To everyone who asked after the previous chapter: heck yes, I am continuing this story! I'm so excited to be back in the realm of M/M happiness.

First, THANK YOU SO SO MUCH for your responses to the final two chapters of "A Good Argument." I was very sorry to leave you with such horrible angst, but we M/M shippers sort of thrive on the angst, don't we?

Downton quotes will be italicized (as usual) and Downton belongs to Julian Fellowes, but Clara and Branson baby 2 are mine.

And now, for your reading pleasure...


Chapter Two

Mary blinked at her computer screen, ignoring the shooting pains of her lower abdomen that signaled the beginning of her monthly cycle. It had been over five months since she and Matthew had babysat for Clara. Five months since she'd gone off the pill. Five months since they'd been trying to get pregnant.

Five months with nothing to show for it.

They'd "practiced" the first two weeks, allowing Mary to further adjust to the idea of having a little one of their own. And that time had only served to increase her longing for a baby. By the time her birth control had run out, she'd started to look up baby names and had even begun searching for a two-bedroom apartment so they could have a nursery. Neither of these things had she shared with Matthew, in the hopes that her silence on the matter would speed their progress along. Although she was not usually superstitious, Mary was anxious that something would happen if she planned too early, that something would jinx it.

And now it seemed like she had.

Grateful she worked from home now, Mary wandered into the bathroom, taking a few painkillers to help with the cramping. The late afternoon was cheerful and bright, so clear of the clouds that had gathered that morning, but Mary felt nothing but sadness. It had been eating away at her from the moment she woke that morning when she'd noticed the emptiness of Matthew's side of the bed. He had told her he would be gone before she awoke, promising to kiss her goodbye before heading in to the firm to work on a heavy caseload that was so unusual for the end of September. But still it hit her with an overwhelming loneliness.

Mary exited the bathroom and laid herself out on their bed. She buried her face in the pillow in order to hide the tears that no one would see. She knew her current mood was largely due to her unsteady hormones, yet it only made her more depressed, as it was something she felt hopeless to control. Her heart felt as though it was being squeezed tightly, causing her to choke out sobs of grief that were so unwarranted they made her feel idiotic.

Eventually, she dropped into a restless sleep only to be plagued with a dream of a small bundle wailing just out of her reach. No matter how fast she ran to the child, she couldn't draw near enough comfort it.

"Mary?"

Matthew's call from the front room pulled her from the dream, her heart racing as the contents of it rushed upon her, tears returning to her eyes.

"Mary?" Matthew repeated, dropping his voice as he entered their bedroom. "Are you asleep?"

Mary wondered if she could pretend to be sleeping still, but her shoulders shook as a pitiful whimper unintentionally escaped her lips. She covered her mouth, a movement Matthew couldn't help but notice as he sat on the bed behind her. He shifted closer, his thigh pressing against her back as he leaned over to look at her.

"Mary?" he questioned once more, this time with genuine concern in his voice as she turned her head to look at him. Matthew's brow furrowed as her tearful eyes met his gaze. "Darling, whatever is the matter?"

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes as Matthew touched a gentle finger to her cheek.

"It's nothing," she lied, her voice shaking with betrayal.

"Surely not," he said gently. "Or you wouldn't be crying, my love."

At this endearment, Mary shut her eyes tightly, tears brimming over her lashes.

"I started my cycle today," she sobbed, rolling away from him in order to hide her face once more.

Matthew didn't respond right away, apparently at a loss to understand why this upset her more than usual. He exhaled with relief, pressing his lips against her cheek before speaking, his hand rubbing her shoulder.

"That's all this is about?" he asked with a smile as Mary sat up on the bed. But his expression sobered as she glared back at him.

"All this is about?" she repeated, pulling away from him. "God, Matthew."

She climbed out of the bed as Matthew looked at her in bewilderment, crossing to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her, securing the lock in one swift movement. She gripped the sides of the sink to stop her hands from trembling, meeting her angry and wet gaze in the mirror as she listened to Matthew shuffle to the door.

"Mary," he said, his voice soft as he spoke through the door. He tried to turn the handle, but groaned when it wouldn't budge. "Mary, I'm sorry. I...I don't know what I've done, but, please, just tell me what's wrong."

