A/N: I love Downton Abbey and I love The West Wing, so I decided to combine the two and give Cora and Sarah another world to angst over each other in. Please do let me know what you think :)

"You look exhausted."

It was a voice Sarah O'Brien had not expected at three in the morning, but the First Lady - First Lady elect; they weren't quite there yet - had always had interesting timing to say the least. It was hardly unprecedented though, in the middle of a presidential campaign. The end was in sight, and the closer they got the longer their days seemed to last but it would all be worth it to see Robert Crawley in the White House. He was a bit of a boring bastard really, but he was a good man and it had been a long time since they'd had one of those sitting behind the big desk.

"An' you look as perfectly put together as always, ma'am," she replied, and returned Cora Crawley's smile.

Cora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. The last time she had looked in a mirror she had been anything but 'perfectly put together', but bless Sarah for saying so. Her husband really did have a charming campaign staff, but she had taken to Sarah O'Brien quicker than the rest. "Hardly. And I thought we'd agreed on your calling me Cora?"

"I wouldn't say that. It was more you orderin' me an' me obeyin'." Sarah grinned impishly over the rim of her glasses. "You're my boss' wife y'know."

"If you don't want to call me Cora that's perfectly fine, but I'd like it if you did."

"I'll do my best...Cora." It sounded odd on her tongue but by no means unappealing.

Cora's smirked. "That's better. You should really get some rest, Sarah."

"I'll rest when it's all over an' you an' your 'usband are in the White House," Sarah replied lightly, but she meant it. She had never fought for something so hard, and was beginning to wonder why it was so important to her, considering she thought the governor a bit of a prat. Her admiration for his wife was much more likely.

Cora frowned in concern. "You'll have collapsed of exhaustion by then."

"R'you a doctor now?"

Cora's lips drifted up in a vague smile. "No. I wanted to be, but Robert's ambitions always came first."

"No offence Cora but I've seen you with a steak knife. I'm not sure I'd trust you with a scalpel," Sarah laughed.

"I'm not sure I'd trust myself either." She smirked briefly. "But I think I make a rather nice trophy wife, don't you?"

She was certainly a trophy, even if Sarah loathed the connotation of Cora being anything but an independent and intelligent woman in her own right. She might not have gone to medical school, but she was worth ten of her husband in Sarah's opinion and a hundred of John Bates, and that bastard'd somehow ended up in Governor Crawley's inner circle. But the governor was a lucky bastard indeed to have Cora on his arm, and more importantly in his bed. She would be the First Lady of the United States by the time Sarah was finished, but it didn't stop her looking at undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in the United States, and probably the entire bloody world.

"You're much more than that, ma'am," she murmured, and Cora felt her chest swell with gratitude. It was so rare she felt anything but the trophy wife of Robert Crawley, especially since that business with Miss Moorsum, but Sarah made her feel oddly so much more.

"If you're goin' to stand there not doin' very much, you could at least get me some tea."

Cora looked up from the documents she was flicking through with a look bordering on astonishment. When was the last time anybody had given her order? And she couldn't ever remember being asked to make tea. Had she ever even made tea? She narrowed her eyes speculatively at the woman and recognised her as the P.R. woman that Charles had recommended when all of this begun, except she obviously didn't recognise her and she found that curiously refreshing.

"I'm sorry," she replied dryly, trying her best to fight the smirk tugging at her lips. "Would you like milk? Or sugar perhaps?"

Sarah snorted. Was this woman joking? Everybody on this bloody campaign knew she liked her tea strong, the way proper people drank tea and the last time someone had added sugar to her mug he'd found himself out of a job, but for reasons utterly beyond her she took pity on the befuddled looking brunette and gave a short shake of her head.

"No sugar, and only a bit of milk but I s'pose I can't expect you Americans to know 'ow to make a proper cup of tea."

She tempered the words with a small smile and was relieved to be graced with a smile in return. She hadn't come into politics to make people miserable and she wouldn't start now, even if she was in a bad mood because of John fucking Bates and it was eleven thirty at night, and this woman had a wonderful pair of legs. Wasn't that why she was being nice to her?

"I don't suppose we do, but I'll try," Cora grinned softly, hesitating as she tried to remember how to even begin to go about preparing a cup of tea before moving over to the little kitchenette in the tiny office. It was really rather nice actually, not being recognised and being treated for once like an ordinary human being and not an extension of Robert Crawley.

"Would you…" she began tentatively, noticing the dark circles underneath the woman's – Sarah's – eyes and wanting so desperately to do something to ease the exhaustion; she was working herself to death for her husband after all. She owed her something more than a clumsily made cup of tea. "Would you like a biscuit too?"

Sarah laughed softly. "You'll be 'ard pressed to find a biscuit in 'ere darlin'."

Cora's eyes glittered. "I have my ways."

Sarah was sure she did. If there was a biscuit in this godforsaken building, the woman in front of her with her long legs and bright smile would find it. She was a bit dressed up for an assistant though, but she supposed they all didn't have father's who had grown up with Robert Crawley's right hand and some people needed to actually try to get noticed to move up in this field. And her new friend wasn't just beautiful, she was utterly elegant; she tried to imagine her working with people like Daisy and Anna, and the thought was almost laughable. This woman didn't belong in an office making tea, she should be up on a movie screen or flogging cookbooks on TV.

