Damned

"I don't know what else to do." He had said in the midst of his despair. They both knew he was not ready to return to work, but it was necessary.

Thinking about his reaction, she remembered that he had taken a step towards her when he uttered the words in exasperation. What would have happened if Mrs. Hughes had not appeared? She had broken the spell and when she stepped out of the room, he had regained control. Sarah breathed deeply, letting the air escape from her lips silently.

After the scary moment of Mr. Carson almost having a heart attack during dinner, no one seemed to want to stay in the kitchen chatting after dinner. Instead, each one of the staff members wished good night and leave to their bedrooms. Sarah staid alone at the table with a cup of tea, a cigarette and her button box as only companions. In front of her the seam which she'd been working in her free time laid on the table. The Countess had given her one old dress as a gift and now she was trying to adapt it to herself.

That night, however, she felt no desire to continue her sewing even not feeling sleepy. Rather than this, she was recalling her brother when he returned from war for a short period before leave again and never returns. Lang made her remember him very much, when he had been home to recover. The symptoms of post-traumatic stress in Lang were unquestionable. Only one person totally ignorant on the subject would not be able to notice.

She inhaled the cigarette smoke and released it after some seconds. Over time, she had grown fond of Lang, but that wasn't all, she liked him more every day and it scared her. Suddenly Sarah figure out she's no longer feeling alone at all and this scared her even more. O'Brien was not used to maintain any kind of relationship that was not strictly professional, and when her thoughts turned to him she could see him as many things, but never as a mere co-worker. Her concern for him sometimes reach to the point of making her forget about Thomas, making her forget that he was fighting on the front lines for his life. She was not only a bad woman, a bad maid, she was also a bad friend.

What was that? Why did he have to fill her thoughts that way? "God O'Brien, control yourself, he's not your dear brother; he's just another employee of the house, just like you!" She reprimanded herself in her thoughts every time she found herself thinking about him.

"Are you still awake?"

She turned abruptly in her chair and looked back at the same moment the voice reached her ears. Her eyes studied the valet as he came into the kitchen and settle in the chair next to hers.

"I'm not sleepy." Sarah responded as she studied him for a few seconds.

He was not so pale and distant, his appearance was indubitable more peaceful and with a less stressful posture. Maybe he was finally getting better and that was good, wasn't?

"Do you want a cup of tea?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He said looking at the small objects on the tablet; the dress, the black line, the sewing needle and some pins. "So you decided to stay here sewing instead of try to sleep."

"I thought it could be a good distraction, but I couldn't pay enough attention."

"What are you doing?" He indicated the fabric by hand.

"Setting a dress that Lady G gave me."

"I'm sure will look good when you finished it."

"Have no doubt about it." A smile showed up in the corner of her lips. If there was something she was proud of it was the way she performed her tasks.

"You seem very confident about your abilities as a dressmaker." Was he joking?

"I just know how to performer my duties." She answered without looking at him directly.

Lang took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, taking a cigarette to his lips and then lit it. His movements were light and unconcerned. He let the smoke expands his lungs, removing any trace of tension that still remained in his body.

O'Brien kept her eyes fixed on him for a moment, watching him with a concealed and silent attention. Ethel was right, he had big hands and they moved with grace and lightness. She began to imagine how their touch would be on her skin; sliding down her back, stroking her face, touching her hair... She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her face straight.

"What your brother did when he returned from the front?"

His voice dredged her back from her thoughts, and for a few seconds she just stared at the objects on the table. She took a last sip of tea and put the cup on the side of the seam before answering.

"At first nothing, he didn't want to have contact with anyone, was always distracted, distant and disinterested. Sometimes he got violet and drunk all he could handle." She stared at her hands and she continued. "After some time he started to work again in the farm. Sometimes he still got himself drunk, but he was slowly regained his confidence on me. He even told me about some of the things he had seen and done in battle, but always hiding the worst details. And sometimes he had these nightmares and woke up in the middle of the night very distressed. He was afraid of the possibility of going back to the front. Anyway, it happened and he..."

A deep sigh escaped from her lips and she avoided looking at Lang. More than anyone he would understand the situation, she knew it, and stood there, looking at him totally surprised when his hands found hers on her lap. His hands were warm and the heat soon began to spread through her cold small hands, warming it.

"They will not do the same with you; they will not send you back."

"Yet, I'm afraid." He answered quietly. "When I close my eyes it's like I'm back at the front, in the middle of a bombing and with death as my companion."

"But when you open your eyes you're safe and surrounded by life." She said squeezing his hands, encouraging him.

"Yes, explosion noises are replaced by steps, and the generals by Carson and Mrs. Hughes. Here my enemies are my daily duties."

They faced each other for a few seconds and Sarah smiled briefly as she noticed that he seemed relieved to finally share some of his pain with someone else.

"You shouldn't be working, you know that."

"I didn't know what else to do."

"Maybe you should seek a distraction."

"I think I found one, and it's giving me something to think about, other than the war."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Distracted, for sure." He mocked himself with a passenger grin. "It didn't take away all my thoughts of war, no completely, but has occupied my mind considerably and at times give me hope that one day I will be able to regain my peace."

"Whatever it is, I hope it helps."

He stroked her hands momentarily, letting his fingers stroking her delicate skin. Her hands were a little bit warm now.

"You can be sure that you are helping," Lang said with low voice. His eyes met hers and they faced each other again for what seemed an eternity.

Then suddenly everything became clear as water and O'Brien knew what he was saying, or at least was trying to say to her. In the dim light emanating from the gas lamps in the kitchen, she first felt her heart accelerate quickly and simply stop along the way. Here was this man, haunted by his fears; that went to hell and back, but still a good man, saying sweet words to someone like her. A murderer. She felt the taste of regret climbing into her throat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and she looked away from him.

Lang brought their joined hands towards him and kissed her hands, placing them on his face for a few seconds. Sarah bit her lower lip, observing him as a lump grew in her throat. And then she realized that all she wanted to do was bring him close to her and comforts him.

"We'd better go sleep. Thanks for helping me during dinner and for listening."

"It was nothing." She murmured in response, taking her hands away from his face. She gathered her objects and rose from her chair. "Have a good night, Mr. Lang."

"You too, Miss O'Brien."

As she turned to climb the stairs she stopped to watch him put her cup it in the sink. He looked distracted again and she just felt unable to get out from there, at least not before going back to him. For a moment her body took control of herself and despite the fear and the madness she felt at that moment, Sarah O'Brien found herself in front of the valet, stopping just a few inches away from him.

"This will help you keep your mind occupied a little bit more, at least I hope." And without another word, she pulled his face towards hers and kissed him. Their lips barely touched and a wave of heat run through her body quickly. "Good night." She repeated and left without looking at him again. When Lang finally understood what she'd done, she's gone.

Please, forgive all my english mistakes. Reviews are really appreciated! ;D