To Those We Belong

by 51stcenturygirl

For full summary, see beginning of Prologue (too long to post). January 1933, and Thomas, Richard and co are faced with several different scenarios centred around family issues, which can be complicated at times. In order to solve their problems, friends must come together.

6. Chapter 6

Chapter summary:

-A look into a little part of Larry's backstory

-Chris and David re-enact (sort of) Romeo and Juliet

-A decent helping of fluffy (and angsty) Barris

The stairs groaned with every step Larry took as he tried his hardest to silence their complaints. He held his shoes in one hand – the only method he had thought of to keep disturbance to a minimum – and felt with his hand on the rail and his toes over the edge of each step on parts of the stairs not lit by a lamp or residual light from elsewhere.

Despite the housekeeper and maid discovering him as he slept the previous morning, he'd otherwise remained hidden. He'd slept longer than usual in the morning, ate a quick lunch that Thomas had smuggled into his room, and occupied the rest of his time reading. Boredom had set in as the winter sunset came and went, and his mind had begun to wander to places he wished it would not – to Sebastian. So to steer clear of memories that would only bring him down again, he'd sat by the window and put his mind to work over making a plan to sort everything out and before sleep started to call him once more, he had such a plan.

The servants quarters downstairs on the lowest floor of Downton Abbey were deserted and eerily quiet. Larry had woken even before the hall boy. His hangover had left him finally, but in its place he now had the most ravenous appetite. The thought of waiting several hours until either Thomas or Stephen managed to sneak him some breakfast had filled him with dread. The only solution was to fix himself something for breakfast.

Larry's hand fumbled around on the wall. He had no idea if downstairs even had electric lights – not all houses deemed it necessary for the servants to have such a privilege. His hand met with a switch: clearly Downton Abbey was ahead of the times, on par with his own houses. He set his shoes down on the floor. The cold stones chilled his feet further so he slipped them back on again and surveyed the room. If he left it all as he found it, and was gone before anyone else got up, then he would be fine. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he rolled up his sleeves to the elbows and set about fetching all he needed. He found egg, butter and bread in the pantry easily enough, and set some water on to boil. The egg simmered away under a gentle as he toasted two slices of bread, buttering them and cutting them into soldiers – childish, but he'd always had them the same way on the rare occasions he cooked breakfast himself. His mother had cut them up that way.

All was going well. But as Larry checked on the egg, keeping a steady eye on the time it had been boiling for, he heard the door creak open. "And there was me thinking we had a burglar!" Charlotte, the housemaid who had walked in on him sleeping the night before, stood in the doorway.

"Ah. Caught red handed." Larry held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "You're not surprised to see me so you must be Charlotte?"

"I am Lord—"

Larry silenced her with his hand. "Larry please, I prefer it."

"Okay then." She paused, her eyes roaming over the kitchen and his cooking preparations. "You're making breakfast?"

"Yes."

"At four in the morning?"

Larry shrugged and grinned. "I was feeling peckish."

"Well I could sort something for you, since you're a guest."

"I'm more like a stowaway on a ship actually, and no it's fine. I'm almost finished anyway." He pulled out his fine looking pocket watch, glanced at the time, before slipping back into place in his waistcoat pocket. All the while he felt the young housemaid watching him with curiosity.

"I suppose I've met you before, technically," she began, "but you were asleep and drunk?"

"I was yes. So let me introduce the sober Larry." He held out his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Charlotte chuckled as she shook his hand. "If you had waited a few more hours Larry, I'm sure you could have joined the rest of us for breakfast. I don't think anyone would mind, especially if you're a friend of Mr Barrow."

"That would have been lovely, but I am not supposed to be here. I am a secret." Larry winked at her as he reached for a tablespoon. In moments like this, he felt more like his usual self.

"Oh, yes I forgot."

Larry carefully lifted the egg from the pan of near boiling water and placed it in an egg cup, giving it a couple of firm taps on the top to break the shell. "Perfect," he said to himself as he began to peel some of the shell away.

