"You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

    Silvae held the rifle steady in his hands as he spoke, taking a step toward Teddy. Theodore took a step back as if that would do anything right now. With Silvae standing in front of the door, the facts were simple. Theodore was trapped in this office.

    This was it. For the entire school year, Theodore had been avoiding death, and now, days before the term was finished, he would die. Bullet to the heart, with no one around to hear him scream. Was this how it felt on the front, every time the men were ordered to go over the top? Heart racing, stomach dropped, a chill climbing the bones of your spine. Could that be the same reaction as someone knowing they're ill and feeling that disease take hold? Was this how it felt to watch the other car coming toward you, too fast to stop in time? When a man tied the rope for his throat or pressed a blade to his wrist? When a mother stared into flames?

    When does a person truly die? The moment their heart stops? Or was it the moment that the world forgot their name? Theodore knew that, eventually, no one would know who he was. The name Theodore Barrow would dissolve into meaninglessness. But, for now, he had some last, fleeting seconds. He had the choice of how his life ended: fleeing, crying, begging, or fighting.

    He would be damned if he didn't choose to fight.

   "I could say the same about you," he responded to Silvae, squaring his shoulders. 

    "You ignoble boy!" Silvae exclaimed, adjusting his hold on the rifle. Theodore was staring down the barrel of a gun at his death. 

    If he goes now, let it be with dignity.

    "Against all of my better judgment, I have let you get away. I watched you run, watched you try and fail to stop what has been written in your destiny since the day you set foot on this campus. Every day, I hate myself for it. For letting you stay as long as you have."

    Silvae tilted his head back, looking down at Theodore haughtily. 

    "But not this time. Today, you die."

    Theodore took a breath, waited for a few seconds, and stared down the rifle. The shot did not come.

    "No last words?"

    "You wouldn't record them anyway," Theodore replied, eyes turning to Silvae. The scar on his chin trembled as he again adjusted his hold on the rifle, clenching his jaw.

    "You don't seem to know why I have to do this."

     "I don't," Theodore replied. "I don't know why."

    "This school is made for the best. Good, strong students."

     "As we both are," Teddy replied pointedly. His knife was still in his hand, though he wasn't raising it anymore. What good would a blade in a pen do against the rifle that shook in Silvae's grasp?

     "No!" Silvae yelled. "You are not meant to be here. Your fate has brought you here so that you can die."

    "And what if you're wrong?" Theodore asked, raising his voice to match Silvae's tone. "What if I'm not what Saint Raphael wants? I came here to get a degree, Ratcliffe. Nothing more."

    "Do not play these games with me!"

     "My life is not a game."

     Silvae took a few more steps, and Theodore instinctively backed around, starting to circle around the desk. The tip of the rifle followed his movements, staying on him the entire time.

     "Do you really think that Saint Raphael would want you to live?"

     "Yes," Theodore answered, watching Silvae's hands, fingers changing, knuckles white. "Why can't you?"

     "It must be this way," Silvae replied. "It must be. My father always said it's the same every time. Find the one who has no place there, and remove them from the picture. You have nothing. You were born in nothing. That is where you shall die."

     Theodore stood a little straighter.

     "Fine then," he replied, then spread out his arms. "Finish it."

    "You have some nerve."

    "As do you," Theodore replied pointedly. "I get it from my mother."

     "And I get it from my father!" Silvae yelled back. "His ghost screams at me to finish it now!"

    "Then do it!" Theodore yelled back. "Make your father proud!"

      Silvae's expression shifted at that for only a moment. Theodore couldn't read it.

    Stop making him wait here for what would inevitably come. Let his mind finally stop these questions, these yearnings, and these fears. If it was going to happen, then let it be quick. So fast that he barely feels the pain before he's gone. Let him go to those who have been lost, knowing that he tried everything. With the hope that those left behind would be okay.

     "My father never spoke of Murphy," Silvae said, taking a few steps forward. Theodore stepped back again, feeling the cold stone of the wall press against his back. "And he told me not to ask."

    Theodore stayed quiet, watching Silvae.

