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“This is it.”
With a hand upon the door, Thomas let a small somber smile grow on his lips, knowing what would come of this decision.
The choice he had been given was a hard one, but one he instinctively knew to make, as painful as it might be. This wasn’t his world—wasn’t his life. The sin of meddling with powers beyond him, where he didn’t belong, was one he’d have to repent. But… there was one last thing he felt he had to do before going back to where he belonged. A weight in his pocket that burned at his hip. It was something he had been holding onto since the game with Death all that time ago.
A physical reminder of his sacrifice for his dearest friend.
Thomas slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers toying with the chess piece before he pulled it out to examine it. The white knight, glistening in the sun and taking on a subtle yellow hue.
The black knight had been left behind, a part of his soul for the others to keep. He may be gone, but that would remain—something for them to have of him. Of course, they would never know the significance of a stray chess piece… but Ethel and Jimmy would.
Or would it, like him, be gone to the wind, never to be found again?
With a sigh, he turned the white knight in his fingers, watching as the eyes glimmered in the light. It made it look as if it were alive.
Oh, what a joke it was, but, maybe that was the point. To make himself into a savior for the damned when he really had no power to do so. To use the position he was in to make the decisions he felt would make everyone's lives change for the better. Of course, he’d never regret that choice. It allowed him to finally be happy, and what crime was that?
The sin of meddling, something hissed into his ear. He only smiled in response, lifting a finger to the sky.
Beside him, several whisps zipped about, chirping and whispering to the wind. They had been following him around for some time now, and he had grown used to their company. It made moments like this feel just a little less lonely. Would they go with him to his next life?
With an ache in his chest, he hoped so.
One landed on the tip of his finger, tired of fluttering around. If he looked closely enough, he could see the outline of what looked like little butterfly wings. They reminded him of fairies in a way.
What a silly thing.
Maybe he had hated them for what they represented—death, loneliness, and the end of all things good. Infesting the abbey when skies turned grey and lives ended inside its halls. But, here and now, he could see that they were nothing more than Death’s companions. If they kept him from feeling a little less scared of the Great Beyond, he would keep it to himself.
Bringing his hand closer to his face, he looked over the little creature and gently blew at it as if it were a dandelion. It let out an uncontent noise and buzzed off, abandoning him to dance around with the others as they surrounded his head. It was hypnotizing, in all honesty.
With one last look at the empty yard of the abbey, he pushed open a door.
It had been several days since the funeral, a dark cloud hanging over the heads of everyone as they mourned the loss of a friend and member of staff. Even the Dowager Countess seemed down about the loss of Thomas Barrow. He had made his mark when it came to the family and fellow staff, making himself more than just a hard worker to everyone around him. In the end, he had become family to everyone—especially Matthew Crawley. Even if they shared no blood, the bond they had went beyond any words he could muster up.
And so now here he was, laying beside Mary as she slept pitifully at his side. Normally he would be in his own room, but since the accident… he couldn’t help but stay as close as he could to her. Somehow he had gotten out of the accident mostly unscathed, which only made him feel worse with how much of the damage Thomas had taken the brunt of.
Their last conversation left a rotten feeling inside of him and he felt like he was going to be sick from it.
Sniffling, Matthew stared at the wall blearily, his eyes dry. He had been crying for hours at this point, unable to face anyone through the pain of it all. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, his appetite completely dead and gone as he curled up beneath the blanket. If there was anything in his stomach, he would just vomit from the grief of it all. He was already heaving up stomach acid when his thoughts spiraled too much.
God, Matthew couldn’t even imagine what the downstairs staff was going through due to the loss—but he found himself avoiding them and his own family.
The sight of Ethel in black would probably send him over the edge, if he was being honest. It was hard even being around Mary of all people, and she was the one person he would never run away from. Ever.
So why was he pulled away at the edge of their shared bed instead of taking comfort from his wife?
He didn’t know.
