HERE IT IS! The last chapter (really) of "Father of the Bride"! Wow, these past 24 hours have been a marathon of fanfic writing; takes me back to the all-nighters I would pull in college to finish my term papers (although I would much rather write Sybil/Branson fanfic) :oP

HUGE THANK YOU'S to everyone for their comments and support! I'm so happy people have been enjoying this story, and I hope you find this last chapter satisfying. It's been a lot of fun (and very theraputic too!) I love hearing from readers, so please leave a comment! Thank you again for this fun "pre-"Season 3 journey, and happy Downton season 3!

Chapter Five

Sybil had wandered into the garden, seeking some solace after traveling to the train station with Edith and her mother to wish Mary and Matthew a safe journey before the disembarked on their honeymoon to Paris. Naturally, Mama cried, and even Edith looked a little teary-eyed, much to Sybil's surprise. She gave her sister a very fierce hug, happy for her and Matthew to finally be wed, at last.

"Write to me," Mary urged before they parted.

Sybil smiled and nodded her head. "I will, I promise. And be sure to send a postcard!"

She smiled and waved as her sister and new brother-in-law boarded their train, doing everything she could to fight back the tears. Lord knows when I'll see her again, she thought. After everything that had happened the day before, Sybil doubted it would be anytime soon. She didn't suspect she and her husband would be invited back to Downton in the near future…and if truth be told, she was fine with that, as much as it broke her heart to admit.

After returning to the house, Edith was pleasantly surprised to see Sir Anthony's car pulling up to the drive. She didn't even wait for the chauffeur to let her out; she practically jumped down from the motor to greet the gentleman. Sybil smiled at her sister's enthusiasm. God willing, there would be another wedding in the near future. But her smile faded as she wondered if she would be able to see it. Her mother, ever the proper hostess, encouraged Edith and Sir Anthony to come in for some tea. She turned to Sybil, but Sybil murmured that she needed to take a walk, to get some air, her hand falling to her belly as a subtle hint. "Of course, my dear," her mother whispered with a knowing smile, and left Sybil to wander.

The gardens were her favorite part of Downton. As a child, she spent many summer days in them, running around barefoot, trying to catch grasshoppers and butterflies. On hot days she would wade into the ponds, giggling as tadpoles tickled her toes and ankles. And even though she was notorious for scraping her knees on them, she also loved to climb trees. Perhaps that was where her feminist feelings began? She remembered being told by various people, from Mrs. Hughes to her sisters that "girls shouldn't climb trees". Indeed, there was one tree in particular she had loved to climb, and without even realizing it, her feet were taking her there now. It had low branches, which made it ideal. She had promised herself, by her tenth birthday, she would reach the very top. Well, the very top was far too fragile for her to climb, but she did go as high as the branches would allow by the time she turned ten! The only problem was…now that she had climbed up there…how was she going to get back down? That was the problem; climbing up was easy, climbing down was frightening!

Her father had found her, a few hours later. She was late for tea and Carson, along with Mrs. Hughes and several footmen had gone into the garden with hopes to find her. She didn't dare cry out to them, knowing she would be scolded for her misbehavior. There was only one person who knew about her love for climbing trees…and when she saw him pass below, along with the family dog, she hissed his name and he looked up, his eyes wide with shock, before a giant smile spread across his face.

"Sybil, how on earth…?"

"Help me down, Papa! I'm stuck!"

"Stuck? But you managed to make it all the way up there—"

"That was the easy part…" she looked down and clung to the branches even tighter. "Papa, please…I'm scared…"

He didn't hesitate; he removed his suit jacket and hoisted himself up a few branches; however it was not as easy for him as it had been for her. "Sybil…I can't go as high as you…I'm going to need you to try and climb down a few branches—"

"It's too far!"

"No it's not, I'm just below you…just move your foot down a branch, like you were climbing a ladder, and then move the next one, and the next…and then I'll be able to reach you."

"I'll fall!"

"No you won't, I promise."

"How can you promise something like that?"

Her question had clearly caused her father to pause and consider what she had said. "Because…because I just won't allow it."

She made him a face. "You're just saying that—"

"And what if I am?" he challenged. "I know myself, Sybil. I know that I will do whatever I must, to make sure you return safely to the ground. And I know you…I know that you can do the same; I know that you can do anything, like climb this tree, if you set your mind to it. Which means I also know you can climb down those few branches, right back to me…"

As he spoke, she began to do that very thing. Slowly at first, and then, bit by bit, her confidence grew. Before she knew it, she was in her father's arms, and they were back on the ground. Her mother chastised them both for their dirty appearance, but she and her father shared a secret grin. After that day, Sybil never again had a problem with climbing out of a tree.

