Cora leans her head back once again, opens her mouth and sneezes sonorously, holding her handkerchief in both her shaking hands. Although she does hate to admit it, she feels terrible: she caught a cold while she was in London and now she is pretty sure she must have a temperature, too.

She is sitting in her bed in Downton Abbey and even though it's only six o'clock in the evening, she is already wearing her creamy white nightgown, a pearly shawl covering her otherwise bare shoulders. She went to London to dine with Rosamund yesterday and came back home just this afternoon, a couple of hours ago, her head already aching and with a cough she couldn't quite control. The moment she found out Robert was out, visiting Mama, she decided to go to bed and wait for him there, but the truth is, right now, she's freezing, and she kind of wishes she remained in the library, beside the fireplace.

She shivers at that thought and grabs the hem of the quilt, trying to cover her trembling body a bit better. It's in this exact moment that she hears the door slowly opening, and the sweet sound of someone entering the room. Sweet, yes, because she recognizes those steps: they are Robert's.

Cora tilts her head and her gaze stops on the figure of her husband, the man she loves: he is so proud and elegant, with his broad shoulders and his back perfectly upright. The look on his face, however, is quite preoccupied, especially when he notices the shivers running through Cora's body. "My dear", he exclaims, closing the door behind him and walking quickly across the room, "I just came home and Carson told me you were already in bed, feeling sick. Are you alright?", he then asks, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking one of her hands in his, to kiss it softly. She smiles tenderly at his genuine concern and rubs his palm slowly with her thumb.

"It's just a cold, darling", she replies, shrugging, "Nothing to worry you with".

"You can let me worry a little", he mumbles sweetly, as a warm smile appears on his face. Cora says nothing, too busy studying the delicate features of his husband of thirty-five years: he has changed a lot, of course… his once curly ash blonde hair is gradually receding, decisively turning to grey on his temples; his eyes are still blue as the night sea, but a net of little wrinkles now surrounds them, just like a complexly carved frame containing a stunningly beautiful painting.

And yet, Robert is still her Robert. Nothing has changed for her,

"No, I can't", she replies, in a soft giggle, "You are the one who has an ulcer, Robert. Doctor Clarkson said no stress, remember?".

Immediately, Robert pouts, frowning and Cora cannot help but chuckle at his slightly childish expression. His brows still furrowed, he removes his shoes and sits beside her, circling her shoulders with his arm. For once, his touch doesn't make her shiver; on the contrary, it's a warm touch, his muscles stretched against the soft fabric of her nightgown, protecting her, making her feel safe, almost like an armor… an armor of love made only for her. While she is savoring the moment, Robert takes advantage of her distraction to kiss her three times, on the temple, on the cheek and then on the neck. "But it is no stress to cuddle my lovely, ill wife, who is clearly freezing and needs her handsome, warm husband to hold her close", he softly whispers in her hear, rubbing his nose against it.

Cora can feel his breath against the exposed skin of her neck and a growing desire of holding him closer almost overcomes her. However, she makes use of all her self-control to tease him a little. "I never said I needed you, Lord Grantham", she exclaims, chuckling, but her giggle is interrupted by a quite violent sneeze, followed by a shiver.

Robert grins, amused by the way her symptoms contradict her words. "True", he says, with another kiss on her cheek, "But I know you do". That said, he lies down and helps Cora to do the same, so he can hold her close. They have always loved to lie down together like that, in complete silence, her tiny body pressed to his massive one, his hands gently but firmly embracing her, her head leaned and buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent of whiskey and cigar. It's a comfortable silence, a silence where they have always felt home, one in the arms of the other. A silence that allows them to say a thousand of concealed feelings without uttering a single word.

Still, Cora doesn't feel completely at ease. Not this time, and not the many times they have lay together in the past few months. Not ever since that dreadful business with Mr. Bricker.

She wishes she could just forget about it and sometimes, in fact, she does: when she's close to Robert, snuggled against his chest, and she hears his beautiful heartbeat, her mind drifts away from any bad memory, only to concentrate on the difficult, stubborn, sensitive, lovely man she married. But it is also in those moments that a doubt, black as death itself, crawls and sneaks inside her… the doubt that Robert may no longer love her like he used to.

Because she might have spoiled everything, when she gave confidence to Mr. Bricker. She really believed the art expert wanted to get to know her better in order to discuss paintings and such, but she was wrong. Oh, how wrong she was! He didn't just crave to talk to her, but he desired her body as well. And she trusted such a terrible man… Oh, how guilty she feels!

She uncomfortably moves in Robert's arms, curling up a little closer to his broad shoulder: that whole absurd situation made him jealous and furious at the time. As a consequence, he hurt her with his sharp words and she hurt him with her actions. They reconciled, in the end… But is it all the same, now? Can their love go back to the comfortable and peaceful place where they left it? When he holds her, does he still shiver at her touch? When he looks at her, does he still feel a warm sensation inside his chest? When they make love, is his desire as strong as it once was? She doesn't know. She cannot know, unless… Unless…

"Are you still angry at me, Robert?", she suddenly asks, without moving from her position, and she barely recognizes her own voice as it comes out of her mouth: it's so low, so shaky, so full of fear.

In response, Robert's body suddenly stiffens. He takes her tenderly into his strong arms and helps her to sit, so that their faces are aligned; Cora, still not ready to look into his eyes just yet, lowers her dark brown head, but he firmly stops her, tilting her chin and politely forcing her to hold his stare.

"Why would I ever be angry at you?", he whispers, his voice filled with concern.

