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Chapter Text

Setting the Scene

One would think that once the excitement of the royal visit was over, life at Downton would return to something resembling normal, with Mr Carson returning to a quiet retirement. Instead, here they were on the day of some ghastly dinner with some random old society fixtures, and Thomas is struggling to wrap his head around what he’s hearing.

“Again!? I’m sorry Mr Carson but I just don’t understand. I’m perfectly capable of supervising a dinner.”

“I’m aware of that Mr Barrow. Lady Mary simply feels that tonight’s guests might appreciate a more traditional approach rather than your more…modern approach. It’s only for a day, or two if they stay the night. I’ll need you to supervise things down here while I handle upstairs. I don’t know if they’ll have valets or not and I simply won’t have the time.”

Thomas stands, fuming, as Carson sits behind his desk, in his chair, looking at him with that superior look of his as he once again takes over the butler position at Lady Mary’s request.  Once again, he hears a quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him that he’ll never truly belong here, never be truly accepted.

‘To hell with this.’

“No.”

Carson’s impressive eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Anyone would think that Thomas had never defied him before and Thomas supposes he’s never been quite so blatant, but he’s certainly been close.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No. If you are to be butler for ‘a day or two’ then consider me stood down. What would the guests say if they knew there were two butlers at Downton while so many are struggling to keep even the smallest staff?”

It was a low blow, but Thomas knows Carson will do anything to protect the Crawley’s reputation. Even let him have a day off without too much of a fight as much as Thomas hated being replaced for no reason. Maybe he could manage a last-minute trip to London, it would be Carson’s fault if there’s no butler on duty tomorrow.

He stands and watches the internal struggle play out over Carson’s face. On one hand, it allowed Carson to be in charge without struggle, on the other…it wouldn’t play out the way he wanted, and he never liked to be dictated to by anyone, especially Thomas.

“Hmpf. Very well if that is what it takes to allow an easy transition. Mr Barrow, you may go.”

‘I may go? I am being dismissed from my own office? My humiliation is quietly complete.’

Taking a deep breath to avoid saying something he shouldn’t, Thomas turns and storms out of his office, not getting very far before he’s stopping dead in his tracks as he meets a pair of tearful and decidedly filthy children in the corridor.

“What’s this? Tears before lunchtime?”

George and Sybbie look up at him miserably, tears streaming down Sybbie’s face as George’s eyes burn with a childlike fury. Thomas kneels down to be closer to them and swiftly finds himself with his arms full with a distraught little girl.

“Hey now. What’s happened?”

George steps forward and pats Sybbie on the back, looking at Thomas with his big blue eyes.

“It was nanny, Mr Barrow. We were playing by the old ruin, and we didn’t hear nanny call us, so she threw Sybbie’s teddy inside. She said it was too dangerous to get it back and made us come home for a bath.”

Sybbie hiccups and wipes her eyes on Thomas’ jacket as he strokes her hair in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

‘It’s a good thing I like children.’

“It w…was…m…mummy’s teddy.”

Thomas’ heart stops for several beats as the fury that rises inside of him rapidly eclipses any feelings he may currently have towards Mr Carson and is transferred to yet another nanny.

‘What is it with this house and terrible nannies? Never mind that now. I can fix this.’

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you both go for your bath, and I’ll go and find your teddy? Which ruins was it?”

Sybbie looks at him in happy surprise as George beams, he knew Mr Barrow would fix it.

“The old crypt, by the meadow with the big old tree.”

‘Christ that’s right on the edge of the estate. I guess I’m not going to London.’

“Right then. Off you go for your bath, I’ll have your teddy back by tea.”

“Thank you, Barrow!”

Two hugs later and Thomas is putting on his coat, quietly raiding the kitchen for a sandwich while Mrs Patmore is occupied and heading out before anyone could ask him any questions he didn’t want to answer. Little did he know how much he would come to regret that decision later

Heading up the staff dinner that afternoon, Carson is oblivious to the confused looks being thrown his way including the ones from his wife. Their guests are due in two hours and he’s mentally running through his to-do list just in case he’s missed anything for the preparations.

It’s Daisy who eventually gives in to her curiosity as she hands out dessert.

“Mr Carson?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s Mr Barrow?”

Carson blinks, he hadn’t actually noticed that Thomas wasn’t present at the table and doesn’t think he wants to know how the man is spending his evening.

“Oh, well, as I’m supervising tonight’s dinner, Mr Barrow has the night off. I imagine he’s making the most of it.”

Elsie frowns at him in disapproval.