That was a lifetime ago. She reached her tree, the very tree she had been remembering, and looked up at his branches with longing. As the library was her father's sanctuary, so had this tree been hers. She would escape to its branches as she grew up, not caring that it was unconsidered "ladylike", and lose herself for hours, reading a book, or dropping acorns on unsuspecting victims. One day she had done that to Tom, long before she had realized she was falling in love with him. She had told him to meet her by the tree, that she had a book she wanted to share, and when he arrived after finishing his chores, she plopped acorns down on his head, much to his shock and annoyance. He threatened to climb up there and drag her down for her "misconduct to his person". She simply laughed as he made the attempt, his hessians having trouble gripping the lower branches. She continued to bombard him with acorns, and finally he surrendered, waving his handkerchief as a white flag of surrender. She remembered blushing and feeling very proud of herself, as she easily climbed down from the tree without any trouble.

In some ways she wished she could climb the tree right now. But she wouldn't dare, not when she was pregnant. So instead, she sat on a small stone bench, one that was rarely sat upon because it was known to attract "fallen acorns", and she closed her eyes, taking in the scenery of everything she loved about this place…and how very soon, she would have to leave it.

But it's just as well, she reminded herself. You have a home in Dublin, a life there. And as lovely as it was to sleep in your old bed and walk through this garden, it will be even better to return to your own home, your little flat for you and Tom, to see your friends there, to see his family, again. To go to that favorite pub, to—

"Your mother said you were in the garden," came an all too familiar voice. Sybil's eyes flew open and she looked up at her father, surprised to see him standing there beside her, Isis at his feet. "And I wondered if I would find you here…and I see that I am right."

Sybil didn't return the smile he offered, and felt her heart harden at his words. Yes, Papa, in your mind, you are always right. "I needed some air; I find that fresh air helps in fighting any nausea," she explained, one hand moving rather protectively over her belly. She never dared to ask him what he thought of the pregnancy. And after their confrontation from yesterday, she didn't think she ever would.

Her father looked down at the bench on which she was sitting; it was large enough for two, but Sybil wasn't sure she was ready to have him sit next to her. He had done such a good job at avoiding Tom during the week, why couldn't he continue that now and avoid her? Or was it that only he was allowed to avoid people? She didn't want to fight; after everything that had happened yesterday, her emotions were utterly exhausted.

Tom had questions in his eyes when he found her in the hall with her father, but she didn't feel like answering them; besides, it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that they had been speaking harsh words to one another. Instead, she insisted on dancing and trying to enjoy as much of the wedding reception as possible. Tom complied, and didn't try to ask her anything while they danced. A few hours later, she was in their room, sitting at her dresser and running a brush through her hair, while Tom was going through one of their suitcases, looking for some item.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Sybil rolled her eyes and sighed, before putting the brush down and looking back at him in the mirror. "I told him."

Tom's eyes widened at her words. "Everything?"

Sybil shrugged her shoulders and picked her brush up once again. "Practically," she muttered. "I told him about this morning, about how you had found me crying, and the reason for my crying," her brushing was becoming a little harsher as she spoke. "I told him how it made me feel, to see the way he looked at Mary…and how much it hurt that he wasn't there in Ireland for our wedding…ow!" she glared at the offending hairbrush, even though it was her own fault for brushing so roughly.

Tom came up behind her and took the brush from her hand, before allowing his fingers to move over her scalp, giving it a gentle massage. She smiled up at him and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling.

"Did he say anything?" he softly asked.

Sybil opened her eyes and gave a small sigh. "No…I mean, not really. I…I didn't really let him speak," she admitted, feeling a little guilty. Although she shouldn't, he kept telling herself. He was the problem, not her! As she had told her sisters a year ago, she was happy to remain friends with everyone!

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She was in her nightgown, but Tom hadn't changed yet, except for removing his jacket. She grabbed his arm as he moved towards the door. "If it's Papa, I don't want to see him!" she hissed. He gave her a look, which she knew was meant to shame her for behaving so childishly, but she ignored it and turned her attention back to the mirror, watching her husband open the door in its reflection.