"You haven't done anything," Mary said after a long silence, her voice shaking. Even with the door shut, she knew he could hear the tremors in her voice.

After a taking a few controlled breaths, she splashed some cool water on her face, taking her time drying the water off before opening the bathroom door. Matthew looked earnestly at her, his brows knit together as she wiped her nose, trying to hide the tears hadn't all been washed away by the water.

"Is this just because you're...on your...you know?" he questioned carefully.

Mary rolled her eyes, pushing past him to stalk out of the room. Even though she knew none of this was Matthew's fault, she couldn't stop anger from mixing with her sadness and rampaging hormones.

"Don't be such a child," she muttered, his footsteps following behind as she headed into the kitchen. She wasn't entirely sure if she was speaking to Matthew or herself.

She felt Matthew's eyes watching her in silence as she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove top before igniting the range. She opened the cupboard and pulled out a tea bag, her hands still trembling as she set it inside a teacup. She hoped he couldn't see her shaking.

"I know I'm an idiot, but can you please explain to me what I've done?" he asked, breaking through the tense silence.

Mary frowned, shooting him an annoyed look. "Everything's always about you, isn't it?" she asked, her words biting and harsher than she intended.

"You're joking, right?" Matthew asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "God, Mary, what the hell is wrong with you today?"

She clenched her teeth, glaring at him as she turned, her anger causing her to ball her hands into fists. If only to stop their shaking.

"What the hell is wrong with me? What's wrong is that I went off the pill almost five months ago. We've been trying to get pregnant for five bloody months and every damn time I wake up to cramps and mood swings, it makes me think that maybe we're not supposed to have children. Or maybe there's something wrong with me and I can't have children. And I know how much you want them. And how much I do, too," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper on the final sentence of her rant. She took a few ragged breaths, tears returning as she looked away from her husband. The kettle began to whistle and she turned to it, removing it from the range and pouring the hot water into the empty cup.

"Oh, God, Mary," Matthew breathed, his voice drawing near as he moved across the kitchen. He placed a hand on her back as she put the kettle aside, his cautious touch gently removing all of Mary's anger, replacing it with only the sadness she felt. "How long have you been suffering like this?"

"I don't know," she whispered, releasing a ragged breath. "I think it was after the...the second month of trying. When nothing happened, I started to think-" She broke off her sentence, unable to complete it. She turned to him, pressing her face to his neck as Matthew's arms encircled her.

"Darling, it's only been five times that we've missed. Surely you can't think something's wrong already," he murmured, his lips against her hair. "It can take years for some couples to have children."

She pulled back, her eyes sad as she frowned at him. "Years of unprotected sex?" she questioned.

Such a direct question caused Matthew's ears to go red, but he offered her a warm smile nonetheless.

"I'm sure," he said rubbing her back. "It's not exactly a given every time. If you think we should see a doctor, of course I'll agree with you, but don't be so quick to despair. Five months isn't that long."

"It feels like it," Mary replied, sighing. She leaned against him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Sybil's due in a matter of weeks and already has one child. I wouldn't be surprised if Edith got pregnant before I did."

"It's not a contest, my love. It'll happen when it happens and when it does I'll be the happiest husband alive. Happier than Tom or Anthony or anyone else," Matthew said gently.

"I thought it wasn't a contest," she interjected.

He chuckled, his smile filling her with warmth. "But don't fret over something you can't control," Matthew finished.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm being silly, but I just feel-"

"Darling, don't apologize," Matthew insisted, his arms tightening around her, their warmth easing more of her tension. "I only wish you would have told me earlier. It would save a lot of arse-like behavior on my part. I'm the one who needs your forgiveness."

Mary chortled, sniffing again as she pulled away. "Because I'm so very uncommunicative? Why ever would that be your fault?" she asked, brushing her fingers against the stubble beginning to appear on his jaw.

"You'd think a better husband would learn how to control his temper," he teased, his eyes penitent.

"You're exactly the husband I want," Mary told him, moving her face closer to his. "Arse-like behavior and all."

