A/N So it's almost 3am on a Sunday Night and I could not stop writing.

Chapter One of a new Charles/Elsie fanfic.

No copyright infringement intended. I borrowed the characters from Mr. Fellowes and ITV.

When Everything Falls to Pieces

01. Uncertainty

The servant's hall was empty and the corridor deserted. It was uncommonly quiet downstairs when Charles opened the door to her sitting room. Maybe it was better this way, with everyone busy, instead of sitting around worrying. He did not even have to assign them to additional tasks today. It seemed as if they all had been glad to take up extra work. He wished he could join them, forget his worries, get lost in his work. But he was the only one in charge right now and he had to keep the household running as good as possible without her.

He switched on the electric light in her room. It felt odd to be in here alone and without her. For a moment he remained standing in the doorway, realizing that she might never return to this place. That the last time he saw her in here, bid her good night, had really been the last time he ever saw her sitting on that desk he now approached. He tried to get rid of this thought by closing his eyes and shaking his head a little. His hand reached out for the documents and account books on her desk. He had to find the Rota and the household account book, at least these two things he would try to manage while she wasn't there. He had already put Mrs. Patmore in charge of the store cupboard which was a big sacrifice.

The book lay on top of the neat pile but the other book he could not find. He went through all the notebooks and single sheets. The linen book was there, the list for reordering what was missing in the storage cupboard he found but not the notebook where she kept track of who had a day off, was sick or was supposed to take care of work that was only due every other week. Charles went through the pile twice when a little key caught his eye. It had been hidden underneath a loose collection of notes she had kept at the top left corner of her desk. Although he was certain that she would never keep the notebook in one of the drawers, he was desperate enough to try his luck.

The little drawer opened easily but what he found inside made him draw back. A stack of letters, held together by a faded blue ribbon. He felt ashamed and like an intruder. How ridiculous of him to think that she would keep such an important book in one of the lockable drawers when she needed it every day. But instead of closing the drawer right away again, he took out the envelopes, put them aside without having a closer look at them. They were private and obviously dear to her. Otherwise she would not have kept them. Apart from the letters, the drawer was empty. Still, his hand reached inside to make sure he had not missed something. His fingers touched another piece of paper that had got stuck at the far end of the little drawer. He got hold of it and almost let it drop immediately when he saw what it was.

A yellowed photograph depicting a younger version of him was lying in front of him on the desk. He dared to pick it up again. Although he could not remember the exact year he had this picture taken he vividly remembered the day he gave it to her. A smile crossed his face and for a brief moment he forgot his worries and fears. It had been her first season at Downton. She had been taken on as head housemaid in early March. He had just been promoted to the post as butler in January of the same year. They were both new to their respective jobs. He had always believed that this had been the main reason why they got along so well from the beginning. Although he was her superior and she was in fact under the old housekeeper's jurisdiction they spent a lot of time together and became friends eventually. When the season approached at the end of April he was reluctant to go to London for four long months, leaving her behind. Though he did not think of her as a love interest, he appreciated her company and the discussion they had about all kinds of things. He gave her the photograph so that she would not forgot what he looked like. She had laughed at him, telling him she would never forget his face and joked about that she would probably discuss everything that was on her mind with the picture instead of him from now on. Because his portrait would not answer back.

He heaved a sigh and put the photograph back, covered it with the letters and locked the drawer again. His hand lingered on the pile of books for a while as his mind was still trying to come to terms with the memories the picture had evoked. The sudden sound of footsteps and muffled conversation brought him back to reality and reminded him of the initial reason he had come downstairs. Charles had a look at the room again, scanned the books on the shelf and finally found what he had been looking for on the side table next to her armchair. An empty glass of wine stood beside it. She must have worked on the Rota before it happened. He took the empty glass and the notebook and left the room. Before he switched off the light he turned around one more time. She would come back. She had to.

ooooo

The expression on Anna's face told him that she was worse. In the morning he had seen to her himself. She had been asleep, her face flushed by fever but her breathing had been regular and strong. But now it was obvious that her condition had changed though Anna only looked at him and did not say a word. She just sat down in front of her plate and waited for him to serve out the stew they would have for dinner. They had their meal without much talk and when the dishes were cleared away and Anna was about to leave the servant's hall, Charles stood up and took her aside.

"How is she?" he asked in almost a whisper.

Anna furrowed her brow with worry. "When I last saw to her, she was awoke Mr. Carson but she did not know where she was. The fever was so high."

"Had Dr. Clarkson been there to see her?"

Anna shook her head. "He had left some medicine and told me what to do but I think you should call him, Mr. Carson."

He nodded his head in approval and let the housemaid go. Soon the servant's hall was empty again whereas he still stood rooted to the spot. She had to get better. There must be something they could do for her. At least there must be a way to stabilize her, to stop the progress of the illness. They couldn't give up on her, not yet, not now. He pulled himself together and made his way to his pantry to call Dr. Clarkson.

It took a while until the connection was established. Dr. Clarkson had been busy and was summoned to the phone by a nurse. "Yes. Who's speaking?"

"It's Mr. Carson, doctor." He managed to say with his voice as strong as he could muster. "Her condition has worsened." At the other end of the phone he could hear the doctor sigh. An awkward silence developed and Charles held his breath.