"You're different aren't you?"

"I should hope so Charlotte. I'd hate to be the same as everyone else."

"Hmm...no I mean you're not like other wealthy men. I doubt anyone upstairs would know how to make their own breakfast. I don't think they'd even use the right knife for the butter."

Larry carried the plate over to the table and pulled up a chair, inviting her to sit also. "If you have a minute or two to spare?"

Charlotte sat down opposite him, leaning her elbows on the table, one hand on under her chin as she eagerly awaited the tale she expected him to tell. "I do."

"It's part of the reason I'm here. I don't know what you've been told, or what you overheard, but I came here to fix a mistake I made. I am Icarus who flew too close to the sun."

Charlotte frowned, her eyes brightening as she worked out his metaphor. "You got too proud and you fell?"

"Something like that. I'm a wealthy man. I can have anything I want. If I fancy something, I take it. But I took it too far this time and as a result someone close to me got hurt in a way that will take a lot of time to forgive me. I didn't always have everything though. When I was young, a child, I had next to nothing. So, if I am different it's because I try not to forget what I had. I had practical skills like most others – boiling an egg for instance. I can make pancakes too – delicious they are. I try not to forget how to do these things either, in the hope it keeps me grounded."

"This person you hurt, why don't you just tell them you're sorry?"

Larry spooned a piece of partly runny egg yolk onto his toast, eating it to give him a moment to think. "That won't cut it. They read me well, and I need to forgive myself before I ask the same from them. I am here to try to remind myself of where I came from. If I can manage that then I can avoid making the same mistake in the future, and then my apology, when the time is right, will be true. I can't do that surrounded by the trappings of my fortune now can I?"

"Suppose not, but you came from one big house to another as grand?"

"Yes, I know. That was only because I have friends here. Mr Barrow and Mr Ellis, among others."

Charlotte eyed his toast with envy.

"Help yourself," he offered, pushing the plate over.

She smiled her thanks. "What do you mean about where you came from? Your beginnings?" she asked, in between bites of toast.

"Yes." Larry chewed on a slice of toast caught up in memories of a time so long ago, it was as though it had been a dream. The toast brought it all back: a homely scent that brought his mother's smile along with it. "I grew up an only child. It was just my mother and I – I never knew my father. He left when I was a baby. My mother brought me up on her own."

"That must have been tough."

"It was, but so was she. She worked hard to bring in enough money to keep us fed, clothed and the roof over our heads. There were times...difficult times when the money wasn't enough or the work wasn't to be had. Most of the time we managed...one time things got bad, very bad and—" Larry swallowed several gulps of water, his hand gripping the glass with more force than necessary. "She did some things that people would judge her cruelly for, but it was all for us, for me." Larry kept his focus on his plate. "When I grew older I wanted to get a job, to help out. She refused to let me until I finished school. I didn't get it at the time, but she drummed into me the importance of getting an education. I appreciated that later. But when I could I got a job – an apprenticeship at a local garage, where I learned the ins and outs of fixing cars and all sorts of vehicles. I learnt from a good man, and later got a job offer from him. By then though my mind was full of ways I could do more, get more than what a job could provide."

"I've seen you with your car outside Mr Ellis and Mr Webster's shop in the village last year when Mr Ellis was unwell. You made your fortune from cars?"

"I did, and more besides as business attracts business. I travelled: Europe, America – I made connections and met people. I built up an empire, but I always came home. I bought my mother a house, so she didn't need to worry about paying rent each month. I wanted to buy her a bigger one, provide her with servants and a comfortable lifestyle, but she would have none of it. I did buy a little cottage down in Cornwall near the sea, for her and me to holiday at. She only visited once – she passed away before we had the chance for another."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte said, with a look of genuine sympathy.

"Thank you. I thought about selling the cottage, but someone I met in America, who became my business partner and... friend, persuaded me to keep it. He told me she'd want me to enjoy it." Larry wiped the final piece of toast around the edge of the plate. "I've digressed a lot – I always do that, I talk too much – but the point is, coming from nothing, it kept me from getting too caught up. I did get caught up, of course I did, but not so much that it made me foolish – not until recently. I hope you get a little of what I'm trying to explain?"