“You imagine? So, he could be anywhere? And why is it the first I hear of you supervising the dinner is you supervising our dinner?”

“Lady Mary asked me first thing this morning.”

“And you can’t say no to the blessed Lady Mary. Did either of you spare a thought about Mr Barrow in your well thought out decision? He’s a perfectly capable butler if you two would give him half a chance.”

The rest of the staff have given up on their desert and are openly observing the conversation happening before them, eyes swivelling to Carson and awaiting his response.

“I’m aware of his abilities and he agreed to me stepping in for today in return for the night off. Now if it’s alright with all of you, our guests are due, and the family still need to be dressed. I assume the dinner is running on time?”

Daisy is smart enough to take the hint even if she wants to make a snappy comeback and disappears back to the kitchen. Everyone else finishes up and prepares to get back to the grind with Bates leaning over for a quiet word with Anna.

“You really think Thomas agreed?”

Anna shakes her head subtly.

“Not if he had a choice. I’ll have a word with Lady Mary. She can’t keep doing this. I don’t think she has any idea how it unsettles things down here.”

“Good luck.”

“Do you really think it wise, Milady? Bringing Mr Carson in again?”

Lady Mary checks her hair in the mirror and adjusts her necklace a millimetre to the left.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? He has more experience with dinners like this, pulling out the stops and all that. Barrow will be able to watch and learn.”

“He’s not here.”

“What?”

“Mr Barrow, he seems to have gone out, but Mr Carson didn’t seem sure. Besides, we don’t really have the staff anymore for doing things Mr Carson’s way. It gets a little…fraught downstairs. Mr Barrow is far more efficient with a smaller staff.”

“Hmm. Well, never mind. Next time maybe. Henry? I’m not late, am I?”

Anna offers a small smile to Mr Talbot as he appears in the doorway and gets a sympathetic one back.

“Not at all darling, they’re not here yet. I have it on good authority that Carson would like us all gathered though, if you’re ready. You look wonderful.”

“Just one little…there, ready. Thank you, Anna.”

“Milady.”

Mr Talbot offers a nod to his wife’s ladies' maid as said wife sweeps out past him.

“I hope wherever Barrow is, he’s having more fun than we are.”

Anna doesn’t have to hide her smile as she’s left alone to tidy the room. There are times when Mr Talbot and Mr Branson were breaths of fresh air in this house. She can’t ignore the faint feeling of concern though, as she wonders where on earth Thomas is.

Robert and Cora manage to keep their confusion limited to silent communication throughout the dinner with a merry pair of old Dukes and their Duchesses. They weren’t invited guests, rather, they invited themselves after the royal tour and Mary was never one to miss an opportunity. At least Violet and Mary were enjoying themselves even if Henry and Tom looked bored out of their minds. It’s only when they split after the meal and Cora leads the way to the drawing-room that she gets a moment to ask questions.

“Carson. How nice to see you. Is Barrow ill?”

“No milady, simply having a break. Lady Mary and I agreed that I have more experience with dinners like these. I’m sure Mr Barrow is Downstairs as we speak, keeping an eye on things.”

“I see.”

…he wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Into the Crypt

By the time Thomas has arrived at the ruins of a rather ancient, slightly sinister-looking crypt, it is well into the afternoon and the sun is starting to set. He takes a moment to eat his stolen sandwich while he surveys the ruins carefully, noting how dark it looks down there and regretting not stealing a drink.

‘How early did nanny wake them to get them here and back before lunch? Did they even have breakfast?’

Heaving a sigh and swallowing his last mouthful, he gallantly goes in search of the missing teddy.

Carefully stepping down what’s left of the stairs, he idly notes how weather-worn the stone is looking. It’s even starting to crumble in places as he goes deeper, running his hands along the walls for support, and feeling the damp patches where the rain has seeped through the cracks over the many years of neglect. He’s always hated these old buildings, they’re so dark and dingy and unwelcoming. How anyone was ever comfortable living in a castle was beyond him. At least this one was just for stashing the dead.

He finds the teddy by accident after nearly an hour of careful walking as his foot catches it at the bottom of the second set of stairs. The nanny must have quite the arm on her, or her aim was just that lucky to find the gap in the stone, where the two sets of stairs probably used to meet. Brushing the grit and dirt off the teddy - mostly by feel due to the lack of light - Thomas fails to notice that he’s turned himself around in the increasing darkness.

