A/N: It's been eighty four years... Well, no, but it's been nearly four and that feels like a lifetime ago. This was meant to be dipping my toes back in before I continue An End To All Things, but it seems some inspiration has returned and I'm not sure how long this will be!

Beginning within 2x07... because I surprised myself that I haven't tackled this properly before (besides oneshot wish-fulfilment like Feel), and I just love S2. Matthew's conviction to marry Lavinia is such a fixed point to me... until I rewatched and thought of something that might have made him think differently.

Lastly, I have reading Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell to thank because it made me miss writing and fandom so much that I came back!

Where You Are

The car was almost ready to go, cases filled with their few things from Downton strapped ready on its rack, ready to bear them back to their more rightful home of Crawley House. Waiting for Matthew to come through from his room for the last time, Lavinia cast her eyes around the vast hall, feeling her heart full with all that they'd been through there and the fact that Matthew was well again. Well enough to go home, well enough to learn to walk again, well enough to become her husband at last. Her smile widened tremulously.

She turned to Cora beside her. "Thank you so much, again, for all you've done for Matthew. Well, for both of us - you've been so kind to let me stay here too. It's helped him so much."

"You've helped him so much," the Countess replied warmly. "Of course we've been happy to do what we can, and it's really been no trouble. But it's you that has cared for him, these last months, and I'm so pleased it's been rewarded for you both now he's recovering!" She gave Lavinia's arm a gentle squeeze.

"Well - so am I, I have to say!" She felt she could burst. "But I mean it, thank you for all you've done. And…" she hesitated, almost thinking better of it, before deciding there may not be another chance to say it in relative privacy: "Thank you for writing to me, too, to suggest I came back. When you said he needed me… I couldn't stay away, however much he'd thought I should. He's very stubborn!"

"Sometimes too stubborn for his own good, I think," Cora said with fondness, her lips parting to continue when Mary appeared through the front door.

"Oh good, you haven't gone yet! I'd been hoping to say goodbye. Where's Matthew?"

Her smile was flawless and her eyes bright, a practised and effective mask to the conflict she felt within. She hadn't meant to overhear, and was certain that they hadn't meant to be overheard… it was her mother, Lavinia had only come back because she'd suggested it? Why, why would she have done so, when Matthew had been managing perfectly well anyway and… she took a breath, fingers tightening around her bag, determinedly pushing the treacherous thought away. It didn't matter, why, it didn't matter how. Lavinia had come back, and Matthew was happy, of course he was - he loved her, after all - her heart lurched to recall the joy shining from his face when he'd announced their wedding, and now they were going back to Crawley House to live together (even if not properly, yet, until after the wedding)… It all hurt too much to think of. In a way, she wondered if it wouldn't be easier, now, without their constant presence a reminder of their happiness and her own misery.

"I'm here," his voice and warm gaze arrested her as she, Lavinia and Cora turned to see Robert wheeling him through (and they all prayed it would be the last they'd really see of his wheelchair, now). "I'm glad we'd not gone yet, too; I'd have hated to leave without saying goodbye. Thank you, Lord Grantham," he smiled broadly as they came to a stop and accepted Robert's assistance to stand.

Why, Mary's heart clenched, did it always feel as though he spoke only to her, no matter how many people were in the room? She shook the thought away as he went to stand by his fiancée, took her arm to lean on, looked happy.

"Well, Matthew, we'll miss you. Both of you," Robert shook his hand warmly in parting. "But I don't suppose you're sorry to be going home at last."

"Not a bit; I'm looking forward to a bit of normality again, though I can hardly remember what that's like. But… I will miss you all, too."

"Well don't be a stranger!" Mary said brightly. "You'll still come for dinners and such, whenever you'd like."

"Of course, we'll -"

Cora interrupted softly with, "There's plenty of time for all that," and a gentle touch to Mary's elbow in admonition. "Just enjoy being well and being at home, together, that's all that matters for now. After all, you've a wedding to plan!"

Matthew blushed, and glanced at Lavinia who beamed beside him. "Yes… of course. Well, darling. Let's go home, shall we?"