Letting out a soft breath, he rolled onto his back, gaze now locked onto the ceiling above him, heart thrumming in his ears in the quiet of the night. Except… there was a sound he couldn’t quite place, buzzing all around him. It blended into the background enough that he didn’t notice it until now. It was akin to the sound of electrical currents. Static.
Then there was a creak.
His eyes shot to the bedroom door as it slowly pushed open, his blue eyes growing wide. If Mary wasn’t asleep beside him, he would’ve shot up from fright—especially once little balls of light floated in, dancing around each other in circles.
Was he finally losing his mind? Had his best friend’s death hurt him so much that his mind found it easier to just break instead of accept the reality of it? He swallowed, throat dry.
The lights drew closer to him and he cautiously leaned backwards, away from them, still laying down.
Getting up would mean acknowledging them, and a part of him felt that’d cause problems. Were they demons? They didn’t look the part, but you never knew what the Devil had in store for you.
Matthew’s hands began to tremble the smaller the distance got between them, and soon enough they were bouncing above his head. The sound he had noted earlier seemed louder now that they were right near him, and he was able to recognize that it sounded more like whispers than static like he had originally thought. Were they trying to speak to him?
How silly of him.
What he had not been expecting, however, was for the door to open further and… if he thought his eyes were wide already, now they were nearly bugging out of his skull.
It was Thomas. His Thomas. Looking just the same as he did before the accident.
He couldn’t breathe, the oxygen being stolen from his lungs. This was a dream, it had to be.
Making a choked sound, a hand jumped to his throat as he tried to keep himself calm, eyes stinging. More tears were soon to fall. Honestly, he was surprised he had any left.
The men stared at each other for a moment, Matthew fighting to get enough air in his lungs so he could finally speak.
“Thomas,” he managed to choke out, dropping his hand from his throat so he could reach it out, body trembling. In this moment, he felt a child reaching for a treasured stuffed toy for comfort.
One of the small lights flitted around the room before trying to land on his fingertip, though it just phased through with a shine of light. He couldn’t make physical contact with them, it seemed.
He wept.
With his hands now covering his eyes while tears fell down his blotchy cheeks, he didn’t notice as Thomas took a few steps closer to him, a longing look in his misty eyes.
“Matthew.”
His voice was such a soft thing. Ethereal. Beautiful.
It hurt him to do, but he let his eyes slip back open, taking in how the lights bounced around Thomas’ head and sat on his shoulders. They took obvious comfort in being with him. It brought him just a little bit of comfort, knowing that his friend wasn’t alone.
How scary it must be.
His heart hurt.
Matthew whimpered softly, trying to keep himself from openly sobbing so he wouldn’t wake his wife.
Now, Thomas was finally standing beside the bed, the gentlest of smiles on his face. He looked… so at peace. He didn’t want him to be gone.
“Hello, my darling friend.” His voice was so soft, so gentle. A wave of comfort flooded Matthew's body and he was finally able to relax, not even realizing how tense he had been. “Oh, how I’ve missed you so.”
His tone was more suited for lovers than friends, Matthew thought to himself. This wasn’t how they typically spoke to each other, even being as close as they were. It was… special. He relished it. This was something he’d never get again.
If his throat wasn’t so tight, he’d respond.
It seemed that Thomas understood.
He always did.
In this moment, all Matthew wanted to do was touch him, to feel him. For this all to be real and not some torturous dream. He held out his hand, the pads of his fingers brushing against Thomas’ cheek. It was the smallest of touches. Delicate. Oh, but Thomas was so, so cold.
As soft and chilly as snow.
His own little Ice Prince. What a silly thought, wasn’t it?
Thomas’ fingertips gently ran over the soft skin of Matthew’s hand, curling between his fingers so that he was cradling it against his face, breath warm against the edge of his palm. Such an act was intimate, more intimate than Matthew knew him to be.
And yet, for right now, he truly did not mind.
Now, Thomas was sat on the edge of the bed, his weight seemingly not causing it to dip beneath him. They just stared at each other, too afraid that if they looked away it would be over.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he spoke.