"Oh, hello Tom, is Sybil still awake?"

She turned at the sound of her mother's voice, her eyes wide with surprise. Tom glanced at her, and then opened the door a little wider, allowing her mother to enter the room. "Oh good; I was afraid you'd be asleep."

Sybil wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply let her mother take her hands and help her up from her chair, before leading her over to the bed. "Tom…I know this is rather rude of me, especially at this hour, but…would you mind giving the two of us a moment to talk alone?"

"Mama—" began to protest, but Tom was faster.

"Not at all, your La—sorry, I mean…Cora," he corrected, giving both of them a polite smile. Sybil tried to catch his eyes before he left, as if pleading for him not to go; she had no idea what her mother wanted to talk about, and even though her mother was trying (something she couldn't say for her father) she assumed that her mother had come to offer some sort of "peace offering" on her father's behalf, and quite frankly, she wanted none of it. If he wanted to offer a peace offering, then he could jolly well come and deliver it, himself!

"Oh, Tom!" her mother called, just before he left. "I believe Robert is in the library…if you wish to speak with him."

Sybil gaped at her mother, her eyes growing wider by the second. Was she serious? Send poor Tom down into the lion's den?

Tom merely put on a polite smile, gave a nod of his head, and then without another glance, disappeared out the door, leaving her alone with her mother.

It turned out not to be a peace offering on behalf of her father, but an apology from her mother. She embraced Sybil and told her how sorry she was for not coming to her wedding, and how much she regretted it. It didn't take long for the tears to come, and soon both of them were crying and hugging and then laughing at themselves, before crying some more. Sybil then proceeded to tell her mother about the small, meager wedding, certainly tiny when compared to the grand ceremony and reception of Mary and Matthew's. Her mother began to sob at this, but Sybil reassured her it was alright, she preferred something small and simple. She then began to tell her mother everything about Ireland—the hospital where she worked, the new friends she had made, the flat where she and Tom made their home, his family—they talked for what felt like hours. Finally, they hugged and said their goodnights, and Sybil went to bed for the first time since returning to Downton, with a sense of peace.

But Tom didn't come back until much, much later. And when he did crawl into bed, Sybil swore she could smell…brandy?

He seemed to be a rather…jolly…mood. And even though she had many questions as to where he had gone while she and her mother were talking, and did he really go to the library to speak with her father…he had a way for distracting her.

And when morning came, despite the headache to which he grumbled, he still seemed to be in merry spirits. What on earth had happened? But there was no time to ask questions; Mary and Matthew were leaving early, and she decided to join her mother and sister in saying their goodbyes at the station. Besides, it would provide an excellent excuse for not having to see Papa at breakfast.

…Except he had found her, here…at the place that was meant to be her sanctuary.

"I understand your mother came to speak with you last night…"

She sighed, and nodded her head. "Yes," she simply replied. She fought the urge to groan when he moved to sit on the bench next to her.

"I'm glad," he murmured, reaching over and stroking Isis' head. "I know she had some things she wanted to get off her chest."

Sybil bit her lip, trying hard to fight the temptation to throw a retort at him. Instead, she put on a forced smile and turned her attention to him. "She didn't tell you about our conversation?"

Her father looked confused. "No, of course not. It was a conversation between the two of you." Inwardly, Sybil was rolling her eyes. So now he was going to respect private conversations, when during the week, he was demanding to know what every smile or laugh between her and Tom was all about. "Besides, when I went to bed she was fast asleep."

"Yes, apparently you had a late night…?"

Her father looked at her with a little surprise, and then he began to chuckle, something which actually took Sybil by surprise. "Yes, I suppose we did…"

We. Was it possible? Had…had her father and Tom…?

"Did you drink?" she bluntly asked. That answer would be enough.

Her father chuckled a little more and nodded his head. "Yes, I think it's safe to say there was a little brandy shared."

So it WAS true! Tom and her father…had brandy together in the library? And Tom had come back alive? And this morning, he wasn't cursing or grumbling about anything negatively said…

Good God…was it possible that the two of them had truly been…civil?

She grimaced at the thought; naturally this would happen, when there were no witnesses to testify to it.

"You looked beautiful, by the way…"

Sybil's head snapped back to her father, her eyes wide and filled with confusion at his words. The compliment seemed to have come from nowhere!

"You always look beautiful," he went on, "but…" he paused as he went to remove something from of his inner jacket pocket…and Sybil stared in amazement as he produced the five photographs taken at her wedding. "I must confess…you took my breath away, here."