He absently wanders in the dark for 10 minutes or so before he catches his foot on an uneven stone and has to throw his arms out to catch himself before he lands face first. Cursing quietly, he suddenly realizes that he should be back up at least one set of stairs by now but as he sits up and turns himself around, he can’t for the life of him identify any features to navigate by amongst the shadows.

“Great. That’s just wonderful. Lost in a crypt, in the dark, talking to myself. I should’ve gone to London.”

Checking that he still has the teddy, for which he is slowly developing an irrational hatred, Thomas heaves himself to his feet, wincing at the sting in his hands and knees. He can feel a draught coming from his left and decides that it’s his best bet for getting back outside.  Putting his left hand on the wall for support, his right is relegated to teddy protection as he tries to find his way out of this godforsaken place. 

Managing to walk for another 5 minutes before he stumbles again, Thomas puts his full weight on the wall in an effort to avoid another collision with the floor. The momentary relief of remaining standing is short-lived as a loud grinding noise is swiftly followed by the uncomfortable feeling of falling as the wall - that had been working so well as support - collapses under his weight. He barely has time to let out a startled cry before the ruins begin to collapse around him and he lands with a dull thud, his head connecting with the stone floor, rendering him oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him.

Mary was finding the evening to be a great success as she and Tom headed upstairs to check on the children before cocktails are served. The dukes seem happy enough and she’s successfully intimidated both duchesses with ease much to her grandmother’s delight.

Tom, however, has spent the evening thanking God for Henry. They’ve managed to come up with a business plan for the next five years while the old boys reminisced about the ‘old ways’. Neither of the ‘old court favourites’ have graced to cast him and his brother-in-law so much as a glance since the customary introductions. Typical of their kind.

Both parents were fully expecting to walk into the nursery to the sight of happily sleeping children. Therefore, it was rather a surprise to find both Sybbie and George sat up in bed having a rather intense looking discussion for ones so young.

“George? What are you doing up? Where’s nanny?”

“She went to bed. Is Barrow back yet?”

Mary frowns and looks at Tom enquiringly, only to get a confused shrug in return.

“Barrow? Why, where’s he been?”

“He went to get Sybbie’s teddy back, but he said he’d be back by teatime and that was hours ago.”

Tom sits on his daughter's bed and gently moves her hair out of her eyes.

“Your teddy, my darling?”

Sybbie nods and leans into her father’s side with a sniff.

“Nanny threw mummy’s teddy in the ruins.”

“Nanny? Which ruins? And Barrow’s gone to get it back for you? When was this?”

“We weren’t being naughty daddy; we just didn’t hear.”

Tom exchanges a concerned glance with Mary, tinged with fury. Why was this house a magnet for bad nannies? And why were they only hearing about it now?

“I’m sure you weren’t, love. Can you tell us more about it?”

The two children seemed to have a silent conversation, before deciding to trust their parents, a move which has Tom wondering if he’s spending enough time with his daughter. She used to tell him everything without question and now she has to think about it. Looking over at Mary he’s disappointed to see her looking completely unfazed. 

“It was this morning, at the old crypt by the meadow. She threw it down the stairs. We got home before lunch. Barrow found us downstairs and said he’d get the teddy back by teatime. Is he not back yet, daddy?”

“I don’t think so love, but we’ll check if you two go to sleep. He might think you're already asleep and be keeping it as a surprise for morning.”

It’s hard to tell who looks more dubious, Sybbie or George. Mary could at least pretend to back him up instead of looking completely disinterested. He considers himself lucky when the children reluctantly concede and tuck themselves into bed quietly, accepting kisses without complaint.

Back downstairs, Tom automatically moves to head down to the servants' hall until Mary’s voice brings him to a stop.

“Where are you off to? You’ll miss the cocktails.”

Raising his eyebrows at how purely oblivious she can be at times he moves back toward her, quickly wiping the amused look off her face.

“Cocktails!? We were just told that the nanny threw Sybbie’s teddy, Sybil’s teddy, into the old crypt and that Thomas has gone to get it and hasn't returned yet. Doesn’t any of that bother you!?” 

Her look of innocent surprise simply adds to his irritation.

“Why would it? We can deal with the nanny in the morning, it’s a teddy, it’s not like she hurt the children, it could’ve been an accident, and Barrow’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

“Then where is he? Mary that crypt is dangerous at the best of times, the only reason we haven’t done anything about it is because it’s on the edge of the estate where hardly anyone goes.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake Tom, we have guests! He’s probably just downstairs like you said. Waiting until morning. Either that or he’s gone off to London to see the pen pal he thinks no one knows about.”

“Then please excuse me while I go and make sure. Enjoy your cocktails.” 