    "My mother said-" He continued to walk slowly and carefully, shoes clicking against the floor. "She said that his shame and guilt engulfed him for the rest of his life. That he died from it."

     The rifle's end pressed against Theodore's chest, right in the center. Not the heart, but close enough. Silvae leaned forward, looking Teddy in the eyes.

    "It was his task, his duty, to do what he did. Murphy's death was not in vain. And yours will not be either."

    Theodore swallowed, feeling it travel down his throat. 

    "I am doing what is necessary. What must be done."

    Theodore closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

    "Then do it, Andrew," he replied. "Let me join my mother at last. Let me tell her that I tried to live. Let me go with dignity."

    "Death is simple!" Silvae yelled. Theodore could feel it, the heat of his breath, the shaking of the rifle against his chest. "It has no place for dignity. No place for these wishes."

    "Then why won't you do it?"

     "Stop your questions! You should be dead!"

    "Andrew! Do what you must!"

     "I will!"

     And, as the end of the rifle left Theodore's chest, Teddy braced himself for the final blow. For the bullet to pierce him, and that to be it. For the-

    "Step away from him, you bastard."

    Theodore opened his eyes, head turning to the voice. 

    In the doorway, masked and all, stood Pax, pistol in hand, aimed at Silvae. Behind him, also masked, were Ludus and Tempus, staring the scene down. Between them, Woodward stood with his arms crossed, eyes on Silvae. 

     Silvae had not moved. Ashton pointed the pistol and fired, the bullet flying right over the Raphaelite's head and hitting the wall behind him.

     "That was a warning," Ashton stated, stepping into the room. "I don't have to miss."

    Silvae glanced at Theodore, then took a few steps away, holding up his hands, rifle still held by one.

    Woodward moved around Ashton, approaching Silvae with a stone-cold expression and hand outstretched. Without a word exchanged between them, the rifle was carelessly dropped into Woodward's hand. Theodore couldn't have read Silvae's expression if he wanted to, for, in a swift movement, Dansworth and Monty came onto either side of him, pulling him back, Monty's broad shoulders blocking Silvae from Teddy's view. 

     So, Teddy turned back to Ashton, their eyes locking. And, as a shaky, relieved breath left Theodore's throat, Ashton put his pistol down on the desk, stepping forward with his arms wide.

    Theodore moved quickly, wrapping his arms around Ashton and letting every emotion that he had forced deep into his heart to finally be set free.

     "I can't believe that you didn't tell us about all of this," Monty said as Theodore recounted the entire story. After the events in the Raphaelite office, Woodward had brought the four first years back to his office, wanting them to be somewhere safe to express their emotions. And safe from any Raphaelites keen to finish what Silvae started, Theodore supposed.

   Teddy had been immediately sat on the middle of the sofa, Woodward wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. To combat shock, he supposed. Ashton now sat next to him, a hand on Teddy's back that hadn't truly left since they'd been in the Raphaelite chapel. Monty took a chair, Dansworth the floor, and Woodward pulled over his desk chair for himself. 

    Andrew Ratcliffe himself had crumpled after some chiding remarks from Woodward. His breakdown, begging for his father's forgiveness, for Saint Raphael's forgiveness, had honestly been hard to watch. Teddy was honestly more confused about his motives than ever.

    "So you're saying," Dansworth asked, sitting with a knee propped up, arm over it, "that he's been trying to murder you all year?"

    He looked to Woodward, mouth ajar.

    "Tell me that this guy is going to prison!"

    Woodward hummed, about to respond, when Ashton beat him to it.

    "I honestly think that he may need an asylum more than prison." The other boys looked at him, and Ashton continued. "Anyone who thinks a secret society is worth murder needs help. But Silvae especially. You all saw him after."

    Ashton had a fair point. After a year of trying to follow his father's example and failing continuously, Silvae had seemed to turn from a student keen on tradition to someone desperate for the kill. Someone had to do something to help with that.

    "It's certainly not something you see every day," Woodward replied, adjusting his glasses.

