The following story was created as a part of a campaign to show support for Allen Leech (aka Tom Branson) in his efforts to raise money for Centrepoint, a London-based charity that works with and helps homeless youth. Allen will be participating in the 2013 London Marathon, and as soon as I heard this news, I immediately began imagining a modern Sybil/Tom story where he's training and running in the marathon, and she and their children show their love and support. So basically, this is sweet Branson famiy fluff! But we all need fluff now and then, don't we? Anyway, at the bottom of this story is more information about ways in which YOU can show Allen support as he runs in the London Marathon. I hope this little tale inspires you and puts a smile on your face :o) THANKS FOR READING!

"Go the Distance"
by The Yankee Countess

24 weeks…

That was how long he had been training for this thing. He looked at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall and shook his head in amazement. 24 weeks; it had all gone by so quickly, he couldn't believe it. And in a few days he would be putting all those hours of stretching, conditioning, dieting, and exercising into practice. In a few days, he would be running in the London Marathon.

A friend of his from the Times had run in it the year before, and kept telling Tom over and over that he should consider participating since he knew Tom to be a runner, a habit that had developed thanks to his days when he used to play rugby back in Dublin. On the night he made the announcement, he and Sybil and the children were in Yorkshire, visiting her parents, along with her sisters and their husbands. Mary and Matthew were telling Robert all about the children's cricket club that their son, George, had recently joined, and how Matthew was helping George perfect his skills as a bowler. Robert kept grinning and smiling at his grandson, beaming with pride and going on and on about how much he loved cricket and how he would try to make it to all of George's matches whenever he was in London, and for some reason…Tom just found himself opening his mouth and announcing that he was going to be running in the London Marathon the following spring.

The news certainly caused a stir at the table. Even Sybil looked shocked. She later asked him if he was serious, and Tom paused, wondering for a moment if he was. Had he simply spoken up because he wanted to impress his father-in-law, proving that he too, an Irish working-class lad could be just as impressive as his favorite cricket playing son-in-law? Why did it matter? Tom knew that he didn't need to prove himself to his in-laws; Matthew had become his best friend and he got along perfectly with both of his sisters-in-law, and things were far more civil between himself and Robert, certainly after the birth of Robert's grandchildren. So why do this?

"Because I want to accomplish something I never thought I could do…" he found himself murmuring at last.

Both he and Sybil exchanged a long look, before she finally murmured, "Alright…then tomorrow morning, we best begin developing a training regime for you."

Ah, his darling wife. Sybil supported him in every way she could. She contacted friends of hers at the hospital where she worked who specialized in physical therapy and rehabilitation, to help him with his training. She even contacted a dietitian, to help plan out special menus for him, and learn what foods would work best as he prepared. In the morning, she would wake up early to help him stretch, and in the evening, she would insist he lie down so she could massage the muscles in his back and legs. Tom couldn't deny he loved the extra attention…especially since some of those "massage sessions" became more than what they innocently began as.

"I don't know if that's helpful to your training," she panted one time, after a rather "vigorous" session.

Tom couldn't stop smiling, his hands behind his head. "Builds endurance, love," he assured with a wicked grin. "Helps increase my heart rate."

Even their children got into the excitement of watching their father prepare for the marathon. On Saturday mornings, all three would wake up early and join him in the front hallway where Tom would do most of his stretching, mimicking him right down to the grunts he would sometimes make.

Their eldest, Saoirse, who was very much a tomboy and loved all sorts of sports, liked to try and run with him, at least part of the way. She was only eight years old, but she had been practicing every day after school, and on these special Saturdays, Tom and she would run several laps around their road, before he would jog her back to the house, and he continued on his routine. Saoirse was certainly improving. She could run at least a mile now, and Tom had no doubt that in a few years, she would be outdistancing him.

Fred was six, but he loved helping his father downstairs in the basement of their London bungalow, which Tom had turned into a bit of "at home gym". Fred would sit in a corner while his father lifted weights and count out loud for him. Fred also liked helping Sybil in the kitchen with making his father "power breakfasts" that would help give him energy for running.

And then there was Sybbie, their youngest, who had just turned three. Even though she was the smallest, she wanted to be involved too. Sometimes Tom would joke and use her as his "weight" to lift up high, which of course had her giggling. Sybbie also helped by peeling bananas for Tom, and spoon feeding him yogurt, which were two foods on his "runner's list of things to eat".

