A/N: Written for Lina (catherinedemedici) as a Christmas present for the Corah Secret Santa Exchange! I truly hope you enjoyed this, darling. It was a lovely prompt, thank you. Also, as some of you may notice, this story is loosely inspired by the plot of the animated movie Anastasia (1997), although I wouldn't quite call it an AU either.

Prompt: 'Your heart is the only place that I call home; I cannot be returned'

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as per usual.

Read and enjoy! Oh, and you know reviews make me a happy writer.

Wil~

Journey To The Past

PART I – 1887

Cora was running. Desperate to reach the other end of the smoke-filled corridor, she struggled to keep her tears at bay, already feeling their fresh sting in her eyes. She wanted to collapse and sob, yet the sheer terror rushing through her veins and bones forced her legs to keep moving as fast as they could.

From all of her fourteen years of age, Cora failed to grasp exactly what was happening around her; whether the villains she dashed from were robbers, murderers or simply political opponents, she did not know, nor wanted to know. All she was sure of, in her heart of hearts, was that her life was endangered, and that if she stopped running, she would either be killed, or burn to death.

And so she ran, helplessly and aimlessly, naively hoping to suddenly stumble upon a secret haven that would keep her safe from harm. But she knew those walls like the back of her hand, for they had seen her grow, and she was well aware that her chances of survival were running lower and lower every second. Yet, Cora was a fighter, and she refused to give up.

Attempting to ignore the distant echoes of screams, and the barking of orders in a language she didn't recognize, Cora clenched her fists and continued dashing through the large mansion, when someone suddenly clasped her wrist tightly, violently yanking her to the side. Cora tried to yelp, but a small hand, suddenly pressing hard against her lips, muffled the sounds she tried to make.

'Keep your mouth shut,' a hurried voice then whispered close to her ear, making the young girl shiver. 'I know a way out of here; just follow me, and don't make a sound.'

Blinking rapidly, Cora stood still for a second, her eyes rapidly brushing over the unknown figure facing her. She was just a child, probably younger than herself by a couple years only. From the simplicity of her outfit, to the way her hair was inelegantly tied up, Cora figured she was probably the child from someone in the household, but she had never seen her before; for all the young girl knew, she could as well have been an enemy.

However, there was something in the warmth of her deep blue eyes that prompted Cora to trust her instantly. There was no time left to think, anyway. She nodded rapidly, and the other girl, after flashing her a brief smile, began dragging her through the corridors.

They ran their way through the kitchens, and then down the cellars, Cora still clasping the other girl's wrist tightly, struggling to keep up with the latter's rapid pace. Finally, after climbing a tiny set of wooden stairs, the chestnut-haired girl pushed a door open, and the pair finally found themselves outside, the cold December wind instantly biting their flushed skins.

'Follow me, please,' the youngest girl whispered, before dashing towards a large oak-tree behind the mansion. 'We're almost there.'

When they reached the large trunk, the brunette nimbly lifted herself on the lowest branch of the tree, before outstretching her hand for Cora to grasp. But the few movements that had looked so very natural for the young girl caused Cora much more trouble, for her frail and scrawny body had never quite been use to this kind of exercise in the past.

Repressing a sigh, the smaller girl lowered herself down onto the floor, before attempting to help Cora climb, guiding her steps. Once they both reached a comfortable-looking knot between two thick branches, they sat down, silent and breathless, waiting. Despite the distance, Cora could still make out the shape of flames through the windows, and failed to repress tears from drenching her cheeks at the sight of her childhood home turned into a blaze. She refused to even try to think about her family; they had most likely all perished already.

Pressing a trembling fist against her mouth, she tried to keep her grief silent, feeling uneasy at displaying such unabashed emotion in front of a person of whom she still ignored the very name. All of a sudden, she felt a tentative arm slipping around her shoulders, pulling her in slightly.

'I'm Sarah,' the other girl said softly, to break the silence.

Wiping her eyes carelessly, the dark haired girl replied, her voice breaking despite her efforts. 'I'm Cora.'

Sarah looked rather amused. 'I know who you are, you know. Everybody does.'

