Hello everyone! I told you that I would have soon come back with more Richamund and here I am, even if not with the story I had in mind at first. Actually, I had already three chapters ready for a story set in S6, but then my pen drive broke and I lost all my stories - including this one I'm talking about. Right when I was about to rewrite everything though, this idea struck in my mind instead: I have many different Richamund headcanons, so why not reunite them all in one single collection? Every chapter will be unrelated to the others and it is going to focus on one event actually happened on the show through the seasons, but rewritten with the addition of Richamund in it, considered in any kind of relationship (whether they are basically strangers, friends, lovers or even married). This is where the title goes: "What is left untold"- because it is something that never happened, but actually could have; it is something that we could have seen fitting into the original canon story and somehow could have even worked. Now, I'm going to leave you to the reading:)

The fire [5x01]

Rosamund Painswick didn't want to die, not even in the darkest and loneliest moments of her life she had given more than just a mere thought to that tragic solution; but right in that moment, it was not her seeking for death, it was death seeking for her and she didn't know if she was strong enough to fight that recall. It was not like her will mattered too much anyway, perhaps it was simply too late.

She woke up when an unusual bad smell invaded her nostrils and immediately got out of bed when she realized that the frantic loud voices she was hearing were not part of a dream. However, when she finally reached the door and opened it, she found herself quickly stepping back from her only possible way out in front of the unexpected strong light; and it was a dangerous light, because it was the light of fire. The flames had been knocking and now she had let them in. She widened her eyes in terror, tried to cover her mouth in order to save some air to breathe, but she didn't scream though: she knew it was too late for that.

Too late, because she had already inhaled too much smoke and she could perfectly feel her lucidity already abandoning her.

Too late, because there was no way out and even if there was one, she wouldn't have made it on time to take it.

Too late, because there was no voice anymore, meaning that everyone had left.

Soon, maybe too soon, she stopped fighting and she surrendered to her dizziness. Letting herself fall on the deadly warm floor, she closed her eyes even some instants before everything went actually black for her mind. She closed her eyes, with the awareness that it was probably the last time and with a desperate last thought crossing her mind.

She was dying like she had been living for almost all her life: alone.

The first feeling that crossed Doctor Clarkson's mind when he was called for a still unidentified emergency at the Abbey was annoyance. It was late, he was tired after a long day spent at the hospital and the last thing he wanted right then was to be involved in one of the Crawleys' tragedy. He grabbed his bag and reached the place in the blink of an eye though, and it was then that the annoyance turned into a pure astonishment for a moment. All the inhabitants of the estate, upstairs and downstairs, were all outside with fear and worry written all over their faces and then there was the bad, unmistakable, smell of fire filling the air the more he approached: that was not just a tragedy, that appeared to be the tragedy.

"Doctor Clarkson!" Lord Grantham called him, and that call made his considerations stop. "The fire fighters haven't arrived yet, but at least everyone is safe… The fire has started in my daughter Edith's room and…"

"I'll check her immediately!" the doctor said, taking the exceptional liberty to caught the lord off given the urgency of the moment.

Shocked, dizzy but phisically unharmed: that was the first superificial diagnosis he could give after some seconds. It was relief rushing all over him now, Lady Edith seemed to be the most injured one and so apparently, there would be no loss except maybe for some furniture. Before giving a look to the bruise on the young lady's arm, he let his eyes run once again all over the crowd. Maybe Lord Grantham was truly right, everyone was safe… Except that it was not the true. A sudden unexpected suspicion broke into his new found relief, as he noticed someone. Or actually the problem was that he did not.

"Lady Edith… Where is Lady Rosamund?"

Despite her temporary confusion, she widened her eyes and in that look he saw the effect of his own very same realization. Incredulity, dread, indignation: that was what he was feeling then . How could have no one even thought about her? How could she be probably dying while slowly burning in a flame and no one was looking for her? How could he, a complete stranger, be the only one noticing, and only because he had been casually mentioned of her presence at Downton during a conversation with Lady Violet the day before? Well, maybe because she didn't belong really there. Or maybe because it takes a lonely soul to notice another lonely soul.

