This is a first! I'm not quite sure what I've done here, but hey, I gave it a shot. Can't blame a girl for having a little fun! Hope it's not total rubbish. Let me know, but try not to make me cry. Haha :)
He hears the crash a moment before he feels the pain. Silver tray on the floor, "Bloody hell" escaping his lips. Something warm trickles down into his eye, then cheek. His crisp white shirt and waistcoat start to stain red. He grabs a handkerchief off his desk and reaches up to press it against the wound. Embarrassment rushes over him. This should not be happening to the butler of Downton abbey!
He crosses the hall to Mrs. Hughes' sitting room knocking once before entering, then shutting the door behind him quickly. Without looking up she knows its him. "Can I help you, Mr. Carson?" She glances up smiling before he has the chance to answer.
"Oh my" she gasps jumping from her seat and rushing over to him. "What have you done?" He tries to maintain his dignity while explaining the incident to her. She pulls down her medical box and starts to go through it, picking out bandages, a salve, some alcohol. She is always so good to him, good to everyone really. Even Thomas and O'Brien, who in his distinguished opinion deserve none of her graciousness. He can't imagine how this place would ever manage without her, how he would ever manage without her. He shakes the thought from is mind, yet it creeps up frequently now. Ever since the cancer scare he can't stay away from these thoughts. He would not want to be here without her, would not want to be anywhere without her. She is as much of him as he is himself.
There's never been the need for them to be this close to each other. He's always kept his distance, knowing it would be too much. Make him feel, that's something he tried not to do. Feel. Feel anything more for her than the friendship she offered. She wiped at the cut with an alcohol soaked cloth. Then reached up, holding his face between her hands to blow on the gash crossing his forehead. The alcohol stung, yet he felt nothing but heat, flames rising through his body. Her breasts rising and falling so close to his face. The urge to just lean forward and bury his face into them was almost overwhelming. He tried to keep his urges, feelings, thoughts at bay. He inhaled her scent. Her soap, sweat, something so unique to her only, it fills his senses. He sighs, oh lord he sighed. What must she think? Does she know the effect she has on him? Probably not, he assumes. She is too good, honest, wholesome. There are times when she looks at him he thinks she can see right through him. Can tell every thought running through his mind. He hopes this is not one of those instances. He prays she never leaves the position they are in now, to be able to look into his eyes. He's so terrified. He knows she will be able to see it, the longing, the need, his desire. She pulls back still holding his face between her tiny soft palms. She opens her mouth to say something to him, but nothing comes out. Her beautiful lips stay parted slightly. So soft, pink and full. She needs nothing to decorate them. Her teeth bite into her bottom lip, something she always does when her emotions run high. He knows this about her. He knows everything about her, yet he knows so little really. They stare at each other for what seems a lifetime. He wants nothing more than to lean in and brush his lips to hers. To slowly run his tongue along the crease tasting her, parting her slowly, offering her all of him. His mind, body, soul, his life (or what he has left of it anyway, he thinks).
She inhales sharply, pulling her hands from his face and tilts her head away. "Well now, Mr. Carson, there you are. All set." She busies herself putting away the medical items she used. His heart drops, it's over, his chance wasted. He scolds them, his footmen, for wasting chances. Silly, foolish, old hypocrite he thinks of himself. He leans back watching his life slip away once again. His chance wasted.
Mrs. Hughes settles herself onto her chair at the dining table. Still thinking about her moment with "Charles" earlier. In her mind, he will always be Charles. Bates sits across from her, glancing up to give her one of his most charming smiles. She loves him. Of course not the way she loves Charles, but the way you would love the man married to your daughter. She thinks of Anna as hers. Has watched the darling girl grow and blossom into the smart, caring woman she is today. "I saw Mr. Carson earlier. Thank goodness you were there to help him. That was quite the gash" he offers.
"Oh, he's never needed me. I'm sure he'd be the first person to tell you that." She sounded bitter, she knows, but cannot help it. She is bitter, rejected again. It is so easy for him to walk away she thinks, he has no more feelings for me than any other servant working here. She starts to get up. Trying to hide her emotions. She's good at it, has been doing it for over twenty long years now.
He stands outside the doorway. Hears every word spoken between the two. It knocks the wind out of him, like a punch to the gut. As she exits the room he grasps her at the elbow.
"Mrs. Hughes, may I have a moment?"
She knows he's heard her. She's glad! Hopes he feels something behind that stone, that granite. She wants him to hurt. To feel anything- guilt, fear, LOVE!
"I'm very busy at the moment" she lies.
He looks dejected, sad. "Please, Mrs. Hughes?"
"Very well" she huffs!
He leads her to his pantry, opening the door for her to enter. Following her he closes the door behind them and takes a deep breath...