This is a one shot after watching Season 3 again (ugh...the sorrow) and the days after Sybil's death.

Charles Carson poured another shot of scotch and downed it without hesitation. He held the glass decanter up and raised his eye brows to Mrs. Hughes. "Hmm?"

"Sure...why not?!" She held her glass out and he filled it again. She sipped hers more conservatively. The week had been hell. They buried the sweetest soul in the house just yesterday; tears and sorrow abounded throughout this grand house both upstairs and down. Elsie had never seen Charles so melancholy and heart sick. He had let go of his emotions several times this week in front of her...only her. Only...ever...her.

Elsie thought she had drank just enough to make things dangerous. Her inhibitions were lowered and every time she looked at him, her stomach fluttered with want. He had loosened his tie and taken off his studs and collar. His face was flushed and in the dim light of his pantry he was extraordinarily handsome she thought. When he let his guard down a bit, usually after drinking too much, he became almost irresistible to her.

"Mr. Carson? You know I asked you one time if you ever wished you went another way. Do you remember?"

He raised his eyebrows and peered at her with a slight grin. "I do. Why do you ask?"

She wondered if he could see how much she was shaking from the inside; could he see the tremble in the hem of her dress? "Do you...ever get lonely Mr...Carson?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The look in her eyes, he wasn't sure what it was, though he had certainly seen it before. There had only been a few times he and Mrs. Hughes(Elsie, he called her in his fantasies) had ever shared what he considered to be intimate moments. This week had proved to be too much, the death of Sybil had caused him to question and doubt and seek. Life was too short, it was too unpredictable. He had laid awake nearly every night thinking about Elsie...what if something happened to her and he had never acted on his decades long feelings for her?

They were getting on and neither of them had anything to lose by sharing how they felt. "I do get lonely Mrs. Hughes..." he heard himself say and it sounded good and it felt good to give her something she wanted.

Elsie fidgeted with the buttons on her dress skirt and pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth. She then looked at him and his hazel orbs were burning a hole right through her. He didn't move, didn't take his eyes off of her. It was almost like she was hypnotized by his gaze because she couldn't look away either. "Wh...what helps you..." she swallowed hard but never broke contact. "What do you do...to help you get through those...lonely...times...Mr...Carson?" Her breathing had become a little shallow now.

Charles sat up straighter in his chair. He moved forward on the seat, his eyes never leaving hers. He swallowed hard and daringly moved his hands to the sides of her thighs, almost wrapping them behind her bottom but not quite. "I think about you Mrs. Hughes..."

Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth fell open a bit. 'Your hands...oh...your hands on me is too much.'

"I...think...about your hair...loose, unpinned...falling down your shoulders and your lips.." he closed his eyes for just a second as if to gain his senses again.

"Go on...Mr. Carson." she croaked.

"You have beautiful lips Mrs. Hughes." He moved farther out on his seat, pulling her closer to him with his hands. His eyes moved to the rise of her chest. "I think about your skin...wh...what it might be like to see you...touch you..." his heart was now beating out of his chest, his breath hitching at nearly every word. "...I imagine your slip, the laces of your corset, the swell of...of your...breasts."

Elsie had, at some point, covered his forearms with her hands and was gently stroking up and down as he spoke. Her eyes never leaving his face. "And...is that enough?" she dared.

Charles closed his eyes and breathed in this moment, her scent, her essence, so close to him. This is what both of them had longed for for so long. The heat of the moment, the drink, the reality of life and all it's ups and downs and decades of loving each other...really...learning each other, supporting in the quietness of their friendship. The gentle caresses of hands and fingers when the other was low, her sweet soothing words of wisdom and peace when a storm was brewing inside him. His rich, velvet timbre speaking into her soul when she needed to know he was there for her, on her side.

He shook his head slowly and searched her piercing blue orbs. "Never enough..."

Elise moved toward him, ever so slowly and carefully, her hands sliding up the starched sleeves and over his shoulders to his cheeks, she let her fingers trace the deep lines there, over his warm lips and to the scratchy stubble of his chin. "Maybe...we could help one another...not be so lonely..."

Charles kissed her fingers then ravished her lips with his. They kissed, passion filled, lustful kisses. His tongue found hers, tasting her, deep and breathless. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and let out a whimper when her hands touched the bare skin at his chest. Oh the nights she had laid awake, this scene, playing over and over in her dreams.

He stood, pulling her with him; obliged her and pulled his shirt from his trousers and unbuttoned it letting it fall open. She put both of her palms flat against his chest and closed her eyes, took in a deep breath. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his warm skin. "Oh...Charles.." she whispered.

Fin..