Cora didn't reply and simply blushed, toying with the hem of her nightgown. After a moment of silence, she shuffled closer to the younger girl, seeking her warmth and comfort.

'How did you discover this place?'

Sarah looked down at her knees, and replied in a tone so very low Cora struggled to catch her words.

'This is where I hide. Whenever- things get tough.'

Cora had the distinct impression Sarah was keeping something much more gruesome from her, yet she did not say another word, not wishing to break the frail intimacy they had somehow created.

'Thank you, Sarah,' Cora eventually said softly, reaching for the latter's rougher hands, and giving them a brief squeeze. 'You probably saved my life tonight; I won't ever forget it.'

Sarah's first reply was a nervous, slightly scornful laugh.

'Of course you will. We're not from the same world, you and I. But- thank you, Cora. It was nice meeting you.'

Cora Levinson was about to formulate an outraged reply, when she grasped the meaning of Sarah's last words; she gulped with difficulty.

'Are you- Are you going to leave me here?'

'Of course not, silly. Not tonight; I need to find us a safe place to sleep. But you can't stay with me for long, Cora.'

'Why is that?' Cora asked tentatively, not quite able to tell why Sarah's –a girl she had met only a couple minutes before- words and attitude hurt her so much.

'You have family, Cora. In England. And you have money, too. You have to go there, and you should leave as early as tomorrow.'

With all of her heart, Cora wanted to protest, but Sarah's tone had been so assertive and final, she did not dare to speak. After a moment, she managed a mutter under her breath.

'What about you? What are you going to do? Oh, Sarah, maybe you could come with me? Come with me, please, I beg of you!'

But Sarah shook her head sadly, her eyes never quite meeting Cora's bright, azure ones.

'I can't. I belong here. I have no one to turn to there.'

'You would have me…'

The brown-haired girl had a sad little laugh.

'We met an hour ago, Cora. No, I'm staying here.'

'But-'

'Don't you worry about me; I'm tougher than I look,' Sarah replied with a half-hearted smile, before looking down.

'I know that', Cora added softly. 'You just saved my life by bringing me here.'

'Don't mention it,' Sarah answered, blushing slightly.

'Thank you so much, Sarah,' Cora said again, before pressing her lips to her newfound friend's cheek, very briefly. She felt quite surprised at the rush of electricity that travelled down her spine as she did so, but chose to attribute it to how shaken she still was.

As Sarah failed to react in any way, remaining utterly frozen by the chaste kiss she'd just received, Cora then removed the silver necklace she'd been wearing around her neck at all times. She took one last look at the tiny, silver heart on which the word 'Home' had been engraved, before handing it to Sarah.

'Here, Sarah, please take this, as a token of my gratitude and friendship.'

Bewildered, Sarah looked at the expensive jewel, not daring to even touch it.

'I couldn't possibly accept-'

'Don't be silly, I want you to have it!' Cora exclaimed, before fastening it around Sarah's neck herself. 'This way, you'll have something to remember me forever.'

Muttering a faint thank you, Sarah quickly looked away, her eyes glistening. She gave Cora's hand a soft squeeze before letting go of it –much to Cora's chagrin.

'I think we can get down now,' she suddenly said. 'This tree is not comfortable enough to sleep in, anyway. Trust me, I tried.'

A second later, she had lowered herself back on the floor, disappearing from Cora's sight.

PART II - 1902

Faithful to her word, Sarah O'Brien had remained in America many years after the terrible tragedy had taken place. Surviving had been a struggle at first, but after a few weeks, she had unexpectedly learnt that her former mistress' sister, Eleanor Levinson, had been one of the few fortunate ones to survive bot the attack and the fire, and was now in dire need of an entire new household and, especially, of a new lady's maid.

Driven either by bravery or sheer madness, Sarah had come, although she knew very well she was far too young to even be considered a potential lady's maid. She was barely good enough to serve as a kitchen maid- at best. However, Eleanor Levinson had turned out to be, just like her former sister Martha, a very kind-hearted woman and, above all, one whom Sarah's story had touched deeply; indeed, she had allowed the latter to live freely in her gigantic house, until she had been old and able enough to join the household.