He marches down the stairs without a backward glance. There is a small part of him that wonders if he is overreacting, it is just a teddy after all. Even if it does have sentimental value, something about Thomas going out to get it by himself just isn’t sitting right. He should be back by now and if he isn’t, well, Tom didn’t really want to consider what might have happened.

Chapter Text

Raise the Alarm

Tom marches downstairs, fairly certain that he’ll at least find Mrs Hughes and the maids down here somewhere. Sure enough, after knocking on the door, he finds her in her sitting room with Anna and Miss Baxter gossiping over a cup of tea. The three of them scramble to their feet in surprise.

“Mr Branson! How can I help?”

“I’m sorry to intrude, Mrs Hughes. The children have just told us that Barrow went out to find Sybbie’s teddy, they’re worried and I’m a little concerned myself about where he was headed. I don’t suppose he’s back yet?”

Mrs Hughes frowns.

“No, he’s not. I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“And he hasn’t gone to London?”

“London?”

“Lady Mary thought he might make the most of the night off.”

Miss Baxter shares a glace with Anna before she steps forward with a shake of her head.

“He wouldn’t have gone for the night without telling anyone, Mr Branson. We wondered where he was at dinner but…Mr Carson didn’t seem concerned.”

Tom’s heart sinks, the vague feeling of dread growing within him. Something must have shown on his face if the alarmed look on all three women’s faces were anything to go by.

“He’s probably fine. He went to the far end of the estate, it’s easy to get turned around once the sun goes. I’ll go and find him, bring him home.”

He tries for a reassuring smile as he starts to back out of the room and gets a half-hearted one back from Mrs Hughes.

“Very well. Should we tell anyone where you’ve gone?”

“Lady Mary will know where I am, thank you. Goodnight. Try not to worry.”

It’s lucky they’ve been stashing an old tractor in the garage otherwise Tom would be forced to travel on foot which would not be fun in the dark. He’s just cranking the engine when a voice calls over the yard.

“Tom!”

Startled he looks up to see Henry jogging over.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I heard a rumour. Can I help? A car won’t make it there?”

Tom shakes his head in mild disappointment.

“No. I suppose a car would make it as far as the meadow a lot faster, it’s dry enough, but the grass on there is too long now for anything other than a tractor or on foot.”

“So, we can floor it to the meadow then jog?”

Henry throws him a grin as he waves the keys to his new car in the air.

“Come on Tom. If he’s been out there this long, something isn’t right. It’s probably the only time our love of speed will be appreciated around here.”

The tractor gets one last glance before Tom grabs his hat off the seat and joins Henry in his immaculate Mercedes. Within seconds they’re racing off into the night, hopefully, to return with a chilly, grouchy but otherwise perfectly fine butler.

Phyllis rubs her arms to ward off the chill as she makes her way back to Mrs Hughes’ sitting room where she and Anna are waiting with Mrs Patmore and a fresh pot of tea.

“Mr Talbot’s joined him. They’ve just gone off in a car. I know he said not to worry but I just can’t help it.”

Mrs Hughes gives her a sympathetic pat on the arm.

“Nor can I. As capable as Thomas is, I wouldn’t describe him as outdoorsy and now he’s got himself lost out there in the dark. Anything could happen.”

Anna puts her cup on the table carefully before folding her hands in her lap.

“Should we tell them upstairs?”

Mrs Hughes takes a sip and frowns, taking a moment to think it over. If they raise the alarm and Thomas turns up fine then they all knew which poor soul Charlie and Lady Mary will take it out on if it ruins their precious evening.

“No, not yet. We’ll wait for word or maybe until the guests leave, thank heavens they decided not to stay. Let's just hope they find him quickly.”

It’s quite an experience, speeding over fields and tracks in the dark, there are a few near misses with self-seeded shrubs but the lights on the car are strong and Henry’s reflexes are on fine form. They arrive at the gate to the meadow in less than thirty minutes, the tractor would have taken at least an hour at full speed. Taking torches out of the back they hop over the gate and set off through the long, thistle filled grass of the meadow, Tom’s knowledge of the land making up for being unable to actually see anything.

The moment their torch beams find the ruins it becomes horrifyingly clear what has happened. Where there had previously been the remains of ancient walls and doorways surrounding a foreboding staircase there now sat a pile of rubble with dust still rising from the collapse.

“Oh, God.”

“I’ll go back for help. You’ll be alright on your own?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll start looking for any way in. Christ, I knew this would happen one day, but I never thought anyone would...”

