Fic: Finding a Place
Title: Finding a Place
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 494
Summary: Thomas ponders what he’s going to do next.
A/N: My first Downton fic/drabble type thing.Season 2 spoilers, missing scene type of thing. Written for team grifter at the gift giving challenge at leverageland. Gift for nightcamedown - hope you like it!
The servants are sat around their table, a scene no different from any other that has taken place over the last few years except that the newspaper that Bates is reading no longer has bad news on the front cover.
Thomas walks into the room and takes it all in; Anna reading quietly over Bates’ shoulder, Branson periodically glancing at the clock and O Brien looking right back at him as he surveys the room’s inhabitants. He smirks at her before leaving the room again.
Out in the corridor, he leans against the wall and tries to breathe. He isn’t one of them anymore; he’s left servitude and he no longer has to follow the instructions of Carson. He’s free to come and go as he likes with no need to worry about being reprimanded by Mrs Hughes. It’s been exhilarating, being able to make his own decisions about simple things like what time to put his room into darkness at night.
But now he’s not a soldier either - or, at least, not for much longer. Running Downton as Acting Sergeant has been his life for months now but the last convalescents will be gone within a few weeks and he won’t be needed any more.
He has no idea what he is going to do.
There is a very good chance that Lord Grantham will offer him a position, perhaps his old one as first footman, perhaps something better. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be one of them again. Once he gets back into that, he might not be able to claw his way back out again.
“You’re thinking too much.”
O Brien walks past him towards the back door, cigarettes already in her hand, and he follows because that’s what they do. They smoke together and they talk more honestly with each other than with anyone else and they help each other in any way they can.
It’s cold outside so he leaves the door open as he steps out of the house, lets the draught travel through to where Bates and the others are sitting, content in their lives. Why should they be comfortable when he isn’t?
“You’ll find something.” O Brien holds out a cigarette. “You always do.”
He lights it up as he sits down next to her, glances at the floor before he answers her. “You seem very sure.”
She nods. “I know you.”
He doesn’t speak as he finishes his cigarette; there’s nothing to say. She knows that he’s not as bad as the others think he is, that his father was a clockmaker and that he use to sneak out sometimes just to walk and that he’s scared of the future. But there are a lot of things she is still unaware of. He tosses his finished cigarette to the floor and turns to speak to her one last time before heading back inside.
“Perhaps not as well as you think you do.”
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 494
Summary: Thomas ponders what he’s going to do next.
A/N: My first Downton fic/drabble type thing.Season 2 spoilers, missing scene type of thing. Written for team grifter at the gift giving challenge at leverageland. Gift for nightcamedown - hope you like it!
The servants are sat around their table, a scene no different from any other that has taken place over the last few years except that the newspaper that Bates is reading no longer has bad news on the front cover.
Thomas walks into the room and takes it all in; Anna reading quietly over Bates’ shoulder, Branson periodically glancing at the clock and O Brien looking right back at him as he surveys the room’s inhabitants. He smirks at her before leaving the room again.
Out in the corridor, he leans against the wall and tries to breathe. He isn’t one of them anymore; he’s left servitude and he no longer has to follow the instructions of Carson. He’s free to come and go as he likes with no need to worry about being reprimanded by Mrs Hughes. It’s been exhilarating, being able to make his own decisions about simple things like what time to put his room into darkness at night.
But now he’s not a soldier either - or, at least, not for much longer. Running Downton as Acting Sergeant has been his life for months now but the last convalescents will be gone within a few weeks and he won’t be needed any more.
He has no idea what he is going to do.
There is a very good chance that Lord Grantham will offer him a position, perhaps his old one as first footman, perhaps something better. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be one of them again. Once he gets back into that, he might not be able to claw his way back out again.
“You’re thinking too much.”
O Brien walks past him towards the back door, cigarettes already in her hand, and he follows because that’s what they do. They smoke together and they talk more honestly with each other than with anyone else and they help each other in any way they can.
It’s cold outside so he leaves the door open as he steps out of the house, lets the draught travel through to where Bates and the others are sitting, content in their lives. Why should they be comfortable when he isn’t?
“You’ll find something.” O Brien holds out a cigarette. “You always do.”
He lights it up as he sits down next to her, glances at the floor before he answers her. “You seem very sure.”
She nods. “I know you.”
He doesn’t speak as he finishes his cigarette; there’s nothing to say. She knows that he’s not as bad as the others think he is, that his father was a clockmaker and that he use to sneak out sometimes just to walk and that he’s scared of the future. But there are a lot of things she is still unaware of. He tosses his finished cigarette to the floor and turns to speak to her one last time before heading back inside.
“Perhaps not as well as you think you do.”