A/N: Hello there! Well, this is my first shot at publishing a story - you may have seen me around, reviewing stories - but this is my very first venture into the writing world! This, of course, is a very M/M oriented story, and without saying too much - there are many more twists and turns to come. It is set post-S2 and is just a little something that I thought of recently.

This will only be only be a few chapters long, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! I write just for the fun of it - but if you guys think it's worth it, then reviews would be absolutely lovely and very welcome!

So without further ado, I hope you enjoy the fluffy-angsty-ness! :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, or claim to own, any of these characters. They are all property of Julian Fellowes' amazing brain.

Chapter One

26th December 1923

Is all of this real? Or is it just a dream?

As you lay in my arms, snuggled into your soft woollen blanket, I cannot quite believe how blessed I am to have been given you. The journey has not always been rosy though, that much you must know. While you sleep peacefully against my chest, blissfully unaware of all that goes on around you, I am quite stuck for what to do. I gaze at you in amazement, still unable to fathom your existence. You must forgive me, for I am not too experienced when it comes to things like this. But I give you my word; I will try my best.

Truthfully, I had quite envisaged this being very different... very different indeed. There are a million and one things that I must tell you, and for that, I pray you bear with me. My story-telling skills are not up to much, I am sorry – I hope you will not hold that against me for too long. But all the same, if there is one story that I wish to tell you well, it is the one of the journey which has been the last six months.

So, like all stories... we must start at the beginning.

4th May 1923

"Dr Clarkson. Please, come in."

Matthew gestured the doctor into the hallway, trying his best to initiate polite conversation with him, whilst Molesly removed his coat and hat, placing them on the stand in the corner of the modest hallway of Crawley House. "It's terribly good of you to come over at such short notice."

"Oh it's not a problem, Mr Crawley; in truth, it has been rather quiet at the hospital recently," he said matter-of-factly. Matthew supposed they had all become quite accustomed to the rush of activity during the war, and that now, even a ward full of patients would seem rather quiet in comparison. He nodded in recognition. "May I see Lady Mary?"

Matthew snapped back into reality as he was suddenly reminded of the purpose for Dr Clarkson's visit. "Yes of course. She is in the living room, I'll show you through."

The large glass patio doors which led out to the garden were opened wide, welcoming a fresh summer breeze that cooled the living room to a much more comfortable temperature than the humidity of the outside air. The rich glow of the golden sun slowly beginning to set in the reddish evening sky illuminated the room; it was quite alive with a spectrum of mellow colours.

Mary sat against one arm of the settee, aimlessly gazing out into the garden. As the door to the living room clicked open, she made to stand in order to greet their guest, but Clarkson dismissed her efforts almost instantly by waving a hand in her direction.

"Hello, Dr Clarkson. Please, do sit down," she smiled and indicated to the armchair opposite her. Matthew dismissed Molesly of his service and closed the door behind them before swooping around the side of the settee and sitting himself down beside Mary. He took her hands into his and offered her a small reassuring smile.

"Well, Lady Mary. How are you feeling?" Clarkson began, with the most obvious of questions.

"Not too well, I'm afraid–"

Matthew interjected protectively, "She has been constantly ill for the last few days. It's really quite a regular occurrence, it has become every morning now," he started, listing off her symptoms like the evidence at a court case. "My mother has tried to prescribe different herbal remedies which she believed might help, but–"

"But they didn't quite seem to work?" Clarkson chortled, remembering all too well Mrs Crawley's misdiagnosis of Mr Molesly's slight hand irritation. Then again, who was he to criticise her, for he had once told Matthew he would never walk again!

He smiled at an obviously apprehensive Matthew apologetically and then looked back over to Mary, who raised a delicate eyebrow and grinned at Clarkson at her husband's protectiveness. There was a knowing glint in her eye and Dr Clarkson had no intention of beating the bush for much longer.

"Well, Mr Crawley. Unless you would like to be here whilst I examine Lady Mary, might I suggest you step outside for a little fresh air?" Matthew looked positively affronted by his remark, but soon realised that it would be for the best.

He looked at his wife lovingly and gave her hands a squeeze, as he leant into her ear and whispered, "I'll be right outside." He kissed her cheek tenderly, before slipping out of the living room and into his study just next door, where he began to busy himself with bits of unfinished paperwork.

Matthew could not concentrate on anything. What on earth was making her so ill? It puzzled him greatly, and the fact that his mother's remedies had provided no relief to her illness, fuelled his concern even more so. He sat at his wooden desk, arranging and rearranging piles of papers, before his worry rendered him immobile. He stared at the clock, watched it as the hand ticked round and round the face, just like the anxiety that swirled up inside him. Questions without answers, something that as a lawyer, he always endeavoured to resolve; but this was out of his hands. He felt useless and reprimanded himself, as her husband, for not being able to make her well again.

