chapter eleven

In youth we learn; in age we understand.

Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

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Tom's feet moved so quickly down the corridor, it was a miracle that he did not lose all control over his balance and began tumbling along the thick and heavy rug laid out underneath him.

He tripped a handful of times running up the stairs, the tips of his shoes getting caught on the edge of almost every single step. At the rate his heart was beating, all control over his body seemed utterly lost anyway, though, and Tom could focus on nothing else but making it to that door, to finally end his own suffering, to finally come home.

His hair was a frenzied mess, and he had taken his coat off hours ago after breaking into a nervous sweat. Somewhere behind him, although he barely registered the sound, Anna was following him, her own steps quick, but not rushed. It had been she who had collected him in the library, who had finally ended the hours he had spent waiting, waiting, waiting. Had Tom not been in such a rush to see Sybil and their newborn child, he would have fallen into Anna's arms, so immensely thankful, completely overwhelmed by his gratitude for everything she had ever done for them.

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, Tom's heart stopped for a moment as he saw their bedroom door swing open. He was still approaching, only a few steps away now, as Doctor Clarkson stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.

He looked tired himself, but content as he turned. When he spotted Tom rushing up towards him, a friendly smile stretched across his face.

"Congratulations," he said as Tom stopped before him, reaching out his hand. Tom, utterly taken by the excitement bubbling in his veins, shook the doctor's hand with his own, shaking and trembling, eager to move on.

"How are they?" he asked, even though Anna had mentioned nothing of any problems, and he trusted her.

"Lady Sybil is very tired, but nothing out of the ordinary. And your daughter, she seems quite the lively and curious one," Doctor Clarkson told him, "That's two fighters you have there."

Tom could not contain the broad smile that stretched across his face, and with a quick, impatient nod, he wished the doctor goodbye and stepped past him. Coming to a stop in front of the white door, suddenly every nerve in Tom's body seemed to catch fire. The moment he stepped through that door, he would be a father.

It was too late for any doubts. This was it, the moment his life would change forever. Was he ready? Could he provide for a family of his own? Could he bear loving someone so terribly much as he knew his mother loved him and his siblings? Could he ever be a good role model for his child? Was he not a child himself, still? When did he stop being a child? When did all of this unfold?

His mind still spinning in circles and his heart pumping the blood furiously though his veins, Tom decided that despite all his fears, the moment had come, and that it would only take one small step to complete this journey, this road he and Sybil had travelled for months now. Even though they had seemed to drift apart along the way, Tom knew that the moment was near in which he and Sybil would meet again on different grounds. Not merely as husband and wife, but as parents, responsible for something so much more important than either of them.

With trembling fingers, Tom turned the doorknob, taking a deep breath as he stepped into the warm bedroom, the curtains drawn shut to protect from the bright rays of sunlight. Having watched the sun set and rise again, Tom felt as if he was taken back into the night, nothing inside the room indicating that it was the middle of the day, that the outside world was wide awake.

"Tom, there you are," Cora exclaimed enthusiastically as she looked up from her spot on the edge of the bed. "We were worried you might have gotten lost on the way up here," she teased.

Tom did not respond. He simply shut the door behind him carefully, eyes never straying from the sight in front of him, his body suddenly feeling very light, as if it were not his own.

"Tom," Sybil said quietly, her voice raspier than usual and almost a whisper. The smile on her face seemed weary and tired, but there was a glow about her that Tom had never known, a reflection of such pure love and joy that it set his heart on fire.

"Sybil," he sighed, relief washing over him like a wave of warmth on a cold winter's day. He stepped towards the bed, his feet clumsy, like those of a young boy.

Mary stood next to the bed, her arms folded protectively in front of her chest, and she turned to look at Tom as he stepped closer, her own face ashen with lack of sleep.

"Congratulations," she said with a smile, resting her hand on Tom's arm once more. His only response was a short nod, the genuine smile on his lips speaking more of gratitude and respect than words ever could.

Stepping aside to make more room, Mary moved to the foot of the bed, next to her mother and Edith, and Tom could see them moving back a little out of his peripheral vision.

Slowly, he sat down at the edge of the soft bed, almost shyly, not knowing where to put his hands or what to say, not sure how to act. No one had ever explained this to him, had ever told him what to do when he felt his heart burst with so much love that it was painful and threatening to overtake him. He felt as though he was suffocating, drowning in this overwhelming love for his wife and child.