Matthew smiled playfully, bringing further relief to Mary's anxious heart. He lifted her chin with his fingertips, hesitating for a moment before softly touching his lips to hers. Mary leaned into his kiss, her lips parting as his tongue brushed against them. His hands pulled her waist to his hips, a sharp pain in her abdomen causing Mary to pull away.

"Dammit," she sighed, kissing him quickly before turning to pick up her tea. "I'm afraid my body doesn't approve of such closeness today."

"I'm sorry, darling," Matthew said, his face apologetic as she looked over at him. "What can I do to make it better?"

"We're out of ice cream," Mary said, her voice grave. She blew on the tea and Matthew grinned, touching her face.

"I'll change and then pick some up, shall I? Something with chocolate?"

"Only if you don't want to sleep on the sofa tonight," she quipped before taking a drink of her tea.

"Not a chance," he replied, kissing her cheek before heading for their bedroom.


Matthew lay in the darkness, watching Mary's side rise and fall as she slept, a frown on his face as he concentrated on her form. He still couldn't believe she'd been so silent about her fears, so quick to doubt even though hardly any time had passed. And he was surprised by his own insensitivity and lack of recognition of her pain. Looking back on the past few weeks, he wondered how he couldn't have seen it? How she'd begun to smile less, the fear and trepidation creeping into her gaze. He hadn't felt like this much of an idiot in such a long time, not since he hadn't realized his own feelings for the woman now laying at his side.

"You're such a fool," he muttered aloud, rolling onto his back.

"What?"

Mary's question cut through the silence. She rolled over, her eyes questioning in the moonlight.

"Darling, I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep," he murmured, touching his fingertips to her cheek.

"So did I," was her droll reply as she settled her head onto his chest after kissing his neck. "Why are you a fool?" she asked after a stint of silence.

"I should have noticed how much our unluckiness was affecting you," Matthew said, his hand gliding down her arm as his mind moved elsewhere. "In hindsight, I see now that you weren't holding it in as well as you intended. You were acting differently and I was too selfish to notice it."

"I was not doing anything different," Mary protested, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

"You smiled less," Matthew stated, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger. "I didn't notice it because...well...I'm a fool."

"Please, stop saying such things about my husband," she entreated. "Or you'll make me very cross."

"I have no wish to do that," he replied gently. She relaxed against his chest once more and Matthew pressed his lips to her hair.

"Do you really think we'll get pregnant? What if something-" Mary began, worry creeping into her voice.

"Darling, just give it more time. I've looked it up and we only need to worry about it if a year passes," Matthew told her. "Otherwise, we just keep trying."

"What else have you been looking up?" she asked, a chuckle escaping her lips. He tightened his arms around her, hoping to erase more of her worry.

"Oh, just the standard pregnancy do's and don'ts. Although I think we may need to make love more often to increase our chances of conceiving. The site said to do it every day," he explained, half-joking.

"What, every-other-day isn't good enough for you?" she teased. "Just let me get through this week and then we'll talk."

He laughed, burying his lips in her hair once more. "I also looked at a few baby name websites. What do you think of the name 'Matthew'?"

"I think that's your name, you silly man," she replied. "Don't be so vain."

"Oh, did you have any better ideas?"

"I like 'Sophia'," Mary whispered, the emotion in her voice cutting at Matthew's heart.

"Sophia is a lovely name, my darling. But what if it's a boy?" he prompted gently, brushing his palm over her hair.

"Well, we could name him after your father," she said.

"Hmm, Reginald Crawley? Mother would be pleased, but it's quite an old name, isn't it? I'm not sure how fitting it would be for a little boy."

"We should probably wait anyway," Mary said, releasing a small sigh. "What if Sybil and Tom steal our baby names?"

"I doubt very much that 'Reginald' would be in danger," Matthew teased gently.

"True," she murmured. "She's due any day now. And we have to watch Clara whenever it does happen."

"I'm sure Clara's missed you terribly," Matthew replied.

"Oh, I doubt it. I'm sure I'm not nearly as fun as Tom is," Mary said.

"You're just different kinds of fun," he explained, noting the remaining trepidation in her voice. How could he ease her mind?

"Yes, and I'm the less-fun kind."

"Don't say such things about my wife," he entreated, causing Mary to scoff before yawning wide.

"If you insist," she replied sleepily, nuzzling her face against his skin.