“Don’t panic. It might just be a surface collapse; he might be waiting under there bored out of his mind. More hands and lights…we’ll have him out of there by morning. I won’t be long.”

Tom can only watch as Henry’s torchlight becomes smaller and smaller. It’s soon replaced by headlights flying back across the fields until he can see nothing at all. Turning back to the fallen ruins, he steels himself and marches forward. There’s still hope, there has to be.

Thomas regains awareness for only a moment before the darkness reclaims him but at that moment he becomes acutely aware of three things.

One, there’s more dust in this one spot than there is in the entirety of Downton. Two, he’s never been in so much pain in his life to the point where he can’t even pinpoint what actually hurts. Three, he’s completely alone with nobody knowing where he is. Nobody to look for him.

His return to unconsciousness is a relief.

Chapter Text

Rally the Troops

Mary is having a wonderful evening if she ignores the slight hiccup with Tom and the children. Her guests are in awe of her, her parents are letting her rule the roost without interrupting and the cocktails are delicious. She’s in the middle of regaling one of the dukes with tales of would-be royal assassins when Henry comes dashing into the room in a bit of a state, she’d been wondering where he’d gone off to.

“Mary!”

“Henry, darling where on earth have you been?”

“Never mind that, we need help at the old ruins!”

Mary puts down her cocktail with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, please don’t tell me Tom talked you into making a fuss, it’s just a teddy bear!”

“Mary…”

“So, Barrow didn’t find it like he said, what’s the big deal, we can just go tomorrow.”

“Mary…”

“You can’t blame the man for finding better things to do.”

“MARY! The crypt collapsed, Barrow’s still in there.”

Mary froze for a second, eyes wide as she processed what she’s just heard. Robert and Cora look at Henry in confusion.

“Henry? What’s this?”

As much as he loved this family, Henry did want to throttle them sometimes. Too much talking, not enough action but he forced himself to take a breath and calm down. He needed their help after all.

“There was an incident with the nanny earlier, Sybbie’s teddy ended up in the old crypt, Barrow went to get it, and it collapsed. We don’t know how long ago, Tom’s there now trying to scout a way in, but we need more help if we’re to stand a chance at getting him out.”

Cora’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth as she gasps in horror with Robert gaping at Henry in his usual non-comprehending fashion. Mary is still frozen on the sofa but one of the Dukes, Henry forgets which, gets to his feet with a frown.

“Barrow?”

“Our butler, your grace.”

All of the guests glance at Carson in confusion before looking back to Henry in disturbing unison.

“But we were under the impression this man is your butler.”

‘Oh, good god I’m going to be here all night at this rate. If this was a crash at the races it would be all hands on deck right now.’

“He’s the former butler. My wife thought you might like a more traditional approach to your evening. Barrow is a more…modern…man and currently in trouble.”

Duke #1 blinks before standing straight with a determined expression.

“Yes of course. We are happy to assist, aren’t we Rupert?”

“Right, you are William. Lead the way, my good man!”

‘Well, that’s one way to be reminded who’s who.’

“Thank you, your grace. Robert?”

Robert fires into action, nearly throwing his drink on the side table.

“I’ll call for the fire service and rouse the outdoor staff. Carson, can you round up the footmen?”

Carson looks like his world is falling apart as he stands rigid by the fireplace.

“Of…of course my lord. I’m sorry I…I thought…”

“Never mind that now!”

“No, no of course. My apologies. I’ll get the footmen.”

Henry could’ve cried with relief when people finally started moving. It takes less than two minutes to get a pair of Dukes loaded into the car with Andy and Albert racing around the back of the house soon after. With one car full maybe the rescue could actually begin.

Tom searches every inch of the fallen stone structure before he’s forced to accept that there’s no easy way in. They’ll have to clear it piece by piece.

‘Christ, it’ll take hours at least. We don’t even know how far down he is.’

He’s lost all track of time before he hears the low rumble of a car engine followed by quiet voices carrying over the meadow. Seeing Henry appear accompanied by two footmen and the pair of fuddy-duddies is such a beautiful sight he could kiss every one of them.

“Henry! There’s no way in, we’ll have to dig him out.”

“Damn.”

The two Dukes step up and stand shoulder to shoulder, assessing the ruins with narrowed eyes as they move their torch beams from side to side.

“We’ll need more men Will.”

“We can make a start before Grantham’s backup arrives. Mr Branson! Do you know where the entrance was your missing man would have used?”

“Yes, your grace, right here. Centred on the south.”

