Chapter Five

I could feel my legs.

It had been a couple months since the war ended. The sinking realization that it was all over and my life had well and truly changed was getting to me. I finally had to come to terms with my immobilization, and now... this. I wouldn't tell anyone, not even Thomas. I had to know for sure that something was happening and it was not just my mind playing tricks on me.

Not much else had happened in the couple of weeks I had been there. The other servants started to get a little suspicious of Thomas and I, but it seemed that if they knew, they didn't really care as the subject was not pushed any further than a knowing quirk of the lips or a raised eyebrow. I had come to the conclusion that the rest of Thomas's coworkers knew of his... preferences. Can't say I'm surprised - he's quite obvious with who he's looking up and who he's turning down. Plus, the way he gets all flustered when I'm around is incredibly adorable.

I'd tried to become at least partially useful to the rest of the staff, but it seems that the wheelchair was quite a disadvantage in their line of work. I couldn't help cook or clean rooms, and I certainly couldn't do anything that would bring the family's attention to me, wheelchair or no. They seemed to have almost forgotten about me, and Thomas and I were perfectly fine with that. And although not being able to move around quite as much as the rest, and taking up more room in the busy hallways or kitchens, I was still able to help. Cleaning the dishes when most of the staff had already gone to bed - or at least done working for the day - and helping Alfred polish silver and clean clothes was definitely enough work for me. And Mr. Carson didn't seem to mind having another helping hand - he was short a footman anyway.

There hadn't been many more occurrences between Thomas and I. Maybe pecks on the cheek in the morning or a lingering goodnight kiss, but nothing much else happened. For that, I was almost grateful. I knew I had feelings for the man, but coming to terms with it had taken quite a lot out of me, and I wasn't sure I was ready to wholeheartedly commit to such a lifestyle change. What we were doing was already a risk - an illegal act. Plus, I wasn't looking forward to seeing how it would work when my legs were basically cooked noodles.

But being in his presence was enough for me - and it seemed enough for him as well. Though once in a while I would notice a special glint in his eye after we kissed, or the way his hand would trail up my shoulder. He knew not to ask for much more - that I wasn't able to give it, one way or another - but I could tell that he wanted it. Of course I felt bad, as if I was leading him on, but I knew in my heart that I was too selfish a man to let him go his own way.

Besides, as I said before, I was becoming useful. I was working off my housing privileges. And although I didn't want to commit to anything and kid myself, but there was that tingling. That soft little fleeting feeling in my thigh and under my knee, as if I was getting up after laying on them for a long period of time. Like the blood was rushing through them at last and the dormant limbs were finally waking.

I might even become a footman.

But those were too hopeful of thoughts, I knew. Of course this had to happen after I had finally come to terms with my disability; after I finally lost hope for my lower half. That small branch of my old life that I was clinging to finally broke, and I fell, only to grab onto another one only a few feet below me. A migraine started in.

"Are you doing alright, Mr. O'Neil?" asked the sweet little Daisy after dinner. She was usually one of the first to go to bed, but it seemed as if she was wide awake and ready to go. I decided not to question it much.

Rubbing my temple, I flashed a smile her way. "Quite alright, Flower." She smiled at my nickname for her. "And what did I say about calling me Mr.?"

She grinned again and waved her hand at me, as if to dismiss what I said. "It'd be improper to call you anything else, Mr. O'Neil. You don't work here, and you are certainly not below me," she explained, going on a small rant. The others say no one ever gets her into more of a rant than I, but I find that hard to believe. She is such a talkative little girl, and I love it.

I shook my head but gave her a chuckle anyway. "Silly little Flower. Go on up to bed; you must be exhausted." At that, she finally yawned and got up from her chair, nodding. Thomas then came into the room with some silver, sitting down next to me. Daisy gave me a look out of the corner of her eye, but I disregarded it and shooed her up to bed. Turning my attention towards Thomas, I found he was not paying any attention to the silverware, but more towards the table. "Is something the matter?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder as kindly as I could.

He seemed to snap out of it and looked up at me with big, almost innocent eyes. Innocent, I laughed to myself. Is that what you call a striptease every other night? But his tone, when he spoke, brought me down from my lighthearted manner. "I've just been in a meeting with Mr. Carson and Lord Grantham," he said, his eyes lowering, not looking me in the face. "They say you can't stay much longer. You'll have to leave in less than two months," he says, his eyes glossing over.

The thought that he might start crying at this almost brought me down as well. But I remained stiff, not willing to let this bit of new reach me deeply. We'd get this resolved somehow. I squeezed the hand that was resting on his shoulder, making him look up into my eyes. "Thomas. Even if I have to leave - which I'm sure we'll get resolved somehow - we will stay in contact. I'll live in town and you could visit on your days off or something." He smiled and I squeezed harder. "A simple move will not tear us apart," I whispered, leaning in to touch my forehead with his.

__________________