"All right Mr. Carson. I come at once. But I can't promise anything."

ooooo

It had started two days ago in the late evening hours. She was about to go upstairs to get some sleep. The day had been tiring. Already five housemaids had come down with Spanish flu a few days ago. Their condition was not serious but they had to remain in bed for at least a week to recover. The workload Elsie had to cope with was immense. They had tried to delegate as much as possible but in the end she had to do most of the work herself. He had noticed her pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, knew that she did not sleep at all or at least not well enough to regain her strength. Whenever he asked her if everything was all right, if she needed help, she refused, saying she was fine. But then he found her unconscious at the foot of the stairs when he was on his way up to his bedroom. He had not noticed the fever, the beads of sweat on her face earlier and damned himself for not taking care of her enough. He carried her upstairs to her room and was glad that he made enough noise to wake Anna. She took care of her while he left her bedroom trying to stay calm and to maintain a composed self. If it had not been highly inappropriate he would have stayed with her the whole night but instead he had sent for Dr. Clarkson and left Anna in charge.

She had contracted the serious form of the illness that came with high fever and the risk of pneumonia. Dr. Clarkson had ordered bed rest, aspirin and a regular intake of fluids. That was by then all he could do. She had not woken up until the next morning. Her fever had still been high but at least she had recognized the faces around her, him and Anna and asked what had happened. Charles had almost yelled at her when Elsie tried to get out of her bed and back to work. And it took him an hour to convince her that she needed to rest, take her medicine and stay in bed for at least a week. He had promised her to take care of her duties as good as he could, had somehow managed to calm her down.

And so far everything was still running more or the less in a controlled way but it took all his strength to keep it that way. The most important thing was that he suppressed his own worries in front of the staff. If they knew about his inner turmoil everything was lost.

But now, his façade formed cracks. First the old photograph he had found in the depths of her desk and now he stood at the foot of her bed and watched as Dr. Clarkson did his work. She was barely conscious, her hair, sweaty from the fever, clung to her head, her face was red from the high temperature. He clutched the wooden board in front of him, trying to steady himself. He could hardly bear to look at her and had his gaze was fixed on Dr. Clarkson instead who took her temperature, tried to make her drink some water and take another aspirin. But Elsie turned away, her head moving uncontrollably on her cushion in a feverish dream. She kept muttering something and Charles tried to understand the words and at the same time avoided to look at her.

Dr. Clarkson rubbed his temple with his index finger. "She needs to take this, Mr. Carson. It's the only thing I can do to help her right now. That, and leg compresses to bring the fever down at least a bit."

Charles knew that he was the only person in this house that could possibly make Elsie do something she would normally refuse to. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and stepped over to the other side of the bed, sat down on one of the chairs Anna had previously occupied. Dr. Clarkson handed him the glass and the aspirin. Charles composed himself, put on a serious and bland expression and tried to calm Elsie down.

"Mrs. Hughes, can you hear me?" his voice should have sounded strong but it cracked and was the complete opposite to the look on his face. "You need to wake up. It's very important that you take this medicine now." He hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder and almost withdrew his hand when his fingers touched her bare skin. It was burning hot from the fever besides he felt uneasy touching her like this. Her head was still moving and she would not lie still. Charles tried to lower his voice, make it sound softer. "Mrs. Hughes, please." His thumb stroked her collarbone and she gradually calmed down, moaning, whispering something that sounded like don't leave me alone."I'm here. Everything is going to be fine," he answered. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him, confused, half awake.

"Shhhh," he soothed her. "There is nothing to worry about."

"What's going on?" her voice was husky, almost inaudible.

Charles quickly withdrew his hand, took the glass of water and offered it to her. "You have the Spanish flu and at the moment we are all rather worried." It was Dr. Clarkson who answered her question. Whereas Charles helped her taking a few sips of water.

"Is it bad," she whispered, turning her head to look at the doctor instead of at Charles.

"I would say so, yes. You need to take the aspirin now and then sleep again. Rest is the best cure. Anna and Mr. Carson are taking good care of you." He nodded at Charles and Elsie's head slowly moved around on the cushion to face him again.

He handed her the aspirin and again helped her with the glass of water. Before he could say something to make her feel better, she closed her eyes and fell asleep again, completely exhausted.

ooooo

"Thank you Mr. Carson. You were a great help." Dr. Clarkson dried his hands on the towel that lay next to the washing basin in Elsie's room. "Please keep an eye on her. I know it's not what you would usually do…"

He interrupted the doctor. "I should not even be in here. It's highly inappropriate and I'm not sure that Mrs. Hughes…"

Now it was Dr. Clarkson who interrupted him. "It does not matter right now what is against your rules and what is not. She needs your support. You managed to calm her down twice. She obviously trusts you."

He was probably right though the uneasiness was still there. He was standing in her bedroom, discussing her health with Dr. Clarkson while she was lying in her bed, fast asleep. He did not know what to think at the moment, how to proceed. Actually he wanted to stay with her, help her get through the night, comfort her. But this was against every rule he had ever implemented. Charles cleared his throat, ready to say anything, something in reply but he did not know what.

"Stay with her tonight. And call me when she gets worse. I don't want her to catch pneumonia." Dr. Clarkson shook his hand and left the room. The door fell shut behind him.

A/N2: Obviously they are not in any way romantically involved yet. I wanted to try a different approach.

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