I didn't feel like writing anything after what happened in the CS; I didn't think I could, but then yesterday this popped into my head and it wouldn't leave me alone. This is a scene that we won't see in S4, but it is an important one all the same.

Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever.

Mary looked down at the baby again, delighting in the delicately fluttering eyelashes, and the perfect rosebud mouth, and the tiny hands that were curled into fists. He was here and warm and asleep and real in her arms, and she didn't think she'd ever been happier. No, she knew she hadn't. She smiled helplessly as he shifted against her, and she gently, almost reverently, traced a finger down the powder-soft cheek. Little chap, Matthew had called him. And he was. He was their son; hers and Matthew's. She wondered what they would call him, their little prince. Mary smiled at the memory, was it really a year ago when the dream of a family had been just that? Smiling again, she bent and kissed the baby's forehead; perhaps they could call him Reginald, after Matthew's father, or maybe William. They hadn't really talked about it earlier; they'd been too caught up in breathless, blissful kisses, agreeing to discuss it properly the following day when things had settled.

Mary was utterly lost in her thoughts and the baby, and didn't notice Isobel enter the room.

"Mary?" The older woman stood, watching the scene before her as the young woman fussed and fiddled with the blanket round her tiny son, gazing adoringly at him.

"Hm? Are the others here yet?" She replied without looking up. Matthew had been an awfully long time. Perhaps Papa had insisted they smoke a cigar or have a drink or something. Isobel stepped forwards, causing Mary to look up when she didn't answer. "Isobel, what is it?" It was then that Mary noticed that her mother-in-law's eyes were red, and her face was pale, and she seemed to be shaking as she approached the bed and sat down, tugging off her gloves.

A cold panic gripped Mary, her heart thudded and her stomach churned, and she felt sick with anticipation as her blood chilled in her veins. Something wasn't right, and she instinctively drew the baby closer to her breast.

Isobel blinked several times, whether to give herself time to find the words or to clear the tears that had formed there she didn't know. She'd insisted that she should be the one to tell Mary, but now…

"There's been an accident." Isobel's voice was barely above a whisper, and Mary felt a deep ache in her chest. An accident. Accident. The word spun round her head and she swallowed.

"What do you mean an accident? Where's Matthew?" Isobel's eyes widened and she took a deep shuddering breath. Not today, not today. Not now. The pause worried Mary. If it was nothing serious, Isobel would have said straight away. But she hadn't, so that must mean…

"Mary my dear, Matthew… Matthew was in an accident." Their eyes met, and in that instant, Mary knew. She could see the pain in the other woman's eyes, could see that she was struggling as her fingers clutched at her skirt.

"What do you mean?" Mary frowned as she forced the words out, trembling as she felt a sting in her eyes, the weight of the sleeping baby in her arms the only thing that reminded her that she wasn't dreaming. Isobel shook her head. She didn't want to say it, didn't even want to think it. Instead she reached for Mary's hand and gently squeezed it.

"His car…"

"Isobel-"

"He was killed." She spoke quickly and inhaled sharply as Mary gasped, silence descending over them for a moment, until Mary spoke, her voice trembling as much as her hands.

"No. No, you're wrong. He was going back to the Abbey to tell you all. He can't be."

"I'm sorry but it's…true." It was true. Her son, her boy, her darling wonderful boy was dead, when he'd only just met his own son. It was too much, and it hurt. She'd never known a pain like it. Not when he'd first left for university, not when he'd been injured, not even when Reg had died… She took a deep shuddering breath and opened her eyes, meeting Mary's dark, sad gaze.

"No. It can't be. It can't. He…can't be. No, you're wrong." Mary shook her head, ignoring the tears that brimmed in her eyes, wishing for it to be a mistake, yet knowing in her heart that it was the absolute truth.

"I'm so terribly sorry my dear. They're with him now, your father and the doctor and constable." Mary glanced past Isobel to the door, understanding the implication of her words.

"He's…here?" Isobel nodded once and her heart broke all over again as Mary let out a sound that was halfway between a wail and a sob, pulling her hand free and covering her eyes as her tears fell, pulling the baby closer still, her shoulders shaking as every part of her shattered and splintered, over and over. He couldn't be gone. He just couldn't be. No. Not today. He'd only just met the baby. He couldn't... No. He couldn't be, he just...couldn't be. Not now, not after everything.

And yet...

Mary let out another loud sob as the cold reality sank in, and Isobel moved on the bed, pulling her into her arms, rocking Mary and the baby and rubbing her back as they silently wept together, and seconds became minutes, which became hours, and the light outside started to fade.

Eventually, the baby stirred, awoke and let out a piercing wail, startling the two women who were lost in their shared grief. Mary straightened and Isobel gently brushed away the tears that still lingered on her daughter-in-law's porcelain cheeks, offering her a weak smile as she stood to leave, though she really didn't want to go, but she had to give them this precious time. Mary shifted against the pillows and adjusted her nightgown as the nurse had shown her; bring the screaming, hungry infant to her breast.

"I'll leave you alone for a moment." Isobel wiped her own face and made her way to the door. Mary nodded once before turning her attention back to her son, ignoring the crushing sensation in her chest. Trying to ignore it.

"There now, little one, no need to make a fuss." She softly cooed and shushed the baby, biting her lip as his blues flickered open and a fresh wave of pain rocked through her, raw and agonising. She shut her eyes and let her thoughts take over for a moment. Matthew was gone. Gone. No, not gone. She forced herself to repeat the word… He was dead. She looked at the baby again, and another piece of her heart shattered as she forced herself to smile at the child, his eyes opening sleepily. Oh he looked so much like Matthew that it made her heart clench with a different kind of pain, and she took a deep breath, and another, and another, until she was sure that she could speak, all of her aching and broken.

"It's alright my little darling. We'll be alright. We have to be, for each other and for your…Papa." Her voice hitched on the last word, and this time she did not try to stop her tears as they fell. Instead, she held her son as close to her as she could and cried, not caring if her tears fell on the soft wool blankets, and repeated her words over and over, willing them to be true.

Thank you so much for reading.