Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or these characters.

So Close

Mary walked. She had been walking for goodness knows how long. Everyone was asleep. Well. Everyone was in bed; she very much doubted they were asleep. She couldn't imagine anyone would sleep tonight.

Her Mother had finally left Sybil's room in the early hours. She hadn't said anything as she had past her in the hall, just kissed her on the lips, before disappearing into her room. As she stood alone outside of Sybil's bedroom, the halls had been silent except for the distant sounds of a baby crying and the low moaning that was coming from her Mother's room. Matthew, she knew, had been waiting for her in their room, he probably still was.

She blinked as she walked her eyes heavy and swollen. Her mind was whizzing. She was in shock. Her sister, her darling little sister, was, was, dead. It seemed so alien to even think it. She hadn't much thought of death but it was just a given that she would die before her younger siblings. She had never thought that she would out live Sybil, or even Edith. She didn't want to. She thought of her Mother and Father, outliving their youngest daughter. Their baby. What about her Grandmother? She didn't even know about Sybil yet, she had gone home after the baby was born, believing, like they all had, that everything was fine and it was the happiest day of Sybil's life. Sybil's life. The baby would go without a Mother, Mary knew that Sybil would have been a great Mother. Oh such a great Mother. Her eyes were hurting. They were so heavy. So heavy. So dry. They itched like sand had been blown into them.

Her footsteps echoed through the hall. She noticed how her slippers sounded different to her normal shoes on the hard concrete floor. She wrapped her robe tight around her body as she walked. She enjoyed the darkness of the hall, only a few flickering lamps lighting the way on the walls. There had been many times she had walked these hallways. Sometimes, most of the times, she shouldn't have been here. Mostly she had come down here when she was young. She'd drag Edith down to try and scare her, which often worked, resulting in Edith running to the governess in tears to tell on her. Once she had brought Sybil down but had brought her back up to the house when she had seen the 5 year old chatting to Mr Carson. She supposed she had been jealous. Everyone knew Mr Carson was her friend, except perhaps Sybil, who could get along with everyone. She was the nicest girl. All the staff liked Sybil, unlike Mary, who they always thought rude and naughty. Sybil didn't have a bad bone in her body, she really was an angel.

She stopped in her tracks as a sudden gust of cold wind came in from the heavy back door. She looked up and down the hallway before looking back to the door she was standing in front. In the crisp silence she could hear muffled voices coming from the room. She raised her hand to knock, both wanting to be in the warmth of the room but at the same time enjoying the silence and darkness of the hallway. She heard a kettle whistling from inside so she decided to knock. The knock was light and quite unlike her own. She heard more voices and she took a step back as the door swung open.

"Lady Mary..."

Mary didn't know what to do, or even say. As she looked at the man who had been such a big part of her life she suddenly felt heavy and tired and young, almost like she was a child again. His face was white, his eyes lined with red. He held the door open but she didn't move, just looked at him. She noticed movement behind the older man and her eyes snapped to the woman in the room.

"I...I'm sorry." She muttered. "I shouldn't be down here..."
"Do come in Lady Mary, please, you look freezing." He almost pleaded.

She hung back a little before stepping across the threshold of the door. The warmth of the room was instantly comforting and she found that all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. The door was closed behind her.

"Would you like to sit down m'lady?"
"Yes, thank you Mrs Hughes."

Mrs Hughes smiled a small smile, picking up the kettle in the corner of Mr Carson's sitting room.
The young woman made her way over to the small red couch in front of the fire. She sat down. She could see Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson exchange glances and vaguely wondered why Mrs Hughes was in Mr Carson's sitting room at this time of night. She turned slightly towards the fire, the orange glow, covering half of her face. There was a brief silence before Mrs Hughes spoke again, her soft Scottish accent comforting Mary somehow.

"Would you like some tea m'lady?" She asked gently.
"Yes please."

She looked up to Mr Carson who had made his way closer to her.

"Do you mind if I sit?" He asked her.
"Not at all Carson, I'd rather you did."

