Thank you to Ariadne for beta-ing for me!

I don't know if this fits in with S.2 at all but i hope you enjoy it anyway.

Branson stared around the ward. He had been there three weeks now, although he remembered very little from the first week. A number of beds were now empty. The previous inhabitants either been discharged or taken away. Branson knew he was lucky. His injury wasn't that serious, and it didn't prevent him from doing much. Except driving, that is.

He'd already been told that he was being discharged today and had sent a telegram to Carson asking if someone could meet him at the station. Now he stared at the monotonous grey ceiling above him, as he tried to think of what he would say to Lord Grantham. A nurse came and checked his wrist before telling him that he was welcome to leave. He had packed his bag on the day they first told him he would be leaving, so all he had to do now was pack the last few painkillers and an extra sling, before following the nurse out of the ward. The hospital car drove him to the nearest station so he could board the train.

Watching the countryside roll past he pondered what he would do once he got to Downton. The army had promised all soldiers good money for their services once the war ended; but since it ended last week, they had a lot of people to pay. For now, he only had enough money to keep himself for a day or two. That meant he could either stay in the village for a couple of days, and have nothing to support himself afterwards, or he could travel to Ireland straight away. The doctors at the hospital had advised him to rest, and by their standards that did not mean traipsing across the country by train. He supposed Lord Grantham might help, but it was not guaranteed.

A billow of smoke drifted past the window to reveal the station. He took his bag and climbed down from the train.

"Branson!" Lord Grantham was waving his hat like he had done all those years ago, before he announced that the country was at war. Branson hadn't expected this welcome.

"Milord," he acknowledged his former employer.

"Carson said you were coming, and I had some business in the village to attend to. I rather took to driving myself after you left, and Edith gave me some advice." Robert noticed the sling under Branson's jacket. "What happened?" His tone was encouraging.

"It wasn't much," Branson answered and Robert found himself smiling at the familiar Irish accent. "A piece of shrapnel hit my wrist." Branson decided that this was a good time to explain his predicament. "As a matter of fact, milord, I wanted to talk to you about that. I can't move it, which means I can't drive. I can't do anything with that hand." Lord Grantham could sense that the young man was worried.

"What will you do?" he asked. Branson's gaze dropped.

"I don't know." He debated whether he should tell Lord Grantham of his actual intentions, but decided against it. The earl had never liked his politics. As they made to leave, Branson stopped abruptly. "Would it be a bother, milord, if I check the train times to Ireland?"

Robert raised an eyebrow at the request. "You're not staying?"

"I'm not sure that I can afford to." Branson couldn't meet his gaze.

"The chauffeur's cottage is empty if you would like to stay."

"That's generous milord, but I'd better check the times anyway." Robert watched him as he wandered over to the timetable. The man's spirit had been broken somewhat by war, but he still had the same determination that he carried into the library on his first day.

Branson hardly spoke in the car, but Robert noticed how his expression softened as they drove down the familiar road. The drives back and fourth with Lady Sybil were still very dear to the chauffeur. As they drove through the Gothic arch and into the Abbey grounds, Branson finally broke the silence.

"It's good to be back here," he said. "It takes you back. Happier times I suppose."

"I'm glad you were happy here." Robert smiled at him before concentrating on parking the car, not yet up to Branson's old standard. They both got down from the car and were met at the door by Carson, who, Branson noted, still wore the same expression of dignity.

"My Lord," he greeted them, "Mr Branson."

"Come into the library." Lord Grantham motioned to the door. Branson nodded to Carson before walking into the room. It was just as he remembered, the red sofas and shelves of books all glistening with the knowledge that they contained.

"Now, Branson," Robert began, "I know you will be anxious to see everyone again, but at some point we will need to discuss your position and the possibility of hiring a new chauffeur. I won't keep you now. Here." He handed Branson the bunch of keys to the garage.

"Thank you, milord. I understand."

Branson went to the garage and the rooms above which had been his home, before going to see everyone. He needed to freshen up. He dumped his bag by the door before taking in the surroundings. There were a couple of books neatly stacked on one of the small tables with a note on top. Branson smiled as he read the scrawl;

Thank you so much,

these kept me sane!

Your friend

Sybil. X

He had let her borrow them before he left. He was still smiling as he got a small glass out of the cupboard but frowned when he remembered that he could not run the tap with his other hand. After a little more effort than was previously required and a few chosen words he placed the now full glass on the table next to the books before looking through his bag for the painkillers.

~x~

"Branson! Haven't seen you in a while!"

"Hello Anna." He was welcomed as if he had come home and he had to admit to himself, Downton felt like home.

"Mr Branson!"

"Mrs Hughes," he addressed the housekeeper.

"Sit down, my lad, you're making the place look untidy."

"Has anyone seen that Daisy?" Mrs Patmore Shouted. Branson laughed. The cook was still chasing that poor girl.

"Coming Mrs. Patmore!" Daisy came running down the stairs wearing a housemaid's dress. With all the men away, Branson supposed, they needed all the help they could get. She did a double take when she saw him. "Oh, hello!" She was going to stop and chat but got another sharp "Daisy!" from Mrs Patmore. She threw him an apologetic smile and rushed into the kitchen.

"Hello again." Mr Bates walked in and took his usual seat. "Are you back for good?" he asked hopefully.

"From war, yes. Other than that, I'm not sure." Branson had taken the sling off, making it hard for anyone to detect his injury. The room was suddenly still.

"You're… Surely, you're not thinking of leaving Downton, are ya?" Anna asked the question everyone was thinking.

"I'm not sure that I can stay." The vague response was very strange coming from the usually forward chauffeur. He quickly changed the subject. "Is anyone else back?"

"There was a letter from Mr Crawley saying he'd be back soon," Anna informed him. "Other than that, you're the only one."

"There are some perks to getting wounded then," Branson said, more to himself than to anyone else.

"What happened?" The housekeeper was staring at him, unable to take in his last statement. Branson looked up, almost unaware that he had said anything.

"Oh, shrapnel in my wrist. It's not that bad." He really didn't want to talk about it. "Any food yet? I'm starving!"

Branson's injury became more apparent over dinner. Anna asked him to pass the jug of water to her, which he did with his right hand. Luckily Mrs Patmore had made a stew so he just used a fork. He used his right hand to pick up his drink and he handed Mrs Patmore his plate, carefully balancing it in one hand. Meanwhile his left wrist lay dormant on the table.

"I'd better go and see to Lady Mary." Anna stood up as the bell rang and Daisy almost fell backwards off the stool she was perched upon.

"I never lit her fire!" She ran up the stairs behind Anna.

"You can't do her fire in that." Anna motioned to the housemaid's dress. Daisy wasn't used to her double position yet, so she found herself changing as much as the ladies of the house.

"So what has been happening here lately?" Branson started the conversation.

"Nothing." O'Brien bluntly finished it.

"What was it like out there?" One of the junior members of staff had obviously been bursting to ask.

"Terrifying," Branson flatly finished. It had been hell and he was glad to be out of it.

TBC eventually...

Reviews welcome :)

Enjoy Seies 2!