"I think I do. I think you're doing the right thing. I don't think most people would go to such efforts to change and be genuine in their apologies. This someone must be special?"

"Yeah."

"You can tell me to shut up, and I won't breathe another word of it but... that someone...you were here visiting Mr Ellis with an American gentleman. Is that who you are talking about?"

Larry's breath hitched in his chest. He'd kept anonymous as much as he could, he never mentioned Sebastian's name. Charlotte was no fool, and not as naïve as a young woman living in an isolated country house might be. Maybe she knew of Mr Barrow? Or maybe he was easier to read than he thought. "It is."

"Thought so."

"I hope you won't—"

Charlotte motioned her hand over her mouth, from one side to the other, as if zipping it shut. "I won't say a word. I know something about talking too much and all, I do that a lot, but when it comes to the important secrets, I can keep those and guard them with my life. I have friends like you and you're someone so it's not strange to me. I try to keep an open mind."

A noise upstairs made them both jump, and then laugh at their stupidity. "I don't even know why I told you all this."

"Did it help?"

"Indeed it did. It's an encouragement to know someone else thinks I'm not completely insane and doing the right thing." Larry stood and took the plate to the sink.

"I'll sort that Larry. You'd better make yourself scarce."

"Thank you Charlotte. I'll likely be gone from this house in the day, but if you ever need a favour, tell Mr Barrow to give you permission to telephone me – he had the correct number."

As Larry took his chance to sneak back upstairs to his hiding place, he felt lighter under his feet, less tense around his tired body – it wasn't only the breakfast he owed that too.

...

Chris tossed himself over onto his back, kicking the twisted sheets at his feet. He sighed in frustration. Sleep wasn't going to come to him, all hot and bothered despite the cold winter morning. He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, grey in the early morning light. He knew he should be getting up. He'd be late and he hated having to rush, but even though he knew what he should be doing, he didn't have the motivation to do anything other than lie there in the gloom alone. The thoughts of the previous day's chance meeting with Helen and her son played on repeat. His mind analysed every word, every look in case he had missed some sign that she knew and was just messing with him – he'd been doing the same thing all night. When he did sleep, it was filled with dream-like memories of his childhood: a time he had long forgotten he'd even lived in.

A gentle tap at the window, behind drawn curtains, broke the silence of the ticking clock. Chris ignored it. A second noise followed. He turned his head to the window, waited a few seconds listening intently, then returned to fix his gaze at the ceiling. A third tap hit the glass. "Bloody birds," he complained. They'd be after the spiders on the window frame. Another tap and a clattering noise as something tumbled off the outside slate window ledge. "Right. Fine." He threw back the remaining sheet he'd had pulled up over his chest and sluggishly made his way to the window, pushing back the curtain. He craned his neck upwards, expecting whatever was making the noise to be on the roof. He glanced down to the garden below and smiled.

"What the hell?" Chris called out after opening the window, the chilling but refreshing morning air hitting his face. A warmth flushed across his cheeks.

David stood below the window, clutching a handful of small pebbles, a cheeky grin spread across his face as they made eye contact. "Morning."

"What are you doing?"

David spread his arms out wide in an innocent gesture. "Playing at being Romeo."

Chris tried, and failed, to appear serious. "Oh right...of course. How stupid of me to not notice." He leaned his arms on the open window frame. "So if you're the lovesick fool then what does that make me?"

"Juliet?"

"Shut up. You'd better come in or Mrs Robinson next door will be peeking through her curtains before too long." Chris closed the window, pulled on his slippers, and raced – as quickly as a man with a stiff leg can in the morning – down to the front door, where David was already waiting.