Sybil smiled at Tom softly, a film of glistening tears shining in her eyes as she cradled their daughter-wrapped in a soft white blanket-closer to her chest.

Tom found no words, could not even bring himself to smile. Not a single thing he could think of was enough to express what he felt, when, truly, he felt himself consumed by the love for the woman smiling at him after all these years, and for the tiny human being in her arms, eyes wide open and alive.

On its own accord, almost instinctively, Tom's arm reached out and his hand came to rest on Sybil's. Their daughter cradled by both of them, kept safe and secure in their arms. She was real, everything about her was real and that epiphany seemed too far away, too out of this world for Tom to grasp. The soft, porcelain tone of their daughter's skin, the button shape of her nose, her shiny, curious eyes, the thin fluff of dark, downy hair, the slight movement of the blanket as she breathed in and out. It was all real. This was neither a dream nor a nightmare, not like sand or silk or sparkling water that would slip though his fingers and be lost.

Tears burned in Tom's eyes, and he moved his fingers gently against Sybil's, looking up from their daughter's peaceful face to hers, seeing the smile so naturally on her features that it stole whatever composure he might have had. The tears spilled over, slowly running down Tom's face. He was quiet and his breathing steady, nothing but the shiny trails on his cheeks indicating that he was crying, and he knew it was neither happiness nor sadness that caused them to flow. He was overwhelmed, his body making use of the only healthy way to rid itself of the avalanche of emotions.

Sybil continued to smile at him contently, leaning a little towards him before both of their eyes came to rest on their daughter once more.

"She is so perfect, isn't she?" she whispered, her fingertip brushing against their daughter's cheek, feather light. Their daughter was so tiny, everything about her so delicate. Tom was grateful for the thick blanket wrapped around their baby, for he feared any movement might break or hurt her, for she was so unbelievably small. How had he never noticed? He had seen many babies in his life, but he had never truly seen how delicate and fragile they truly were.

"She is," he murmured, voice thick with tears and the utter lack of control over himself. It was all too much, too much for a person to handle, and he wanted to sit here like this until the end of his time, until there were no more breaths to take and no more tears to shed. Here, where it was warm and safe and no harm would come close to his daughter, their child, safe in their arms.

His eyes met Sybil's, and she was shedding the very same tears as his. Leaning forward, his lips met hers briefly, a soft brush of lips, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, mingled with tears, choked happiness and so many emotions between the two of them to fill all the blank pages of all the journals in the world.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured, needing the reassurance that Sybil was indeed alright, that there was no need to worry.

"Happy," she breathed hoarsely, her breath warm against his skin, "I am so happy."

Tom leaned in to kiss Sybil once more, heat flooding his veins that had no connection to the warm room. The sincerity of Sybil's words, the feeling of their daughter peaceful and safe between them, made Tom feel as if it were all that mattered in the world, all other worries momentarily fading away, making room for all the love and joy to fill him to the brim.

They parted with a mutual sigh, Tom's free hand raising to tenderly cup Sybil's cheek. Her face was flushed deeply red, her hair frizzy in the back, and some dark strands still clinging against her clammy skin. The exhaustion was clear in her every pore, but she still sat strong and awake, eyes inspecting Tom as much as he was her.

"You look miserable," Sybil exclaimed with a throaty laugh, smiling as she leaned into his gentle touch. Tom knew what she meant, feeling as dishevelled as he most likely looked, but none of that mattered.

"I don't think I deserve to," he said quietly, his thumb stroking Sybil's cheek softly, and he could not imagine what she had gone through, wishing so dearly that there could have been a way for him to help her, "I am so proud of you."

Sybil's smile turned softer, almost reassuring, and Tom could not find the words to express how grateful he was to have her as his wife.

Their eyes fell back onto their daughter, who struggled slightly within the confines of the blanket, and Tom gathered the courage to reach out his own hand, his finger brushing against her cheek. The incredible softness of her skin almost brought a new wave of tears into his eyes, the utter innocence of the baby too much to bear.

"She looks so curious...so alert," he murmured, admiring his daughter's wide open eyes, seemingly taking in the small space around her. Their daughter's own little world was so large compared to her; it harboured so many joys he meant to show her, and so many dangers he swore in this moment and in the deepest, most genuine and sincere corner of his heart, to protect her from.

