Set in the Cancelled universe, a few months after Mary & Matthew finally start dating. There is a lot of baggage on this trip they are taking. From the prompt "Mary/Matthew and the condom broke." I have nothing to do with where those two went with this. I'm crying at the angst right along with you.
Usual disclaimers as to I do not own these characters (only a little bit their modern reimagining), no copyright infringement intended, all is born out of the love for those who created and hold the rights to DA. Grazi et mea culpa.
A Thin Pink Line
Eyes snapped open and she was suddenly just wide awake. She reached for her phone to check the time. 5:47am. Matthew's arm was slung across her waist, his breath warn against her shoulder as he spooned in behind her.
She needed to do it, but somehow had to move and not wake him.
Still holding her phone, she slowly slipped out from under his arm and off the bed, hesitating for a moment to watch him, the way he resettled with a sigh, never waking.
In the bathroom, she reached into the back of the linen closet where she had stashed the box earlier this week. She honestly hadn't thought a few weeks ago she would have to worry about any of this. A broken condom when she was also on the pill wasn't that big a deal.
Of course the expression on his face at the time sure didn't reflect that. She was sure she hadn't imagined the flash of terror in his face before he looked at her with concern. Immediately reading what was likely really behind his panic forced her to smile, reassuring him that she was also on the pill, that it would be okay, a nothing event.
But they both knew after what they had been through only months before, the ghost of it all still between them, it wasn't necessarily okay.
Still, she convinced herself it would be nothing.
Only a little more than a week ago, a lot of nothing meant suddenly it was something.
And she wasn't about to let him know.
She must have read the instructions a dozen times before her bladder began to complain in earnest. Snapping the cap back on the end, she set the stick on the counter and sank down to the floor, setting the timer on her phone for five minutes. She was both a jumble of thoughts and completely numb. It would be negative. No point thinking about what would happen if it wasn't. And yet, she couldn't help focusing on that. After all he had been through, that she had been through as well. It was too soon, far too soon for them to have to deal with any of this. It was bad enough she had put off checking for this long, building up her own stress and worry level, but there hadn't been a morning alone this week. Did part of him know subconsciously? She didn't think he had a single clue as to her cycle unless she said something. He had seemed to cling to her this week, something haunting him, needing her there to chase it away in the night. And she wanted to be that for him. But she also needed the answer to this uncertainty as well.
The phone vibrated in her hands, and she jumped, nearly dropping it. Taking a deep inhale, she reached up and pulled the stick down. She shakily blew out the breath she was holding and opened her eyes to read the result.
A thin pink line. Just one. Alone.
She felt hollow inside.
It took her a second to realize that tears were rolling down her cheeks and a part of her was aching with disappointment. Disappointment. She jumped up and stuffed the opened instructions and test stick back in the box and shoved them to the back of the linen closet once more. Her hands were shaking and she was trying to swallow down sobs that were threatening to wrack her body. Dammit. This should be a relief. A blessing. A lucky break.
The only break at the moment was a part of her heart she wasn't ready to admit to having known.
Turning on the cold tap, she splashed her face with water again and again, until her breathing calmed, her tears stopped and she felt herself going numb again on the inside. She dried her face and checked the mirror. Pale and empty. Just as it always was.
As she slipped silently back into bed, he wondered if he should say anything. The tension she was holding was palpable, wrapped around her like a blanket, the same feeling he had around her all week. It was the reason he had been reluctant to leave each night, why he wanted to be there each morning, to try and hold her safe from whatever it was that was haunting her and causing her to hide herself away. He didn't know how to ask, sure that he would get a hollow, "It's nothing," in reply. All he could do was just wait for her to open up or crack, and to be there, ready to catch the pieces.
But he was cracking first. He always did with her.
He shifted closer, cautiously pressing a hand against her arm. "Are you okay?"
She shivered, holding herself tight before she finally exhaled and cautiously eased a little back against him. Her head shake was nearly imperceptible. "I'm fine," she whispered, words sounding as if they had to fight to get out. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." His lips brushed across the top of her head as arms took the chance to wrap around her. "Lack of you woke me."
He felt her half chuckle, as slowly, so slowly she was melting into his touch. He knew he wouldn't be falling back asleep, but another hour or so of holding her like this would be enough, or at least the beginning of enough. Unbidden, his hand drifted down, settling over the flat plane of her belly, and he caught the slight tensing against his touch. He listened to her breath, holding himself still, begging into the silence for her to just trust him one inch more.
Her ribs pressed back again him as she inhaled before a tumble of words were cast into the deep indigo of pre-dawn that masked their bedroom. "It was nothing. The condom breaking, I mean. I just … everything is fine." A hesitation, a twinge of something painful in now nearly strangled words. "I know you were worried."
He froze, swallowing hard, pushing down his shock, his … disappointment? Was that what his first thought had been those weeks ago as he realized?
"I know you were worried." More like subconsciously wishing, hoping against the impossibility that some touch of fate or destiny would give him, give them, the perfect do-over and a happy ending they both had been cheated of far too long. But it was too soon, too soon for her. It wouldn't be fair to her if she was only now able to begin to try and trust him. Just because he wanted, because he knew — oh, how he knew, how long he had known what he wanted their life to be.
His tongue felt thick and he hoped his voice would stay steady, free of the ache that was clenching around his heart right now. "Mary, darling, why didn't you tell me?" The words barely escaped as a whisper.
A small shudder — or was it a sob held back? — made her tremble against him, but his arms refused to let her go. Cool, delicate hands found his, slender fingers covering his, twining with his against her belly, and gently tugging his hand up higher until they rested just below her breasts. The pain squeezed tighter in his chest.
"I didn't want you anxious."
He swallowed down the impulse to let out an exasperated sigh, biting back his urge to tell her that her closing him out was the very reason he was anxious. Her silence as always, putting him on edge, stirring up all those hidden insecurities, all his fears that she deserved better than him. But he knew the bitter lashing out of the pain that was overtaking him wasn't the tack to take with her. He buried his face into her hair, keeping his breathing calm, reminding himself they both continued to hurt from too many accumulated scars.
"I … it hurts more to know you tried to hold that all in alone." His foot found hers, nudging her to let him in, to slide his skin against hers, to tangle themselves in each other as they did so often when bliss overtook them. He needed it, she needed it now, a reminder of what they were with each other.
Her hand squeezed his tighter. "I'm still trying to figure out how to share myself with you. I don't ever want to be a burden or disappointment for you."
Propping himself up on his elbow, he reached to cup her face and turn her to look up at him.
"Mary Crawley, you will never be a burden to me. Or a disappointment." His gaze bored into her in the lightening darkness. His thumb traced across her lips. "An exasperation, possibly, maybe." He dipped to kiss her at that. "But that's what I love about you."
Lips opened, embraced each other, breaths mingling as each reminded the other of what was needed, what was feared. He pulled her to face him in a loose embrace, every fingertip, every inch of skin open to touch and a silent story they traced on the other as the day slowly emerged to chase away the shadows of their room.