WARNING - Here begins the M/M. I won't be posting anything too vigorous, but there is a romance developing that is solely between two males. If that doesn't suit your fancy, you're free to leave. If it does, by all means, continue! :)

Chapter Two

Weeks go by, and I am finally able to move my arm again. It still hurts to do so, but I stubborn as I am, I will myself to keep moving it to get the feeling back and quicken the healing. Still my legs are a lost cause, and I am forced with the prospect of leaving Downton Abbey. Although I had originally thought it too big and crowded, I had come accustomed to the attentive care and company of Nurse Crawly and Mr. Barrow. Although I their patient, we had become quite close friends and I would be sad to leave them.

Of course, I would be happy to return home, but I don't think I would be able to face my father with my legs in such a state. I would never be able to work the farm again. We might even have to sell it, for we had no money to hire workers and I'd do no good inheriting it. Though hope as I will, I seriously doubt the good doctor would allow me to stay for longer than I needed, and they could no longer do much for me anyhow. It was time to leave and allow room for more wounded.

But luck struck me as Nurse Cawley came running into our room, holding a small parchment and a wide grin spread across her face. "The war is over!" she shouted, and the men who had the ability shouted in excitement, some jumping up with injured arms or faces, and others with injuries like mine simply threw their arms in the air. It was chaos, but a happy one full of relief and granted wishes. It was quite an exciting morning to say the least.

Later in the day, Mr. Barrow came running in with a big smile; a genuine smile. He came straight to my bed and sat in the chair next to it, reserved just for him. "Did you hear? Of course you have," he said in a rushed tone, breathing quickly as if he'd just ran five miles.

I grinned back up at him, happier than I'd even been before. I pulled myself into a sitting position on the bed, my arms dragging the rest of me up. Then I grabbed ahold of Mr. Barrow's hand, not thinking anything of it. It was originally supposed to be a sharing of relief and happiness, but as soon as our hands touched, I felt a strange electricity between us. I tried to look casual and pull it back, dismissing the touch as more of a pat, but when I looked up into his eyes, I knew he'd felt it too.

My cheeks flushed. I didn't know what it was, or why I was reacting like that. He was another man, and my best friend. Any feelings other than that of friendship and brotherly love were not right. I shook off the feeling as best I could, returning to the subject of the new peace. "Can you believe it? No more fighting. No more death and crying. It's over," I said finally, letting a heavy breath escape my lips.

He still seemed slightly stunned by the touch, but he recovered and the grin returned to his face. "I know. God, I can't believe it." He paused, looking around the room at all the beds. "Downton's going to feel so quiet after this," he said softly, more to himself than to me.

That brought my thoughts back to my future again. "So do you know what they're going to do with all the patients that still need healing?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'd assume they'd keep the place up for a while longer, but I don't see the abbey becoming a permanent hospital. Why?"

"Well, I was told that I would be released soon anyhow. I don't know where to, though. I can't go back home with these legs. Best my father things me dead than go back to the farm and be useless and looked down upon," I mumbled the last part, but he seemed to catch it.

He looked quite concerned, which warmed my cheeks again. Damn, why do I keep doing that? "Surely your father wouldn't blame you for what happened. It's not as if you could have willed the blast not to hurt you, or willed your legs to heal."

I shrugged again. I felt as if I had been doing that a lot more lately now that I had no other mobile limbs. "You don't know him, Mr. Barrow. If I can't work, we don't have any income. We'd have to sell the land, and we'd be as poor as a pig without mud," the farm lingo slipped out accidently, and I flinched. That's not how proper men speak, I scolded myself. But Mr. Barrow just laughed.

"I'm sure he can't be that bad." He paused. He seemed to think for a moment, then cautiously put his hand down on mine. The electricity was still there, even more so, but he didn't pull away. He looked me in the eyes. "And that's Thomas to you," he smiled.

I exhaled slightly, meaning it to be a laugh but I seemed to be slightly short of breath. I looked back down at our hands. I couldn't seem to get my heart to calm down. I willed myself to think clearly, to block out the feelings, but I just couldn't. Finally, he stood up, realizing the awkward position we were in. He cleared his throat, about to walk off.

Feeling as if the air had cleared, I allowed one last remark. "Fine then, Thomas. Call me Charlie." I was granted a small smile before he left.

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