Over the following years, Sarah had grown and matured, rapidly turning into a stern and lonesome creature, whose sole purpose seemed to be to put as much soul, heart and dedication into her work as utterly possible. Her reputation in the Levinson's mansion was such, that Sarah O'Brien had quickly become Miss Eleanor's personal lady's maid, and most trusted and loyal confident.

The only thing that Sarah had ever regretted, the one thing that seemed to have kept gnawing at her insides relentlessly for the past fifteen years, had been that one night where she had encouraged Cora Levinson to sail to England. She had been convinced, then, that each and every member of the latter's family had been cruelly murdered and, unwilling to imagine the young girl go through even more pain, she'd been convinced, at the time, that it was the only possible solution, and that it was for Cora's best.

But Sarah had been wrong, so incredibly wrong; by doing so, she had cut Cora from her last living relative, and this was something she would never, ever be able to forgive herself. She had kept in her mind a very vivid memory of the fourteen year-old girl, heartbroken and terrified, and the unexplained fondness she still felt for her, to this day, pressed upon her chest still. She had never once removed the silver necklace, and it seemed to grow a little heavier with every passing day.

Many times, Sarah had considered letting Miss Levinson know of Cora's possible survival; but what good would that have done to her, when her chances to ever see her niece again were desperately small? No, Sarah's carelessness would not be the cause of more hurt; she appreciated her dear mistress much more than she would ever say, and would never be able to harm her such a way.

Once upon a cold, December day, however, Sarah O'Brien found herself face to face with ghosts of her past, in the most unexpected of circumstances. Thus, she had been sent away to England for a couple weeks, in order to accompany one of Miss Eleanor's very distant cousins, a young and sweet lady named Juliet Anders, to one of the Earl of Grantham's gigantic garden parties. How exactly Miss Juliet had come to be invited, Sarah didn't quite know; yet there she was, serving as this woman's lady's maid for a few weeks' time, and sailing across the Atlantic ocean she had so often dreamt of for the very first time.

Sarah had vaguely been told that a few years ago, the Earl of Grantham, Lord Robert Crawley, had created quite a scandal by announcing his engagement to a foreign woman none of his relatives approved of; but she had never had a chance to learn about the woman herself. Which is why, when Lord Grantham's wife suddenly stepped within the crowded ballroom, Sarah's heart leapt in her chest like never before, and she felt as if her legs were about to buckle.

It was her. Cora Levinson, the terrified girl Sarah had saved from the flames so many years ago.

She looked much older now, quite expectably, and yet there was no possible mistake. It was her. Utterly flabbergasted, Sarah stood completely still, her eyes travelling all over Cora's figure. The trembling teenager had matured into a slender, impossibly stunning woman whom no one seemed able to take their eyes off, Sarah realised. She was clad into a long, tightly fitting salmon dress, and her impeccably-coiffed hair seemed to reflect light all through the room. Yet, just as it had been so many years ago, the most captivating aspect of the woman's face was the swirling blue of her eyes, which seemed filled with such kindness and sadness alike, Sarah could have let herself drown in them quite easily.

Suddenly feeling a tingle crawl upon her skin, Sarah realised her own hand had instinctively reached for the heart-shaped necklace, pressing it deeply against her upper chest, almost digging into it. She had to do something, say something, the brunette realised as her heartbeat seemed to increase endlessly; she couldn't possibly let her disappear again. She had to hear one more time the voice that had haunted her for over fifteen years.

A few hours after the beginning of the celebration, Lord Grantham seemed to have already forgotten about his wife altogether; he was engrossed in what sounded like a fascinating discussion about the Canadian railway industry with a few of his peers and friends. Cora Crawley, on the other hand, seemed completely imprisoned, stuck between four suitors all shamelessly attempted to flirt with her, despite being well-aware of her marital status. For a second, Sarah felt sick. How deeply she loathed that sort of behaviour, she realised; it was utterly obvious Lady Grantham felt deeply uncomfortable around them, and yet, none had the decency to leave.

