Next year

Even though the war was over and Isobel was no longer a nurse, she still was used to show up at the hospital once a week more or less. She had currently a new helping cause, but she was still the chairman of the Downton Cottage Hospital after all and, besides, it was not only a working reason to link her to that place. Therefore, it wasn't unusual at all for her to visit her former colleague and dear friend Doctor Clarkson in his office, in order to have a tea together along with some small talk; what was unusual though, was to find a vase with a new luxuriant plant on one corner and two bottles of whiskey on the desk.

"What is it, are you having a party and you didn't invite me?" she asked teasing, pointing with her look at the unusual objects in the room.

Richard made a tiny smile in return, while silently making hint at her to sit on the empty chair in front of him. "These are just some presents from some patients and that plant is from Mr Moseley" he just replied then, once they both had taken their places.

Isobel nodded, considering thanking presents as a plausible explanation, even if it still seemed suspicious that they had been given all the same day. But another was the thought that made her frown after a moment. "Mr Moseley? Has he been ill lately?"

"Oh no, he sends every year a gift like that for my birthday"

The unexpected news caused her to widen her eyes and the casual way he talked about it left her speechless for some seconds. She was astonished, confused and somehow also kinda ashamed of herself. How was it possible for her not to know that, after all those years working side by side? And, on the other hand, how was it possible for him not to have told her?

"Today is your birthday?" she asked stupidly, blinking twice. "I didn't know… I didn't know you had one."

"Well, of course I have one! Everyone has a birthday you know, unless I am not human – which is still a chance" he kindly objected, with an ironic smirk.

"This is not what I meant. But you could have told me, I am your friend, Richard, right?"

In spite of her probably sincere care and the rare fact that she was calling him by the first name, the doctor couldn't help but roll his eyes. "This isn't about you or our friendship, Isobel. I didn't tell you because it is irrelevant, it's not a big deal" he replied, letting a slight shrug match his words.

"Not a big deal?" she echoed in total disbelief. "It's your birthday, the day you are supposed to celebrate yourself and friends are supposed to celebrate with you. It's your day, how can that really mean nothing to you?"

The hint of sadness in her voice and, most of all, the flash of pure indignation in her eyes, made him smile fondly at her this time. As far as he knew, she could have been starting to plot in her mind a National fight for the importance of birthdays – or even "unbirtdays", to quote Alice in Wonderland. Actually, he could almost see her drinking tea with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare discussing about it. However, in spite of the amusement of that mental image, it wasn't enough to distract him from the main topic and somehow, sadness affected him as well.

"What do you want me to say? Thank you for your accurate description of a birthday, but for me it is not a special day anyway… And honestly, I am fine with that" he repeated, not changing his position.

But Isobel didn't seem convinced as she inspected him with a piercing look. "Then, why do I perceive a sort of melancholy in you?"

At that tease, he was so close to roll his eyes again, but right when he was about to do that, a deep sigh escaped his lips instead, along with an unexpected – to him and to her – whole-heartedly confession.

"Because I'm human. I am very used to loneliness, maybe I even grew to like it, but sometimes I would like something more. I would liked something else than my job, to share my life with someone, to wake up in the morning next to that special someone and to find her at home when I come back. Maybe it would feel like an actual birthday in that case."

Only when he finished to speak, he dared to look at her. He wasn't actually prepared to face her pity or sympathy, but luckily for him, he didn't find none. Instead, her face only showed actual understanding and affection.

"You can never know, Doctor Clarkson, maybe next year will be different" she just replied, with a soft whisper that she barely recognized as the product of her own voice. Even if she actually didn't know what she meant with that implication.

They just looked at each other for a while, as a new connection was created between them and in that exact moment, they both knew. Probably what each of them needed and wanted was right in front of them; probably for Richard that birthday was already starting to feel different now that Isobel was there. It could have been so easy to say something more concrete, to look for any form of physical contact and to cross definetly the line. Would have been that bad to risk what they have and give that a try? Not at all, but yet he suddenly shook his head with a small absent-mindedly smile on the lips and looked away.

Maybe next year.

What can I say? Since tomorrow is my birthday, I was in a sort of birthday mood and this fic came out:) I imagine it set in S3 in the summer of 1920, which is a year before the Fair in Thirsk - here is explained the "maybe next year" thing. A feedback is appreciated, as always.