Between (Sybil, Thomas)
Title: Between
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 350
Prompt: Thomas and Sybil- and the one time they were sort of, almost friends, for December Meme of Doom
For: xx-pinkstar
Spoilers: s2
Summary: Sybil needs this every now and then, needs air that doesn't smell like blood, sweat and dirt.
A/N: Happy December! :D
Between
Sometimes it's better to be outside.
Sybil needs this every now and then, needs air that doesn't smell like blood, sweat and dirt.
(She would never say it out loud, of course - she wants to be here, wants to keep coming, wants to finally be doing something that matters. No one needs to know how much she sometimes doesn't want to be here.)
She has a favorite place right behind the hospital building, not secluded enough for anyone to suspect that she's hiding, and yet unimportant enough for people to hardly ever have any business here. When Sybil sees someone already standing there in shadows, she bites her lip in irritation.
Thomas automatically straightens up when he notices her, but he doesn't bow his head, not quite a footman anymore, but not really a soldier yet, stuck mid-way with a polite smile glued to his face (Sybil doesn't really notice; people have been polite to her her entire life). He's holding a cigarette with just the tips of his fingers. Funny how he lived in her house for so many years, and she never knew he smoked.
“Good evening,” he says hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to finish the sentence, because neither “my lady” nor “nurse Crawley” sound quite right here, in this place between places.
His hesitation is what makes Sybil's annoyance go away; that and the fact that lately she's so tired that she runs out of anger unbelievably quickly. It's just Thomas, she can tell herself. It's not like his presence would ruin her moment of loneliness. After all, ever since she met him she's been mostly pretending he isn't there.
(She isn't quite sure what makes her reach and slowly take the cigarette out of his fingers, she doesn't know why she puts it in her mouth and inhales deeply enough to start coughing. There probably is a reason somewhere in the shadows, between her bloodied apron and Thomas's wounded fingers, but, truth to be told, she can't be bothered to look for it.)
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 350
Prompt: Thomas and Sybil- and the one time they were sort of, almost friends, for December Meme of Doom
For: xx-pinkstar
Spoilers: s2
Summary: Sybil needs this every now and then, needs air that doesn't smell like blood, sweat and dirt.
A/N: Happy December! :D
Between
Sometimes it's better to be outside.
Sybil needs this every now and then, needs air that doesn't smell like blood, sweat and dirt.
(She would never say it out loud, of course - she wants to be here, wants to keep coming, wants to finally be doing something that matters. No one needs to know how much she sometimes doesn't want to be here.)
She has a favorite place right behind the hospital building, not secluded enough for anyone to suspect that she's hiding, and yet unimportant enough for people to hardly ever have any business here. When Sybil sees someone already standing there in shadows, she bites her lip in irritation.
Thomas automatically straightens up when he notices her, but he doesn't bow his head, not quite a footman anymore, but not really a soldier yet, stuck mid-way with a polite smile glued to his face (Sybil doesn't really notice; people have been polite to her her entire life). He's holding a cigarette with just the tips of his fingers. Funny how he lived in her house for so many years, and she never knew he smoked.
“Good evening,” he says hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to finish the sentence, because neither “my lady” nor “nurse Crawley” sound quite right here, in this place between places.
His hesitation is what makes Sybil's annoyance go away; that and the fact that lately she's so tired that she runs out of anger unbelievably quickly. It's just Thomas, she can tell herself. It's not like his presence would ruin her moment of loneliness. After all, ever since she met him she's been mostly pretending he isn't there.
(She isn't quite sure what makes her reach and slowly take the cigarette out of his fingers, she doesn't know why she puts it in her mouth and inhales deeply enough to start coughing. There probably is a reason somewhere in the shadows, between her bloodied apron and Thomas's wounded fingers, but, truth to be told, she can't be bothered to look for it.)