{SPOILERS FOR S2, BUT AU}
Disclaimer: Downton Abbey is ITV and Julian Fellowes' masterpiece, the title and epigraph belong to the film Lilo & Stitch. Charlotte "Lottie" Elizabeth Crawley is my own character.
Characters & Pairings: Mary, OC, Matthew, mentions of Robert, Anna, Violet, Carson, Mrs Hughes, Mrs Patmore, Daisy, William, Edith; Mary/Matthew
Summary: Sequel to my AU S2 one-shot One Fond Embrace. The reunion scene that people were keen to read =)
Notes: Borrowing heavily from a particular scene in S2...
Until We Meet Again
One fond embrace, a ho'i a'e au*
Until we meet again.
(*translation of the Hawaiian: 'ere I depart')
How she can be expected to get up in front of an audience and sing for heaven's sake, sing like her heart isn't broken and scattered to the four winds somewhere over a battlefield in Northern France, she doesn't know. Something even more elusive is how she manages to be here, her voice never wavering as she gestures for the gathered group – soldiers and nurses and family alike – to join in with a song about a pal to call my own.
It has been six days since the news arrived, six days of waiting and worrying and trying to hide her fears from her daughter. Six days of saving her tears and anguished sobs until she is back in her room – her room, not even their room, now that she's back in the big house – and can stifle them in her pillow. Her red eyes in the morning would give her away, except that no-one in the house, not even her Papa or beloved Anna, can bear to meet her gaze. Oh there's a pat on the arm or a hand on the shoulder, but when it comes to the cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley showing her grief, the entire house is already thrust into a half-state of mourning.
Her eyes scan the room and she paints on a smile as false as the limbs of some of the wounded soldiers before her. Her gaze settles on Lottie, sitting soberly in her big chair beside her Grandpapa, not even swinging her little legs though she loves a good sing-song. The little girl smiles at her mama, but it is as empty as Mary feels, and only adds to the guilt that coils in her stomach and heart and throat.
The whole room has joined in now – well, the whole room except Granny, but the day Violet Crawley sings with the servants can only herald the coming of an apocalypse – and Mary drops her volume, listening out for the voices of her childhood and home. There's Carson at the back, his deep tone such a comfort for so many years, and Mrs Hughes' Scottish lilt barely detectable beside him. Dotted around the seated party are several distinctive voices; the rich baritone of a particular colonel, and the quavering soprano of a shy nurse. Mrs Patmore and Daisy stare dreamily into the distance as they think of their precious William and sing more than a little out of tune. Edith at the piano does not sing, but rather hums the melody to keep time as she plays and Little Lottie does not know most of the words of course, but her Grandpapa next to her holds her hand and sings for the both of them, while Grandmama on her other side coaxes the chorus out of her.
The song ends and applause springs up, and as it dies down Mary starts back to her seat so the next act can begin. In the interim silence, a lone voice picks up the tune again.
"I would say such wonderful things to you..."
Her head snaps up, as do half the others in the room. She would know that voice anywhere, and her heart constricts at the sound.
"There would be such wonderful things to do..."
She can't see him. She can hear him, and it's music to her ears in a way that no other song could ever be, but she wants to – she needs to – see him.
"If you were the only girl in the world..."
The throng of soldiers and nurses and servants and family parts, and he's there, not a scratch on him to see, and a smile on his face so bright that her heart skips more than a few beats.
"... and I were the only boy."
Hang propriety. Hang propriety and hang anyone in the room who gives a damn about propriety right now. Mary's hands fly to her mouth and tears spring to her eyes, and she flings herself across the room and into Matthew's embrace. He feels warm and solid and so alive and a half-laugh, half-sob falls from her lips before she can check it. He chuckles into her hair and she feels the rumble of his chest against hers, and his heart beating strong and hears her name on his lips as he whispers into her ear.
"Oh, Mary..."
She holds him tighter and tighter and tighter still.
"Papa!"
They break apart only enough for Lottie to jump up and be caught in Matthew's arms. She buries her face in his shoulder and locks her arms around his neck, and Mary's heart has never been lighter than when Matthew whispers "I love you, my darling daughter" into Lottie's ear.
Mary keeps her hand on his arm, loathe to let him go even for a second now, and he meets her gaze – the first person in such a long time to do that and not see fear and grief and worry. There's a twinkle in his eyes that fills her with trepidation, but it's the kind that she welcomes with open arms after her week of numbing anxiety.
"My dear, I do believe I arrived too late to hear you sing."
Mary resists the urge to snort (delicately). "You obviously heard enough of it to know what the song was," she says, smiling innocently at her husband.
"Come now, would you really refuse a returned Tommy's request?" Matthew steps back dramatically, and Mary flushes, fully aware that all eyes in the room are turned to the pair – well, three including Lottie – of them.
"I would say such wonderful things to you...?"
He trails off, and gestures for her to continue. She pouts at him.
"There would be such wonderful things to do..." she continues, and then Matthew gives an exaggerated flourish with the arm that isn't holding Lottie, gesturing for their audience to join in.
"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy."
There, I hope you liked it! Feedback is, as always, most welcome =)