I wrote this as a fic for the Matthew Lives & BROTP Day at Tumblr and it quickly turned into a multi-chapter idea. I don't want to give anything away but it will focus on Matthew, Mary, Sybil, Tom and Edith and will be about their friendships and their relationships in the year after Matthew's accident. And don't worry no is dying in this fic. However, in this AU Sybbie has not been born...yet. I am very curious to see what you make of this so please feel free to leave me some feedback.

.~.~.~.~.

A son. A prince. An heir. A son. Matthew could not stop smiling. He felt his chest would burst and his face would split into two. A son. After all the months of waiting and terrible worry. A son. Oh they were so blessed. And he loved Mary so terribly. And they had made a son. Downton had an heir. And as Mary said in the hospital, their lives were their own now. The terrible weight and burden was lifted in an instant. A son. He simply could not stop smiling. The sun was so terribly, terribly beautiful. The birds sang so sweetly. Everything felt fresh and new and full of potential. His Mary had given him a son. They had a son. And then he saw the lorry and it was to late. As his car flipped he screamed, "MARRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYY" and then he felt the car crashing down upon him and he could see Mary and his son, and then the world went black, and he saw nothing…

.~.~.~.~.

"He is such a beautiful boy," Sybil cooed smiling down at her nephew. "What is his name?"

Mary smiled up at her demurring, "I can hardly tell you before Papa and Mama."

"Isobel knows."

Mary smiled enigmatically. "Well I suppose we must share our secret with Aunt Sybil." Mary said speaking to her son so softly. "Sybil meet George."

"George?" Sybil said questioning. "Not Robert?"

Mary chuckled replying decisively, "No matter how much Mama pushes no."

"Nor Reginald?"

"Perhaps next. But right now we have a George."

Sybil narrowed her eyes, "Why do I think there is more to the name than you are admitting?"

Mary answered by glancing down at her sleeping son announcing, "George you have a very suspicious aunt."

Sybil shook her head continuing to peer down at her nephew, "I merely know my sister quite well."

"And you do like the name?"

Recognizing the slightly nervous timber in Mary's voice Sybil touched her arm saying, "Of course no other name could suit him better." She completed her sentence in spite of a protracted yawn.

"You should rest, darling."

"I didn't just have a baby." Sybil retorted easily.

"I thought Tom was coming to fetch you home."

Sybil continued to stare down at her nephew. "He's a little late," She admitted sounding not even slightly upset by the delaying. "I don't mind it gives me some more time with George."

Mary furrowed her brow wondering, "I wonder what's keeping him."

.~.~.~.~.

"Oh Jasus!" Tom swore pumping his legs running down the hill and the over turned car. He'd noticied the lorry and saw the overturned car…still he'd hoped it was another car "Jasus no!" He exclaimed as he saw the driver being pulled from under the machine, blood pouring from his head. "What happened?"

The man stumbled a bit while the others focused on freeing the body totally, laying him on the grass. When he tried to speak his words came out slurred and indistinct.

"Drunk!" Tom screamed angrily feeling his face go red with anger. "Get him to my car!" Tom ordered the men standing around. "I am going to get him to hospital!"

One of the men looked over at him saying flatly, "He won't make it."

"Well I am bloody well going to try," Branson roared angrily, "So let's go!" Within seconds the men had Matthew in the car one holding his head in his lap to try and stem the flow of blood from Matthew's temple, while Branson pushed the car to its limit, speeding and swearing the entire way to the hospital.

.~.~.~.~.

Mirroring her son Mary had fallen into a deep slumber. Watching her sister, Sybil felt a kind of peace settling about her like a warm, comfy coat. She had seen enough births go badly on the wards in Dublin to fear for her sister. She had fretted incessantly during Mary's sojourn in Scotland, fearing she might not be there for the birth, and thinking that something might so easily go wrong. In her sleep, she saw blood spilling, and envisioned her sister sobbing in agony. She awoke from those dreams in a cold sweat, feeling a kind of dread oppressing her like an enormous weight pressing down on her chest. Now that her nephew was born and Mary showed no sign of illness Sybil felt she could truly rest. As soon as they reached Downton she intended to change into her gown and sleep the rest of the day away. They only had a few more days before they returned to Dublin. She wanted to rest, walk the estate with Isis and her father, have tea with Granny, stroll the gardens with her mother, and of course spend more time with the lovely George. The thought of the newly beloved boy caused her to pull herself out of the comfortable chair and step over to the cot for a quick peek. Watching George's tiny chest rise and fall she felt a smile crossing her lips. At such moments she remembered precisely why she had embraced midwifery. The physical and mental agony of childbirth producing tiny miracles that one could look at and think, "I did a good thing today." Her work during the war had not offered such rewards. Wounds that would never heal, men busted into pieces no surgeon could ever wholly repair, limbs lost but never forgotten… No midwifery was a better thing. Much better she thought smiling at her small but already beloved nephew. However, even as she contemplated that thought and George's small hands, a commotion in the hall caused her to look up. Feeling her old training kick in she hurried across the room, venturing out into the hall. She caught sight of her husband rushing toward her calling, "It's Matthew, love. Matthew." She was confused by his words until she saw three men awkwardly lugging a figure into the hall as if carting a sack of potatoes. "A bloody lorry driver hit him. Drunk!" Tom snarled angrily.

