The telegram had come to Crawley house, Moseley had immediately made his way to Downton Abbey to hand deliver the telegram. With the war the telegram could bring devastating news. Lord Grantham opened it his face showing puzzlement.

"What is it? What does it say?" Cora demanded.

"Crawley injured stop. Sent to England stop."

"That's it?" Mary asked.

"Yes, now we wait."

Mary did not sleep that night, she and Matthew had made a promise to one another on that platform. They would wait until after the war to marry. She tried to write a letter to Isobel but found whenever her pen touched paper the words in her mind would flee. Did she already know he was injured? Had the Red Cross gotten to her first? In the morning she made her way to the Hospital she stayed the entire day. Sybil told him of the telegram and he sighed.

Major Richard Clarkson shrugged off his uniform jacket and put on his white coat transforming into Dr. Clarkson. A new batch of arrivals would be arriving shortly. The vans were approaching, he could hear the engines idling, slamming doors signaled the medics exit and they began picking up stretchers. Clarkson's keen eyes noted a heavily wounded soldier. "First in." The nurses and other medics began bringing in the wounded. Dr. Clarkson was about to go inside when he heard, "last one, Crawley."

Clarkson ran towards the van, "Crawley? Captain Matthew Crawley?"

The medic shook his head, "No sir, a woman named Crawley."

Gritting his teeth he moved towards the van as the medics withdrew the last stretcher. On it was none other than Isobel Crawley. She was in the blood stained uniform of the Red Cross. Some of it had been cut away to reveal a purple and swollen arm. There was also copious bruising and cuts to her face.

"That arm of hers is pretty bad and they knew the journey would jostle it so they loaded her up with morphine." The medic informed Clarkson as they removed Isobel from the transport. Clarkson had Isobel placed in a corner and directed his nurses to erect screens around the area. He wanted her separated from the men until he could come up with more suitable area.

"Nurse Crawley" he barked as other patients were being situated.

Sybil rushed up to him, "Yes, is cousin Matthew here?"

The look on Dr. Clarkson's face let Sybil know that something was wrong. He walked towards the screened area and opened the corner. Sybil went in first and then stopped cold, "Cousin Isobel."

"I'm glad your sister is here today" Clarkson muttered.

Between Mary and Sybil they cut her out of her uniform and got her clean and into fresh clothes. Her arm was then set by Dr. Clarkson as she lay unconscious. "I can't leave here yet, go tell your Father what has happened."

Mary left with Sybil at the end of her shift to tell their father what they had learned

"Isobel? Not Matthew?" Lord Grantham asked his daughter confusion marring his voice.

"I saw her with my own eyes!" Said Mary almost hysterically.

Moving swiftly to his desk he snatched up the telegram his eyes darting over the paper, "Oh I'm stupid, it just says Crawley doesn't have a first name or rank. Just Crawley."

Edith grabbed the telegram wanting to see for herself. "Do you think Matthew knows his Mother has been sent here?"

"Does it mean he'll be sent home?" Mary asks.

"I'll telephone the War Department, see what I can find out."

"I'll go back to the hospital" Sybil says tiredly.

"Isn't your shift over?" Edith asks

Sybil shrugs, "Yes but someone should stay with her for when she wakes up. I know Dr. Clarkson would appreciate that."

"I'll go, you need to rest." Mary announced.

The rest of the family seemed taken aback but Mary took no notice. She had promised Matthew on that train platform that she would look after Isobel and she intended to keep that promise. Later that night she found Dr. Clarkson sitting by her cot.

"Is she...how is she?"

"Out, I wanted to make sure she felt no pain when we set her arm."

Mary regarded the Doctor, he was a staple of the village and even her own home yet she knew so little about him. She noted that he looked like he hadn't slept in months, what with the war that might even be true. "Will you be going to your cottage?"

"No, I have a bed stashed in my office. I stay here most nights now what with the influx of wounded. If you need to leave at anytime let the nurses know."

If Mary was insulted she didn't let it show she merely lifted a book, "I'm quite set Doctor."

Clarkson walked toward his office and removed his coat before shedding some of his uniform and boots. He all but collapsed onto his cot and fell asleep. The first shades of dawn woke him. He padded softly to a basin and filled it. He washed his face and shaved before changing into a fresh uniform. He found Mary still at Isobel's bedside three quarters of the way through her book. "I can telephone the house if you like, have someone collect you?"

"No need doctor, I'm sure I can have Branson take me back when he brings Sybil."

Clarkson scoffs at his blunder, of course that would be the logical thing. Mary watches as he gently lowers the blanket so he can listen to Isobel's chest. He then methodically touches certain points on Isobel's left arm and nods in satisfaction.

The Crawley sisters swap places and Dr. Clarkson is certain that Isobel will begin waking in a few hours. The morphine slowly leaving her system. He has a syringe and vial ready should she need more. Around noon a moan from the curtained area has alerted a nurse. When it is determined that she is indeed waking she gets Dr. Clarkson. He sits next to her and takes her good hand in his. "Isobel? Can you hear me?"