He dropped down into the couch next to her slowly. Now she looked closer, Mary could see how tired the man's eyes were. She tried to smile but found her mouth just didn't want her too. It was only a minute before Mrs Hughes handed her a cup of tea, placing Mr Carson's on the small wooden table next to him and taking her own. She sat down in Mr Carson's armchair. They each took a sip of their tea.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, m'lady." Mr Carson said after a while, his deep voice unusually gentle.
"I was so cold coming down here." She said.
"Would you like a blanket m'lady?" Mrs Hughes asked, pulling herself out of her armchair.
"The hallway was cold...it was a different cold."

Mrs Hughes stopped where she was at the edge of her seat, glancing a worried look at Mr Carson.

"I could feel it. The cold. It swept through her body. I could feel it on my hand." She had put her tea down and was now staring forward, her eyes wide and unblinking, her hands together on her lap. "She couldn't breathe. I was telling her, please breath, she can't breathe. Her lips were blue and then...the cold. It...came."

Charles moved nearer to her. The girl looked up at him, her big brown eyes searching his.

"I don't understand Mr Carson." She said. "How can my little sister be dead? My darling?"

Mrs Hughes felt tears spring to her eyes. She let them fall, her eyes never leaving the young lady.

"I shook her you know, I cried her name, she didn't hear, I wanted her to hear...I wanted her to know that I was there."
"I'm sure she did." Mr Carson said softly, he put an arm around her shoulders, hoping to be some sort of comfort.
"I could see the veins in her neck. Blue. I wanted it to stop. I wanted my sister to stop and be alright but she didn't. She fitted and moaned and she didn't know I was there."

Her own tears started to fall, thick and fast, running down her cheeks.

"Why did she have to die? Why couldn't it have been me?"
"Don't say that."
"But Mr Carson, you know me. I'm the wicked one. The naughty girl. The spiteful one that always gets what she wants. Sybil, she's...she was...so nice, to everyone. She was the perfect little girl. She was the baby, if someone had to be taken then why not me? Doesn't it deserve to be me?"
"Sybil was a wonderful person, and so are you. It's a horrible tragedy. Do not take this out on yourself."
"Why?" She shouted, jumping away from his hold and onto her feet. "Why shouldn't I?"
"It's not your fault." Mr Carson said calmly.

Mary stood in the middle of the carpet, her arms flung out in question.

"I have a perfect husband, a perfect life. I have done so many horrible things and I've never been punished! Sybil hadn't. She's such a darling and she's gone! She's gone!"

She sobbed where she stood; her body was shaking and heaving, her face burning.

"She didn't deserve it!" She screamed. "She didn't!"

Mr Carson stood up, trying to calm her down. Mrs Hughes sat, unable to comfort the distressed girl. Her heart broke as the girl, who suddenly looked so much younger than she was, fought the older man, who she could tell was breaking down.

"Sit down m'lady, please." He said.
"Why should I? I want to be angry! I want to be angry because I don't want to accept it!" She screamed.
"You have to!" Mr Carson shouted over her gently.
"No!"

He managed to get hold of her arms, keeping her still. She stopped screaming and looked to him. She was shaking all over, her legs threatening to collapse under her. She breathed heavily, her tears running hot over her face.

"Mary." He said.

He had never called her by her first name before and he instantly had her attention. The name sounded so warm and her heart, she was sure, skipped a beat. The sincerity of his eyes drew her in as he let her calm down.

"Sybil was an angel." He said. "She was one of the brightest young women I have ever met and she had so much potential. My heart is broken. Not as much as yours, or Edith's, or your Mother and Father's but I know what you're going through. Lady Mary, you can't blame yourself. She wouldn't want it. She wouldn't like to see you like this. You know how much she loved you and your sister. She thought the world of you both, especially you."
"I miss her already." She whispered.
"I know."
"I love her so much."
"I know."
"It hurts, my heart, it hurts, it's being ripped apart, Mr Carson."
"I know." He whispered.

Then, as he held her in his arms, she broke. Her legs buckled and they went to the floor. He let her scream and cry and moan and retch against his chest as he rocked her slowly and held her fiercely.
Mrs Hughes looked on helplessly, shaking herself. She watched as Charles started to cry himself while all the while holding onto the shattered girl in his arms. He kissed the girl on the forehead softly.

"Don't ever leave me Mr Carson." She said softly. "I love you too much."