This fic just kind of poured out of me while listening to P!nk's 'Beam Me Up'. I'm unsure of the result.
She felt so heavy as she pushed the stroller along the gravel path in the gardens. Everything about the day was seemingly beautiful - the gardens were blooming as they always were; almost mocking her, the little baby staring up at her with her enormous, round and blissfully unaware eyes, the beams of sun shining down on her all black ensemble. Yes, it was a beautiful, warm day. But Cora felt so cold. She could still feel Robert's arms wrapped around her from that afternoon but she felt withdrawn and detached. She could still hear words echoing in her head and she knew there was nothing she could do to change the truth in them.
"But there was a chance..."
"...I believe that Lady Sybil was going to die.."
With the finality of Clarkson's words, Cora wanted to let go. She wanted to let go of her blame and her anger. She wanted to let go of all the scenes she couldn't stop imagining, cruelly playing in her head - things that should have been but never will be. She imagined helping Sybil with her daughter; easing her through the beginning of motherhood. Cora stared numbly at the grass and imagined a toddler with curly hair like her mother had at that age, giggling while running wildly and barefoot through the lush grass up into her smiling mother's arms.
'Sybil's smile,' Cora ached and she felt even heavier.
It was a beautiful smile. The last time she saw it, it was tired as she lay in bed - but still so pure. Her throat stung, piercing and tugging, when she remembered pressing her fingers to Sybil's lips after she'd pressed them against hers. Brushing her fingers against her lips now, she swallowed the blade in her throat and fought her tears again. She didn't want to cry anymore. She thought of how tired Sybil was that night but insisted that she help her do battle for Tom if the time came. She promised Sybil to talk about it with her tomorrow.
That tomorrow never came.
So now she would do battle for her on her own. However she could. But as determined as she wanted to fight, she didn't know if she had the strength. She wanted to channel the love she had for Sybil into something helpful for her daughter and husband; but how? Her grief was as fierce as her love had been; she was suffocated by it – fierce and unrelenting and she could not see past it.
Sybil would have loved her child so fiercely too, Cora knew. Her passion was undeniable and she wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what she knew was right for her daughter. Her namesake.
Sybil.
She kept remembering how proud she felt of Sybil during her coming out season. She remembered congratulating her when she got home. Oh, but how she had been a success; so many eligible young men admired her and wanted to dance – the only one of her daughters who constantly had a full dance card. Sybil was polite to them all, of course, offering a smile usually followed with sassy wit - keeping the boys on their toes. She had so many offers that season but had gracefully accepted none. Cora remembered watching Sybil dancing with each one and the look in their eyes. Because Sybil was a real beauty. In her mind over and over, Cora saw the way she moved; so carefree. That was her spirit; free. Tom had appreciated that more than any of her followers combined. Not seeing their waltz at their wedding was a bitter regret. Cora imagined them together; dancing so happily but part of her must have been so disappointed her parents were not there. Cora disappointed herself. She should have been there. She should have seen that dance.
The image of Sybil dancing was frozen in time in her mind now. She had no doubts she was a beautiful bride regardless of how lavish the wedding was. They were in love and they should have grown old together.
They would have been a beautiful family. They were. Although tragically brief, Cora saw it when they held their newborn daughter on that awful night. She remembered being certain then, for the first time, that they were perfect together and would be fabulous parents; even if she understood she wouldn't see them as much as she wanted to - she wouldn't be kept from seeing her first granddaughter and watching her daughter raise her. Ireland wasn't too far away measured against the love a mother has for her child – and grandchild.
But now, Cora wasn't going to see that happen. Any of it. And was this Sybil to be taken away from her too? Cora sat down on a garden bench and took Sybil out of her stroller. Tom had every right to take her once he was ready. Tom wanted to make a life for himself away from Downton. She looked down into her granddaughter's baby blue eyes and was overwhelmed by how much she looked like her mother at that age. Cora just stared as she held onto the baby's cheeks, feeling an infinitesimal comfort in holding her baby's baby.
"Sybil," she choked. She lifted her to kiss her cheek; remembering sitting on this very bench twenty four years ago with Robert marveling at their daughter.
"I see so much you in her, Robert. She gets those curls from you," Cora had said while combing his hair with her fingers.
"She's so beautiful," he added - staring at his daughter. "Like you," he kissed her cheek. "And, I was right to insist we call her after you."
"Robert..." she protested.
"I think you're incredible, Cora, and I can tell our third daughter will be a force to reckon with. I don't see anything wrong in honoring her mother."
