a balcony. He isn't that clumsy. And he had a gun in his hand. One I know he didn't bring with him and one that was recently fired but he didn't fire himself. That can mean only one thing."

Anna swallowed. "Someone else fired that gun."

Mary nodded. "And with this storm it is unlikely they snuck in or out. Meaning it was someone here."

"One… one of the guests?"

"Or the servants," Mary said. "We don't know. But I don't like the idea of us sitting down for dinner with someone who attacked the General."

"And it is better that we are wandering about?" Anna hissed with worry, looking at the shadows that seemed to grow all the darker around her.

Mary though waved her off. "It will be fine. We are strong, independent, capable women."

"I wasn't aware that made us bullet proof."

"…marriage has made your tongue all the sharper, Anna. I approve."

~MC~MC~MC~

All he wanted to do was take Jonsey in his arms and kiss him until the pain went away.

But even here, in the privacy of the guest room, society wouldn't allow him to comfort the man he loved.

Thomas clenched his hand in a tight fist, gnashing his teeth together in frustration at the unfairness of it all.

There were so many horrid people in the world that deserved death. Cruel, wicked, vile people. And yet it was the General…

"Are you all right, Thomas?"

He turned as he heard that familiar voice and found himself smiling weakly as he stared at his old ally and… friend? Was it right to call her that?

"Thomas?" Ms. O'Brien asked again, causing him to let out a tired sigh. "I suppose this isn't the best time for us to see each other again…"

"I honestly don't know if there'd ever be a good time to see each other in person," Thomas admitted. "We've talked through letters, kept up with each other's lives, but I… I honestly didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Don't sound too happy about that," she said.

"You know what I meant," Thomas complained. "You remind me of my past… and all the horrible mistakes I made."

"Do tell," she said, moving to standing with him as he guarded the door that led to the General's room.

"I wasn't a good servant. I thought I was but I truly wasn't. And I wasn't a good person. Far too consumed with my bitterness to realize what I was doing was hurting other people. Hurting you. Instead of being a friend-"

"Oh, we are not having this kind of conversation, are we?" Ms. O'Brien complained. "The past is the past. It is the here and now that matters."

He shot her a look of disbelief. "Truly? You of all people saying that? If they handed over crowns for holding grudges yours would be the largest one ever smithed."

"People change," she shot back with a grim little look on her face, one he was rather familiar with. Lips pressed together in a tight line, cheeks slightly sucked in, eyes narrowed in a challenging manner. Everything that said 'I am not pleased' but with the vulgar language she'd never actually use. "You have changed. One of the upstairs now."

"Only because I worked with Matthew," Thomas pointed out but still aware that he was dressed in evening wear while Ms. O'Brien was still in her dark dress that all lady's maids wore. "I don't have a valet, I don't attend weekly dinners at Downton."

"No, you just have a home that General Lothrop paid for."

Thomas' eyes narrowed even as he flashed a dark and flinty smile. "Careful now, Ms. O'Brien. You are on shaky ground."

"We both are. Secrets…"

"We both know them," Thomas finished.

The two of them stared at each other for several long moments before finally Ms. O'Brien finally broke it. "I am sorry for what happened to General Lothrop. I know you are close to him."

"Thank you," Thomas said. "And I wanted you to know… wherever I find myself now… I will always be grateful-"

But Ms. O'Brien held up her hand. "We aren't soft like most of them so let's not get emotional, shall me? Keep our dignity?"

"But of course," Thomas said with a smile, knowing that was the best he was going to get when it came to thanks and praise and warm wishes from her. That would never do for either of them. They were simply too jaded and bitter about their lives to open up like that and expose the hearts they tried to make everyone believe were just black stones… unless a scam or scheme needed them to appear to be soft and squishable and all that rot.

Except…

"What is it?" Ms. O'Brien asked him.

He shifted. "You might not like it."

"Now you have to tell me," she pointed out.

He let out a sigh. "I'm happy, Ms. O'Brien. I'm actually happy. I know that might be hard to believe… I don't believe it myself most days. But I am happy with my life. No… that isn't the right word at all. I'm… content. At peace. So many things have changed for me that…" He let out a sigh. "For so much of my life it felt as if there was a wall of iron around my heart. Preventing any heat, keeping me cold. I had… so much hate. I didn't want to be in service. I didn't want to work for the Crawleys because I saw Lord Grantham as a fool and Lady Mary as an icy shrew and the rest of them as false. I hated that Mr. Carson never put any faith in me despite all I did and that everyone downstairs looked at me and thought…" He stopped, not wanting to talk about his own sexuality.

