Disclaimer: Julian Fellowes is the creator of Downton Abbey and owns the associated intellectual property. This is an unlicensed fan work.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Go away, Anna," Mary sighed listlessly. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing away from the door and toward the curtained window. She had not moved for two hours, since Anna had taken away her breakfast tray. It was not yet time for luncheon, so the disruption was unwarranted and unwelcome.
Mary heard the door open anyway, but she could not summon the energy to turn her head. "I'm not Anna," said Tom's voice.
"Go away, Tom."
"No." Mary heard footsteps coming toward her, and then Tom entered her field of vision. He moved the chair from her vanity until it was directly in front of her, and then he sat in it. "I came to talk to you and I'm not leaving until I do."
Mary felt a weak flare of anger rise in her chest. She had been disobeyed—and by Tom. "I told you to go away."
Tom frowned and clasped his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I wouldn't be doing you any favors if I left, Mary. You can't stay shut up in here forever. I can't let you."
"Surely it's better for me to mope here than about the house."
"But you needn't mope—not all the time, not forever."
Mary met Tom's eyes. "I loved Matthew. I still love him."
"And I still love Sybil. I'm not saying it's easy, Mary. I know as well as anyone that it's not. It's hard and it hurts and I'm sorry that it's happening to you. But there comes a point when solitude stops being helpful, when people do more harm than good by leaving you alone. I think you've reached that point."
Mary sighed. "There's no way to do more good than harm. I shall never be happy again. You needn't waste your time trying to do the impossible."
Tom leaned forward. "Matthew's life ended in that car wreck four months ago. Yours didn't. No one expects you to be happy. But you have to keep living."
"I don't want to live without Matthew. I don't want to be the person I am without Matthew."
Tom took Mary's hands in his own. "And I never want to return to being the person I was before I met Sybil. You don't have to regress. Matthew has become a part of you. He's a part of George. Hold onto him in yourself and in your son. Honor him by living, by being a mother."
Mary lowered her head until her forehead rested on her and Tom's joined hands. "I can't."
"You can. You're Lady Mary Crawley. You're unstoppable."
"That part of me died with Matthew," Mary muttered into her wrists.
"Then I suppose you'll have to get used to being an ordinary mortal like the rest of us."
"I am half a person."
"Your son needs you."
"I am not a mother unless Matthew is being a father beside me."
Tom stood, forcing Mary's head to rise until it was halfway to upright. "Nonsense." He gave Mary's hands a gentle tug.
Mary sat up straight. "Go away, Tom."
"No. You're coming with me to the nursery."
"Leave me alone."
"You're ignoring the one piece of Matthew you have left."
"George is an orphan."
"You're not dead, Mary!" Tom dropped Mary's hands and began pacing. "And you're not doing Matthew's memory any favors by acting like you've followed him to the grave!"
Mary sighed. "I know I've failed everyone. Everything good about me belonged to Matthew. You needn't tire yourself trying to recover what's lost forever."
Tom stopped pacing. "Your legs aren't lost. Stand up and come with me to the nursery."
"You won't leave me alone until I do, I suppose." Mary stood. "Very well. I shall use my legs."
The two young parents walked together in silence to the nursery.