Watching them inelegantly dump Matthew on a gurney, Sybil fought against a gasp that rose up at the sight of Matthew's blood drenched head and face. Her profession could not render her wholly immune to the horror of seeing dear Matthew so horribly wounded. Catching sight of Clarkson rushing down the hall she called out requesting, "Dr. Clarkson may I assist?"

The man nodded saying, "I rather hoped you would Miss Crawley."

"It's Nurse," She said forcefully adding, "Nurse Branson," She noted reaching for Matthew's pulse as they rolled him down the hall. She cast a worried glance back at Tom for only a moment before turning the whole of her attention back to her patient and the task at hand.

.~.~.~.~.

The next few hours passed like molasses. Time stretching out like ribbon candy, a minute seeming to take an hour to pass. After the rush of getting Matthew to the hospital, the wait afterward seemed interminable. After a time Tom thought to go to the phone and telephone Anthony Strallen's household. He knew the driver and asked him to go to Downton to fetch the Crawleys. He then telephoned Downton and informed a shocked Carson of the afternoon's events. He swore the man sounded like he aged during the call, and at one point Carson whimpered sounding almost tearful saying, "Poor Lady Mary." Everyone knew Mary was the Butlers' favorite, and Tom felt for the man.

Once the call was completed Tom returned to the waiting area. After a half hour he watched Robert, Isobel, Cora rush into the building. "Is there news?" Cora questioned sounding surprisedly sanguine in spite of the situation.

"Nothing. " He said regretfully. "Clarkson's with him."

"Surely we can go back." Robert insisted though his tone lacked his usual conviction. The afternoon had drained his typical boorish demeanor and he seemed a smaller, quieter man.

"Is he in surgery?" Isobel questioned, and there was a kind of muted agony in her face as she asked the question.

"I believe so," Tom answered. "I'm sure Sybil will be able to tell us more."

"Sybil is working with Dr. Clarkson?" Cora asked smiling. Tom nodded in response but said nothing.

"Has anyone told Mary?" Robert inquired turning to face Tom with the stoniest of expressions.

"Not yet." Tom replied explaining, "Sybil has been working with Matthew and I thought it best to wait."

"I certainly agree with that." Robert agreed adding, "We must protect her until we know more news."

"She'll have to be told Robert," Cora stated taking a seat on a worn looking sofa.

"Certainly when the worst is over…. When we know more…" He turned seeing Dr. Clarkson enter the area.

Clarkson cleared his voice stating, "He's alive. Just. But we won't know anything until he wakes."

"What are his injuries?" Isobel asked rising to her feet. "And when can we see him?" There was a kind of economy in her questions, the way she offered them one after the other rather demanding a concise response.

Clarkson seemed unsurprised by her behavior answering, "I'll take you back, and explain his injuries as we go." He offered her an atypically warm expression.

"May I come as well?" Robert requested meekly.

"Of course," Clarkson agreed as he turned leading them down the hall and behind the doors to the small ward. Cora and Tom watched the doors swing closed and then turned to each other with wary expressions.

.~.~.~.~.

Stepping into the curtained area Robert placed his hand just above Isobel's elbow applying the slightest pressure. He hoped to convey a sense of reassurance for both of her sakes. The sight of his wonderful boy so pale, his bandages saturated with blood sucked the breath right out of his body. He had seen worse in Africa and during the last war, but never had he seen someone he loved so dearly so terribly wounded and so terribly fragile. He thought of the insidious cracks that splintered tiny plover's eggs.

As if ascertaining his feelings, Clarkson said, "He's fit and strong. We can only hope…" He let his voice drift off and his words fall away.