One train of thought led to another and led him further into the depths of his mind, before he suddenly heard a door click open and the low mumble of voices in the hallway. He jumped up and opened the door, only to see Molesly closing over the front door.

"Oh, Mr Crawley... Dr Clarkson just left. He told me to pass on his best wishes to you."

Matthew looked at the valet curiously and pondered the doctor's hasty exit for a moment, before thanking Molesly and turning to enter the living room.

He walked in slowly, expecting to find Mary where he had left her – but there was no one there. "Mary?" He called out, but to no response. Panicked, he swept around the room searchingly, before a figure in the back garden caught his eye. He sighed with relief, "Mary."

Under the old oak tree, she stood with her back to the house and her arms wrapped around herself. Not wanting to startle her, Matthew cleared his throat as he approached her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. As he did so, he became aware of the slight trembling of her lips and the prickle of tears in her eyes. Worry continued to swell inside him.

"Mary, my darling, what is it? What's the matter?" he said as he walked around to face her, resting his hands softly on her arms, caressing them gently as to coax a response from her.

Mary looked up into his eyes – trying desperately hard to stop the tears from flooding down her cheeks – and took a deep breath. "I am quite alright, Matthew," she sniffed with a small smile. She bowed her head before adding, "It's just that... Dr Clarkson. He said–"

She paused. Matthew placed his hand gently under her chin and tipped her face up to meet his. All of a sudden, she found it extremely difficult to speak; his anxious face awaiting her full reply was tearing at her heart. Taking the moment to regain her composure a little, she shuffled on her feet and gazed over his chest and up to his face.

"Clarkson said... He said that... Matthew, we are to have a baby!" Mary's voice cracked at the realisation of the utterly joyful prospect, and having said it aloud suddenly made it all truly real.

Mary's eyes frantically searched Matthew's face for his reaction; his mouth hung open, his hold on her arms had softened considerably, and his eyes shone the brightest she had ever seen them.

"You're... you're pregnant? Mary... we're... we're expecting?" his voice stuttered as he spoke, desperately trying to come to terms with the prospect. He was shocked beyond belief. "But... but I thought–"

"Ssssh," she closed her eyes and shook her head, dismissing him of his doubt.

Suddenly, the memories of that autumn day last year, all came flooding back to her. Matthew had been at work all day, and Mary had taken it on herself to pay Dr Clarkson a visit. They had been married now for two years but Mary had still not conceived, much to the frustration of her family. They certainly had not held back, that much she knew... But that fact just seemed to make matters worse and as she felt the responsibility grow on her shoulders to produce an heir, she wanted answers. Dr Clarkson had informed her that if she had not already conceived, then she may never be able to have children. The outcome had crushed her and she felt as though the world had collapsed around her. She felt as though she had unknowingly tied Matthew down to a life without children, and it broke her into pieces. When she finally found the courage to tell him of her conversation with Clarkson, two weeks had passed. The news hit him hard, that much she could see. He had never before hidden his desire for children, but now more than ever, he felt that he must conceal this desire – for her sake, as much as his.

Now suddenly, this revelation had shattered all of those barriers.

Ridding herself of the memory, Mary reached up and took his face between her cool palms. The magic of the moment was so overwhelming that Mary could no longer hold back the tears that had threatened to fall long ago. She nodded reassuringly and smiled at Matthew so hugely, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. She wished she could bottle this moment up and keep it forever.

He dropped his arms and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her close to him and kissing her so passionately that she felt light-headed and dizzy with emotion. Matthew pulled his lips away for just a moment, leaned back and looked into her eyes.

"I love you so much, my darling Mary. You have truly made me the happiest man in the world!" he beamed.

Not caring a jot for his back injury, he swept her off her feet and she flung her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist and their lips met once again, as he carried her back into the cool of Crawley House.

26th December 1923

I felt so terribly useless, sitting in my little study and pointlessly rearranging my desk. If I am quite honest with you, I had actually feared that your Mama had some kind of grave illness – and that scared me no end. But that is another story; one I will tell you when you are a little bit older.

I can still feel the lump in my throat from when your Mama told me the news. As you can imagine, I was quite shocked - but in a good way, always a good way! Only last year, I had found her sitting on our bed with her head in her hands. Of course it was never her fault, how could she even think that? You're not to know though, of course you're not.

Then you happened, and you were our little miracle.

A/N: I truly hope you enjoyed the first chapter - yes, it was fluffy, because I love fluff. But then again it was emotional, because I love emotions. I hope it has intrigued you to want to know what happens next! :)