"Tom?"

There she was, standing in the entrance to the garage, lovely as ever in her dark grey nurse's uniform, her headscarf clutched in her hand at her side. Her presence seemed to brighten up the space, and Tom felt his heart quicken in excitement.

No.

No, it wasn't with excitement that his heart was racing. It was racing with fear, breaking into a dangerously fast gait because he was afraid of what he was about to do.

You know you have to do it, he reminded himself, watching as she drew nearer to him, and when she was within arm's length, he drew her into a gentle embrace. For her sake as much as yours.

"Your note said you wanted to see me as soon as possible," she said, tucking her head beneath his chin, a gesture of such intimacy that Tom wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he was simply worried for her and how hard she was working- but he couldn't. He needed to tell her why he'd asked for her, the true reason, no matter how horrible it was.

He took a deep breath, wondering if she could sense his apprehension. Forgive me, Sybil. Please, please forgive me for what I'm about to do.

It was the right thing to do, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. If he loved Sybil, he would give her the happiness she deserved, which didn't involve him. She was the daughter of an earl, for God's sake, a lady, and who was he the son of? Not an earl, that's for sure. It wasn't meant to be, it was never meant to be.

"Tom, is everything alright?"

She looked up at him, her brows drawn tight together in concern, her head inclined to the side like Isis did sometimes. Her eyes were fixed on him, easily the oldest thing on her face. So old and wise, and yet so hopeful, so trusting.

She trusted him not to break her heart, and here he was, about to do what she least expected.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. He could already feel the numbness spreading throughout his body, creating a feeling of isolation, as if someone had dropped a veil between him and the young woman he held in his arms.

"Tom, what's wrong?"

He could hear her confusion giving way to deeper confusion tinged with worry, and he wanted to make something up, anything to spare her the heartache he was about to cause her. He wanted to hold her tighter to his body and promise that he would fight for her, for them.

But he didn't.

He couldn't, not when he'd already given up, not on the idea of them, exactly, but on the possibility of it ever happening. In another time, perhaps, but not now, and most certainly not here.

"Tom?"

Damn Lady Sybil and her trusting, hopeful eyes! Damn them for making him second-guess himself when he had been so sure in his decision! Damn him for letting them become his weakness! Damn him for falling in love with her in the first place!

"We can't see each other anymore, m'lady," he said, each word coming out clearly, his tone cold and painfully flat.

She blinked, her brows making deeper furrows, and he wanted to stop her and warn her that such an expression would cause her lovely forehead to wrinkle prematurely.

But he didn't.

Instead he eased himself out of her embrace, an easy task, considering he was much larger than she, and she wasn't expecting the gentle force he used to pry her arms from around his shoulders. He took a step back too, to finalize their separation.

They weren't lovers anymore.

They were as they'd been before the war: the daughter of an English earl, and an Irish chauffeur with far too many dreams for the future.

They were Lady Sybil Crawley, and Mr. Branson- nothing more.

"I don't understand."

Oh, what he wouldn't give to be as innocent of the world as she appeared now! But no, that was not how the world worked, not his, anyways. In her world, the ivory tower that was Downton Abbey, yes, she was allowed to not understand why he'd said what he'd just said, and he knew that if she asked for an explanation, he would be obligated to give it to her.

"I thought you loved me."

I do, he thought. I love you more than you could possibly know, and that is why I have to do this.

He couldn't find the words to answer her, and he wished she would just go so he could begin to pick up the pieces of his own heart where she couldn't see.

"Tom?"

"You shouldn't be down here, m'lady," he said, holding her gaze, long enough that she could see the cold warning in his eyes, though he knew she would see through him and find the injury that he struggled to hide. "Dr. Clarkson'll be looking for you, I'm sure."

It was never meant to be.

People like her didn't love people like him, it was as simple as that.

"But Tom-"

"Mr. Branson," he corrected, "m'lady."

She took a deep breath. Tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she kept her head high and her lips pressed together in a stern line, looking just like her eldest sister- if Lady Mary was shorter and would deign to wear a nurse's uniform. "Of course," she said, her tone as hollow as his was cold. "Forgive me for taking too much of your time, Mr. Branson."

With that, she turned and left, her pace brisk and efficient, nothing like the loose, loping strides that he knew her to walk with.

Oh, you did take up my time, he thought, turning away from the entrance to the garage and staring blankly at the brick wall. But it was time spent in Paradise, and I wouldn't change it for all the world, even if it's all a memory now.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

There will be more chapters on the way, and a resolution of sorts, I promise. All is not lost, but there must be darkness before the dawn- I think we as a fandom know this by now.

Please leave a review, let me know how I did, and thank you for reading!