She remembered beaming up at him, "No. I have to tell you, the way you defended those arguments to your mother - it made me want to try immediately for a fourth."
"Don't tease me," he murmured deeply in her ear as he pulled her close to him and kissed the nape of her neck twice; making her shiver in delight despite it being a warm summer day.
Cora shivered now; although for entirely different reasons. She found herself frequently shivering like her body had never been colder when she was alone and thinking of Sybil. She didn't want to be alone in her grief any longer. She wanted to share it with Robert; only now she wasn't sure how. She had wanted to forgive him before and now she wondered if he could forgive her.
"I should think you miss her more," Cora heard the bitter words she had spoken to him before she told him he blocked the last chance to prevent her death. Of course it wasn't Robert's fault but she needed someone to blame. His arms around her after Clarkson delivered his findings were a comfort. She needed that but after she had been so awful to him, she wasn't sure she deserved it. Maybe his hug was just instinct and automatic after hearing the doctor's words. After he thought about it, would he want her?
"Oh Sybil," her voice shook as she put the baby back into the stroller. "Will your grandfather forgive me?"
She pushed him away when they got back from the Dower house, insisting she wanted to go for a walk with the baby. His expression was crestfallen when she curtly added she wanted to be alone. She had been gone for nearly two hours now and Robert must be worrying. She sighed and pushed the stroller, looked up at the too-clear sky. She looked down at the lush grass and saw a family of blackbirds – five of them darting around each other and plucking away at the ground behind a bench where she and Robert often sat. Only one flew away as she walked by – singing after it left the four behind her to carry on. It may have been the lack of sleep, but Cora thought maybe, just maybe, it was Sybil saying goodbye; singing as she went.
She neared the castle door and saw Carson there to greet her; a look of relief just noticeable on his large features as he stood stoically by the door. He was not alone. Robert stood just inside the main door – the relief on his face not as subtle as Carson's.
"Cora," he said carefully. He saw the way her eyes drooped sadly – as he was accustomed to lately along with her drooped posture. She pressed her lips together and tilted her head to the side before biting her cheeks to prevent choking out tears.
"Carson," Robert continued. "Can you find Nanny and see that Sybil is taken to the nursery," Cora noticed the way he stuttered before calling her Sybil. "And," he began but he wasn't sure what he should add. "That will be all."
"Very good, milord."
"Robert, I-" her words were caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she reached for his; the first time she initiated any contact with him since the night Sybil died.
He squeezed her hands in his gently. "I know," he whispered.
"I know you do," she said regretfully. "You're the only one who could. Oh, Robert. I am so sorry," she craned her neck down to the floor, feeling ashamed for blaming him. She stared at the carpet in attempt to avoid his eyes. He tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. He didn't say anything but he didn't need to.
"Let's go rest for a while?" he asked uncertainly. He ran his hand across her back and wrapped it around her shoulder. He began walking them up the grand stairs after he felt her gentle nod against his shoulder.
He opened the bedroom door for them and stood still as it closed behind him; uncertainty still evident in his stance. He hadn't moved more than a step from the door, just watching as Cora plunked herself on the bed. She looked at him sadly before reassuring him, "Robert, I need you here," she motioned to his spot on the bed. "I always need you here."
Robert kicked off his shoes and rested against the pillows on his side of the bed. "I need you," he said and pulled her against him. "My God, Cora," he said somberly staring down at her.
"I am sorry I pushed you away," she sniffled. "I don't want to fight. I don't. It's just so unfair," she said despondently after a moment and buried her head into his chest.
"Shhh, we are alright," he brushed his hand up and down her arm.
"I don't think I am ever going to be alright," her voice was muffled.
"It's never going to be the same," Robert lamented and squeezed her arm. "We can only help each other through."
"I don't know how."
"Neither do I. But you're not alone. You have me."
He held onto her and she squeezed at his sides. Her body shuddered against his and he rocked her back and forth. His fingers began brushing through her hair in another attempt to comfort her.
"I just wish I told her," Cora sobbed after a moment. "I wish I told her I loved her. I tried but I couldn't make myself say goodbye then...then it was too late," she trailed off. "And she couldn't hear us," Cora whispered.
Robert's voice wavered. "She couldn't hear us. But she knew. She knew," he kissed the top of her head. "We loved her so, so much."
Cora choked and she felt like she might be sick. "I want her back," she said almost incoherently through tears. Robert knew there were no words to comfort her then, so he embraced her as close as he could, cradling her against his chest; supporting her body that so heavy with grief as he grappled with his own. They stayed like that until they heard the dressing gong ring. She reached up to clasp his cheeks in her hands and he held them in place, finding comfort in her touch.