“Good. What we need to do chaps, is clear that staircase and the surrounding area. Start from the top and move the stone away from the side to avoid further collapse. Try not to worry, saw plenty of this in the war, people were known to survive after being trapped for days.”

Andy and Albert are initially hesitant but quickly gain confidence in shifting the stone, following the example of the older men. Not having served in the war they had no experience with fallen buildings that had people inside. Neither of them really knew what had happened, they simply heard from Mr Carson that Mr Barrow was in trouble and came running but…this was far more serious than either of them could have imagined.

“You know, Lady Mary, it is wonderful that you want to keep up the old ways but believe me having a modern butler is such a godsend. You really should embrace it. Our butler in London is an old boy now but we don’t use that house much. The butler at the country estate is simply wonderful! Young, modern and so efficient. Saves us a fortune. I do hope yours is alright. I find it rather sweet that he got into bother doing something kind for one of your children.”

Mary stares at the old Duchess blankly, leaving Cora to step in with her smooth American charm.

“Barrow is simply wonderful with the children your grace, they adore him. I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s tougher than he looks and stubborn to boot.”

“What if he isn’t?”

“Mary?”

Mary looks her mother in the eye, a scared and guilt-ridden expression forming on her face.

“What if he isn’t alright and the last thing I did was assume he’d gone to see his fancy man?”

“Mary!”

“I didn’t even tell him to his face that I asked Carson to come back. Again! I made Carson do it this time. At least last time it was papa.”

“Mary for goodness sake, this isn’t about you!”

Cora glances at the two duchesses hopefully and is relieved to see her look returned with reassuring nods. If Mary had only told her parents of her plan to swap butlers, they would have told her that these four maybe weren’t the most exciting, but they weren’t stuck in the past either.

“We won’t breathe a word, Lady Grantham. It's none of our business is it, Martha?”

“I swear I didn’t hear anything amiss Charlotte. We were simply hearing about a sweet man in need of rescue.”

Mary couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so small. Clearly, she’d miscalculated and now her butler was trapped, possibly dead. She should have listened to Tom. She should have listened to Anna. If the worst happened, George and Sybbie would never forgive her.

When the outdoor staff arrive, led by Robert, along with the fire volunteers from the village.  They bring more lights, tools, hands, and hope with them. It’ll be a long night, but they’ll get their man out of there whatever it takes.

Chapter Text

He’s Alive!

When Thomas comes to, it is very much with a whimper rather than a bang. A whimper swiftly followed by a prolonged coughing fit as he fights to clear his throat of dust and grime while trying not to give in to increasing nausea. Lying on his front with his head pounding and one arm trapped under his chest his whole body feels as though it’s on fire with the worst of the flames surrounding his left leg.

Reluctantly opening his eyes, he is disturbed to be greeted by nothing but a blanket of darkness, not a single shred of light to be found in this cold, dusty cage. An attempt at freeing his trapped arm only results in muffled expletives that would make Carson blush as his elbow connects with something solid and unmoving. At least Sybbie’s teddy is trapped too and therefore oddly safe.

Trying again with his ‘free’ arm-- currently resting by his head--Thomas finds that he has mere centimetres of space between himself and an unforgiving wall of stone. Not enough space to bring his arm down and investigate further.

A harsh cry erupts from his scratchy throat as he attempts to move his legs.  His left leg which has thus far been the main source of pain is stuck, and it objects strongly to the slightest twitch. His right knee is perilously close to something sharp that grazes his skin with each attempt to move, not that it stops him from trying until he feels blood start to trickle down his skin.

At least there was nobody around to see his tears as his confused exploration turned to fear and panic.

‘The worst mess I’ve ever been in and it’s all because of a god damn children’s toy. What the hell do I do now?’

“Hello!? Can anyone hear me!? I need help! Hello!?”

‘Why didn’t I tell anyone? Who’s going to look for me until Carson goes? I’ll be down here for days. What if I run out of air?’

Succumbing to another coughing fit, his shouts invite more abrasive dust into his throat, Thomas can do nothing but lie there, trapped, alone and scared.

“We have ourselves an entrance chaps! Make sure the edges are safe and then we can form a human chain and get these stairs cleared!”

It’s amazing for Tom to witness how the class divide falls away in situations such as this.  Men from both ends of the ladder working together so seamlessly to save the life of another. Young trusting the experience of the old and the old trusting the strength of the young, with the footmen joining the front of the line and the Dukes falling into the roles of supervisors.