But there was no time for hypothesis or for being indignant; that was time for action and, unluckily for him, he was the only one who could make it. Fear for his own life was added to the mix of feelings, because he had already made a decision after all. He was no hero and, truth be told, he waited for as much as he could, until he realized that he just couldn't do that anymore. The smoke coming from the house was only growing; from where he was, he could see the fire fighters' car approaching, but he knew it would be too late in that case.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take care of this..."

With those simple hardly reassuring words and a sudden quickness, Richard just left Lady Edith's side and headed to the main door. Someone - was it Branson? Or maybe Barrow? - tried to stop him, but he entered before he could be reached. And that was the moment he stopped feeling anything at all - except from the asphyxiating heat surrounding him.

It was a luck that the fire was still basically delimited to one single small area of the place. Keeping a handkerchief pressed against his mouth in the attempt to reduce the inhalations of smoke, the doctor found a way through the fire easily than he expected. It was also easy to find Lady Rosamund, since her motionless body was half laying in the hallway. He was at her side in an instant, checked her pulse as first thing and raised her from the floor, paying attention to avoid the parts where she had been touched by the fire; then, he started to make all the way back, carrying her in his arms this time. Quickly, precisely, carefully: he was not thinking nor feeling, just like heroes always do during their glorious ventures. No, he was no hero, he had never been, but he was surprisingly acting like one now and he couldn't figure out why.

Maybe it was about his devotion for that family and in fact, it had already made him try to save them a few times.

Maybe it was about his own profession and the fact that doctors are vowed to save everyone in their power.

Maybe there was something about her. He had wanted to save her.

He realized that only when they were some fight fighters started to come their way, as they instead were almost making it out of the building once and for all. In that moment she slowly opened her eyes, two light blue stars that shined against that burning dark red around. She just looked up at him for a few seconds, strangely with no trace of confusion or fear; instead, there was a heartbreaking sense of loneliness and yet a fierce determination in that look. He stared back at her in awe and it was right then that he felt a surpising connection, that he felt the absurd feeling of being at home in that look, that he just knew that it had to be something about her.

"I don't want to die today"

"You are safe now, my lady, I promise"

Rosamund was apparently fine. Sure, she had several burns on both her legs and a pretty severe one on her upper left arm, but it was nothing compared to what could have happened. And yet, she hadn't uttered a word all day to anyone and she had even refused to see anyone of the family; so no, maybe she wasn't so fine after all. Not that Richard could blame her anyway: they had been all about to leave her dying and that silence was now just a sort of stoically stubborn revenge. Of course it was not their fault, in the mids of a tragedy they just forgot her… But that was exactly the point actually, wasn't it?

"Maybe there is something else I can make the nurse bring you… A cup of tea or…?" he said at some point, breaking the long silence, while giving a careful glance at the tray of lunch still untouched on her bedside table.

She sighed softly but clearly annoyed, and that was the first sound that was actually coming out of her mouth, except from the ill-concealed hisses of pain during the check of her bandage on the arm.

"This may sound very unladylike, but I would need something way more stronger than a cup of tea at the moment…"

He blinked once in surprise, more for the harsh voice tone used rather than for the actual content. Then he just hinted a smile and stood up from the chair placed at her side, ready to leave her alone as everything in her behavior seemed to suggest.

"Doctor Clarkson?" she unexpectedly called him back after a few seconds, though. "Thank you for what you did."

He was even more surprised now, not because he was not expecting a thanking, but because he certainly wasn't expecting it at that moment and, besides, he honestly didn't want one. "You don't need to thank me, Lady Rosamund. This is just my job…"

She raised her eyebrows skeptically, in a way that made her look regal in spite of her currently weak condition. "So, your job is to jump into fire and play the part of a hero, now?"

"I am no hero. Anyone would have done that in my place."

"But no one did."