Tom smiled at the framed picture of his children that were grinning back at him next to the calendar. He soon realized that he wasn't just running to prove something to himself, but he was running for them as well. They were so proud of their father, and it moved him so deeply by how much they all encouraged and supported him through this endeavor.

His smile grew as he suddenly felt two soft, smooth arms slip around his body. He closed his eyes briefly and enjoyed the feeling of Sybil, coming up behind him and hugging him tightly, resting her cheek against his back, before moving her lips to leave a sweet kiss at the back of his neck.

"You didn't wake me," she murmured, somewhat sleepily against his skin.

"You looked so peaceful, I couldn't bear it," he sighed, allowing himself to lean back against her and enjoy her kisses.

"Do you need me to make you anything?" she asked. "Some eggs? Or," she began giggling then. "Perhaps your favorite—"

He groaned at what he knew she was going to say. "If I had the choice between starvation and another peanut-butter and jam sandwich, I may be sorely tempted to go with the first."

She grinned up at him as he turned in her arms so he could wrap his own around her. "Who would have thought, peanut-butter and jam sandwiches," she giggled to herself. She glanced then at the calendar and saw that he had marked off another day. "Just three more," she murmured.

"Aye," Tom sighed, his eyes moving back to the calendar as well.

Sybil could hear the nervousness in his voice. She tightened her hold and ran her fingers up and down his back. "You'll do well," she assured.

He looked down at her, but he didn't look so sure. "I wish I had your faith."

"Oh Tom, how can you doubt yourself? You've done so well! You've accomplished so much in your training, you've stuck to your diet and exercise routines, you're one of the most dedicated and disciplined people I know! You have a great deal to be proud," she moved her hands around to the front and placed them on his chest, just over his heart. "And we are all so proud of you," she murmured, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss him.

He smiled against her lips and returned the kiss with all the love he felt. "I don't know what I would have done without you and the kids," he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "I think I would have quit after one week, and thought myself mad for even thinking I could do it."

She reached up and touched his cheek, drawing his face back just slightly so he could look into her eyes. "But you have done it."

"I don't think you can say that until the day after the marathon, love," he teased.

But Sybil would not be shaken. "No, Tom, you have done it. You're ready, darling," she assured, kissing him once again. "And the four of us are going to be there at the finish line, cheering for you as you cross it."

He smiled at the image, one that made his heart soar, especially when he found himself doubting his abilities. This was his first marathon; by no means was he going to finish first. He doubted he would even finish in the top one-hundred. But he knew none of that mattered to them. As Sybil was always reminding him, "you're #1 to us."

"Come on," Sybil said, taking his hands in hers. "I'll make you some breakfast; meanwhile, you should go and wake up your personal trainers."

Tom groaned, but gave Sybil a wink. "They are ruthless task masters," he sighed.

"Only because they love you."

"Mummy, mummy!" Sybbie was tugging on her sleeve. "Where's Da? Where's Da?"

Sybil kissed her youngest on the forehead. Sybbie had been fussing and squirming for quite some time, eager to see her father cross the finish line. The youngest Branson didn't understand that the marathon would take this long. "Hush, love, he'll be here soon."

Sybbie made a face and Sybil understood why. After all, hadn't she been saying that for the past hour and a half?

"Mum!" Fred called, drawing Sybil's attention to the patch of grass just to her right where both Saoirse and her son were sitting, a large piece of paper, and small box full of markers spread out on the ground. "Mum, how does this look?" Fred grinned, holding up the sign that both he and his older sister had been working on. Sybil smiled as she took in the sign, an idea she had as a way to keep the children occupied while they waited for Tom. Big, brightly colored letters had been drawn on the large piece of paper (the sort that lined tables in hospital examination rooms) saying "WAY TO GO, DA! WE LOVE YOU!"

"That's perfect!" Sybil grinned, feeling a little moisture in the back of her eyes. "Isn't that pretty, Sybbie?"

Sybbie nodded her head, but she was still squirming.

"Hey look!" Saoirse called, pointing past Sybil's shoulder, causing Sybil to turn. "It's Uncle Matthew and Auntie Mary!"

Sybil smiled with surprise at the sight of her sister and brother-in-law. "Oh this is wonderful!" she grinned, rushing over to them as best she could, while balancing Sybbie against her hip. "Tom will be so happy to see you both, too!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Matthew grinned, as both he and Mary greeted Sybil with friendly and affectionate kisses to the cheek.

"Where's George?" Saoirse asked, looking around for her cousin.

