Authors Note: This little gem of my imagination is set during the "three months later" of episode 2x06. And to clarify, the blocks written in italics are flashbacks (fanfic's lack of formatting can get a little annoying...) Enjoy!

She was walking through the house in a daze, a small smile refusing to leave her face. She walked into the drawing room to join her sisters and her mother, who were chatting about... something. She really couldn't care less.

He was working under the car, she was leaned up against it, and they were talking about his, so far rather disappointing, job search.

"Being a journalist is my dream, but if it doesn't work out..." He peered out from under the car. "I'd do anything, really. As long as I could be with you." He ducked back under the engine to keep working. "Even if it means doing hard labor, honest work with my hands, every day, for the rest of my life, I'd do it. If it meant I could provide for your happiness."

Sybil let out a small chuckle. "What was that for?," Tom asked, poking his head out from underneath the car.

She looked away, embarrassed. "What do you mean?"

"Were you laughing at me?"

"No, no. It was nothing." She refused to meet his eyes.

"No, it was something. Tell me." He paused and waited for a second. "We're not even married yet, and you're already keeping things from me," he said half-jokingly.

"Oh, it's nothing, it's just..." she glanced around the garage, "inappropriate."

"Why Lady Sybil," he said tauntingly, getting out from under the engine. "I didn't think proper ladies had inappropriate thoughts! I'm curious now, and I'm not going to leave you alone about it until you tell me."

Fine. If he was going to be so insistent. She finally met his eyes and her lips curved up in a crooked sly smile.

"I was thinking... There are probably a lot of things you could do with your hands to make me happy."

He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then dropped the wrench in his hand, quickly ripped his gloves off, and pinned her against the car. "Sybil Crawley, you will be the death of me."

"I surely hope so."

"Can you really believe the wedding's only two months away? It just seems..." Lady Crawley stopped mid-sentence and stared at her youngest daughter, who hadn't heard a word of her mother's chit-chat. "Sybil, darling. What is that on your skirt?"

Sybil snapped back into the real world at hearing her name, and looked down to see black smudges on gray fabric, and her eyes grew wide. Oh no.

Their kiss was hungry and passionate. She entwined her fingers in his hair, and his hands rested on her waist, holding her close. The coolness of the car door at her back. His intoxicating scent mixed with the faint smell of newsprint and motor oil. Sybil never wanted it to end.

They didn't kiss like this often. She went to see him whenever she got the chance, which was often now that her nursing skills weren't needed in the house, but their kisses where usually short and sweet. A quick brush of the lips was far less likely to be seen by any stray passers by. But when they did slip, it was more wonderful than anything she had felt before. Their feelings for each other were growing by the day, and every time they came together, it got harder and harder to break apart.

Sybil worked hard to quickly collect herself. "Why, I've no idea, Mother. I suppose I must have brushed up against something."

"Maybe we can figure it out. Let me have a look." In an attempt to be helpful, Edith stood up to examine the offending skirt for herself. Up close there was no denying the fact that Sybil's skirt had been graced by four large greasy fingerprints. Sybil could almost see the facts falling together in Edith's mind. She knew exactly where her little sister had been, and exactly who had been holding her close. Their eyes met, and the disapproval in Edith's gaze was all too clear.

After what seemed like an eternity, Branson ripped himself away. He turned and took three steps to distance himself form her, regaining the ability to breathe as he walked. He slowly turned back around. "You should go on back before you're missed."

"I suppose I should." Her eyes fell. "I hate that things have to be this way."

He walked back over to her and took her sad face in his hands. "It won't be this way forever. Hold out for just a little while longer."

She nodded and turned to leave. "Take care, love." And with one last squeeze of his hand, she left.

Edith let out a small sigh, and as her voice spoke, so did her eyes. "It's looks like soot to me, you must have walked too close to a fireplace. You'd better let Anna have a look at it so she can get it out." Because if any other servant saw a greasy hand print on a ladies skirt, there would be talk. "And try to be more careful." Because I won't be covering for you again.

"I will, Edith." Sybil owed her sister so much for keeping silent.

"We can't having you running around like a dirty orphan, now can we." Her mother's laughing tone made it clear that she didn't suspect a thing. "How was your walk, darling?"

"Didn't you see her smile as she came in, Mama?" Edith said as she sat back down. "It would seem that she had a most wonderful walk."

"It is a rather beautiful day out." Sybil responded quietly. And no more was said on the matter.

"Lady Sybil, are you ready to dress for dinner?" said Anna's voice from the door.

"Yes, come on in." Sybil had already taken off the hand printed skirt and was in her dressing robe. "Anna, I have a rather embarrassing favor to ask you."

Anna looked concerned. "What's wrong, milady?"

"It's nothing really, just... I got a stain on my skirt today, and... I need you to take care of it." She carefully handed the besmudged fabric to her maid.

"But, what...?" Anna examined it for a second, then put her four fingers in the place of the four spots. She sighed. "I suppose there is a certain Irish cad to account for this. I know it's not my place, milady, but are you really sure what you're doing is wise?"

Sybil fell onto her bed with a frustrated groan. "It's not wise, Anna. It's wild, and impulsive, and absolutely mad, but... It's just so perfect. Being with him, talking to him, kissing him..." Her voice faded out. "It just feels right. Like I was never a whole person until he was a part of my life. I know that must sound ridiculous."

"Not exactly, milady. I've felt something a little like that myself." Anna's face held a little more compassion for her love-struck young mistress. "I'll be sure to take care of this for you. But do try to be more careful in the future?"

Sybil sat up and gave Anna a tired smile. "After all the trouble those spots have caused me today? Believe me, I will."