Mary watched, the pain in her heart dulling slowly to numbness as, with further thanks and smiles and goodbyes, Matthew and Lavinia climbed into the car. The delight she still felt at his recovery warred with the soul-deep sadness she felt at the loss of him, until it all seemed too much to feel. Oh, she would miss him! She waved as they were driven away, her smile bravely fixed until the car was out of sight and she allowed it to fade with relief.

"That's it, then!" Robert exclaimed with a sigh as they returned indoors. "It'll seem quiet without them. I'll have to fend for myself after dinner again!"

"I think it's for the best though," Cora said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes but glancing to Mary instead. "Matthew was always so independent and he must be allowed to find that again."

Beside her, Mary simmered at her mother's proclamation, that she'd claim to understand what Matthew needed so well, it all seemed so… calculated, and… she realised with a jolt as she recalled the words she'd overheard earlier that perhaps it was. She riled with indignation.

"I'm sure he can manage that without our help, Mama," she said brusquely. "Anyway I'm going up to get changed."

"Alright, darling."

She escaped with relief up the stairs, to the comforting solace of her bedroom, grateful that Anna understood her unspoken need for peace without their usual chatter as she helped her change for the afternoon. While she hoped the maid would put her quietness down to merely being tired from their chase after Sybil and Branson the night before - that was a whole other matter to worry over! - she imagined that Anna knew her somewhat better than that. She shook her head, thinking over it again. Sybil was mad - utterly mad, she had to be - but something in Mary couldn't help but admire her sister's spirit. How she really didn't care what anyone else might think, or what the consequences might be… but it was all too late for that, and consequences did matter. Of course they did, she thought bitterly. She knew it only too well.

For a little while she read, preferring to stay in her room for now than face being downstairs, where she'd only expect to see Matthew in every quiet corner and be reminded afresh of his absence. It wasn't a thrilling novel, in fact she found its cheery hopefulness more irritating than anything else, but it was still preferable to allowing her own more miserable thoughts to intrude. It wasn't long, however, before her peace was disturbed. Hoping it might be Sybil, she sat up eagerly, but put her book down with a sigh as her mother instead peered around the door.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"No, I suppose not." She straightened as Cora sat gently beside her. "What is it?"

She started gently, innocently to all appearance. "Did Sir Richard catch his train alright earlier? I hope it won't be too long before he's with us again?"

"It won't, I'm sure," Mary said drily. "And yes, I saw him off. It's a shame the time didn't suit to take the car with Matthew and Lavinia but I didn't mind the walk, and it wouldn't have been fair to send poor Edith out again."

Cora pursed her lips. "That's good, and it was good of Edith to take them too, but even so I hope Branson's better tomorrow. I know he can't help being unwell but it's such an inconvenience! Listen, darling… I know it's all been sudden and I hope you're not put out too much by the wedding being planned here at Downton. I'd hoped you'd be settled first -"

"Oh Mama, I honestly don't mind about that," Mary stiffened and shook her head. "There's really no hurry."

"But, Mary… You must -"

"Mama!" She stood up, pulling her hand from her mother's grasp. Suddenly it seemed sickeningly clear to her, and her voice hardened against the cruelness of Cora's concern. "Nothing has changed; I am still going to marry Sir Richard. I'm not going to rush into it, and I'm not going to encroach on Matthew's time of happiness. That is all. I know what I need to do, never fear about that. You don't need to worry about me changing my mind."

Her heart beat fast with indignation, only more so as her mother's cowed expression proved her suspicion.

"Well," Cora said softly, "I'm glad to hear it. You know I only want you to be alright, darling. That's all I want." She stood and, as Mary remained hardened and terse, gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"I am," Mary said, her low voice trembling with the effort of convincing them both. "Everything's perfectly alright."

Only it wasn't, of course, and she was desperately grateful when her mother seemed to accept it and left her alone once more. How dare she have interfered so! But, then… Mary sank to the bed, fighting to hold back bitter tears that stung behind her eyes. 'Alright' wasn't 'happy', they both knew that, but it was obviously more important. The family was more important, Matthew's happiness was more important, and more so after all he'd been through.

