Meant to get this out sooner, but...yeah...

Not exactly happy, but there are M/M bits in here for the victims of CS2.

Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey (I sorely wish I did, though!)

Mary's Secret

Sybil had always been the last person in the household to find out about things.

She had been resting in the gardens when it was announced that a new chauffeur was under consideration (what a coincidence that she would eventually marry the same man!). Tom had received the news about Gwen finally obtaining a job as a secretary long before Sybil had known. All had met Lavina Swire before her, and therefore knew her imminent connection to Matthew long before Sybil had. Practically everyone had found out about the Canadian who'd claimed himself to be Patrick Crawley before she did. Whatever the event, Sybil had always been the last—or one of the last—to find out. But nevertheless, she always did find out, eventually.

All except for one rather scandalous night.

The day had been like any other, except for the fact that there was a hunting party for two guests of honor occurring at Downton…

Mary regrets it every minute of every day that passes. Her darling baby sister was gone, and she had kept her biggest secret concealed from the sweetest woman on earth. Though it would have hurt her to see the expression of horror bestowed upon Sybil's features, she regrets not confiding in her sister before death's hand had claimed her.

Now, as Mary sits alone with her baby sister, does she release the rivulets of tears she's been holding in. They are tears of regret, sorrow, and remorse combined in one. The loss is beginning to take its toll on her as the cries grew violently distressing. She feels her throat beginning to dry out as the sobs intensified, the hurt reminding her of the cost of letting the emotion run its course.

When the sobs had at long last slowed, she wiped her eyes before settling down in a chair adjacent to the bed.

"My darling…please do wake up, Sybil. You cannot be gone!"

The closed eyelids do not flutter, nor do they open to reveal soft chocolate orbs. As Mary reaches to grasp Sybil's hand, she does not feel a familiar warmth radiating from the bluish flesh.

It is with these observations that Mary truly comes to the realization that her sister is dead.

Without so much as a flinch, Mary finally tells Sybil the secret she should have told her a long time ago. She recounts the day rapidly, almost as if the event had happened a day or so prior. The explanations are met with difficulties (they were rather unladylike actions), but she manages. Every detail is vividly clear, like a diamond in the rough.

When the tale is through, Mary kisses Sybil's forehead before exiting the room.

~o~

Mary soon finds that she cannot sleep.

No matter how much tossing and turning occurs, she cannot bear to lie still for the briefest of moments. Her mind churns and churns, never wanting to stay still. The room feels stuffy and uncomfortable, as if the air is growing thinner by the second.

A nagging feeling won't disappear; instead, it lingers like an apparition. She cannot stop thinking about the earlier one-sided conversation with Sybil. Initially, she had believed that it would lift a burden from her shoulders. Instead, it seems to have left an emptiness of sorts in her chest. Something was missing. What of, she was not certain.

"Mary? Darling, what's the matter?" Matthew yawns as he sees his wife looking worrisome.

"Nothing. I just couldn't sleep." She puts on a smile before kissing his brow.

"I'm going to go clear my head."

"Do you wish for my company?"

"No, that's alright. I want to be alone for a bit."

He hesitates.

"If this is about the funeral tomorrow…"

She shakes her head.

"No, not exactly. I need to be there, anyway, Matthew."

"I know that, darling, but-"

"But nothing." She sighed. "I'll be back soon, I promise you."

After a quick peck on the lips, Matthew fell back asleep while Mary sought for Sybil's room once again.

~o~

As Mary sits next to her baby sister once again, she sees that she is seeking for closure. Although she has finally recognized the fact that she will never talk to her sister again, she cannot help but think if there's something more she needs to do. The question is: what is it?

She ponders over this for quite some time. To pass the time, she paces and examines some of Sybil's old things (the family couldn't bear to remove some of the things, nor did they wish to go through the trouble of asking the servants for assistance). Every memento reminded her of each stage of Sybil's life: the harem pants from her suffragette days; the headscarf she wore during the War when she was on nurse duty; and—most recently—the royal blue knitted hat that she had worn to Downton after her marriage to Tom.