Feeling herself grow far more annoyed at the situation than she probably should have, Sarah turned her gaze away, trying to focus on the couples swirling across the dance floor instead. Only when she heard the distinct noise of someone sitting down on the chair next to hers did she finally turn her head away.

It seemed to her than her very heart stopped functioning for a second when she encompassed who the newcomer was. Lady Grantham, looking even more scandalously gorgeous now she was closer, was smiling at her with a deep, genuine smile which made Sarah's insides tingle pleasantly, holding a glass of champagne up to her.

'I don't believe we've been introduced,' she said, her tone impossibly soft, and almost identical to the memory of her voice Sarah had cherished for so long. 'I'm Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham, how do you do?'

Reluctantly reaching for the glass, Sarah had to repress an amused smile. Were there really any people in this room who might have ignored who Cora was?

'I'm simply Miss Anders' lady's maid, m'lady,' Sarah replied hastily. 'Sarah O'Brien,' she added before she could stop herself. 'It's a real pleasure to meet you.'

'Sarah…' Cora said thoughtfully, and for a brief second, the latter's heart thumped with the mad hope that maybe, maybe, Cora had kept her promise and remembered her. 'What a lovely name,' she added, and Sarah cursed herself for her naivety.

'Milady, if I may,' she said tentatively, 'I'm sure your time is far too precious to be wasted with me.'

'Nonsense,' Cora replied with a sweet smile, shuffling closer to Sarah. 'You are the only one who seems to feel just as displeased with this party as I am, which makes you the only one worth chatting with tonight, really,' she added, matter-of-factly.

Unable to resist her honeyed tone any longer, Sarah surrendered. And chat, they did. Several times, Sarah struggled against the urge to tell the Countess everything, yet it seemed that, no matter how much champagne she drank, her throat always ended up feeling far too dry for such a confession. Instead, she idly conversed with Cora, marvelling at the other woman's kindness and spirit; losing herself in her eyes and smile.

She almost gasped when Cora's long fingers suddenly clasped her bony wrist, mirroring her own gesture from so many years ago. She looked up from their joined hands, only to be greeted with the most beautiful smile she had ever been given.

'Dance with me,' Cora asked under her breath, leaving O'Brien utterly stunned and not quite believing the words she had just heard.

'I'm not quite certain I heard you correctly, m'lady, surely you-'

'Oh, do not give me this look, Miss O'Brien,' Cora added with a little laugh. 'Do you think it would look inappropriate, the two of us waltzing together?'

When Sarah didn't answer, Cora continued, her tone still mildly amused.

'Well, I don't care much what they all think. I have had such a lovely conversation with you, Miss O'Brien, and there is no one else in here I'd rather dance with right now, not even my darling husband. So, what do you say? Do you want to dance with me?'

The younger woman barely managed to nod faintly before Cora flashed her a gleeful smile, helping her to her feet and pulling her towards an empty space on the wooden floor. At the very second Cora's hand slipped into hers, and she felt a long a delicate arm encircle her waist, Sarah felt like she had been waiting for this moment for her entire life. For the first time ever, she felt like she belonged where she was at this very instant- pressed against Cora's impossibly soft and pliant figure.

They waltzed together in silence for a few, long minutes, neither of us caring in the slightest about the shocked and disapproving looks they sometimes received from the rest of the crowd; for this moment, whatever it meant, was theirs and theirs only, just as it should have been.

When the music finally dimmed down, Cora softly pushed Sarah off her, before taking a moment to thoroughly look at her. Then, eventually, she spoke.

'Well, thank you for this delightful evening, Miss O'Brien. It was a pleasure to meet you, even if I have a very queer and distinct impression of having spoken with you before tonight. Surely I am mistaken, though. I do hope you forgive me.'

And, before Sarah could even think of an answer, Cora briefly pressed her champagne-scented lips against the latter's, before rapidly making her way through the crowd, disappearing from Sarah's sight.