    "That's the understatement of the year," Monty muttered, leaning back in his chair as he thought. "It sounds like he wants to conquer this bloody campus and make it his ideal. Who the fuck does he think he is, fucking Napoleon?"

     Dansworth snorted quietly, though no one said anything more. Like Teddy, none of them knew what went through Silvae's head. Only that he needed some serious help. Theodore turned to Ashton. 

     "Where on God's bloody earth did you get that pistol?"

     Ashton chuckled, glancing away as he considered his answer. His hand left Theodore's back as he reached into his pocket, pulling it out and putting it on the table in the center of the group's circle.

    "It's my father's. I grabbed it from his office after you told me about everything. Just in case."

    "A good call on your part," Dansworth added, staring at the pistol on the table. 

     "I'll give it back when I go home. I doubt my parents will mind that I took it."

    "Honestly, Ash," Monty said, looking at him. Ashton turned at the sound of his nickname, and Monty smirked, "I thought you were about to blow him down."

    Ashton shook his head, looking away from the group.

    "Only if I had to."

    Theodore, like Ashton, turned his gaze away from the others in the room. He kept on considering the scene, replaying their conversation over and over in his mind, and something kept nagging at him.

    "I don't know if he was actually going to do it," he confessed. Though he wasn't looking at them, he could feel the others' eyes on him. "He had every chance to, more than enough time. But he never pulled the trigger."

    "Then why corner you at all?" Dansworth asked. Theodore looked up at him.

    "I don't know. Because he wanted to do it? Felt like he had to?"

    "Don't dwell on what happens in Ratcliffe's mind," Woodward suggested, eyes watching Theodore carefully. "Focus on your own. Make sure you're alright after everything. What's something you can look forward to?"

     Theodore smiled, the answer coming to him immediately.

     "My friends and I are going to America."

     Theodore spent about a week at Downton before he was supposed to leave for America with the boys. In that time, he was treated to Mrs. Patmore's food, which far exceeded meal hall, and assured everyone that he had enjoyed his time at school and would definitely be going back. He didn't tell them that his certainty in this fact stemmed from the letter from Woodward informing him that Silvae was willingly going to stay at an institution run by one of the professor's old friends. In the evenings, after the family's dinner, Theodore would follow Thomas into the butler's pantry, where they would close the door and spend their time together until they decided to go to bed. 

    The conversations that they had would vary. Theodore told Thomas about the Raphaelites, the whole story, now that it was seemingly over. Thomas reacted just as anyone would expect, concerned for his son and angry at this Silvae, and Theodore did his best to reassure him that all was now well. Later, they would discuss the happenings at Downton; the same, for the most part. Daisy and Andy were engaged, Carson still liked to come by and stick his nose into affairs that were no longer his business, and the Crawleys continued their aloof lifestyles.

     Theodore felt like he'd only just finished unpacking what he had brought back from school- some of his belongings had been taken straight to the flat for when he moved back- when he was packing a case to take on their trip to America. 

    "So," Thomas said as he helped Theodore choose which suits to bring. "You'll take about five days to cross the Atlantic."

    Teddy was most certainly not looking forward to that journey. 

     "Then how many days are you spending with Lady Rose?"

     "Four," Teddy replied, watching as Thomas grabbed Teddy's new cardigan and put it with some of the other leisure wear he was taking. 

     The cardigan itself was a gift from Mrs. Montgomery, who had come with one for each of the boys, stating, "I know that these are something you young men are wearing these days. I hope you'll find them suitable." They'd each been a different colour, and, shockingly, each boy had easily been able to find one among the four that fit. Theodore's was dark green. 

     "Won't it be too hot for that?" He asked, poking the knitted fabric.

     "It's not very thick," Thomas replied, "and not everywhere in America is California."

     "I know that." Theodore watched as Thomas placed these clothes in the case, deciding not to comment on it. After all, Thomas had been to America before. Theodore hadn't. 

     "After New York, you're going to Chicago, right?"

     "That's right," Teddy confirmed. "A few days there so that Percy can see his mother and all of that."

