AN: Hey! I'm back with a new story and I'm very exited to write. This one started as an 4 am thought and suddenly it was just all in my head, readu to be written down! Gosh I love the feeling... Anyway, I have no idea how this story is gong to end, but trust me, it won't be a happy fic, so consider yourself warned. A huge thanks to those few people who have been encouraging me to write;)

I do not own any of the characters, I'm just borrowing them for a while.

I need a fix, bitter and sick, bitter and sicker than love, love, love.

~One Two, Bitter and Sick

Lady Mary Crawley walked down the village one morning. The weather was rather sunny and warm. It was a nice change, for it had been raining for the past week.

But something made her stop in front of the Crawley House.

The house itself was unchanged. The garden was as beautiful as ever, but the atmosphere was somewhat different.

That made her walk to the front door. The door was locked and no one came to answer her as she knocked. It was not like Isobel to not answer the door.

Maybe she was in the back garden. Mary knew that she had a habit of letting her staff have a day off when she felt like being alone. The past few weeks had not been exactly plsant for her.

Lord Mertons son's had spoken terribly to her. She had been so happy when their engagement had been announced but his son's words had made her doubt.

Mary's eyes scanned the garden, but no one was in there. She looked through the window, but the house looked lonely and empty. Only a half empty tea cup caught her eye and made her worried.

Suddenly she remembered that there was a spare key, hidden in the branch of an apple tree. Mary found the key and hurried to the front door.

The door opened and she stepped in. The house was in absolute silence and that made her feel very uncomfortable.

"Isobel! Are you in here?!" Mary tried to call her mother in law, but no answer came. She walked through the hall into the drawing room.

Isobel's tea cup was on the side table with a news paper from the day before. The cup was cold. It had probably been there since last evening.

Mary felt the worry rise inside her. Everything seemed normal, except it wasn't. Her feet took her up the stairs.

Isobel's bedroom door was not fully closed. As Mary opened the door she saw an untouched bed, few books on the night stand, and the photographs that where standing on her vanity.

There was the wedding picture of her and Matthew, a picture of George and another wedding picture. Mary took the photograph into her hands. It was old. It showed a young, beautiful woman who could not have been older than 25 and beside her was a man with a blonde hair who's eyes where sparking.

It had to be Isobel's wedding picture. Mary had never seen the picture of her late husband before, but he reminded her a lot of Matthew.

He had definitely had his father's eyes.

As she put the picture back to the table she saw an unsealed envelope. It was adressed to no one, but as Mary took it in her hands and started reading its contest she understood it had been meant to be read by the first person who would find it.

The letter sent shivers through Mary's spine and after finishing it a tear was rolling down her cheek.

Cause now she knew what was so wrong in the house.

The person who was living in the charming, beautiful house had left.

The night before:

Isobel Crawley laid down the cold gone tea and stared blankly out of the window. She had given her cook and maid the next few days off. She needed to be alone.

Suddenly she had started questioning everything in her life. Her middle class back ground had followed her everywhere and now, it had finally ruined her chances of being happy with the man she was falling in love with.

Isobel rubbed her tired, aching eyes and sighed. She hadn't slept much on the night before. Thinking had kept her awake, but at least she had decided what to do next.

The day before she had received a letter from Lord Merton. He had apologized his son's behavior at the dinner and hoped to see her as soon as she would be ready to talk about their future again. To be honest Isobel wasn't sure about their future together anymore. The dinner had again showed that she was not part of them. And she would definitely not be good enough to become the new Lady Merton.

She needed to clear her thoughts. She needed to be sure about what she wanted. And Downton was not the right place to do that.

Isobel felt quite terrible in fact. She was leaving without giving anyone a proper explanation. She had even promised to have tea with the Dowager countess the next day. But the again, she would not be worried. Isobel knew that.

But Lord Merton. What would he do after learning that she had gone away? He was a romantic fool and would probably blame himself.

It may not be the easiest way, but she needed to get away from Downton. Away from these people.

As she was alone in the house, Isobel had been able to prepare everything. She had packed her things onto two suitcases. The letter was on her vanity and she had no idea who was going to find it.

The clock on the wall was striking eight o'clock. Last train to London would leave at nine. She had an hour left

These past 11 years Crawley House had become a new home to her. At first the house had felt cold and empty, but with time the house had started to feel like her home again

Her garden was the place where she had been able to escape the surrounding world when it felt like it.

But that was not enough anymore.

Isobel got up from the settee and went up to her room. The suitcases was on the bed. Waiting to be moved.

She looked at the white envelope for one last time. She had written the letter a few hours before. The only thing she hoped for was, that no one would come after her.

Isobel took the suitcase and made her way down the stairs, where she put on her coat and hat.

As she opened the door, she looked behind her one more time and smiled a sadly. If there only was another way.

She was one of the three people standing on the platform. She felt nervous and shaky. When she saw the train coming, the realization of what she was doing finally hit her.

She was leaving Downton.

Isobel Crawley got into the train that night and left Downton. She was travelling in second class, because that's what she was. A middle class woman surrounded by aristocrats. That was the place she didn't belong to. She would miss George terribly, that was for sure, but it was a sacrifice she had to make.

Don't forget me, I beg, I remember you said: Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.

~Adele, Someone Like You

tbc

AN: A review or two would make my day, so please give me some feedback.