They work solidly through the night with each man taking two-hour shifts to allow for rest and refreshments back at the Abbey. Tom and Henry are taking their turn at the front as dawn starts to break, working together to shift a particularly large chunk of stone at the bottom of the first staircase when Tom freezes, listening hard.

“Did you hear that?”

Henry frowns and tilts his head in the same direction as Tom, giving it a few seconds before he opens his mouth to insist they carry on when he hears it too. A faint cry coming from underneath them, filling them both with relief.

“He’s alive. He’s alive! Thomas! Thomas we hear you! We’re coming!”

Back at the Downton kitchen, Mrs Patmore is hard at work, sneering at the scullery maids to hurry and make sure the men who come in get some hot tea and fresh cake. If anyone complains about the heat from the boiling kettles and ovens, they will simply have to endure. These men will have tea and cake even if it kills her. She sends Daisy off to sleep every now and then, but the daft girl just keeps coming back. It’s keeping them both occupied she supposes.

Mrs Hughes, Phyllis, and Anna are in charge of the dining room. Keeping all the men fed and the ladies--or rather Mary--calm. Mrs Hughes is getting increasingly closer to slapping that one in the face as she continues to make it all about her. It’s Phyllis who raises an important point when the shift changes and all the ladies are briefly alone, allowing for a quiet moment between the staff.

“Should we call him?”

“Who?”

“Mr Ellis.”

“At this time? It’d be a tad risky, what should we say?”

“I don’t know, I just feel he ought to know.”

Mrs Hughes frowns as she thinks it over. They know so little about the relationship between the two men, it could just be a friendship for all they knew, and it wouldn’t do to embarrass Thomas by making assumptions. Not again anyway.

“We’ll leave it till they’ve got him out. We’ll know what to tell him then, maybe Mr Barrow will be able to tell him himself with any luck.”

“He’s never had much luck.”

Phillis gives a sad smile at that before getting ready to serve the next lot of tired workers and leaving Mrs Hughes and Anna to exchange sympathetic looks before they too get back to work.

Thomas loses all sense of time while trapped in this crevice, his body becoming increasingly numb as he lies still, his tears eventually running dry, leaving his eyes stinging and his cheeks itchy. He had thought he’d heard his name earlier but gave it up as a figment of his imagination.

Now he was simply lost in his own mind, running through every wrong turn he’d taken in life, remembering all the people who’d led him astray. Oh, how he wished he’d never fallen in with O’Brien. How he wished he’d seen her affection for the selfish, fickle thing it was.

He was lucky at Downton really even if it wasn’t the job dreams are made of. Most of them knew about him, and they didn’t mind, even supported him in their own way, even if they didn’t quite trust him. Idly he wondered if he’ll ever have the freedom and autonomy that he’d always wished for but for now he’d settle for being back at the Abbey and getting an apology from Carson. Maybe a nice cup of tea and a slice of Victoria sponge.

“Thomas!?”

Thomas blinked sluggishly with a confused frown.

‘Was that? No, it can’t be. It’s your mind playing tricks.’

“Thomas!? Can you hear us!? Thomas!?”

“Mr Branson!?”

“Here! He’s here! Hold on Thomas, we’re working as fast as we can! We’re nearly there!”

Thomas hears the sounds of rock shifting somewhere to his right and in his excitement, forgets about being trapped and tries to move towards them, letting out a scream as his body objects violently to the motion, pain filling every fibre of his being until he falls into blissful unconsciousness. 

“Thomas!?...Thomas!!!”

Chapter Text

Rescue

“My god. I see him!”

Andy looks at the rest of the group in hopeful excitement after moving a small lump of stone and revealing a grazed, dusty hand lying motionless. A small part of him feels proud of being the one to find Thomas. Tom and Henry, summoned by the shout, dash back to the front of the line to peer carefully into the gap Andy created.

“Christ. How in the world…?”

The Dukes arrive at the scene with Dr Clarkson not far behind, but Henry isn’t sure how to describe the situation.

“He’s in a sort of…air pocket? How he wasn’t crushed is a miracle.”

“Let’s have a look-see. Rupert? What do you make of this? You’re the architecture expert around here.”

Rupert crouches down with some difficulty and spends a good few minutes peering into the stone. Thomas is unconscious, clearly injured and surrounded by collapsed walls with mere millimetres separating him from certain death. If he’d been but a few feet to the north during the collapse….

“Well chaps, let this be a lesson to never underestimate a good old-fashioned cornerstone.”

“Your Grace?”

