A/N: I haven't been writing anything, only plotting for my NaNoWriMo story, but...well...after tonight's disastrous ep., this happened. It's sort of a fix. Sort of. So, if you didn't watch ep. 6x5 and don't want to be spoiled...don't read this.

She'd washed the dishes while Charles moved into their small sitting room to read the paper and sip at an after dinner sherry.

They hadn't said much after his remarks about the cold plate and everything else that was wrong with their dinner. He hadn't even seemed to understand that he'd angered her.

No, she shook her head.

Not angered.

Hurt.

She'd been so worried about being inadequate in the, well, and he'd been so very wonderful. He'd reassured her over and over again, showing her as much with his actions as with the words he said while they were in Scarborough for their small wedding trip.

But, she sniffed again and buried her face a little deeper into her pillow, they were home now. Back at Downton.

Mr. Carson.

Mrs. Hughes.

Carson the butler had taken over once more, seemingly gobbling Charlie up in one large gulp.

She bit her lip to hold back the sob, surprised she had more tears to shed. She'd thought she'd cried enough doing the dishes, sure that she'd washed the dishes with her tears more than the hot soapy water she'd filled the sink with.

Of course, sleeping in this large bed alone was enough to make anyone cry, especially a woman who was still a relatively new bride.

She was so conflicted.

She wanted him here to warm the cold side of the bed, to hold her.

But yet, she didn't want him near her right now.

What in the world had happened to her?

If this was what love did to a woman, she wasn't sure she'd let herself continue with it.

CnE

Elsie had made a snarky remark to Mrs. Patmore and Daisy about Charles not liking her cooking, how she didn't cook like his mother, and then had fled to her sitting room.

And then she'd been humiliated in front of those same two when her husband had said that she hadn't played with her patty pans in a while and asked Mrs. Patmore if she could give a few instructions in the cooking of their next meal.

Patty pans!

The thought of the humiliation caused her to sob again and she turned onto her stomach so she could bury her face into the pillow even more.

The last thing she wanted was for the man currently trying to sleep on the sofa in their sitting room to hear her.

She didn't want him to know he'd hurt her.

She wanted him to think she was angry.

If he thought her to be angry, he couldn't hurt her anymore.

Love was so damned hard!

And Elsie Hughes, bloody Carson, didn't know what to do with it when it didn't work out like she'd grown accustomed to.

CnE

She saw how pale he was, heard his upset even as he issued orders and sent people scattering to do his bidding. She'd seen how shaken he was as he spoke to her and Mrs. Patmore, the pain the words he said caused him had been evident in his eyes.

She'd half heartedly scolded Mrs. Patmore for her philosophy, though she hadn't meant to scold, she'd just been rattled that Mrs. Patmore had noticed Charles' upset and said the words she herself had been thinking.

She'd wanted to reach out and touch him, to give him a steadying hand, but the hurt from the previous days had stopped her, and she was ashamed of herself.

She hadn't had a chance to go to him, to give him even a gentle squeeze on the arm, from the moment he'd left after talking to her and Mrs. Patmore to this moment when she found herself finally sitting with the others in the servant's hall to await news. She had sat down close to Andy, patting his hand as he fidgeted his fingers about on the table.

They'd all sat down quite close, she supposed to give each other comfort, and she'd noticed that Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter were sitting off together as well, something they were doing more and more of lately. Elsie found that she was glad of it. Miss Baxter seemed to calm the man down and give him confidence he sorely lacked, and Mr. Molesley seemed to soften the skittish woman and make her less aloof from the others.

Elsie heard Charles' footsteps before the others and had stood and moved closer to the end of the table by the time the others heard him and were rising from their chairs.

She listened as he spoke, her eyes watching him, noticing that he had gotten his color back and that he wasn't as upset as he had been. He still needed her, whether he would admit it or not.

Letting him go to his pantry, she waited for his door to close before she made her way down the hall, not bothering to knock, just quietly slipping inside.

"Charlie," she whispered as she walked to where he stood staring into what used to be a fireplace. Slipping her arms around his waist, she let her head rest against his back. "Everything's alright now. His Lordship is going to be okay. The rest have all gone to bed. Shouldn't we head home? Or would you feel better staying here?" she asked, keeping her voice steady and quiet.

His answer was to turn and pull her against him, holding her tightly as he whispered his apologies for his actions, asking for her forgiveness. Telling her he needed to go home, to sleep in her arms. His rumbling voice confessing that his world was shaking again and she was all that could steady him.

"Shh," she soothed as she looked up at him, her hand lifting to tenderly cradle his cheek. "Home it is then. I'll just go fetch my things from my sitting room. I believe Mr. Barrow was going to wait up for your instructions."

His thank you was quiet, his eyes tired, his shoulders slumped in weariness. Her man needed her. The hurt he'd caused had been soothed by his apology, and – she shook her head as she watched him walk out of his pantry in search of Mr. Barrow – and what of it?

Even if he hadn't apologized, she'd still have taken him home and held him to steady him.

Love, she sighed, it's so damned hard, and she still hadn't a clue what to do with it when it wasn't as it had been.