As soon as he unlocked the door David burst in, his strong but gentle hands gripped Chris by the shoulders. Taken by surprise, he stumbled back and hit the wall in the narrow hallway. David's hand cupped his chin and Chris pulled him by the waist closer. They kissed in the open doorway. "Morning," David said, pulling back. "I missed you."

"I saw you yesterday didn't I, in the morning?" Chris stood away from the wall and closed the door.

"Briefly, but you didn't come to the farm yesterday evening as we planned."

Chris pinched his eyes shut for a second. "I'm sorry I... it slipped my mind. I've had a lot to think about."

"One of the lads from the farm said he saw you in the Grantham Arms yesterday evening at the bar. Says you were there for a while and would have stayed had Mr Ellis not pulled you away." David frowned at him with concern. "You never drink like that unless you're troubled by something. It's like Tommy with his smoking. He's been acting weird as well."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Might be nothing, but I was at Downton Abbey this afternoon and he got all snappy with me."

"Maybe he had a bad day?"

"Yeah maybe." David touched Chris's arm, and then let his hand slide down to grip his. "You're not dressed yet? Were you still in bed? Chris what's the matter? Tell me."

"I was in bed, had a lot to think about." Chris looked down at the floor.

"Care to lighten the load then?"

"Come upstairs. I'll tell you whilst I change, but take those off first," he ordered, looking at David's boots. "They smell of the farm too much." Chris climbed the stairs again, not waiting for David to follow.

"Anything else you'd like me to remove?" David added suggestively.

Chris rolled his eyes to himself, but didn't answer.

Once back upstairs, Chris drew the other curtain back, letting the dawn light flood the room. "I'm sorry I forgot about yesterday, I didn't mean to neglect you."

"Matthew told me to leave you to it yesterday, I'd wanted to find you immediately." David sat on the bed as Chris looked, with little energy, for a fresh shirt in the wardrobe. "You look tired. You're nightmares...did they come back?"

"No. Not the ones you're thinking off," Chris spoke, keeping his back turned. Before David had come into his life, nightmares of his prison time plagued him most nights. He went to bed late and got up early, just to keep the time when those twisted torturous memories found him vulnerable to a minimum. They left him alone most of the time now. David had found him peace. Chris undid the buttons on his pyjama shirt as he continued. "I had an unexpected visit yesterday whilst at the shop...from my younger sister, Helen and her son."

"What?" David's widened eyes had his full attention. "But I thought you're family...I thought they didn't know you were here?"

"They didn't and all except her still don't. It was a chance encounter. She and her husband are in Downton for a few days, they don't live too far away either. She just happened to walk into the shop."

"So... how did that go?" David asked with a note of caution in his voice.

"Well actually. It took a while for us both to recognise each other, but in the end..." Chris sat down shirtless next to David. He would be late for work, but he didn't care. "Her son, a little baby boy, is called Chris. She named him after me." As he spoke, Chris couldn't stop the beaming proud smile from growing on him. He looked to David who mirrored his expression.

"After you? Well I'd say that's a very good sign don't you think? She can't think too poorly of you."

"She wanted her son to know something of me, that's why she did it. I have a nephew and it's a lot to have sprung on me."

David slid closer to him in the dip in the mattress, their knees touching. "It is, no wonder you've been so preoccupied. He'll call you Uncle Chris when he's older then?"

"I hope so." Despite his joy at seeing his nephew in his mind's eye, Chris fiddled with the shirt still in his hands, draped on his lap.

"I take it she's fine with...you?"

"I don't know."

"But I thought—?"

"David, she doesn't know."

"I don't understand."

"My parents, and my other siblings I suspect, spun her a lie about me. She was the youngest, so maybe they wanted to protect her from her brother's sins, but she thinks I left home so suddenly because I made up my mind that I didn't want any involvement in the family business and that I wanted to seek something better for myself elsewhere, away from York and them. They made it out to be that I was too good for them, and that is why they despise me." Chris clasped the arm of the clean shirt as though it was a lifeline, his nails picking at the stitching.

A gentle hand rested on top of his. "You'll ruin a perfectly good shirt," David said as he carefully removed Chris's hand and placed it on his own.

