A/N: Throwing this out there because when I get the ability to word, I'm going to word. I still can't even. A huge thank you to Brenna-Louise, who read my incoherent flails half an hour after the episode ended. Thanks to all who have already posted the video of the last ninety seconds – I love hearing everyone's flails! Rest assured, everyone else was flailing along with you.
SEASON 6, EPISODE 1 SPOILERS. DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED IT.
It felt like a million years ago, but it happened in 1923. The day the staff had their outing at the beach (thank God he'd gotten the message), she stood in the shallow water and told him he could hold her hand, if he needed to feel steady.
A part of her had meant it, every word.
But he had had no idea how much she wanted to say that day.
It wasn't so much what she had said; it was what she had not said.
She remembered everything they had said. His imperious voice. I don't know how, but you managed to make that sound a little risqué.
Not half as risqué as what came out of her mouth only a few hours ago – in his pantry, with the entire staff and the Family only feet away, no less!
If you want me, you can have me.
She had wanted to say it for a very long time. But for longer than she would ever know, he loving her was a dream. A myth. Something that only existed in her imagination, in the most secret place in her heart.
If you want me, you can have me.
She had dared to be "risqué" that day, eons ago, when she dared him to go into the water. Had she said what she felt then, it would not have ended well. He was not ready. To take her hand in public had been an enormous step. She had to be content with that for months.
If you want me, you can have me.
The beating of her heart had grown louder when he talked of retirement, of a life outside the harness. She had never thought he would have talked of it, much less acted on it. Even after explaining that she could not own a house with him, still something inside her refused to stop, like a persistent clock.
If you want me, you can have me.
Then came Christmas Eve, 1924. But that's the point. I do want to be stuck with you. Her heart sang. Then, like vines after rain, came thoughts that would not go away. She was no longer young. Even in her youth, she never considered herself a great beauty, and now…
She had felt guilty sending Mrs. Patmore to talk to him. But besides the fact she had no idea how to start, much less, continue a conversation with him on that subject, she could not have borne his rejection. He seemed to pull away after the proposal. Refusing to call her Elsie. What was she supposed to think? That all he wanted was companionship. A friend. A good friend. A sister.
There was no comfort in that.
Somehow they managed to speak of their thoughts openly, if not without some misunderstanding. He looked devastated when he thought she wanted to call it off. Her heart melted at the sight of his downtrodden expression.
Staring into the darkness, unable to sleep, she wondered at her boldness.
Not that she was ashamed of it; no, she would never be ashamed. Not when the reward had been so long in coming, and so sweetly given. Until the day she died, she would remember the touch of his hand on her shoulder, the feel of his lips on hers. The warmth of his embrace.
I have never been so sure of anything. The way he said it, oh it made her ache in places she hardly knew could feel anything.
His words gave her the strength to say what she felt. He gave her strength, like he had done for so many years.
If you want me, you can have me.
She giggled into her pillow. "Warts and all"! Quoting Oliver Cromwell at a time like that! She would have been better served to quote Burns or Shakespeare. Not that it mattered now.
He wanted her, and he was going to have her. And she would have all of him.
She could not wait for their wedding day.