Robert thought that they'd all seen enough in the war to know hope was a cheap currency in this modern world. "He was trapped under a motor car." Robert observed dully as if trying to make sense of the thing.

"Has he regained consciousness?" Isobel asked her voice rising slightly.

Clarkson shook his head, "But we shouldn't assume anything."

"It's hardly a promising sign." Isobel snapped…after a moment she pressed her fingers against her eyes saying, "I am sorry."

"Don't be…" He replied matter of factly. "But we must be cautious in assuming anything be it good or bad."

"Surely we can be optimistic," Robert insisted, needing the reassurance the doctor seemed loathe to provide. "He did make it to the hospital."

"Yes of course," Clarkson agreed nodding his head. "Blame it on my Scotch caution. I prefer the wait and see approach." He stepped away from the bed and walked toward the door saying, "So we shall wait and see."

Once he had exited the curtained area Robert turned questioning, "Whatever does he mean?"

"He doesn't think my son will regain consciousness." Isobel replied flatly running her fingers over her son's wrist.

.~.~.~.~.

"Are you sure about this?" Cora questioned deferring atypically to her youngest daughter. "She has just endured a trying ordeal."

"She has to be told Mama," Sybil insisted. "She'd never forgive us if…"

They stopped before the door to Mary's room exchanging glances as a means of reassuring each other. At length Cora stepped forward smiling at the sight of her eldest daughter cuddling her tiny grandson. Sensing their presence Mary looked up beaming, "I thought you had all become lost. Come and meet your grandson…" Looking at their drawn faces Mary asked, "What is it?"

Cora glanced over at Anna saying, "Anna can you take the child for a moment?" Cora stepped closer to the bed waiting until Anna left before saying, "Darling there was an accident."

"Why isn't Matthew here?" Mary demanded looking around the room as if certain he would soon appear. "Where is he? Is he back at Downton?" She forced a smile, as if willing herself to believe her own narrative.

"His car was hit by another car."

The color drained wholly from Mary's face and her voice was full of dread as she asked, "How bad…?"

Sybil stepped word deciding frankness would be the best course, "Matthew has a concussion, he's unconscious. "

"But he will regain consciousness." She said decidedly. "He will."

"We don't know," Sybil said softly as if wanting to shield her sister from the blow. "It's all a matter of waiting until he awakens."

Mary began pushing the blankets back, seeing her daughter's actions Cora exclaimed, "Mary what are you doing?"

"I am going to see my husband," She insisted as if the action was perfectly natural and logical.

"Darling he won't know you are there," Cora advised her coolly.

Mary stared at her with a look of incredulity, "I will know."

"Mary you need to rest," Sybil advised trying to instill an authority in her voice.

"Sybil I must go to him." She pleaded and Mary Crawley never pleaded.

Contemplating her choices Sybil agreed at length, "I'll see if we can move him in here."

.~.~.~.~.

"We should change his bandages," Isobel exclaimed when Sybil shared Mary's request. "It wouldn't do for Mary to see him like this."

"Of course," Sybill agreed reaching forward to still Isobel's hands as they reached for the top layer of his bandages, "Let me do this Isobel."

"You think me incapable of caring for a patient." Isobel snapped angrily.

"Of course not," Sybil replied evenly careful to keep a neutral tone. "But…"

"No buts. We're both nurses first and foremost." Isobel stated fiercely, brokering no room for argument. "Never forget that Sybil." She instructed slowly peeling the first layer of bandages from Matthew's head.

.~.~.~.~.

In spite of the clean bandages Mary still gasped when she saw her husband. The bright happy man she had bid goodbye too mere hours earlier returned to the room on a stretcher with skin as pale as hers. He had bruises crossing his chest and torso, and his breathing sounded labored. Reaching across the area between their beds, she took his hand clasping it within her own saying only, "My poor darling."

"He has several broken ribs," Sybil explained stepping closer to the bed assuming the practical air she found most effective with patients. "His lung was punctured and he's suffered a serious concussion. There was some internal bleeding in his abdomen but Dr. Clarkson patched it up in surgery." Finishing her explanation Sybil looked down at her sister and despite Mary's obvious concern she saw such pure adoration in her eyes. "Mary," She said thinking it best to be brutally honest, "It's going to be a long recovery even if everything goes well."

"I see," Mary said softly taking in the information. "I can take care of him. And this time I can do it properly."

Sybil's gaze softened and she touched her sister's free hand, "I know you will."

Robert strode into the room taking a look around the room he declared, "What in the world?"

"I had my husband moved into my room." Mary said never removing her gaze from Matthew.

