I thought I'd never publish anything ever again, and yet here I am ... A modern AU, Chelsie centric, inspired by "Fairytale of New York" (of all Christmas songs :D )

Please do me a favor and only ever listen to the original version by The Pogues feat. Kirsty MacColl.

Now, well ... Here we go.

Downton, Yorkshire, December 6th 2018

"Does it work?," Anna asked, carrying two steaming mugs of hot cocoa with cream in her hands, eyeing her husband of nearly six years suspiciously. That man obviously had no idea what he was doing, kneeling on the floor in front of their TV for nearly ten minutes near, wires and cords around him.

"I hope it will, love. At least I think I know now what to put where." He looked up at her, smiling sheepishly and that hint of despair in hi eyes made her laugh. He was so cute, sometimes.

"I am more than ready for it. I can't wait to see Mr. Carson as a young man on stage, using swear words." Alone the thought of it amused her, really. Usually, she wasn't to keen on reliving the past, but if the past involved a singing Charles Carson, then it was different, of course.

Anna sat down on their huge leather couch, something they had purchased for their very first shared flat, so long ago that she didn't dare to voice it, not even in her mind. It would make her feel terribly old.

Blowing gently over the hot tea, she kept watching her husband.

"Hand me the remote please," he demanded, reaching for her with his right arm, the old camera in his other hand. It was beyond pleasing to see a tiny blue screen on it and the sound of a cassette rewinding made her think of her use, how she and Mary had watched Disney movies until Cora had literally forced them to go to bed.

"Here"

Leaning back, John's mug now on the small wooden coffee table, she licked her lips, anxious to see what everyone else had been talking about merely hours before.

"I have it!" He beamed like a child, pressed one of the buttons on the camera and jumped as quickly as his knee problems allowed it to where his wife sat. "Now, I think it's time for Christmas 1993 at the Crawley Household."

Indeed, it was.

Downton, Yorkshire, December 24th 1993

"I don't like that West woman at all, but I am so pleased that she agreed to watch Edith tonight." Cora raised both of her hands as the kitchen door clicked shut behind her. "Now do me a favor and hand me a cocktail. Why the hell did I agree to this farce?" It was only now that she glanced at Beryl and realized what the red haired woman held in her hands.

"You are not seriously recording me, are you?" It was more a displeasing realization, followed by a sigh, than a question.

"You really should stop now, surely we need the rest of the tape for later, Bee." Of course it was Phyllis Baxter who said that, always reasonable and sensible.

Cora watched her friends, gathered around her kitchen table, while she herself allowed her tired body to rest in the comfy armchair in the corner.

"Later? No way. Give that to me, come here, Beryl Patmore. There is no way I allow anyone to record me singing with Charlie. Bad enough a certain someone forced us to perform tonight." Now Cora felt more than uncomfortable. Elsie Hughes was glaring at her, in a very angry way. The Scottish Dragon had been awoken.

"Alright everyone, I will stop filming. I already recorded Mary and Anna earlier, and Robert of course. Nursing a glass or two of hot punch."

Cora had to shake her head silently at that. No doubt her dear husband would be more than slightly tipsy when the party was over.

Beryl nearly threw the camera on the table, obviously not very pleased.

It was a relief to see Elsie getting up and filling a glass of wine for Cora. That was exactly what she needed right now. "Anna and Mary are already upstairs, too. But I doubt they are sleeping. I shouldn't have given her that video recorder for Christmas."

"It wasn't you! It was Father Christmas!," Phyllis exclaimed as Cora grabbed the glass Elsie was handing her.

"Just shut up. I mean, I wouldn't have managed to organize any of that without your help, but seriously … Don't think me rude, but -"

Beryl interrupted her.

"You're American, there are people who will always think you rude."

That comment was answered by a rather forceful slap against her shoulder from Elsie. God bless her.

"Listen, I don't care what my mother-in-law thinks, or her daughter for that matter. I just want it to be a success, for our sake."

Elsie snorted, putting a hand on her chest. "I can only speak for myself of course, but I think, every party with my pals in a kitchen with enough wine is a success. Cheers!" The auburn haired woman raised her glass and laughed.

Her new friends were one of the very few good things her decision to move to England had brought. Only 24 years old, already mother of two daughters, not working anymore, but instead stuck with a demanding mother-in-law and a big house. It wasn't that she didn't love Robert, she did very much so, but … It wouldn't have been bareable without Elsie, Beryl and Phyllis.

"Elsie Hughes, don't drink that much! You still have to sing!" Even Cora rolled her eyes at that.

"Darling, that's exactly why I need to drink. I have never done that before and I doubt I'm any good."

Gladly, Elsie was the only one who didn't know that her voice was angelic.

"I still can't believe Charlie agreed," Cora said, smiling to herself. Robert's best friend always seemed to be so stiff and proper. But tonight he'd sing the line 'You're an old slut on junk' for half the village to hear.

"I still can't believe I agreed, for Christ's sake. Again, that sounds as if someone forced us." Again, an angry glare hit Cora and made her feel more than just terrible. It made her shiver.

But it would be worth it.

It was then when suddenly the door opened. Charlie Carson, his face already red, visibly nervous.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something." He looked around as if someone was chasing him.

"It doesn't matter, just four women trying to avoid the farce in the rest of the house." Cora talked more to herself than to anyone else. Charles had buried his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, something he'd normally never do.

"When … when do we have to … well, go on stage, so to say. When?"

Of course it was Elsie who approached him, putting her hands on his upper body, tilting her head so that she could look deep into his eyes.

Cora had always envied them somehow, even though she was indeed happy with Robert. It was just that Charles and Elsie seemed to be so … free, somehow. Not married, not living together, but yet so in sync, so obviously in love, for years now, since Elsie had come down from Argyll, so Robert had told her.

"We don't have to, darling. We promised Cora and Robert to do it, but we agreed because it will work. The song is great, you are great and I … I guess I will do."

Beryl let out a sob when they kissed.

Downton, Yorkshire, December 6th 2018

"You were a cute kid," John admitted, panting a featherlight kiss on his wife's head.

"I know that. I still can't believe Cora let us jump around for so long, we were just five years old or so. But very independent for our age, I dare say. And we always stayed in Mary's room for the night, alone." They hadn't slept until the early hours of the morning more than once.

"And I can't believe they trusted Beryl with that camera." John had been beyond amused by watching all the funny scene the woman had captured already, including Robert trying to hide while drinking what seemed to be hot punch. And they hadn't even watched Charles Carson singing Fairytale of New York, which was the original reason of spending the night watching old home videos.

"Was that really just Cora demanding a cocktail?," he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I guess it was." Anna looked back at the screen of their new smart tv.

Oh.

"I never knew Joseph Molesley could play the piano."

John grinned. "He can't, not while he's sober."

And there he was, indeed, Charles Carson, sitting right next to Joseph, his deep baritone beginning to sing the song.

"John ..." It was weird. Anna knew anyone in Downton, not unusual since she had spend her whole live there, but the woman leaning over the piano was an unfamiliar face. Anna should remember her, she'd been at that party after all. But no, she had never seen her before.

"Who .. Who is that?" Her voice was beautiful, melodic, angelic even. And Charles Carson looked at her like she had never seen him looking at anyone else like that.

"Robert only hired me only two years later. I … I have no idea."

There you have it. I would be beyond grateful for a tiny wee review x