"She likes me enough now, and wants me to be around her son. She's coming over on Saturday in fact, so we can catch up. But if she finds out... she'll turn against me like they did and I'll never be allowed anywhere near little Chris again. I know it."

"She might not be like the rest?"

"Richard thinks my best bet is to let her get to know me first, before she finds out the rest. It will give me a better chance but...I can't see anything good coming from this."

David was silent, but kept his hand firmly in his. "Richard is right. If she likes you, she'll be more willing too... You'll be better placed. I for one can't wait to meet them, especially little Chris."

Chris's heart stuttered with nerves. "David...you can't."

"I know it can't be as your lover, but as a friend or a neighbour even. If she likes me too, then we, as a couple, stand a better chance."

"I'm sorry but no. You have to keep a distance for a while while she's around me. I need to take this slowly, step by step. If things go well on Saturday and over a few more meetups that I hope will happen then we can think about you."

David lets go of his hand, the heat of him lingered on Chris's palm but faded fast. "I understand."

"I'm sorry, I just...I'm desperate for this to work out. I hate how it has to be so complicated."

David nibbled his lower lip in thought. "I'll keep clear, whilst she's around you, when you are happy too, invite me over, and I can make it appear as though I just happen to be dropping by."

"Thank you."

"You'd better get dressed."

"David?"

"Mmm."

"Come over tonight, stay over please?"

"Gladly." They kissed again, Chris closing his eyes drinking his lover in as though he'd disappear forever. "I'll make you breakfast then walk to the village with you after, how's that sound?"

"Thank you." Chris stood and pulled on the shirt as David walked to the open door. "David?"

"Yes?"

"I won't choose them over you, I just like it if I can have both."

"I'd like that too."

…

"Do you think they stand a chance?" Thomas asked Richard. The evening had well and truly set in, and they had enjoyed a quiet hour to themselves at home by the fading embers of the fire, snuggled up close on the sofa in their living room.

"I hope so. I know Chris has never admitted it, but he's been lonely. David has been a tremendous help, but he misses his family." Richard put his arm around Thomas, his hand resting on Thomas's far shoulder. Thomas looked ahead of him into the last flickering flames in the fireplace. They could put more wood on, but they'd have to go to bed soon anyway. He felt Richard's questioning eyes on him. "You're not so sure?"

"I just know how the story usually goes...from experience. It's a story repeated amongst most people like us. I'd like him to know his sister again, and from what you say he seems overjoyed at being an uncle. My sister Margaret, she has two children – a boy and a girl. I've never met them. She did me the courtesy of writing to me after they were both born, but I never received an invite to the christening, and I never had the courage to turn up uninvited." Thomas felt the familiar pang of emptiness within him and along with it, a rising anger – a pain that could never be quenched. He was sure Chris had felt that too, and could only imagine how it felt to be relieved of that pain whilst fearing he'd lose something he'd only just gained.

"Thomas." Richard kissed the top of his head. "I didn't know, you've never spoken of them before."

"I never wanted to."

"I understand."

Thomas tensed and pulled away from Richard's hold. "How could you understand?" he snapped with more bitterness than he expected. "You're an only child, and you have two parents who love you unconditionally. So you couldn't possibly understand." Thomas stilled, hands clasped over both his knees. He already missed the comfort of Richard's arm around him. He didn't blame Richard if he got up then and there and left him.

Richard's arm found his shoulders once again. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Thomas twisted his body around to face him, their legs so close they may as well have been overlapping. "No. You don't need to be. That was uncalled for on my part. You're lucky, and you deserve to be. I'm not good about talking about them that's all and as much as I want to be, I'm finding it hard to be optimistic for Chris. I see the same story, the same situation that I've experienced playing out in others like us and I hate it. Chris, David, Izzie, myself – the same story of family who refuse to behave as a family should. I don't know about Larry, he's talked about his mother sometimes hasn't he?"