Cora knows she has to go on if she wants to understand… If she wants to wash away that guilt that helplessly haunts her like a ghost. And still, she stammers and stumbles on every single word when, after a few seconds of silence, she finally speaks. "Because of the ghastly business with Mr. Bricker, you know, I still…".

Before she can finish, Robert interrupts her. "Cora…", he just mutters, cupping both her cheeks and caressing them slowly with his thumbs.

She feels weak and vulnerable, and not just because of the cold. She doesn't like to talk about what happened, it makes her feel so… wrong. Yet, she doesn't shed a single tear. "I just wish I could leave it all behind", she explains, feeling and savoring the warmth of Robert's palms, "But…".

Once again, Robert interrupts her, his face suddenly closer to hers. "It is all behind, Cora", he says, his voice low and reassuring. Filled with… something. New and old. Familiar and unknown. Is it love? "There are many things I have said and done that I wish I could erase or at least forget, Cora. But I cannot. Because, want it or not, they have happened… and all I can do is go on and try to be a better man… for you".

For you. Two shorts words with the capability of taking her breath away. And this is why it takes her all her strength to go on talking without just falling into his arms. "Yes, darling, but it's not you this time… It was me and, and…I'm so sorry, I…".

As she speaks, his hands quickly manage to move from her cheeks to her shoulders, to grasp her in an unexpected embrace. She stops talking, as her face finds itself against his broad chest and, immediately, her head naturally rests against it. They remain like this, grasped one to the other as if they could never let go, their bodies fitting perfectly. And for the very first time in a long time, Cora recognizes in that silence one of their familiar, comfortable silences. God, she did miss them.

It's Robert who finally breaks the quiet, though without breaking the embrace. "Please, Cora, don't", he mutters against the soft skin of her neck, "Don't apologize to me, nor blame yourself. If there's someone who should be blamed, it's your stubborn, jealous husband, who involuntarily thought he could take his wonderful wife's love for granted, forgetting how important her opinions are. He believed he could do everything by himself, but how could he go on without the woman who had taught him the meaning of the word love? The one who had taken care of him even when hadn't deserved it, the one who had built him a family, the one who had been able to stand his stubbornness, the one who had really made him happy… the one who had saved his life. And keeps on saving it every single day".

In response, Cora says nothing. She knows words are not needed, now, and so she crashes her lips on his, kissing him with all the love she has. He eagerly welcomes her mouth against his, passing his fingers in her long hair. Yes, she may have saved his life, but he did the same for her, a thousand times. She may be his life, but he is hers.

When they finally part, they remain silent for a few seconds, panting, their foreheads joined, their noses touching. Cora closes her eyes, to enjoy that sensation. She likes it: it's a sensation of Robert.

Once again, it is Robert who speaks first, his breath caressing Cora's face. "Still, it's a pity", he suddenly says, his voice sarcastic and, at the same time, disappointed.

"What?", she asks, confused, "What do you mean?".

"That you feel sick, I mean", he murmurs, brushing his lips against her knuckles and pausing for a slow, tender kiss by her wedding ring. He can make her feel so incredibly happy, it is almost hard to believe. What would she do without him?

Once again, she forces herself to pull her feelings aside and decides to tease him. "You should feel relieved, actually", she exclaims, "This way you can have me in bed much more time".

Robert chuckles heartily, a sound that automatically makes Cora happy. "Well, this I cherish, I'll admit it", he shrugs, grinning, then his face becomes serious once again, "But do you remember that night in London, when I wanted to surprise you, but you were out dining with Bricker?". He doesn't wait for her answer, knowing she doesn't want to talk about it… he always, always knows. "My plan, at the time, was to surprise you… I wanted to take you to the Ritz and then, I hoped we could go dancing, perhaps. Like we used to do when we were young".

Intrigued and perplexed by her husband's little speech, Cora frowns. "And so?", she just replies.

"Well, I still feel bad about that night. I wanted it to be a daydream, and it turned out a nightmare. And so, I thought that I might come home early, tonight, and take you dancing in York… But you're ill, so you obviously cannot go out. You need to be here and rest".

"Oh, darling!", she exclaims, sighing. He can be so sweet and romantic, when he wants to… How she loves this hidden side of her husband: a soft side of his character almost no one except her is allowed to see, "I'm so sorry, if only I hadn't caught the rain in London, now I'd feel better and…".

Robert's warm laughter stops her apology. He takes both her hands in his and kisses them. "Do you think I would give up so easily?", he asks, smiling. He's so beautiful, when he smiles, "I couldn't just let this chance go. And so I thought that if I couldn't take you dancing… I might take dancing to you".

He abruptly stands up and opens the door of his dressing room, disappearing for a few seconds. Coughing a little, Cora stands still on the bed, curious, and when he comes back, she cannot believe her eyes: it's Matthew's old gramophone he is dragging inside of the room, along with a wide choice of different records. "I'm not very good with this bloody thing", he says, pouting, "But you can make it work, I guess. What do you think?".

She stands up, place a random record on the plate and sets the pin; then turns around to her husband. Her beautiful, thoughtful, loving husband. Her Donk. Her lover and her best friend. The man who saved her and that she saved. "I think…", she whispers sensually, "That I love you, very, very much".

Robert kisses her temple in response. "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine".

He places a hand on her back, while the other takes strongly hers, ready to guide her into a slow dance. She leans on him, savoring the expanse of his shoulder. And when the sweet harmony of music finally begins, they drift away, their bodies close as one, their hearts pounding hard… ready to save each other's life once again.