She paused as she reached Sybil's writing nook. A blue quill and a blotter of ink lay untouched. Sheets of perfectly pressed parchment lay in a stack, as if waiting to be used.

Suddenly, an idea forms in Mary's mind. She knows how to fulfill the emptiness in her chest. The inspiration hits her like a lightning bolt. How she did not think of it sooner, she would never know, but what mattered at the present moment was that she could resolve her conflict.

After gentling kissing Sybil's cold forehead, she dashes from the room and makes her way down to the library.

~o~

The words seem to write themselves almost effortlessly. Her hand will not cease its steady progression across the parchment; it is as if the motion was halted for a mere moment, all thought would vanish into a deep abyss. The steady rhythm seemed to calm her as she began to allow the feelings to unravel.

Mary was not much of a writer, but she was satisfied with the end product she had produced. After a hasty proofread, she folds the letter and seals it before returning to bed.

~o~

The monotonous drab of black does nothing to awaken Mary's spirits the following morning. All the sobs drown one another out until they become a melancholy symphony of depression.

When it was Mary's turn to whisper her final farewell to Sybil, she takes a deep breath before kneeling at the coffin.

"My darling…you will be dearly missed. You were the light of Downton. Whenever things were horribly wrong, you would be there to inject a ray of sunshine. Now that you're gone, the house seems rather grey and dull."

She dabs at her eyes before subtly placing the letter into her sister's hands.

"I hope that you will read this, Sybil. I know I've recently told the tale contained in this letter, but I want to make sure you truly do know. You are—once again—one of the last people to find out. Nevertheless, it's essential you know, darling."

" I'm not as innocent or sweet as you were, nor shall I pretend that I know of any person who is. May you rest well, darling. We will always remember and cherish you."

She stands and presses a lingering kiss to her baby sister's forehead before heading towards Matthew.

"Are you alright?"

She nods before leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I will never get over it, I suppose. My life will continue on, but I won't ever forget her. She's my sister. And she always will be, whether in life or death. I will miss her, but I will gradually begin to heal over time."

He smiles before kissing her hand.

"We'll all miss her, Mary."

"I know. Even the servants will."

"Indeed we will." Mrs. Hughes suddenly appears, sniffing slightly.

"I remember when she was a baby. Always so sweet and kind. Such a wonderful girl, the kindest toddler I've ever set my eyes on. Not that I mean any offense to you or Lady Edith, milady."

"I know you don't." Mary smiles warmly at the housekeeper.

"Mrs. Hughes, do take the day off. All of you. I've already spoken with Papa about it. He truly doesn't mind in the slightest."

"Are you sure, milady?"

Mary nodded.

"It's what Sybil would have wanted."

Smiling sadly, the housekeeper thanks Mary and goes off to search for the other servants.

"Did Robert really give his permission?"

"He won't mind, not today."

Smiling, Matthew tenderly strokes her cheek.

"You have no idea how much I love you, Mary Crawley."

Blushing, she gestured towards the coffin.

"I think they need you."

He sighed.

"I don't want to believe she's gone."

"But the fact remains that she is. We all have to face it, Matthew."

With a lingering smile, he leaves and joins the other coffin bearers.

Mary watches him as he lifts the casket. His golden hair sways as if a subtle breeze had disturbed its stationary stance. She can see the pain etched into his features as he carries his sister-in-law's coffin out into the cemetery.

Mary gathers herself before following them outside. Despite the gray demeanor of the day, she feels the tiniest bit of happiness beginning to seep into her veins.

How could she have ever preferred a Turkish diplomat over the perfect gentleman? Perhaps during that time, she would have been able to comprehend all of it. But now that she was older and a bit wiser, she cannot imagine how she had once considered her spouse as anything resembling a sea monster.

She sighs.

Perhaps Sybil would figure it out…

In case you didn't figure it out, Mary's secret that was never revealed to Sybil was her encounter with Pemuk. I was thinking about it for a couple of months and I was like, "Huh. Mary never told her, yet everyone else eventually found out."

This was originally going to be a one-shot, but I decided to make this a big volume dedicated to the secrets never revealed to Sybil (she was my favorite character, after all).

Reviews make me happy. :) xo