A/N: Yep I couldn't resist writing another fic.. I came up with this idea and I just had to write it to fuel my excitement for the new series, not long now :D It's not related to any of my other Downton fics & it does have slight series 2 spoliers but quite mild. This story is pretty much all Matthew with parts of Matthew/Lavinia and Matthew/Mary as well. Thanks once again to everyone who reviewed and favourited my fics, particularly the most recent one "Lucky Charm" - it really means a lot that people are enjoying my fics. Enjoy this one!
He hated himself at times. Ever since this blasted war had started, he became more and more critical about his own beliefs and ways – for example, he hated himself for going up to fight. He hated the fact that every day he was in the worst conditions he would probably ever know, he would kill a German he never would know. He hated that he would be needlessly taking away the life of someone who possibly had a family, children, and a wife back home who would never see their loved one again simply because he had killed them. He hated himself for that – it tortured him, embedded on his soul. He could hear the screams, the cries of his fellow countrymen falling beside him, their agonising cries slowly dying away. He would thank God a thousand times that he'd been spared, that although he hadn't completely been left unscathed but he was alive. But he hated himself for that too – why did he have to live, when his friends didn't? He could hear the cries of the men he killed, the enemy as he had fired at them, watching them crumple in front of him. He hated himself for who he had now become – it was like he was a deadly creature, willingly to kill anything and anyone. He hated violence, but now violence was shaping a new Matthew, a new him and he hated it. He did not know who he was anymore – on the outside he looked the same Matthew everyone knew, apart from a scar marring his cheek, a limp in his leg and gas burns on his hands and arms. But in the inside, he was mentally scarred. Nightmares visited every night he was away from the front, consisting of seeing his friends die in front of him, the explosions and bullet fire ringing in his ears as every night would wake up shaking and sweating; sleeping was now rare to Matthew.
Life back at Downton was a completely different world to the front – the peace was welcomed but even then, he was plagued with thoughts aside from the war. He hated the fact he knew he could never love Lavinia fully, with all of his heart. Because he knew that one small part of it still belonged to the first woman he had ever loved, the lady that had infuriated him so so much when he first arrived but all the while had struck him with her beauty. He hated the fact that the one piece of his heart still belonged to Mary, that he still had a connection with her when he shouldn't. He should be over her, moving on and loving Lavinia fully but yet, he couldn't. And he hated himself for it, hated the fact that he would never be able to love Lavinia to the full extent of his heart, that he could not do the honourable deed. He did love Lavinia – so very dearly – but to Matthew, it was not fair to Lavinia to continue with these feelings for Mary, and no matter how hard he tried to forget these feelings, he simply could not. He hated himself for being weak, but he had to do the best thing for him and for Lavinia. He released Lavinia from their engagement, sharing a tearful farewell as he explained his actions, making it clear that he did love her but he wanted to be honourable. To Matthew, it seemed like she already knew that he would always love Mary, that the news wasn't so much as a shock. He left her with a heavy heart, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach but he knew that this was for the best – but he hated himself for it. He hated himself for going as far as being engaged to her, for continuing their engagement whilst he knew that he would never really get over Mary but yet, he had continued it. Because the thing he scolded himself most of all was for being a fool and letting her go and not trying to understand her more.
But now, he could see light at the end of the tunnel. The war was finally over, he was free – the demons would not ever go but he was assured in the fact that he would never have to go back to the trenches, the hell he had lived in. The nightmares became less frequent, the wounds he had picked up mentally and physically were healing – and his heart had felt lighter than it had done since he had left Lavinia a couple of months ago. For now, he saw things in a clearer light; secrets were told, explanations were given and he now finally knew why she – the stubborn yet quite simply stunning woman he would always love – had been so hesitated in accepting. He would not deny it, it hurt – it had torn through him like a new bullet wound, a new pain suffered on the battlefield only this time on his heart. It felt like all of the pain he had first suffered when he had let her go first time had all flooded back to him, torturing him and paining him even more. But yet, it had also enabled him see things clearer – was he really going to be that fool again? Was he really going to be a fool to let her go once more, when it was clear now she was all he ever wanted? He now knew she loved him that she had cared enough to want to tell him about everything and with that, he loved her even more than he thought he already did. So when he marched up to her that day whilst she was meandering around the gardens, not uttering a word as he had clutched her face gently and kissed her with all of the passion he had mustered within him, his arms then moving to tighten around her waist as hers moved to around his neck, he felt free, free of his demons. He did not hate himself any longer as he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, feeling her tears roll down her cheeks as he whispered the three words that meant everything to him, the three words he had longed to say for so so long, that he could not remember a time when he hadn't loved her. And from that moment on, she drove the demons away, made him believe that being back with her and being alive was so right. He still had nightmares, his friend's cries echoing through his mind but she was always there to comfort and sooth him, letting him know she was always going to be there.
And as his new-born son was placed in his arms for the first time many years later, sitting on the bed next to a flustered Mary, he knew that all of the hatred he had for himself had gone. He and his beautiful wife had brought a new child into the world, and he knew that maybe, just maybe, he had contributed his part to making sure his son lived in a better world. Tickling his son's cheek softly, before turning to Mary, who smiled weakly at him, tears shining in her eyes as he let to kiss her tenderly on the forehead, he knew then he could finally be at peace.