Usual disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey, I'm just playing with the characters. All mistakes are mine.

Inspiration, title and cover image taken from the song/video 'Lighthouse' by Lord of the Lost.

Enjoy. :)

Lighthouse

And there's a family called Branson with a place not far from Cork. I believe they have a connection with the Howards. – Violet Crawley

"For you Mr Branson." Carson handed him the letters. Tom flipped the heavy green envelope over. He knew what it was. It was exactly what William was waiting for. Then he looked at the other one and a second wave of dread coursed through him. He would recognise his mother's sloppy script anywhere, but this was the third letter in as many weeks. The first one he had read in complete shock. The second he had ignored, but now he was going to have to face the consequences.

But then there was also her. The rejection still stung, but she'd asked him not to leave. Well, told him not to leave. He wandered back to his cottage, still flicking the envelopes together. No point stirring up a fuss and an opportunity for gossip in the servants' hall. The letter from the army told him to report for a medical examination on Wednesday. It spared him no sympathy. Neither did his mam. Her anger at his lack of response radiated off the page. She complained about his stubborn pride and insisted he come back. There were also some words about solicitors and fees and other legal things, but there wasn't much different to the last ones. At least she ended the letter with some compassion.

"I know it's a lot to take in but ignoring it won't help. The solicitor is quite keen to charge us for turning up on the doorstep of that palace you work at and Darrell would be over in the blink of an eye to drag you back, if I let her. Don't give them the satisfaction. I know you Tommy. Your politics will have you fighting this at every step, but it's too late – the house, the title, everything is yours. You can't sell it either. There's no-one to buy a place like that in the middle of a war, so you need to come and make the best of it."

Tom sighed. He didn't have long to think. He wasn't naïve and had been half expecting the call up. He'd made peace in his mind that he would be a conscientious objector and face the consequences. Fate, it seemed, had other plans to mock him with. He took out a sheet of paper.

"Dear Mam,

I'll leave here on Friday, stay in Liverpool and be with you on Saturday. There are a few things I need to attend to here first. You've anticipated my feelings and everything I was going to say on the situation, so I won't waste more ink.

Your son,

Tom"

He then took out another clean sheet of paper. This one was going to be harder. He leant back in the chair. Sybil. He wondered how she was getting on out there in the real world. No doubt she was thriving. He groaned remembering his own words to her as he'd dropped her off in York. Had that really only been a week ago? What on earth could he now say to her? "Hey Sybil, I know you asked me to stay, but it's this or France!" No, it was going to take a lot more than that.

After some time he returned inside to talk to Mr Carson.

"Everything alright Mr Branson?"

"I'm to go for my medical on Wednesday," he told the butler, "and I'll be leaving on Friday. I want to go home before…" he trailed off. Before he was forced into a new life, a new world.

"I'm sorry to hear that. It seems this war will leave none alone."

"No Mr Carson."

"I'll talk to his Lordship later, but I'm sure he won't have any objections."

Tom nodded and left him to it. Whether his Lordship approved or not he would be going. Even Carson, stoic as ever, couldn't do anything about that! Tom walked rather forlornly back to the garage. He had less than a week left. On his way out he realised he should have asked the Butler whether the library was free so he could return a couple of books he still had in his cottage. It would have to wait until later. He'd miss that library.

On Wednesday he went to the medical examination and spent the rest of the day cleaning the cars and tools so that he could leave them in the best possible condition.

On Thursday he received another green envelope. Likely the medical report and instructions what to do next. Tom didn't open it. He had the perfunctorily speech from His Lordship to wish him well. They all assumed he was going to fight and Tom didn't want to correct them. It was easier to live the lie. He then went back to the garage to ensure everything was in the right place. In the late afternoon he wandered into the servants' hall, hands in his pockets, feeling a bit lost.

"Sit down lad, the rest of them will be down in a minute and we'd like to give you some semblance of a send-off." He smiled at the housekeeper. "How are you feeling?"

"You know me, Mrs Hughes," he said looking round, making sure Carson wasn't behind him, "fecking angry about the whole thing, but also completely at the mercy of higher powers."

She chuckled at him. "William will be jealous."

"And I will be jealous of him!"

Dinner was a merry affair. They all toasted to him and wished him well and Tom felt guilt wash over him anew as he let the deception of where he was going remain unchecked. They didn't deserve it, but they'd never believe him if he told them anyway.

He hugged Anna and William and surprised Daisy with a hug too, which prompted Mrs Patmore to engulf him in her arms. He laughed at her tight embrace. He shared a few words with Mrs Hughes, and Carson even shook his hand. It was a good last night.

The following morning Tom left the letter to Lady Sybil on top of the unopened envelope from the British Army. He would have preferred to talk to her in person, but that was impossible with her in York. This was the only way and he just hoped that the letter got to her. He shut the door to the cottage, took one last look at his beloved Renault and walked down the long drive towards the train station.