She looked down at the photos, her eyes beginning to sting from the feel of tears. "How…where…?"

"Your husband…Tom…he showed them to me, last night."

Tom. Her father was calling her husband…Tom.

She looked at the pictures, as if she had never seen them before. The first one was just her, smiling at the camera in her wedding dress, clasping a bouquet of flowers that one of Tom's sisters had picked for her. The second picture showed the two of them together, both facing the camera and smiling, her arm resting atop his. The third was another one of the two of them together, now gazing into one another's eyes. The fourth was a picture with all of Tom's family, surrounding them, and in that one they were laughing, because the poor photographer was trying his hardest to keep everyone under control, when there were small children wanting to run about instead of sitting still. The final one was a picture with her sisters; Mary looking elegant and refined, Edith looking sweet and sophisticated, and her…sitting between them, smiling once again, but this time looking down at her lap, as she held her sister's clasped hands.

"They're all wonderful," her father whispered, holding each with great reverence. "But…I think this one is my favorite…"

Surely he meant the one with her sisters. But to Sybil's shock and dismay…he held up the one where it was her and Tom…looking at one another, not even noticing the world around them.

"I will treasure all of them, very much, but…it's because you look so…happy. And content. And…and treasured."

She looked up at her father, hearing the emotion in his voice, and seeing the tears that brimmed in his eyes, as well.

"I…I thought you would like the one with Mary and Edith best," she murmured, before moving her hand to his arm.

He nodded his head, while taking a deep breath. "Yes…it is very lovely, and I have always loved pictures of the three of you," he admitted. "But…I must confess, it is in fact my…least favorite, if I must call it that." Sybil looked up at him, wondering what he meant. "I say that because…it's a picture of you with your family…but not all of your family is present."

She bit her lip, and squeezed her father's arm. Her father reached over with his other hand and covered hers. "I hope you can one day forgive me, Sybil; for my pig-headedness," he sighed, lifting her hand from his arm to his lips and giving it a tender kiss. Sybil felt a few tears trickle down her cheek, but she made no attempt to wipe them away. Was this truly happening? Was he truly telling her…what she had hoped, what she had longed for, ever since she stepped foot, back on the ground of her childhood home?

"I've spoken to your husband," he began, after taking a few, deep, calming breaths. "And now I want to tell you." She looked up at him, unsure what he was going to say, but instead of dread, she felt hope fill her heart. "I want you to come back to Downton, to have the baby."

Sybil's eyes widened. "But, Papa—"

"I know, I know, you have probably already made arrangements, and perhaps Tom's mother was planning on assisting. If she wishes to be there, and I can understand if she does, then by all means, we will send for her. But I want you here, Sybil…with doctors that I know and trust, because God help me, I will be worried sick enough as it is."

She wanted to tell her father that she would be in a safe and distinguished Dublin hospital, not some backwoods cabin. Yet she kept her mouth closed, enjoying his loving concern.

"And then, I would like for all three of you to come back here for Christmas; or at the very least, for New Years. But I would like to have my grandson or granddaughter here, for his or her first holiday," he looked off into the distance, a wistful smile on his face. "Perhaps then we can take a proper family picture?"

Sybil's tears were flowing rapidly now, but she laughed and hugged her father's arm. "What about…what about you?" she murmured. "Will…will you and Mama come to see us in Dublin?"

Her father's face fell a bit, but he squeezed her hand to reassure her. "When things are safer," he promised. "Right now, I doubt it's a good idea for an English Earl to make a visit. But…when things have calmed down, then yes, your mother and I will come."

"Oh Papa!" she gasped, throwing her arms around her father's neck and hugging him so tightly, she heard him gasping. But the gasping was soon replaced by laughter, and she let her tears flow happily as she felt his arms move around her. "Thank you," Sybil repeated over and over, her arms never loosening. "Thank you, thank you, so much, thank you!"

She thought she heard her father sniffle, but he quickly brushed his eyes clean before she could see. It didn't matter; she could read his emotions on his face. "There's one more thing I should tell you," he sighed, pulling away enough until he was looking into her eyes. "Yesterday, when you asked me what it was I had said, after you stepped on my foot in the ballroom?"

Sybil was surprised he had remembered. "Yes?"

"I had muttered…'you always insist on leading, don't you?'"