A whisper ended that short conversation. Her voice wasn't harsh anymore this time, but just tired and so damn cold. Their eyes met and once again he saw in hers that uncovered vulnerabilty, that heartbreaking loneliness. And his heart actually broke a little at that feeling, for her and for himself. And he was sorry, because, although he had saved her from a fire and was now helping her in the healing process, he honestly didn't know how to save her from this. She was not only burned, but also broken and he just didn't know how to fix her.

"I… I have a bottle scotch in my office and, even if it is totally unprofessional in my position to do so, I could bring it here. Would that be strong enough, what do you say?"

He said that only to tease her and hopefully downplay the situation. But maybe just that attempt could be enough, since, beyond every hopes, she actually smiled for the first time in a whole night and a day spent at the hospital.

"I'd say you truly are a hero, Doctor Clarkson"

She left the hospital on the second day and was moved to Dower House, so much for her desdain, only because she wasn't ready yet to come back to London. It took two weeks for a full recover, two weeks during which Doctor Clarkson went personally to change her bandages twice a day, even if he coould have actually delegated that work to a simple nurse. Truth was that it was never just a matter of check on a patient; there was always a small talk between them, sometimes a joke or a sincere vent instead.

He wanted to keep her company somehow and, most of the times, his company was the only one she wanted.

So, when the two weeks finally passed, they both were strangely sad about it – Richard in spite of the good result of her healing and Rosamund in spite of the fact she had never wanted to stay in Downton for too long in the first place. Because it was time for her to go home and it was time for her to say goodbye: the half opened luggage in her room, that he noticed on the day of his last visit, didn't leave space for doubts. She was leaving and the spectrum of departure was hanging in the air, making the situation somehow tensed between them for the first time.

"I hope we'll see each other again soon" she admitted softly, once her last check was done and the bitter diagnosis that she was officially fine was made.

Richard stared at her for a long moment, before he looked away and forced out a smile. "I hope not. It would mean that you are ill otherwise."

Rosamund smiled as well at the remark, but it was a smile that didn't reach her eyes, eyes that were showing a hint of hope they had never actually showed before. "I didn't mean to see you as a doctor, I meant as… As a person" she replied, betraying uncertainty. "You saved me, Doctor Clarkson. I thought I was going to die in that fire, but I didn't thanks to you and… I just feel fine talking with you, I feel safe."

"That's not true"

"What?"

He pursed his lips looking almost amused at her predictable confusion. Of course she didn't know what he meant to say with that, he didn't know what he was talking about himself until the words were out of his mouth. His plan was to keep them inside and be reserved like he always did, even if that implied letting her slip through his fingers; but then there she was in front of him, asking him not to let go of her yet. Something in her confession pushed him to break out of his silent cowardice, and it was already the second time she was unwillingly having that effect on him.

"You always say that I saved you, but in truth it was you who saved me. I've always had a lonely life, maybe because I always thought that no one could have understood how I feel… But then, that night in the fire, I saw your eyes, blue as mine, sad as mine…" He paused and looked away once again, aware to have crossed the line, but at the same time aware that he couldn't stop himself so far. "So, yes, I hope to see you soon again too. In better circumstances, of course."

She remained still and silent for a moment and if he had been looking at her now, he would have noticed that the hint of hope in her eyes had only grown. Instead, he just felt the delicate touch of her hand on his cheek and then her lips shortly pressed against his in a chaste kiss.

"In better circumstances" she confirmed then, in a low voice and an actual smirk on her lips.

And they didn't know yet that in that look and in that kiss, another fire had just started. A good one this time, though.

Still here? Just some considerations about this first chapter. Of course I know that events went pretty different in the show and that neither Richard nor Rosamund was at the Abbey during the fire, but I hope you will forgive me for having to make some emendations, in order to make the story happen. As I hope you will also forgive the lack of accurancy for the medical info I hinted, I don't have any medical knowledge at all and that is why I tried to remain as vague as possible. I would be really happy to receive some feedback about your opinion... Hopefully there is still someone interested in this unusual pairing:)