"Papa will be bringing him, as soon as he's done with cricket practice," Mary explained, taking her niece's hand in hers.

Sybil's eyes widened. "Papa is coming?"

Fred overheard this and began clapping in delight. "Yay, Grandpa!"

Matthew laughed and ran his hand over Fred's hair. "He wouldn't miss this for the world either," he explained. "I've been keeping him abreast of Tom's training; he's become very impressed by how much he's accomplished…and that he's sticking with it!"

Sybil did her best to suppress an eye roll. Tom was always dedicated and disciplined; after all, he had waited several years for Sybil to accept his proposal back when she was training to become a nurse. Still, both her father and husband had come a long way from where they had been at the beginning of Sybil and Tom's marriage, so she supposed she should be grateful for these little moments of peace and acceptance.

"Edith and Anthony will be coming by too," Mary added. "Mama spent the day with Edith shopping for baby clothes."

"Oh dear," Sybil laughed, remembering how their mother had coddled and "interfered" (in the most loving way possible) with the both of them when they were pregnant.

"Uncle Matthew!" Fred tugged on his uncle's hand, drawing him over to the sign he and Saoirse had created. "We made this for Da."

Matthew grinned, nodding his head with approval. "And you did a fine job; he'll be very proud when he sees that at the finish line."

"Mum," Saoirse turned back to Sybil, looking eager. "Can I go down a ways? I want to run with Da when he gets closer."

Sybil bit her lip. "Oh, darling, I'm not so—"

"It's alright," Matthew smiled. "I'll go with her," he took his niece's hand. "Although I'm not a runner, so no racing," he warned, which only caused Saoirse to giggle and lead the way.

Sybbie wanted to go too, and began squirming even more. Thankfully, Mary took the wriggling child out of Sybil's arms, and the toddler began to calm. Mary had an amazing effect on children; Sybil jokingly called her the "baby whisperer".

"How was the start?" she asked, while running a soothing hand on Sybbie's back.

"Busy," Sybil sighed, recalling the crowds at the beginning. "We got here very early, as you can imagine. I hardly slept a wink last night…and I doubt these three slept much," she glanced over at Fred. "No doubt that explains why this one," she ran her fingers along Sybbie's cheek, "is so fussy."

"And Tom?"

"Oh poor Tom, he was so nervous! I kept running my hands up and down his spine last night, trying to soothe him and help him rest. I don't know if it did any good. He was stretching on the bedroom floor when I woke up."

"I'm sure he'll do wonderfully," Mary assured, giving Sybbie a little kiss on the cheek.

Sybil smiled and nodded her head. Yes, she believed that too, she always had. When they had arrived, she and the children each gave Tom a kiss on the cheek, wishing him the very best, telling him over and over that they would be cheering for him at the end, and knew he would do well. Sybil murmured a few last minute instructions on what to do if his muscles began cramping, and fussed over him about remembering to stay hydrated, which earned her a little swat on the rump, as well as wink of approval. She kissed him once more (a kiss that was not on the cheek and that caused their two older children to make faces and go "eeeewwwwwww!"), before taking the children to a row of stands where various spectators were sitting. The shot went off, and the runners began. All four members of the Branson brood leapt to their feet and cheered, even little Sybbie. Now, it was the waiting period…

"We're all very proud of him," Sybil murmured, smiling at her sister. "It's impossible for him not to do wonderfully."

"DID I MISS HIM? DID I MISS UNCLE TOM?"

Both Sybil and Mary turned their heads to the exuberant voice of George Crawley, still in his little cricket whites, rushing through the crowd to his mother's and aunt's side.

Sybil laughed and hugged her nephew. "Not yet, George, I think you arrived just in time!" She turned the boy towards her own son. "Why don't you help your cousin with the sign that he made for Tom?"

Fred grinned and waved his cousin to him. "Help me, George! There's room on this corner of the paper where we can put 'Uncle Tom', so he knows it's from you, too."

Sybil smiled as the boys busied themselves, and then turned to her father who was now approaching. Sybbie gurgled in happiness and reached out for her grandfather, who eagerly took her in his arms. Yes, despite her father's and Tom's initial distaste for one another (mainly due to politics), they had softened over the years, in large part thanks to the children.

"I'm glad you came, Papa," Sybil smiled, kissing her father's cheek.

"Well, I am impressed," her father admitted. "I don't think I could do what Tom did—well, I know I couldn't do what he's doing now, but even at his age, I don't think I could do what he's done…so of course, I had to be here to congratulate him."