She stared at him for a moment, and then a giggle burst from her throat and soon her father was laughing with her. They were hugging again, and Sybil sat amazed, thinking about how so many things had happened this week. In some ways, she was disappointed that this peace had come so late in her and Tom's visit, but she brushed that feeling aside. The point was that it indeed had come…and Downton, could once more, be a place to call home.

Tom watched his wife and father-in-law embraced from a distance. He was happy for Sybil; he was happy for them both. While he wouldn't go out and say that Robert (he doubted he would ever be comfortable enough to call him that) and he were the "best of friends", he did feel that a truce had been made, and that he was no longer the enemy.

"Oh thank goodness," he heard his mother-in-law say, just over his shoulder. Cora turned and smiled at him, and Tom smiled back. "I was afraid it would never happen!" She looked at him in utter amazement. "What did you say to him last night?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Hardly anything, really. I think this is all their own doing, to be honest," he paused, and then added, "with perhaps a little help from some photographs."

Cora nodded her head. "Yes, I've heard about these photographs…" she murmured. "Robert showed me the one you gave him last night, and it is absolutely stunning…but I want to see those others, and…as much as I'd hate to interrupt this happy scene, I can't help it, I am feeling rather greedy for them!"

Tom laughed and was soon joined by his mother-in-law. As he gazed across the garden at his wife, she turned her head, as it rested atop her father's shoulder and he saw her smile back at him. He silently mouthed, "I love you", to which she grinned through her tears, before mouthing the words back.

When Tom had married her, he wanted to give her the moon. He wanted to give her everything under the sun and stars and beyond. But he knew that wasn't going to be possible, so instead, he gave her the only thing he knew he could give her, which was his love. But also tried to give her hope; hope that the future would be better, and that the world would change with it. He had made so many promises to her, during his years of pursuing her; promises that a love like theirs, one that transcended class boundaries, was possible and could work, and that while she would have to make a choice to leave the life she had known, it wouldn't be forever. He had promised her that her family would one day come around…and he knew that he would be thanking God each and every night hereafter, for making that possible. Not for his sake, but for hers, as well as that of their child, and God willing, all the children that would come after.

Five years later…

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

Robert put down his paper and looked up when he heard the child's cry. A little girl came bursting into the library, tears streaming down her face, a nasty bruise purpling on her face and an even nastier cut down upon her knee.

"What happened?" he gasped, bending down to scoop up the child, who wasted little time before launching herself into her grandfather's arms.

"I fell," she sobbed, her accent an interesting mix of Irish and English. "I was…I was trying to climb Mummy's tree—"

"Katie?" Tom burst into the library, followed closely by Sybil, who couldn't move as fast as she would like, due to being nine months pregnant with their second child. "Katie, I heard you scream? What happened?"

Robert smiled and stood up, still holding his granddaughter close as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. "It's alright; she had a tumble, that's all."

"Oh Katie," Sybil sighed, before sitting in the closest chair to rest her feet. "You were climbing that tree again, weren't you?"

Katie sniffled. "I'm sorry, mummy…"

Robert smiled and gave the little girl a kiss on the cheek. "Well, let this be a lesson; next time, wait until someone like your Da or myself is present, before you attempt to climb again. Although, I have no doubt by the time you're ten, you'll be swinging from branches like a monkey."

"Oh Papa, don't encourage her," Sybil warned, although anyone could tell her warning had a teasing edge.

"You know, your mummy would sometimes fall out of trees," he whispered into the child's ear. "And I discovered that the best medicine is a cup of hot chocolate."

The little girl's eyes widened and all of her tears seemed to magically vanish. Sybil stood and joined her husband in the doorway of the library. They smiled as they watched their daughter being carried in the arms of her grandfather down to the kitchens for that magical cup of chocolate.

"Once upon a time, I would never have thought such an image was impossible," Sybil whispered with wonder, smiling and leaning her head against her husband's shoulder.

Tom chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his other hand falling across her belly. "Looks as though the future has brought many changes," he murmured, giving her forehead a kiss.

Sybil smiled before turning her face to greet his lips. "But some things, it seems, remain the same."

~The End~

Yep, so I gave Tom and Sybil a daughter; originally I envisioned them with a little girl...but I must confess, I'm now starting to envision a boy, but for the sake of this story, it made more sense for the child to be a girl. Doesn't matter in the end, because we all know Tom and Sybil are gonna love that baby to pieces!