Robert's face contorted in confusion. "Whatever for?"

"So I can be with him and comfort him. And his presence comforts me and George."

"George?"

"Our son, your grandson." Mary replied continuing to clasp Matthew's hand. "His name is George."

"I thought," Cora interjected pointedly.

"His name is George." Mary said flatly.

"Fine." Robert said adding, "But this is hardly proper. It's not done."

"And is there a rule for a husband nearly dying the day his son is born, because I fear I missed that chapter in the etiquette books."

"Robert," Cora interrupted arguing, "If Mary is content, and Clarkson raises no objections we can hardly object."

"I can think of a great many objections." Robert stated firmly. "What if you need to…" Robert blushed and looked away whispering, "Feed your child."

"Oh Papa," Mary sighed disappointedly. "How can that even matter at a moment like this?"

"Papa," Sybil stated determinedly, "Nursing is a very progressive movement and very normal."

"Please Sybil," He pleaded his entire face and neck going scarlet. "You mustn't speak of such things."

"You mustn't be so old fashioned."

"I don't approve of this," Robert intoned seriously.

"Well then its good you won't be making the decisions." Mary said firmly.

Making a last appeal Robert added, "Matthew should not be on a female ward, nor should you be forced to endure this sight."

"The sight of my husband!" Mary shook her head seemingly shocked at her father's obtuseness. "And I am certain Matthew would want to be with his family. I want to be with my family Papa. And we three are staying together." She stated returning her attention to her husband and reaching down to gently caress his face with the heel of her hand.

.~.~.~.~.

Storming into the hall Robert looked irritably at the sight before his eyes. "Whatever are you doing scribbling away over there?" Robert asked testily.

Tom looked up, "I'm drafting a letter to the Times demanding this government do something to regulate motor vehicles, and to institute laws prohibiting driving while intoxicated."

The words seemed to suck the last of Robert's anger and he sighed audibly and sank down onto a bench opposite the one Tom occupied. "Why are you still here?" He asked not bothering to disguise his crossness. "Sybil seems occupied."

"I am certain she is," Tom remarked trying to focus on the pad before him. Writing tended to calm him and he turned to him the way his brother turned to whisky, or his Da to his fists

"Then why are you here?" Robert's question was laced with something very close to anger.

"For Matthew."

Scowling Robert said, "A man you drove around."

"A man that is married to my sister-in-law." Tom stated firmly. "A man my wife considers a friend. The father of my nephew…." Glancing up and meeting Robert's gaze he spat angrily, "Even in poor dirty Ireland we respect family."

Robert leaned back against the wall sighing again before saying, "Hours ago I felt we were the luckiest of families… how does it all go to ash so quickly?"

.~.~.~.~.

Despite her exhaustion Mary lay awake all of that long night watching her husband and her son. Sybil urged her to take a powder, to rest. Yet, she had refused. While part of her body ached for sleep, the other much stronger part only ached to comfort her husband. She could not help remembering his last hospitalization. It had been torturous then, and she had no doubt the days to come would be the same. Except as his wife she could comfort him, she could touch and show her love as she had not been able to in the past. Oh she ached to comfort him…if only he would open his eyes.

A shaft of light illuminated Matthew's face, and Mary turned to see Isobel creeping into the room.

Clearly surprised to see her daughter-in-law seated by her son's bed, Isobel said, "You should be sleeping."

"So should you." Mary retorted flatly. "But here we are."

"As we should be." Isobel agreed pulling the other chair over next to Mary's chair. "Has there been any change?" Mary simply shook her head. Isobel watched her son sleeping, noting the gentle rise and fall of his chest before commenting, "When he was George's age I would watch him sleeping. Then after Reginald… I used to creep into his room so late at night, just the sight of him at peace it gave me strength to carry on when it seemed so impossible to do so…" She turned and looked into the cot a few feet away. "In the days to come George will be a solace to you."

"I'm sure." Mary agreed her gaze still focused on her husband. "He was so excited, so proud… and now this…"

Isobel reached over patting her daughter-in-law's arm. "He is proud." She said firmly, "And you must stay strong both Matthew and young George are going to need your strength."

"You do think he will…."

"I have to think that." Isobel said returning her gaze to her son's sleeping form.

.~.~.~.~.

Prodding the tins of his fork among the eggs, Tom picked at the food he had barely touched since sitting down a quarter of an hour before.

"Is there a problem with your eggs Mr. Branson?" Carson intoned sounding more put off than concerned.