"I don't want to change," she spoke.
"We don't have to, darling. And I know you're going to say you're not hungry, but let me have some food sent up here. Please?" his baby blue eyes pleaded to her - reminding her of Sybil's eyes. She felt a pang in her heart; everything reminded her of Sybil. "We can stay here."
She nodded. He rose from the bed and forced a smile at her so sadly that it was almost not there at all. He pulled the cord for O'Brien.
They barely touched the food that was brought for them. It had grown dark outside now. They sat with their discarded trays on the bed, Robert leaning on Cora.
"Do you think they are worried about us?" she asked, thinking of Mary and Edith.
"No," Robert assured her. "I think they will be relieved," Robert admitted.
Cora reached for his hand. "I am relieved. I hate that we didn't go to each other. I couldn't go on without you, you know that?"
"Of course I do," his emotions surged forward as he pulled her hand to his heart. "Cora, please always know that I am here. I am here for you and I need you here for me too."
"Tell me a story about her," she pleaded, looking at her hand on his chest. He let go for a moment to brush a new tear off Cora's cheek. He patted her cheek softly as he tried to think of a story.
"There are so many," Robert thought, his head full of memories of his youngest daughter. "The morning after she came into the drawing room in those evening pants - Mary and Edith were giving her a hard time about them. I can't remember exactly what they said but that morning, Mary and Edith left before Sybil and I did. I remember her staring at me, waiting for a reaction, unable to hide her smile. And, I never told you this, but I told her that she was very audacious to wear them and I certainly thought they suited her but I said 'please don't wear them again unless you want to give your grandmother a heart attack'. But then again: that was our Sybil: so courageous and original and unafraid to speak her mind and do what she wanted."
"She would have done remarkable things," Cora said sadly.
"Oh, but she did. Her political rallies, secretly deciding to become a nurse, running off to marry the chauffeur. To name a few," he chuckled darkly.
"Darling Sybil," Cora stared sadly out the window. "Robert," she paused. "Do you believe in an after life? Or like she might be watching over us?"
"I think we will always feel her spirit around us," Robert answered carefully. "Her remarkable spirit."
Cora stood from the bed and walked across the room and sat down on the bench where the curtains where drawn. She gestured for him to join her and he sat beside her; a slight look of confusion across his face. Cora turned and looked out the window to the night sky.
"You see all those stars? They are all so bright. They are always there even if we can't see them," she began. "I think our Sybil was like that. Bright, unforgettable and beautiful - she outshone so many."
"I agree."
"So, I think we should name a star after her," Cora continued. "And we can look at it, and watch it shine, whenever we are sad or thinking of her."
"I think she would like that. And she will watch us from above," Robert added. He took her hand in his and guided it to point at one particular star that was most noticeable in the sky. "There. That star, there. See it?"
"Yes," she said as she turned away from the window. He could feel her breath against his neck.
"That can be Sybil's star. And Cora, even if you are sad at three in the morning, wake me up and we will look at it together. We can get through this together. I don't care wherever I am, at any time, please confide in me. Like a star, I am always there too to support you even if you can't see it."
"I do see it. I'm the one who didn't come to you and pushed you away."
"Oh, my love. Don't dwell on that. We've both been through a parent's worst nightmare. Let's be here for each other now and forget the past."
"Oh, Robert. I am sorry I made you sleep in your dressing room when what you needed was comfort just as much as I did. As I do..."
"Sweetheart, you needed to come to terms with everything on your own before you could with others. Even me."
"You're right. Thank you," she leaned against him. "It doesn't make sense though when I need you the most," she realized out loud.
"Nothing about this makes sense," Robert said sorrowfully.
"No, it doesn't," she said bitterly. "But, will you come hold me in bed? I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep."
"Me neither, darling. Of course I will," he kissed her cheek softly before returning to their bed.
"And tell me more stories about her?" she asked delicately.
"Of course, my love. I'm here."
"I'm here too, Robert," Cora said as she curled up to her husband; finding solace in his embrace and his words as he voiced his memories to her and she recounted hers. They didn't fall asleep until the sun began to rise, just holding each other through their tears and laughter as they remembered their daughter. Their beauty. Their baby.
I've never written anything based off of a song so I hope it made sense. RIP Sybil Cora Crawley Branson. :( let me know what you thought - if you loved or hated it.