When Sarah's trembling legs finally allowed her to reach her empty chair, on which she collapsed without much grace, she was utterly sure of two things only. For one thing, she was irrepressibly and irrevocably in love with the little girl she had saved so many years ago –and who, by some cruel twist of fate, also happened to be a Countess, along with a happily-married woman. The second thing was that, at the very second she would be back at Miss Levinson's, she would tell her everything she had kept hidden for so long, no matter what the consequences may be. She owed both Cora and Eleanor that much, for sure.

PART III - 1903

From the moment Eleanor Levinson had sent Cora a very heart-wrenching letter explaining each and every detail of how they were related, Sarah O'Brien had been waiting for the other woman's reply, barely able to think of anything else. But days had passed, turning to weeks, and then months, and no answer had come. The short woman saw no point into hoping any longer, which is why it came as quite shock to her when, coming back into the mansion after a well-deserved cigarette break, she suddenly found herself facing the one woman that had been haunting her every dream and thought for so long already.

'Milady, what are you-'

Sarah was almost instantly silenced by a trembling finger pressing against her lips, and the rest of her questioning died on her tongue.

'Is this your room, Sarah?' Cora asked sweetly, and the woman simply nodded.

Cora pushed herself inside the room almost without a sound, O'Brien following her every step, a look alternating between delight and terror on her face.

'May I sit on your bed?' Cora asked again, and Sarah nodded. 'Sarah, what- what I have to say is quite difficult, so I beg of you, try not to interrupt me before I'm thoroughly done with it.'

Taking Sarah's silence for a form of consent, she continued. 'I remember you, Sarah,' she suddenly blurted out. 'I am beyond sorry I pretended not to the last time we met; it was utterly selfish of me. I recognised you the very second I saw your eyes- they look exactly the same, did you know?'

She stopped to take a deep breath, turning away from her interlocutor, and went on. 'I never once stopped thinking about you, Sarah. I forgot almost everything about my past when I arrived in America, almost everything- but for the memory of a little twelve year-old girl who had once saved my life, and whom I never seemed to be able to take off my mind.'

Pausing for a moment, Cora closed her eyes, turning her head up towards the roof. 'And from the very moment I saw you again that night, I knew it was you. It had to be you. My aunt's letter came as a confirmation, obviously, but in my heart of hearts, I knew before. I guess the reason why I pretended not to recognise you last time we met, was because I wanted to get to know you- the real you. I needed to know if you'd lingered on my mind for almost sixteen years for a specific reason.'

'And, had I?,' Sarah couldn't keep herself from asking, to which Cora replied by a wide and warm grin.

'That, you had. Do you know why it took me so long to come here, darling Sarah?' Sarah simply stood silent, and Cora continued after a mere instant. 'I had to gather the courage to speak with my husband and family. I had to tell them I needed to go home, and I did not know how long I would stay; maybe a few days, maybe forever. It's a very tough thing to announce, did you know?'

'Milady-'

'But when I said I was coming home,' she said as her voice began to catch in her throat, whilst Sarah's eyes were growing increasingly watery, 'I didn't mean my aunt's mansion, Sarah. I meant you. It's always been you. Since that one day you helped me climb that tree, my home has been right here,'she said, pressing a finger against Sarah's chest, just above her left breast, over her heart. Sarah absentmindedly raised a hand to wipe down a couple tears that had trickled down her face and chin.

Instead of drawing back as she'd initially meant, Cora suddenly outstretched her hand, and began running a single digit against the small, silvery lace that was fastened around Sarah's neck. Pressing a trembling hand against her own lips, her azure eyes quickly welling up with tears, Cora spoke with a broken, shaky voice.

'You've kept it? All these years?'

With a half-smile, O'Brien pulled the chain from under her thick, black uniform dress, showing Cora the piece of jewellery. 'I never once took it off,' she added in a whisper.

Then, without any further word, Sarah's lips came to brush against Cora's almost on their own accord, and the unspoken words they exchanged through this blooming kiss was enough to answer each and every question they still had wanted to ask one another.

A/N: Thanks a lot for reading, and best (late) wishes for 2014!

You're all the loveliest.

x Wil~