Sybil smiled and kissed him on the cheek once more. She and Mary turned their heads as they heard more voices call out to them, waving and smiling as they saw their mother, along with Edith and Anthony approach.

"Where's Matthew?" her mother asked, noticing that he was missing. "And Saoirse?"

"Not too far," Sybil explained. "Just down the road a little way; Saoirse wanted to run the last few yards with Tom."

"Oh my, another runner in the family," her mother chuckled. "I dare say she'll be running in this thing, as soon as she's old enough."

Sybil laughed and nodded her head. She had a feeling her mother was right.

Not so far away, Sybil's eldest was trying to see over the crowd, trying to spot her father in the distance or see if he was anywhere close. Matthew offered to let Saoirse sit atop his shoulders so she could have a better vantage point. As soon as she was up, she was peering down the street, squinting and holding a hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the sun's rays. There were still a good number of runners on the course, but nowhere near as many as when the marathon began.

"Do you see him?" her uncle asked, also trying to peer down the road.

"Not yet…" Saoirse murmured, nibbling her bottom lip. "I think…no, no, that's not him," she sighed, realizing that the man she saw only had hair that was the same color as her father's.

"I'm sure he'll be coming along soon," Matthew tried to reassure. "Your Da is a good runner; he was a great runner even before he began training—"

"I SEE HIM!" Saoirse gasped, tugging on Matthew's hair, causing her uncle to wince with pain, slightly.

"Where—ow—where do you see him?" Matthew asked, craning his neck as best he could, careful not to drop his niece while he looked.

"Down there…just…just a few yards away! He's wearing that bright green running shirt!" she giggled, pointing and waving her hands over her head, hoping her father would see her.

Tom was panting; the muscles in his legs, his back, and his feet…all of them on fire! His lungs burned, his throat ached for water, his face, along with the rest of his body, was covered in several layers of perspiration. But he had seen the sign at the last turn, alerting him to how much further he had to go, and how close he was to the finish…and so he dug deep inside, just as his trainers had all told him to do, to make those extra yards and cross that line.

"DA! DA!"

His ears picked up a distinct and familiar voice, and Tom looked off to the side, and saw a child waving her arms in the near distance. Saoirse! He grinned and felt the drive within him burn faster, telling him to pick up the pace, encouraging him further, cheering him on just as his daughter was.

"Uncle Matthew, let me down! Let me down!" Saoirse gasped, practically crawling off Matthew as she spoke. The second Matthew had her on the ground, she wasted no time, and burst into a sprint, running up the road, her eyes never leaving the course, never leaving her father's approaching figure as he too picked up his pace and began charging down the road. Saoirse grinned and kept waving and giggling as she jogged, feeling so proud of her father, knowing that one day, she too would be running in this marathon, and with her father's help, maybe she would come in first place.

As the finish line began to approach, the rest of the Crawley, Branson, and Strallan clan turned their heads when Sybbie let out a little shriek and Anthony (being the tallest amongst the men gathered) pointed down the road and announced, "Here he comes!"

Sybil gasped and practically pushed her way through the crowd, her son and nephew right at her heels, carrying their sign and lifting it high.

Saoirse saw a break in the crowd, and broke through the line until she was now on the course, and running right next to her father. "You did it, Da, you did it!" she laughed, and Tom grinned down at her, holding out his hand, to which his daughter eagerly took. Hand in hand, they would finish this race together.

The boys were shouting, "GO DA!" and "HOORAY UNCLE TOM!" simultaneously as he drew closer and closer. Sybbie was squealing and cheering as well from the arms of her grandfather, and Sybil herself was crying tears of joy and happiness and pride as he finally crossed the finish line, his eldest daughter's hand still firmly grasped in his own.

Several officials associated with the London Marathon approached Tom, offering water and towels, asking him if he was alright, to which he simply nodded, accepting their tokens and panting while he wiped his face, and took a deep swig of water from the bottle they offered.

"OH TOM!" he heard, turning and smiling as his wife approached, grinning from ear to ear.

"Careful…love…" he panted, gesturing to himself and his sweat-soaked shirt. "I'm…not…in the…best…state…"

"Oh as if I cared about any of that!" Sybil admonished, before throwing her arms around her husband and raining kisses all over his face. Saoirse grinned and wrapped her arms around her father's waist, burrowing her face against his side; like her mother, she didn't care about the sweat either.