Still, she'd be a fool to object to such a pretty face working in such close quarters. And she didn't have a personal assistant yet.

"I'll tell you what love. I 'ave so much work to do before I go 'ome I'm not goin' to make it out of 'ere until at least three, an' that doesn't even include that mountain of filing over there." She pointed and Cora looked. "'ow about you give me an 'and?"

Cora looked momentarily dumbfounded. "You want me to help you…with that?"

"Is there any special reason you can't?"

Besides being the governor's wife? Well, if that was the only reason she couldn't do a little filing it was a stupid reason, and Cora smiled as she shrugged the jacket from her shoulders, the kettle boiling quietly in the background, and draped it over the back of a chair. It was time she got her hands dirty too, if she wanted Robert to be President. If she did; she wasn't so sure these days, but it was too late to have second thoughts now, and hadn't it always been about what Robert wanted?

"Of course not!" She flashed a bright smile. "I'm happy to help. Should I be sorting them in any special order…ma'am?"

It took four hours for somebody to find her huddled over Sarah O'Brien's desk with the other woman's glasses perched on the end of her nose and the edge of her pen in her mouth, but needless to say Sarah was more than a little surprised to discover she'd put the governor's wife to work, but it was more than worth it to be on the receiving end of Cora Crawley's smile as Anna ushered her from her office.

"Maybe. And if Robert is elected—" she smiled at Sarah's look and corrected herself, "When he is elected, perhaps I can do some good as First Lady.

"I don't doubt it, love."

Cora's smile widened. She still didn't know how a woman with such a broad English – she was from Lancashire apparently – accent had ended up here in Washington mounting a major political campaign, but she rather liked being called 'love'. It was better than Mrs. Crawley at any rate; that particularly name belonged to her mother-in-law, and Violet was determined she never forget it.

"It's unfortunate you'll not be my press secretary," she said. There was a wistful look in her eyes that Sarah couldn't help but notice and her chest immediately inflated with the thought that Cora valued her.

"I won't be far. The West Wing isn't so far from the East Wing an' I'll drop by as much as I'm able. And Isobel'll do you proud."

Sarah smirked as Cora scoffed. Isobel's professional talent withstanding, the governor's wife's feelings on her husband's cousin were hardly well concealed. It was only on Governor Crawley's orders that Isobel had been hired as Cora's Chief of Staff at all. Sarah couldn't help but sympathize. Isobel Crawley was a smart woman, undoubtedly, but sometimes the older woman could be a little too efficient, and if Sarah had learned one thing about her employer's wife it was that she loathed being questioned, and Isobel did it all too frequently.

"She's good at 'er job. You 'ave to give 'er that at least."

Cora scoffed in protest and Sarah bit back a snigger. Her fingers lingered on a file as she flicked through her cabinet, and she smiled as she usually did at the sight of the almost childlike scrawl of the names on the dividers. The words were utterly useless now – when had she ever needed a section for ball gowns? – but she kept them out of sentimentality, a reminder of that first meeting when she had mistaken Cora for an assistant. It seemed silly now – Cora was far too elegant to be a secretary – but she supposed it had been wishful thinking at the time.

"I'll do no such thing," Cora said, glancing reluctantly to her watch. Robert would not be in bed for hours yet, but just in case she really should get back, but she found herself hesitant to leave. She felt truly comfortable in Sarah's presence in a way she so rarely did otherwise, and there was nothing but an empty bed awaiting her in yet another hotel. When would they get to go home? She looked up, seeking Sarah's encouraging smile and she was not disappointed. The woman usually saw right through her, although she would never know how. She shook her head reassuringly. "It's just been a long day."

"S'been a long bloody year," Sarah agreed and rested her glasses on the table in front of her. "You should go to bed, Cora."

"I could say the same for you," Cora countered with a teasing arch of her brow, but knew it would be a good few hours before Sarah deemed herself ready for bed. Even then she would feel guilty for sleeping when there was paperwork to be done, but there were others who could hold the fort, even if their talents paled in comparison to Sarah's. "Do I have to escort you to your room and tuck you in myself?"

Sarah certainly wouldn't object to that, but what she had in mind wasn't quite the innocent escort upstairs that Cora was imagining. One of these days she would stop thinking like a bloody schoolgirl and get it in her head Cora was a married woman and most probably the future First Lady, but the governor was a bit of a git who'd wanted rid of her since the start, so for the time being she would lose no sleep over how frequently she imagined Cora Crawley naked.

"I think 'll manage," Sarah replied dryly, but smiling fondly as she scooped up her glasses and tucked them into her shirt pocket. She stood up to collect her coat and bag and Cora's giggle of approval warmed her heart. "Don't get any ideas about this happenin' often darlin', even when you are the First Lady. 'm not doin' it for you."

It was added as an afterthought, but rang utterly false.