She fiercely wiped at the few tears that fell. There was no point to them, after all. Matthew had gone home, he was regaining his health. He was happy. She accepted it, accepted that she wouldn't be, but at least she would be secure, and her story safe. Couldn't that be a happiness, of sorts? And if her mother had interfered, summoned Lavinia back, encouraged Mary to focus on her own situation instead… well, wasn't it all better this way, in the end?

Home.

From the vantage of his old armchair, Matthew took a deep breath and looked around him, again, as he had done many times already in the short time they'd been back at Crawley House. He could hardly believe it - this was it, now. He was at home. He was healthy (of sorts, getting there at least), the war was over, he didn't have to go back (never again, the relief shuddered through him)… this was it. There was a comforting familiarity and ordinariness about it all: the pale blue walls and settee, the frosty garden outside the tall windows, the little table with his mother's letters on, the newspaper in his hands. His fiancée, sitting just there across from him with her embroidery on her knee…

How terribly dull it all seemed.

He had every reason to be thrilled, he knew. He should be beside himself with happiness. And somehow that made it all worse.

In their last few days at the Abbey, he'd longed to escape it, for freedom from it, only more so since Violet's… discussion with him, the night before. He couldn't call it a revelation, for to do so would be to consider it true, and how could he possibly? For Mary to be in love with him… Still in love with him, she'd said! It just didn't make sense, and the possibility was too much to bear, not while they lived under the same roof and she was there right alongside Lavinia, it made his head spin… He'd felt as though he could hardly breathe, and had welcomed the return to Crawley House to give him some space to think. But now he was here, he felt only constricted, stifled by the future he could see stretching inexorably ahead of him. Marriage is a long business… forty or fifty years… He swallowed thickly and stared at Lavinia.

She glanced up at him and smiled. "Dear, are you alright? You look like you're miles away."

"Oh, yes," he blinked and shook his head, as if to rid it of his difficult thoughts. "It feels rather strange to be back, that's all. It's been such a long time."

Lavinia slipped off the settee and perched by him, clasping his hand between hers and resting them lightly on his knee. Her smile was all encouragement and light, and it made his heart ache.

"It has! And you've been through so much. You couldn't possibly expect to feel everything's back to normal so soon. But I'm here, too, and I'll help you. Alright?"

"Alright." With a small, tight smile, he kissed her, and squeezed her hands. He knew her support should strengthen him, but instead he felt it like the heaviest weight on his shoulders, and that troubled him a great deal.

She pressed her lips swiftly to his, smiled, and went back to her embroidery on the settee. Matthew picked up his newspaper again, scanning the words but reading few. When his mother bustled in a few minutes later, he was grateful for her interruption to the prick of feelings he desperately wanted to ignore. He looked up expectantly.

"Is this yours? Molesly found it in your dressing room." She couldn't have known how Matthew's heart seemed to stop the moment he recognised the little toy dog in her hand. "It's not one of your old toys, is it? Because I don't recognise it."

He shifted uncomfortably, folding the newspaper on his lap to occupy his hands where they flexed with sudden tension at how casually she held it, itching to have it rightfully back in his own grasp.

"No, it was given to me… as a charm, I think. To take to the front." The calmness he forced to his voice seemed to ring in his ears. It had been so private to him, this little piece of Mary, the reminder of her friendship - friendship, that was it - and he was desperately uncomfortable about it being out in the open in front of his mother and Lavinia. He didn't quite dare to think about why.

"Well," Isobel smiled, "you're home and safe now. Shall I put it in the barrel for the village children?"

"No -" His hand shot out to snatch it back before he was conscious of doing so. With it safe in his hands, he noticed how they both stared at him, and tried to smile and sound as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "You never know! It might be bad luck not to keep it."

That was perfectly reasonable, wasn't it? He slipped it into his pocket and smiled as Isobel mentioned that luncheon was ready, albeit rather late, and tried to still the shaking of his hands.

TBC

Thanks so much for reading! It's good to be back!