“None of that out here lad. Rupert will do. Young Thomas here has been saved by the cornerstone. They used to be the first stone placed during building for geographical reference in the olden days, all the others being built around it. There were even rituals performed when they were placed. They’re used more for decoration these days, but this is a real one, strong, steadfast and just that bit bigger than the rest. If we start to clear this end around his head, his leg looks rather trapped so best not to rush that until we can have the good doctor take a closer look. Thomas? Can you hear us? Poor man’s out cold.”

It takes them another two hours to clear the bulk of the stone surrounding Thomas. As expected, Thomas’s leg is stuck fast, the sight of blood on the surrounding stone causing some of the younger men to back away, their complexions turning slightly green. Dr Clarkson does his best to assess the injury with Tom and Henry looking on in concern.

“It’s definitely broken but how badly I can’t say. Can we have a stretcher brought up ready? We’ll have to move fast when we get it free.”

The Dukes nod firmly and retreat to organise stretcher-bearers and make sure the ambulance is parked and ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“He’ll have a concussion, cuts and bruises but the leg is, fortunately, my only real concern at this moment. He’s lucky.”

“Lucky!? A building fell on him!”

“Yes, thank you Mr Parker!”

A quiet groan catches each of their attention as Thomas begins to stir.

“Thomas? Can you hear me?”

“Doct Clarsn?”

“Yes, try not to move too much. We’ll have you out soon. How do you feel?”

Thomas looks around in confusion as he tries once again to clear his throat, finding it easier than it was before in the newly arrived fresh air.

‘It’s daytime. How long was I trapped? Wait…how do I feel? How do you think I feel?’

“Sore. Stuck. How long…?”

“We’re not 100% sure but probably nearing 24 hours.”

‘Is that all? I was expecting longer. I wonder what made them come looking…’

Becoming increasingly aware, Thomas suddenly notices that he has room to move his arms now and with a pained grunt gradually frees his trapped arm from under his chest…Sybbie’s teddy being held aloft, almost triumphantly, causing Tom to burst out laughing unintentionally.

“Haha! All this for Sybbie’s teddy! You’ll be her hero for life after this.”

“I’ll settle for a stiff drink, Sir.”

“Done. The best bottle of Scotch I can get my hands on is yours.”

Thomas manages a quick grin before a spike of pain from his leg turns it into a grimace, just as Duke William returns with a stretcher and a team of firemen.

“Ah! Mr Barrow! A pleasure to meet you at last. Are we ready for the off?”

‘Who the hell is this!?’

Dr Clarkson nods with a frown.

“Just about Your Grace. Mr Branson, Mr Talbot and Andrew…you move the stone off his leg. I’ll get a tourniquet on then we can get him on the stretcher. Thomas…this will all probably hurt like the blazes, so anything you say won’t leave this group. I’ll get you some morphine in the ambulance. Is everyone ready? Thomas?”

If he was honest, Thomas is far from ready. In fact, he’s terrified, but he also doesn’t want to stay here any longer, so he grits his teeth and nods along with everyone else.

“Alright. On three. One…two…three!”

The scream Thomas lets out as the stone is lifted off his leg cuts them all to the core before he mercifully loses consciousness once more, allowing Doctor Clarkson to quickly apply the tourniquet and let the stretcher move in. The sight of Thomas’ mangled leg with the bone protruding from the skin in such a gruesome way, has Andy turning to retch over the rubble, while Tom and Henry swallow harshly.  The Doctor worries that he may be forced to take drastic action if they don’t get Thomas to the hospital quickly enough.

“We need to move, NOW!”

The stretcher-bearers set off at a swift jog across the meadow and into the waiting ambulance with the Doctor travelling with his patient to York as quickly as they dare. The firemen follow not far behind, leaving the staff and residents of Downton Abbey standing in a mild state of shock until Duke Rupert clears his throat and approaches Tom.

“Here, Mr Branson. I picked this up as they loaded him in the ambulance. Might give your wee lass some comfort until we know what’s what.”

Sybbie’s teddy. A little torn and extremely dusty but still in one piece. Tom smiles and nods at Rupert in appreciation.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Rupert.”

“Sybbie will be delighted. Thomas means a lot to her, to all of the children… He’s their cornerstone. Always there for them…what was it you said? Strong and steadfast? For them at least, if not for himself.”

Robert has been a quiet observer for most of the night, feeling shaken and rather useless as he watched the rest of his family, guests and staff work so hard, but now he feels he can finally be useful.

“Shall we get everyone back to the house? We can get cleaned up and be nearby when the phone rings. I expect to see all of you in the drawing-room for a drink when you’ve washed up.”

For what else can they do now but wait?