Even with Ms. O'Brien he couldn't admit that truth.

"But now? I have a job I actually enjoy. I am good at it, Ms. O'Brien. I am very good at it. All the things that Mr. Carson used to look down upon me for, saying it made me a horrid servant? They are needed in my job. I am praised!" He shook his head, still finding it so startling to think about, even after all this time. "Being a sneak and a liar and a cad? I am using those skills against men and women that are far worse than I am and helping my country. I have hired on my own staff and not only do they respect me but I respect them. Mr. Carson taught me much about how to manage people… both what to do and what I swear I will never repeat. I have bosses I respect and who I strive to make proud of me. I have friends." He shook his head, still finding it to be utterly mad that he was friends with the future earl of Grantham! "I… I find myself content, Ms. O'Brien, and I don't know what to do with that because so much of my life has been hate."

The maid was quiet for several long moments.

"Thomas, I-"

The door opened and General Lothrop's eldest son, Fredrick, poked his head out. "Thomas? Jonsey would like to talk with you."

"Of course." He looked to Ms. O'Brien. "I-"

"Go," she said with a small tight smile before walking away.

Thomas wondered briefly if they would ever talk to each other again.

Entering the guest room he banished those thoughts, needing to focus on what was happening before him. Dr. Clarkson was washing his hands in a water basin, Lady Sybil rubbing her hands dry with a towel. It was so odd to see them moving about with medical precision when they were dressed in their fine evening wear but that only added to the surrealness of the entire night.

"How is he?" Thomas asked Lady Sybil as Fredrick moved to talk quietly to his wife; he couldn't bring himself to look at the bed. Not until he knew…

"He's resting," Sybil said. "He hasn't woken up. We don't know when he will."

"But he will wake up?" Thomas asked.

Sybil worried her lip a bit, a very lady-like yet also completely unlady-like thing to do. "I shouldn't say… it isn't proper…" she shot a look at Dr. Clarkson and whispered, "Yes."

Thomas let out a sigh of relief.

"How bad is it though?" he asked.

"Right leg is broken. We'll know more tomorrow but Dr. Clarkson believes he shouldn't have a limp. Thankfully his back wasn't broken from the fall… it looks like he landed with his full weight on his leg, which is a good thing. No skull fracture and no swelling but at his age it didn't do him any wonders. He's unconscious mostly so that his body can heal; sometimes rest is the best thing for it."

"Good," Thomas said. "And… there were no bullet wounds?"

Sybil frowned. "None."

"Then how did the General end up with a gun he did not fire and was not fired at him?"

"That is the question," Sybil murmured.

"Lady Sybil," Dr. Clarkson said, his voice sharp. "I don't think it is for us to do the work for the police. Let us return to the party… they'll want to hear what we have to say and there is little more we can do here."

Lady Sybil glowered a bit at how he spoke to her before nodding her head. "Of course."

Clarkson nodded before shooting Thomas a dark look. "Thomas, I do believe Lady Oakheart would prefer-"

"You to stop assuming what I wish," Catherine said with a cold voice, though she never looked up from Allen's limp form.

"What my mother means," Jenny said, stepping forward, "is that we appreciate all you have done to assist my father… but now we would like to be left in peace… with those we wish to remain with us while we stand vigil."

"Yes… well… of course," Clarkson gave a slight nod at that and only Thomas saw the smirk that Sybil flashed before schooling her features once more.

When the door closed behind the two Thomas took a moment to look around the room, finding is so very odd how time seemed to suddenly slow, allowing him to take in all the details around him. The way that Marcus, Jenny's fiancée, didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, constantly moving them about. There was a water ring on one of the endtables that he was for sure the butler would throw a fit about. Jenny Lothrop had kicked off her shoes and was padding about in her stockings. There was a child's doll lying at the foot of the bed where Allen laid. Jonsey's eyes were red but no tears would be coming out anymore, not when he had finally settled himself. The blankets had been shifted around Allen to hide his legs and even with Clarkson promising that he had set them proper Thomas wondered just how mangled they might have been. All of this he saw in an instant before time came rushing over him like Noah's great flood, threatening to drown him.