"He seemed fond of her. Never spoke of his father though, not in all the time I've known him," Richard agreed.

"If you're an exception Richard, then be glad of it and I'm sorry if I tried to make you feel guilty about it."

"You know my parents love you as much as they love me, don't you?" Richard fiddled with the ring on Thomas's finger – a ring they only could wear in private. "My mother once said if she ever met your parents she would give them such a piece of her mind they'd never dare set foot in Yorkshire again!"

Thomas chuckled, looking down at their joined hands. "I don't doubt it. Part of me would like to see that." His smile faded as he remembered the letter that he'd stashed away in the draw on his side of the bed. He'd torn each and every one up, but kept the one in case he decided to reply to it – he couldn't make up his mind whether he should and it had been a couple of weeks since the first letter. "Richard, you know the letters I have been getting?"

"The junk mail?"

"I know you don't believe that lie for one second – it wasn't one of my best was it? – but thank you for not pushing me."

"I knew you'd tell me when you wanted too."

"They are from Margaret," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Is she okay?"

"Oh yes, she's fine," Thomas scoffed. "I'm not worried about her."

"What did she say?"

Thomas shook his head. "Richard I can't...not yet. I will tell you, but I need to think more first."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

Richard pushed further towards him, close enough for Thomas to see his eye lashes in the dim light, and feel the pulse in his chest. "That's it. I can wait. But love..."

Love: Thomas's heart fluttered at the endearing term, even though he'd heard it many times before, his reaction never waned.

"I need to tell you something," Richard continued.

"Yes?"

"I think you are incredible."

Thomas frowned. "You what?"

"I mean it. For a man who's been treated with a distasteful cruelty from those who should do the complete opposite, you have an incredible amount of love within you. I've seen it: not just towards me, but towards your friends, those at Downton, the children, and our Wilde here." Richard rubbed the sleeping cat on their lap. "I mean it, you are incredible and I love you so much."

"You're my whole world and all I've ever wanted," Thomas breathed. His hand left Richard's and instead found its way onto Richard's forearm travelling then to his back guiding him in closer. They met with a kiss – chaste and inviting – those that followed deepened, intensified and left Thomas tilting his head as he craved more of Richard, desperate to reach the best possible angle as Richard's body pushed firm but gently against him. "You say the strangest things," Thomas added as they took a breath, referring to Richard's previous praise of him.

"I meant every, single, word," Richard murmured, each word interrupted by small kisses to Thomas's jawbone and neck.

Thomas's back met with the sofa behind him, as they kissed again, Richard ever so slightly above him, whilst still sitting next to him. As Thomas's hands trailed Richard's back, clinging on at his partner's hips, he was vaguely aware of a soft thud sound landing at their feet. Wilde surrendered his position on their lap, swapping it for the floor instead, for fear of being squashed between them. Thomas moved his ringed hand up to Richard's neck, fingernails clutching at his shirt collar – Richard's hand cradled the back of Thomas's neck.

"Thomas love," Richard hummed.

"Yeah?"

"Could we move this to the bedroom?" Richard asked. Thomas's stomach lurched with anticipation. "I would be able to appreciate you a lot better if I could feel my arm at the same time? It's pinned down by you and I'm losing the feeling in it. It's growing tired."

"Sure."

Richard straightened back up, red faced and ruffled. Thomas considered the possibility that Richard might just want to go to sleep, but seeing how he appeared before him meant it took all of Thomas's self control not to pull him back down onto the sofa again.

"Thank you, Mr Barrow." Richard took both of Thomas's hands, pulling up from the sofa.

"Richard, hang on." Thomas parted with Richard momentarily as he bent down and scooped a tired and disgruntled Wilde from the floor, carrying him like a parrot on his shoulder. "Come on Wilde."

Hand in hand, cat on shoulder, they left for the bedroom. Thomas knew there was a fifty-fifty split chance of where he and Richard would go next; though considering Richard had called him 'Mr Barrow' Thomas reckoned their cat would end up sleeping somewhere other than their bed tonight.