A/N I've been suffering from writers block for a good two months now and this is my first outing since hitting that hard wall. I've been feeling the urge to get back into my stories for a good couple of weeks now and have written a bit for my AU Darkness and Daylight as well as some parts of a new cannon one shot(?) and yet it's this that I've been compelled to publish tonight over both of the others. I have no idea how long this will be or where exactly it might lead but I've always been interested to explore what actually happened after this scene in Season 2, Episode 2. Feeling a bit rusty though so keen to hear your thought's on this new venture.

April, 1917

"I heard what you said to Matthew about the regiment," Cora said softly, her attention fixed on her husband. Robert was quick to break eye contact as he coughed slightly.

"Everyone else knows what a fool I made of myself, why shouldn't he?"

"I don't think you're a fool. Isn't that enough?" she implored him.

"No," he paused. "Maybe it should be but it isn't."

The light vanished in her cerulean eyes like a switch being flicked off as she studied him with a hurt expression. His words hung in the air between them as the seconds passed. His tone had been flat and certain. And it was in that moment he had reestablished eye contact. That moment that he had made a subconscious decision to shut her out. Pain filled her heart as a flood of old feelings seeped into cracks that had been gradually forming over the past few weeks.

Ever since Robert had received a letter from General Roberts inviting him to be Colonel of the North Riding Volunteers Cora had become more and more on edge. Naturally she had concealed her struggles from the house at large but in her solitary moments, fear had begun to grip her and memories from Robert's days fighting the Boar War plagued her mind.

The fighting had not just taken place at the front. She had endured many battles too. Battles to keep the estate running as smoothly as possible in Robert's absence. Battles to keep her three young daughter's spirits up, to be both mother and father to them in a way. And battles with the constant and all consuming ache of loneliness and to a certain extent, abandonment she felt at all times of the day but particularly at night when she lay in her empty bed, clutching his pillow to her chest whilst gazing at a photo of him on her bedside table. It had been one of the darkest periods of their marriage, riddled with an uncertainty that reminded her of the uncertainty she felt when they were first married and she was unsure of the depth of his feelings for her. It had all been a massive ball of complexity that had chained her heart to the wall, unable to break free and reliant upon Robert's safe return with the key to unlock her from this state.

Then Robert had confessed to her that he wasn't needed at the front after all and the relief she had felt was nearly overwhelming but she had managed to suppress it mostly when she had seen the look on his face and the droop of his shoulders. It hadn't slipped under her radar that he had seemed a bit disheartened when he had returned from the regimental dinner the previous night but he had been quick to change the subject and so she had let it go. Robert, on the other hand, was having extreme difficulty letting it go. His sleeping pattern had become irregular and he often woke her in the small hours with his tossing and turning. On at least six occasions she had in fact awoken to an empty space because he couldn't sleep and had gone for a walk around the house. And there was no shortage of comments about him feeling envious of the young men who were doing their duty, uselessness on his part and seeing an 'old codger' reflected in the mirror – a description she had later found out had been bestowed on him by General Hague himself. No matter how hard she had tried to uplift and distract him since his second refusal of a posting to the front, which was clearly never the intention of the general's, he had continued to employ his wistful line of thinking and it had worn on her.

Now as Robert sat in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees and completely motionless, Cora let out a defeated sigh. They had never seen eye to eye on the subject of war and perhaps they never would. If Cora had her way, wars would not even happen because they took men away from their loved ones both willingly and unwillingly with no guarantee of returning. They became pawns that the countries in dispute played with on a chess board. But more agonizingly for her, Robert had always been situated firmly in the 'willingness' category, citing speeches about duty to king and country which was supposedly also a duty to protect their families' freedom and future. And she strongly disagreed, believing his priorities to be back-to-front. Tearing herself away from her husband who still hadn't moved a muscle, she twisted around and turned off her bedside light, settling beneath the covers of her bed on her side with her back to him.

"Cora?" Robert probed cautiously.

"I'm tired and want to get a decent night's sleep ahead of tomorrow what with Carson being ill. There will surely be much to sort out. Goodnight." Robert knew he had been dismissed and he felt his stomach drop like a stone. Slowly, he rose from his chair, a strange numbing sensation taking over him.

"Goodnight," he reciprocated and retreated to his dressing room.