"Are you all right, Thomas?" Fredrick asked, sitting next to his wife and stroking her hand.

"Just… shocked," he admitted.

"Then go over to Jonsey and be shocked with him!" Catherine said with a voice like an iron rod.

Thomas licked his lips; he knew that the Lothrop family was aware of him and Jonsey but even then they were careful to never be too demonstrative about them. It was one thing to know and it was another to accept. Still Jonsey didn't seem to have a problem with his mother's command as the next thing Thomas knew the man was holding him tight and Thomas could feel his hot breath on his neck and feel his love's heart thundering in his chest.

"This… will not stand," Jonsey whispered as he threaded his fingers in Thomas' hair much like how a child would grasp onto a beloved stuffy in order to seek solace and peace. "I refuse to let it stand."

"Then it won't stand," Thomas said softly.

"Good," Catherine said firmly as the two of them finally broke apart. "I am glad we are in agreement. Thomas, you will take first watch."

Thomas nodded. "I'll let you know if he wakes."

Catherine though shook her head as he moved towards the bed. "I am going no where. And you are in the wrong place."

"I don't-" Thomas began only for him to hear Fredrick rise. He turned… and started when the man thrust a gun into his chest, handle first. "What?"

"Someone tried to kill my father," the future Lord Oakheart hissed. "I am not going to rely upon anyone but ourselves to ensure they fail a second time." Thomas numbly took the gun, feeling just how heavy it was in his hand, before looking at the cold dark eyes of Fredrick Lothrop. "Jonsey, Jenny, and I are going to go out there and we are going to hunt down the bastard who threw our father from that balcony. You, Marcus, and mama will stay here."

Marcus stood up and revealed he too had a gun. "Only family is allowed to see him, or the doctor."

"Family?" Thomas asked, feeling utterly stupid in that moment.

"Us in this room. Ladies Mary, Edith, and Sybil. Matthew Crawley, Michael Gregson, Tom Barrow. Anna and John Bates. Isobel Crawley. Dickie." Catherine rattled the names off with the crispness of a sniper shooting out targets. "Anyone else is not welcome until we are sure they could not have done this. If anyone tries to get in you will show them why we are soldiers."

Thomas swallowed at that before nodding. What else could he do? He had chosen Jonsey… that made him family.

Taking a deep breath he moved towards the door to let Jonsey, Fredrick, and Jenny out.

"Where did you get these guns?" he asked.

"Uncle Richard's own," Jonsey said. "I picked the lock."

"Of course you did," Thomas said, feeling a brief moment of levity at that.

"I wasn't just pilfering weapons," he said as he revealed his own gun; a glance at Fredrick showed he had a slight bulge in his coat and Jenny was carrying a carry all that did not match her dress and that wasn't zipped all the way. "I was checking them."

"…the gun came from his collection?"

"There is one missing," Jonsey confirmed. "The bastard is in the house." He stuffed his gun into his pocket. "And we're going to kill him."

And with that the Lothrop siblings slipped out.

~MC~MC~MC~

"Here."

Mary frowned as she looked over at Anna. "You are sure?"

"I am," Anna said, pointing to the top of the rail that ran along the second story of Cavenham's main entrance. It was to the right of the great staircase and if she turned right she would head into one of the guest wings. "He fell from here."

"How can you tell?" Mary asked, fearlessly peering over the edge of the balcony to the ground below; it was a horribly dizzying height but still it was impressive. Anna herself had leaned over such chasms back when she was a simple maid, dusting high up fixtures without any support or help. One time she'd gotten down from a stool she had been using while leaning out over a large drop only to find Mrs. Hughes staring at her as pale white as fresh snow, unable to make a sound. The poor woman had been so scared she hadn't dared to say a word lest she startle Anna and cause her to drop. Anna though hadn't been afraid at all, as it was all about understanding one's own body. "Anna?"

"Right," she said, pulling herself from her thoughts. "There are scuff marks on the paint. Not from someone brushing against it… these were caused by someone pressed against the rail."

"I don't see any," Mary admitted.

Anna smirked. "You never had Mr. Carson sick with a cold and in a foul mood after a kitchen maid burn a pie. One learns to notice the tiniest of details when they must survive that storm." Outside thunder cracked and Anna winced. "Though…"

"Hmmm," Mary said, leaning down and looking at the rail. "Yes, I think I see it."