“I missed you too.”
Thomas’ face crumpled.
No, no, that was not what he wanted!
Eager to comfort him, but not wake Mary up, he carefully sat up. They were eye-to-eye now, noses nearly touching from how close they were.
Maybe in another life, Matthew would look to men like Thomas for love.
But not in this one.
“I have something for you.” Thomas spoke quickly, seemingly realizing how short his time was here. Lifting his free hand, a chess piece lay in his palm, the white knight.
Matthew didn’t understand the importance of it, but kept quiet so his friend could speak.
“You were meant to die in the crash,” he whispered, ignoring the look of shock on Matthew’s face before continuing, “I… couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not to you. There are people that are supposed to exist in the future, and the thought of you never being in their lives hurt me. Oh, what a silly thing I did…”
The knight was cradled to his chest protectively.
“Death and I played a game of chess and we struck a deal. On September 20th, at 3:44, I would die instead of you—do not look at me like that—I can’t bear to think you hate me for my decision, but your life is much more important than mine here. I meddled where I shouldn’t have.”
The sin of meddling, something in Matthew said. It seemed Thomas understood the grimace on his face.
“So, I wanted to return this. It belongs to you.” The piece was pushed into his hand, Thomas’ own lingering for just a moment before pulling away. “We used the chess pieces as physical pieces for our souls. The white knight is yours, the black knight is mine. I’ve… been carrying it, but now it’s time for it to go back where it belongs. To you.” He smiled sweetly, though with a twinge of sadness.
Swallowing, Matthew spoke up.
“Where’s yours?”
“As far as I know, still downstairs in the servant’s hall. Protect it for me, will you?”
“…you won’t keep it?”
Somehow, he felt as if he already knew the answer to that. The sacrificial prick.
Matthew let out a wet laugh, teardrops clinging to his blonde lashes as he took a moment to think. He brought a hand up to wipe at his face.
“What’ll happen to you now?”
Thomas shook his head. “I’ll go back home.”
He was now looking out the window, watching as the moon hung in the dark sky.
“Honestly, I was expecting more questions,” Thomas huffed out a small laugh.
“Well, maybe some things are better left unknown.”
In the silence that fell between them, the whisps began dancing around more excitedly than earlier, creating a halo around Thomas’ head. They both knew it was time. This moment was never going to last forever.
“If I have to ask something, then… will I ever see you again? As a ghost or… whatever you are?” Matthew tried to keep himself from getting his hopes up.
“No.”
There it was.
“Then… goodbye, friend.”
“Be safe for me, yeah? No more car accidents!” The scold had no serious intent behind it, but he still deflated from it all the same.
Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Matthew threw his arms around Thomas, holding him close. He hated how shocked the man seemed, though he soon melted into the touch and returned it. If he had any say, he hoped this would never end. That he could walk downstairs and see his best friend smiling with his family in the servant’s hall, maybe singing a song or two with the staff.
“Tell Ethel I love her dearly.”
Before he could open his mouth to respond, Thomas was gone, his arms suddenly empty. The space where his friend once sat leaving his arms hanging. He choked on a sob, realizing how little time he truly had with him. And now, here he sat for a moment longer, grief panging in his chest before he brought his arms down to hug himself as he cried.
And just quick as he was there, it was over. The little sprites gone and no longer bouncing and flying around the dark room.
It was such a sudden thing and it hurt. So badly.
On the bedside table sat the white knight, reflecting the moon’s light.
Unbeknownst to him, as he cried quietly to himself, Mary laid gripping her pillow with wide eyes, holding back her own tears. How would she ever keep this to herself?
With a loud gasp, Thomas jerked awake in the dark of his room, head pounding as his mind was filled with memories of a life once lived. Though, he didn’t know it, of course. To him, it was just an odd vivid dream.
Grumbling irritably, he rubbed at his face and looked to the side to check the time, only to see a black knight chess piece sitting on his bedside table.
What the hell?
The light shining through his window made its eyes glimmer, imitating life.