"Alright, alright, give the man some room!" Robert chuckled, now approaching Tom with a hand extended. "Well done, son, well done!"

Tom's eyes widened. Son? However he wasn't going to pass this opportunity up, and quickly took his father-in-law's hand and shook it as heartily as he could, after running a little over twenty-six miles.

"DA! DA!" Fred cried, running towards his father, and like Saoirse, also wrapping his arms around his middle. "Did you see the sign? We made it while waiting! Even George helped!"

Tom laughed and nodded, hugging the boy back, as well as running his hand over his nephew's head, just as Matthew had done earlier with Fred.

"Oh well done, Tom, well done!" Cora smiled, as did Mary, Edith, and Anthony. Sybbie squealed, squirming out of her grandfather's arms, desperately wanting to hug her father, to which Tom was only happy to oblige, taking the toddler and letting her give him sloppy kisses on the cheek.

"Where's…where's Matthew?" Tom asked, his breathing slowly beginning to come back to normal.

"Here…" came a panting voice.

Saoirse giggled as she saw her uncle approach, looking out of breath and pink the face, even though the distance he had jogged was nothing compared what her father had accomplished. Uncle Matthew was right; he wasn't a runner.

"Well, I think this is a cause for celebration!" Robert announced, slapping his Irish son-in-law on the back. "I'll make reservations for one of London's finest restaurants—"

"Darling," Cora interceded, smiling sweetly up at her husband, but keeping her eyes on Sybil and Tom. "Why don't we let Tom pick the restaurant?"

Robert blinked a few times, as if finally realizing what his wife was saying. "Oh…oh, yes, of course," he turned and smiled once again at Tom. "Alright, Tom, name the place and I'll get us reservations—"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Papa," Sybil grinned, smiling at Tom, knowing what he was thinking.

"What do you mean?" Robert frowned. "Sybil, I'm sure I can get reservations—"

"No, no, Papa, you misunderstand; reservations won't be necessary because it's not that sort of place."

Robert looked at his daughter…and then at his son-in-law. His buoyant expression quickly began to change, and a groan escaped his lips. "This is going to be some Irish Pub place that the two of you frequent, isn't it?"

Everyone burst out laughing then, as Tom and Sybil exchanged somewhat sheepish and guilty smiles. Robert sighed and rolled his eyes, but did it more for show than anything else. "Fine, fine, but Tom, I insist that you do let me pay," he grumbled. Tom didn't argue; he just nodded his head. It wasn't every day he had his father-in-law praise him and call him "son" in front of others.

"We should get you home," Sybil said, turning once more to her husband. "You need stretch and cool down, and the sooner the better."

"Aye," Tom sighed, running the towel once more over his face. "And a good hot bath, too."

Sybil nodded as her hand ran up and down his back. "Mmm, yes…and…a massage as well, I think."

Tom looked at her, recognizing the huskiness of her tone. Despite the long run he had just endured, he suddenly felt his energy begin to restore. "Aye…whatever Nurse Branson says," he murmured, a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

Sybil then turned to her sister, and asked Mary sweetly if she would be so kind as to take Saoirse, Fred, and Sybbie for a few hours; no doubt they would want to spend some time with their cousin. Mary gave Sybil a look, knowing all too well the purpose behind this sudden request, but in the end gave her sister a smile of understanding, before announcing that the children were to travel with her and Matthew, that they would stop and get ice cream, to which all of them cheered.

As both Tom and Sybil walked hand in hand back to where they had parked the car, she turned and smiled at him, telling him once again how proud she was. "You were and are amazing," she grinned. "I love you so much."

Tom smiled and stopped their walking, so he could wrap his arms around her and kiss her, not caring who passed them and saw. "I love you too," he murmured, his lips moving to meet hers. "But I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you, love." He kissed her deeply, putting all his love and gratitude in that sweet and simple gesture. "So…" he sighed, after finally lifting his head from her lips. "What's the prize for a man who comes in somewhere between 150-240?"

Sybil giggled and leaned up on her tip toes, whispering exactly what his prize was in his ear. Tom's eyes widened and a smirk began to grow on his face. "With a prize like that, any man would feel like a champion."

She smiled and kissed his cheek again. "You're always first place to me, Tom Branson."

THE END

For more information about ways in which YOU can show your "fangirl love" to Allen and his work for Centrepoint, please check out the following tumblr page: alsfangirlspwr . tumblr . com REMEMBER! *EVERY* fangirl can make a difference!