"She looks like you," Sybil whispered, tangling her fingers with his against the blanket, cradling their daughter between them even tighter, even more intimately. Tom saw no such resemblance, he only saw life and promise, a whole future ahead of them that filled him with so much excitement and happiness that it scared him.

"I love you so much," he whispered, taken over entirely by all the emotions pent up inside of him, squeezing Sybil's hand as he looked at her, desperately needing her to understand.

"I love you, too," Sybil replied softly, and Tom felt reminded of that first night after their wedding, when she had been sleeping in his arms, breathing evenly, and he had felt so protective of her, yet so eager to show her the world, to help her make her dreams come true. Never before that night had he felt his love for her beat so strongly inside of him. Now, he felt it all over again, felt reminded of everything he loved, cherished, and admired about her, all the little details that had led them here.

A knock on the door interrupted the peaceful silence in the darkened room.

"Don't worry," Cora said quickly just as Tom was about to push himself off the bed, and he was suddenly reminded of Cora, Mary and Edith still present in the room. He was too consumed by the moment to feel embarrassed about the tears that were beginning to dry on his skin, and as Cora stepped over towards the door, he turned back to his family, to the only thing in the universe he would ever truly care about until the moment his heart stopped beating. In truth, he felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, and was now carried through the world by the young life under his hand.

Tom longed for the world to stop turning for just a few minutes, longed for a few moments without intruders, for a few moments of peace with his wife and daughter before the never ending machine that was life would turn and turn and would slowly burn away the adrenaline, allowing routine to settle in.

Tom heard the door open, but no words were spoken, and he did not care about anything other than the feel of Sybil's fingers intertwined with his own and the sight of their daughter, whose eyes were now growing tired, fluttering shut every now and again, so delicately and softly.

"Papa?"

Sybil's surprised voice, so thick with exhaustion, reminded Tom that the world did indeed still turn, and he looked up to see her attention drawn away from their daughter. He turned, Robert standing in the open doorway.

Cora's hand was resting on his arm, and he seemed quite uncertain standing in the room, something Tom was not used to witnessing from him. A few moments of silence passed, no words spoken, no signs of any exchange present. Tom's eyes flickered between his wife and his father-in-law, both of their eyes so alike, so very similar.

He understood now. Now that he could feel his own daughter breathing steadily beneath his touch, he understood the quiet, unspoken conversation between Sybil and Robert, the bond they shared that no one else could fully understand.

It filled his heart with a different sense of joy, a sense of peace, of settling dust, the satisfaction of a cleared argument, when he saw Sybil smile and nod in her father's direction and heard Robert's slow steps approaching them.

Tom shuffled a little to turn around, and he looked up at his father-in-law, a different kind of pride reflecting from the older man's eyes. No words were spoken and no apologies were made, and although in this moment, it felt as if there was neither sadness nor pain in the world, Tom knew their story had not reached anything resembling closure yet.

There were so many questions to answer, so many decisions to make and so many roads ahead to travel. There was so much life to live, so many conflicts to resolve, so much for just one lifetime.

But the smile slowly spreading across Robert's face seemed like a sign that there was light in the future, that not all the aches of the past must be carried on to another day.

Right now, there was no use in dwelling on unsettled conflicts and a lack of acceptance. In this moment, when Robert clapped his hand shortly, but genuinely on Tom's back, a small piece of the puzzle that was life seemed to find its place and come to rest.

There was so much more to sort out, so many more suns to watch set and rise. His daughter, now peacefully asleep in their arms, seemed only to show and emphasize the journey ahead of all of them, with all its ups and downs, its smiles and tears.

Whatever pains were still to come, this moment, as fleeting as it may be, gave Tom a sense of hope to tackle the future. Seeing the same spirit in Sybil's eyes, he squeezed her hand once more, and vowed to begin their journey anew.

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Nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles.

Charles Chaplin

A/N: So, there we go. That was the last chapter. I really hope you enjoyed the story, and I'm so grateful to everyone who read and reviewed this. It's been a lovely time, and I'm a little sad to end this here.

A big thanks to MissPixieWay and btvs, who helped me out so much with the earlier part of the story, who motivated me and kept me going. And a big thanks to Sim, for beta reading this chapter as well.

Now, I am really excited to see how this plays out in the show, and I hope that all of us will be happy in the end.