"No, no," He said tiredly. "The eggs are fine," Seeing Carson puff up slightly Tom swiftly amended his words saying, "I'm sure they are excellent. I am just not very hungry."

Carson dipped his head agreeing, "Much of our breakfast went uneaten downstairs as well."

"Has Robert…. Lord Grantham gone back to the hospital."

"His lordship left some time ago." Carson said asking, "Is there any news?"

Shaking his head Tom said, "Nothing."

Edith strolled into the room looking dispirited, "Good morning." Her voice was toneless as if fatigue and emotion had diminished her enthusiasm. Turning to Carson she said, "I'll just have some toast and tea."

The butler nodded and retreated from the room. Edith took her seat, "Were you at the hospital all night?"

"Yes," He said adding, "He's still unconscious."

"I cannot make sense of it." Edith confessed softly, "He was so happy, so excited on the train and now…"

"I was surprised you didn't stay at the hospital."

"I'm not much good at comforting Mary." She stated matter of factly. "I do feel terribly for Matthew though. He's really become a friend to me."

"I feel the same." Tom confessed taking a sip of his tea. "I mean I don't know him that well but from what Sybil tells me and the bits I observed…"

"They said you saved his life."

Tom looked down shaking his head, "I just did what anyone would."

"A lot of people would have left him on that road."

"Maybe I should have." He said quietly.

"You think he won't wake up?"

"I hope he does." He said reaching for his tea cup, "But I keep seeing Mary sitting by his bed with that little baby." He shook his head saying, "I just hope…" He shrugged as if uncertain what he hoped.

Clearly aiming to change the subject Edith gestured toward the pad of papers sitting beside his right elbow, "What's that?"

"Oh it's something I worked on last night." Seeing her inquisitive gaze he continued explaining, "A letter about the driving laws in this country. It's just a rough draft…I need to do some research. Maybe later…"

"Come on," She said rising and tossing her napkin on the chair. "We can research it, Papa must have something in the library."

"Now?"

"It's better than sitting here and worrying." In reply he rose from his chair following his sister-in-law to the library.

.~.~.~.~.

The brightness stung his eyes and he opened and closed them several times against the light, straining to adjust to its brightness. He attempted to turn his head away and saw stars and felt a hundred tiny jolts of pain crossing his scalp. "Owww," He muttered protesting against the brightness and the pain.

The woman who had been holding a baby saw the movement. Wordlessly she passed the child to another woman and crawled from her bed and stepped the two steps to his bed. Taking his hand possessively within her own she looked down into his eyes. "Oh my darling!" Her eyes pooled with tears as she clasped his hand. "My darling," She vowed in a possessive tone bringing his hand to her lips.

"I'll get the doctor." The other woman said smiling happily.

"I'm so very glad to see you. How do you feel? Don't talk." Her questions and instructions came out one after another, and he had no inclination how to answer. And all the time she was squeezing his hand or kissing his palm and he wasn't sure what to make of it….

.~.~.~.~.

In mere moments Clarkson had rushed in with Isobel, Sybil, and Robert close upon his heels. They stood a few feet back giving Clarkson room to perform his duties. Mary, however, continued to cling to Matthew's hand.

"Mr. Crawley," Clarkson began saying seriously. "Can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?"

"Four." He answered groggily continuing to blink against the brightness in the room.

"Very good, very good." Clarkson replied his relief evident in his voice. "Now," He challenged removing the pen from his pocket and placing it on Matthew's knee. "Can you feel this."

Again Matthew simply said, "Yes."

"Can you wiggle your toes?" Clarkson asked pulling the blanket back to expose his patient's feet. Seeing Matthew wiggling toes on both feet Clarkson smiled broadly, "Wonderful!" Having exhausted the physical tasks he noticed Matthew's wide eyes asking, "Is there something the matter Mr. Crawley?"

"I don't know…" He answered nervously. "The thing is I am not certain…" His brow furrowed obvious confusion appearing on his features.

"Darling," Mary demanded squeezing his hand. "What is to be uncertain…you are alive and well."

Sybil and Isobel exchanged glances with Clarkson.

"Mr. Crawley? Dr. Clarkson returned his attention to his patient, raising his arm he gestured toward Mary questioning, "Do you know who this woman is?"

Mary turned her head looking at the doctor saying irritably, "Whatever do you mean? Of course he knows." She smiled determinedly squeezing his hand prompting him to speak, "Darling?"

Matthew merely shook his head.

In the suddenly to silent room Clarkson said, "You don't know this woman at all?"

"No."

.~.~.~.~.