A/N I was just about to write that I can't believe there are no fics about this yet, but I see that Mona Love has just posted one. Finally! Thank you! This scene cries out for more! Neglected my other story to write this. Just couldn't resist. Any way, here's my contribution to the episode 4.4 frenzy. Just a silly little bit of fluff. Enjoy!
So much I can taste it ...
When she knocked on his pantry door and opened it to say good night, she found him holding the frame and looking longingly at the picture – again. He looked up when she entered and quickly set the frame down.
"Oh. Mrs. Hughes. Are you going up now?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Carson. I just came to say good night," she told him.
"Good night, then, Mrs. Hughes. I'll be heading off to bed myself soon. Sleep well," he said.
"You, too, Mr. Carson," she answered, quietly closing his door.
Mrs. Hughes climbed the stairs to her room with a slow step and a heavy heart. It had been a week since she had put the photograph in the frame and given it to him, and she had caught him mooning over it more than once. She wasn't really sure why she had given it to him, except that perhaps she had thought remembering might help him forget. Clearly, she had been wrong. Apparently, he was doing a great deal of remembering but very little forgetting.
It had been painful for her to hear him talk about another woman that way. There had been a flicker in his eye and a longing in his voice that had hurt her heart. It had taken every ounce of self-possession she could muster to retain her composure during that conversation.
Just as she arrived at her bedroom door, Mrs. Hughes realized she had forgotten her book in her sitting room. She had been reading, or trying to read, at least, until the wee hours every night in recent weeks. She had been having trouble sleeping, and reading sometimes provided a momentary distraction from the agonizing thoughts that plagued her late at night. Turning around, she trudged wearily back down to her sitting room to retrieve her book.
As she approached Mr. Carson's pantry, she saw that his door was open, and his light was still on. She peered inside, calling softly, "Mr. Carson? Are you still in here?" There was no answer and no Mr. Carson.
She wondered how he could have gone up to bed without turning off his light and closing up, but of course, he had been very preoccupied lately. She walked over to his desk to turn off his lamp, and that's when she saw it - the photograph! She picked it up in disbelief. The woman in the portrait was not some long lost love of his; instead, she found herself staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at an image of herself! She could hardly believe it. Was this really the picture he had been regarding so lovingly? Fleetingly, she wondered how he had even acquired it, but then a sound at the door drew her attention.
"Mrs. Hughes. I thought you had gone up," said Mr. Carson.
She gazed up at him with tears in her eyes, still holding the frame. "Mr. Carson?" she asked, weakly, indicating the photograph.
"Ah. Yes. Well, you see," he explained, "I realized that I didn't need a photograph of a dead woman to remind me that I once had a heart, when standing before me, very much alive, is the woman who reminds me that I still have one."
Mrs. Hughes set the frame back down on his desk, hurried over to Mr. Carson, and threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He, in turn, wrapped her in his loving embrace and rested his cheek against her head. They stood holding each other, lost in the moment, and neither spoke, because nothing needed to be said.