Aftermath ch 1
A/N This story takes place between seasons 3 and 4. NIWMAL suggested it, just when the plot bunnies left me. Thank you, sweetie! Hope you like it.
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There wasn't much blood. It had disappeared in the soil. The scene looked rather peaceful actually, he noticed with a strange feeling of pain. The young man was lying on his back, his right arm stretched out, his face cold and white, eyes open and a faint smile still gracing his features. The car, one of those modern speeding monsters was crumbled up face down in the shallow ditch. He just stood there, watching the corpse. You stupid man, you stupid man, you stupid, stupid young man, he scolded wordless. Your wife, your son, your mother…
He knelt down and examined the body. His hand slid around the victim's neck, and reaching up he felt a sticky mess of blood, fragments of smashed skull and soft tissue spilling through. The young man must have died instantly. Poor, poor man. At least he hadn't suffered. Oh, but suffered he had enough in the trenches during the war… Imagine surviving a hell like that and then die in a silly car crash. He wiped his hands on the wet grass and got to his feet.
His mind was already going over all the things that needed to be done, the racket and noise from above didn't fully reach him. No one disturbed him, they all assumed he was doing his job and in a way he was. Not with this body though. The accident had been hours ago and he didn't need to seek for a cause of death, it was obvious. But he had known this young man and he knew his wife and his family.
Back on the road, police were trying to question the very upset lorry driver, who was shaking and barely able to speak. I have to see to him, he thought and went to the policemen. 'Take him to the hospital, tell the nurses to put him to bed and give him an injection. I will see him tomorrow,' he instructed. 'Very well sir,' the policeman nodded.
'Dr Clarkson, may we... bring the body to the Abbey?' a trembling voice asked. He turned his head and looked in the teary eyes of Tom Branson. Next to him stood two farmers and a young lad he thought one of the Abbey's footmen. 'We have a car Dr Clarkson, we can take his body home,' Branson said. He smiled at the men. 'You may, but I have to apply a bandage first.'
He had bandages in his bag but they wouldn't do; the brains and blood would soak them within minutes. Rummaging in the boot he found a towel and a dirty sheet, tore it in strips and bandaged the young man's head.
'You may take him away now,' he said.
He watched while the men carefully lay the body on a makeshift stretcher and carried it in their car. They had to leave a door open, but would be able to transport him.
'Mr Branson? Do you happen to know where the family are?' he asked the young man.
'His Lordship and Lady Grantham are with Lady Mary in the hospital,' Tom answered.
'And Mrs Crawley?'
'I don't know, sir.'
TBC
A/N please let me know what you think….x george