She inhales shakily before gripping his hand tightly, her face pinched in pain. Clarkson quickly gives orders for morphine, albeit less than she had in the field.

A quick pinch and then warmth spreads through Isobel the searing pain from her arm reduced to a tolerable ache. When she can breathe steadily again she turns in the direction of Dr. Clarkson. Once again Dr Clarkson asks, "Isobel? Can you hear me?"

"Yes...Richard?" She croaks.

"Yes, it's Dr. Richard Clarkson. You're at Grantham Hospital. You're safe."

"But France?" Her voice was small and confused.

"What is the last thing you remember?" He prodded.

"They needed me at another hospital, we were en route. I remember waking up on the ground then a voice telling me I was going home. Then here...now."

"How do you feel?"

Isobel considered the question, "The arm feels better now you gave me some morphine. I'm sore" she gripped his hand tighter, "I seem to be having trouble with my eyes."

Instantly Clarkson was on his feet. He called for a scope and began inspecting her eyes all the while Isobel talked. " don't feel as if something got in them. Not like sand or anything, my vision is blurred. I can see light and shapes but nothing in detail."

The doctor sat down and exhaled loudly before taking her hand again, "Well you know as well as I that the incident probably rattled everything in your skull like marbles in a jar."

At his analogy she laughed a little and he continued, "You also probably know that this could be temporary-"

"Or permanent" she cut him off.

Her fingers clutched his and he returned the pressure, "I have to make rounds."

She turned in his general direction and gave him a watery smile which broke his heart. "The others, at the Abbey, please don't tell them about this. The arm yes, this" she points at her head, "development...I couldn't bear it."

"You have my word."

During rounds Dr Clarkson tells the nurses to announce their presence before going behind the screen on the premise of privacy.

Days pass and Isobel is gaining ground, her pain is becoming more tolerable. The morphine dose is backed off allowing her more hours of alertness. She wants to walk the grounds, when she mentions this to Clarkson he offers to join her. It becomes a habit, a ritual of sorts. During his morning break he would come to her bedside and she would push her arms into a dressing gown large enough to accommodate her cast. Clarkson would stand on her right side so she could use her good arm to hold onto him if needed. In those first days he was sorely needed.

Her blurred eyesight in concert with the daylight and movement made her dizzy. So much so that on their first walk she barely made it onto the soft grass outside. She groaned before doubling over, having an inkling as to what was coming Clarksons arms quickly encircled her waist to hold her up and angle her in such a way that she wouldn't vomit on herself. The commotion quickly drew the attention of other soldiers which brought a flock of nurses. He quickly told the nurses that it was just nausea from the morphine. Isobel quickly agreed with him letting him know it was definitely not morphine that caused the episode. He withdrew his handkerchief and gently wiped her mouth. "Thank you Richard" she said as her cheeks burned with shame.

She had called him by name it was becoming a more frequent occurrence and he found he loved it. He had already cleaned her face but wanted an excuse to touch her again, his forefinger brushed a cheek, "Don't fret."

Slowly Isobel was beginning to reorient herself in space. Overtime she was able to loosen her grip on the good doctor. Now when they walked she would draw level with him so her arm and shoulder would touch his. This point of contact was able to give her mind the information it needed. The day was nearing for Isobel to leave the hospital and her anxiety was rising. It was true she was healing. The cast would be off soon and only Dr. Clarkson knew of her vision impairment. She had adjusted to the hospital, she had enough vision to distinguish light sources. If a door were open in the daytime she could navigate through it. She could make out the shape of people but not their faces. However, she couldn't read print or pour herself a cup of tea. This worried Isobel for she had been invited damn near ordered to Downton Abbey for a dinner.

On their morning walk Isobel clung to to Richard's arm more for comfort than for orientation. "If you just told them."

"NO!" her shout drew the attention of some soldiers. Realizing her mistake she gripped him tighter and whispered, "No, I won't tell them. Not yet. Can't you tell them that it's too soon?"

He snorts, "The cast will be off soon, Sybil has read your chart, and other than your eyes there is nothing wrong with you."

Frustration was rising in Isobel, "Say it's something else...lie"

It was his turn to hiss, "I won't lie and tell them that you are ill, when you are not. Sooner rather than later you will have to go to them."

They near a corner of the garden and will begin the last length before going back inside. The tension in Isobel's shoulders release and she pulls up again, "Would you come with me, be my escort?" she asks. Even though she probably couldn't see it he rolled his eyes. While their new form of familiarity was something Richard cherished he didn't want to be a relegated to a prop at a formal dinner. Isobel could sense his mood and turned to look towards him. As a man he noted that her brown eyes were beautiful as a Doctor he noted the presence of Nystagmus.

"Please Richard."

It was the please that undid him.