Anna pointed to a spot 2 inches from where Mary was intently staring.

"…right, of course," she said, quickly standing up. "So he fell from here."

"Not fell. Pushed."

Mary frowned at that. "I suspected as much… the General isn't one to lose his footing like some bumbling buffoon. But how are you sure?"

"The scuff marks," Anna said. "It is like I said… they aren't from someone just walking by. These are large… made by someone pressed against it for a while and struggling to push away. The General was pressed up, his behind against it."

"Not his front?"

Anna again shook her head. "If from the front his buttons would have caused more damage. And there would be more marks. No… he was pressing against it with his back to it."

"And you are sure that this is from Allen?" Mary asked.

"No butler would allow such a mark to appear before a party of this size and importance. And the Cavenham butler is Mr. Oswald… he is much like Mr. Carson, taking great pride in the estate. He would have walked and had he discovered this mark he would have demanded it repaired at once." She walked a bit further. "Look at the polish here… it was quickly applied." She pointed to a spot further down on the railing, where a few thicker spots on the wood were visible. "This doesn't match the rest of the rail. It was applied after an inspection and in a hurry. Oswald walked through here, noticed a dull spot, and a maid hurriedly polished it but didn't get under the rail properly."

"My my…" Mary said with a smile. "Aren't you proving to be the detective."

Anna shook her head at that. "I honestly don't know how I ended up in any of this. Oh, if my mother could see me now…"

"She would be proud of her daughter, don't doubt that for a second." Mary returned to the scene of the struggle. "So Allen was here, fighting against someone." She turned so her back was to the rail, though she made sure not to touch it. "The person must have pressed him against it and attempted to toss him over..."

"Someone with training," Jenny said, startling the two. "Papa knew how to fight, even at his age. Someone then must have known how to battle with him."

"What are you doing out here?" Mary asked before her face fell. "Your father-"

"Resting. Mama is with him, as are Thomas and Marcus. As for me…" she reached into the carry all she was wearing and revealed a small gun, which caused Anna's eyes to widen as she took a step back. "Someone tried to kill my father and I am going to finish what papa started and end them."

Mary nodded at that. "Quite right. I imagine you don't want that known though…"

Jenny shook her head. "You two are family. Papa gave you away, Mary, which makes us sisters. And Anna, Noah is practically family-"

"Noah," Anna whispered.

"What?" Mary asked.

"I have been trying to figure it out… why was Allen up here…" she began to hurry down the hall. "Why would he wander off from everyone else? He has been here many times, hasn't he?"

"Many many times," Jenny confirmed. "We spent two summers here years ago."

Mary quickly caught on to what Anna was getting at. "So he wouldn't want to look around. He wouldn't have needed to return to his room. The only thing up here is…"

"The children," Jenny said and with that all three of them broke into a run, racing down the hall. Their shoes struck hard on the wooden floor and at once point Mary nearly fell while Jenny slipped about, thanks to her being only in he stockings. Finally though they neared the rooms for the little ones…

…and Anna heard Noah crying.

"NOAH!" she cried out, bursting into the nursery to find chaos. Jenny's nephews were crying, the littlest one in his crib wailing up a storm while his older brother was looking about in a panic, not sure what to do. Noah meanwhile was sobbing but his grief had a form… namely the nanny's slumped body, laying in the middle of the other doorway, that he was shaking.

Jenny rushed to her nephews, Mary taking the baby while Jenny held the toddler and soothed him, while Anna grabbed Noah and clutched at him tightly. She fought back tears of relief as she rocked him back and forth, feeling Noah burrow his face into her shoulder as he shook.

"What is… my heavens!" Mr. Molesley exclaimed, entering the room. "What happened?"

"We found them like this," Jenny said as she stroked her nephew's hair. "Mr. Molesley… the nanny?"

"Right," Matthew's valet said, hurrying around the scattered toys and going to the nanny, carefully looking her over. "She's okay… there is a nasty lump on her head but she's okay."

"Whatever happened here?" Jenny asked.

"I don't-" Mary frozen. "Lillian."

Anna looked about, eyes widening as she realize they were missing a child.

"Where's… where's Lillian?"

The littlest Crawely… was gone.