     "Did you boys figure out what you're doing after that?"

     "Heading back," Theodore replied simply. "None of us want the trip to be too long. Percy's got the farm, and Ev's got his musical."

    "And you?"

    Theodore smiled, looking up at Thomas as the man closed the case, latching it.

    "Well, I thought you might want me around."

    Thomas raised his eyebrows, smirking as he watched his son.

    "And why would I ever want that?"

     Theodore rolled his eyes, reaching around his dad to grab the case to bring downstairs. 

    "Fine then. I'll just stay in America. You can tell Ashton, Dansworth and Monty that it's your fault."

     Thomas laughed loudly, following his son as they left the room.

     When Abi's parents had called to say that they would be in London over the weekend and wanted to see her, she had mixed emotions. But they had been better with her, especially after last Christmas, and she took that as a good sign. 

    So, she let Violet and Louisa help her get ready in the purple dress she had chosen, preparing to join them at the swanky restaurant they had chosen, trying not to overthink it too much.

     And that was, in the shortest form, how she found herself sitting there on a Saturday evening with Edward giving her a glance that warned her of something to come. Well, she'd expected that much. And, in typically Bennett fashion, her mother did not take long to get to the point. 

    "Abigail, I've agreed to something without asking you. And I understand that I should have asked first, but I do think you should be open to this."

    Abi took a careful sip of her water before responding.

    "What is it, Mama?"

     "You remember that I know Lady Catherine Rosendale through my charity work, yes?"

     Abigail didn't even know that her mother did charity work, so she naturally nodded her head.

     "I was showing her that photograph of you, the one we keep in the sitting room, and she mentioned that you would outshine every debutante presented to the King this year. And I quite agree, darling. And Lady Catherine Rosendale was a debutante herself when she was your age. Well, she mentioned that she had not offered to present anyone this year, and there might still be time if we were willing to have her present your name to the lord chamberlain. I thought it such a large hope that I didn't mention it to you."

     Abi furrowed her brow, glancing at Edward. He only smiled back before glancing down, lifting his wine glass to his lips.

    "But, Abigail, they've approved your name."

    Abi looked back at her mother, eyebrows raised. 

     She wouldn't lie and say that the thought of it wasn't at all appealing. Any young woman would be honoured to be presented to the King and Queen, after all. To be one among the noble ladies of the nation. But Abi had been content with the knowledge that she, like her mother, was not going to be presented to court. And, until recently, she'd not needed to think about that. The debutante ball was a social game meant for finding suitable spouses. Modern courtly love, at its core. 

     "I understand that this is not your typical scene," her mother continued, "but after Lady Catherine Rosendale has done all of the work-"

    "I'll do it," Abi cut her mother off, looking between her parents. Her father's eyebrows raised in surprise.

    "You will?" 

    "Of course, I will," she replied, smiling at each of them. "There's no harm in it, only gain. When is the ball?"

     She wondered what her friends would say to this.

      Theodore had picked Percy up from the Wilson farm before setting out for London, taking his car on the route that he had grown familiar with over the past academic year.

    "I can't believe we're actually doing this," Percy realized, watching the road ahead of them as they drove. Theodore smiled, glancing at his friend.

    "We've always said we would," he reminded his friend. "It was a big future plan when we were kids. Go to America together."

    "I know. It's just odd to think that the day we talked about is actually here. Now. This."

    Theodore hummed in consideration as he turned onto another road. 

    "That's understandable."

    "Look, I know that you and Ev have had new experiences and all that, but I haven't. Let me feel this."

    Teddy laughed, glancing at Percy and shaking his head.

    "Alright, Mr. Life-Saving-Fireman."

    "Well, that's-"

     "How's Margy, by the way?"

     "Oh, come on, Teddy!"

    Theodore just laughed, speeding up a bit as they continued driving straight down the road. 

     They went to pick Everett up straight from a rehearsal, where the entire group was sitting in their main space as they went over notes. 

    "Geoffrey, don't forget your key change in the bridge-"

    "I know," the redhead replied to Everett, "I caught it