"I didn't think it was possible to love as much as I love you," Matthew whispered.

"Remind me in the morning," she murmured without hearing his words, her fingers clasping his as she drifted off again.

Matthew smiled to himself, listening to his wife's breathing as she fell asleep on his chest, her chest rising and falling with a rhythm that made him feel comfortable. After a few minutes he too fell asleep, his thoughts deliciously happy as he tightened his grip on Mary's hand.


Mary woke up disoriented as her mobile went off on the bedside table. Her limbs were tangled in Matthew's, who had somehow rolled over and now pinned down her left side with his body. The room was still dark, indicating she hadn't been asleep very long. She attempted to reach for her mobile, but with Matthew on top of her she could barely move. His head was resting firmly against the pillow, his mouth hanging open in its usual state, a soft snore mingling with the ringtone.

"Matthew," she said in a clear voice as she pushed his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open, eliciting a moan from his lips as he shifted off her.

"What time is it?" he complained as Mary was finally able to grab her mobile. Tom's caller I.D. lit up the screen, making her feel as though she were looking into the sun.

"Hello?" she questioned nervously into the phone, fearing something had happened to Sybil or her parents.

"Mary, I'm taking Sybil to hospital now," Tom's voice said frantically. "Her water broke. Mrs. Waltz from down the hall is going to stay with Clara until you get here."

"Of course, I'll be there as quick as I can," Mary replied, shoving Matthew's shoulder again as he started to drift off. She dropped the phone, turning to her husband who squinted as she turned on the bedside lamp. "Matthew, Sybil's in labor!"

"I'm glad I'm not her," he muttered into his pillow. "What time is it?"

"Almost four. I have to go watch Clara," Mary reminded him, climbing out of bed. She walked over to the closet, searching for something to throw on. "Will you be alright while I'm gone? It could be days."

Matthew groaned, forcing himself out of bed. "I'll take you over," he said, rubbing his hand through his hair after he pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans. "And then drop by after I get off work. Does that suit you?"

She laughed at him as she dressed, feeling excited for her sister as well as anxiety about being alone with Clara for such a long time. "We should probably stop by the hospital at some point. I suppose Mama and Papa will come down tomorrow and Mama will probably want to keep an eye on her granddaughter as well."

"Well, just send up a flare to let me know where you are. Or activate your homing device."

"You're so troublesome," Mary teased, kissing Matthew's cheek before pulling a jumper over her head.

The drive to Sybil and Tom's was fairly quiet, Mary's anxiety resurfacing as she realized Matthew would leave her in a few short minutes. She balled her hands into fists as the time drew nearer, causing Matthew to reach over to take her hand.

"Don't worry, darling," Matthew told her as they pulled up to the curb in front of the Bransons' building. "Clara adores you."

Mary nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling as Matthew turned off the car. They headed inside, Matthew tucking Mary's bag under one arm as he drew her close with his other. He yawned as they stood silently in the lift, both watching the floor numbers light up.

Upon reaching the correct flat, Mary knocked on the door, still resting beneath Matthew's arm as they waited for it to be opened. An elderly lady appeared on the other side, a dressing gown tied around her narrow waist.

"I'm Mary Crawley, Sybil's sister," Mary told the older woman who nodded.

"Ah, yes, of course," Mrs. Waltz replied, admitting the couple. "Little Clara hasn't stirred and Mr. Branson said he'd call you in the morning to let you know how dear Sybil is doing. If you need anything, I'm in 4F."

Mary thanked her and she left, padding down the corridor in her slippered feet.

"Do you have to go?" Mary asked Matthew as he set her bag by the sofa.

"Darling, I have to work," he reminded her. "Just check on Clara and then go to sleep. She'll be awake before you know it."

"Fine," she sighed, leaning over to kiss her husband's cheek. "Drive safe."

"Text me if you need me," Matthew replied, wrapping his arms around Mary as she pulled away. He drew her close, inhaling as he kissed her temple.

"Are you sniffing me?" she asked, leaning back, eyebrow arched high as she looked at him.

"I'm going to miss that wit," he murmured with a smile. "I love you."

"Of course you do," Mary said. Matthew laughed before giving her a quick kiss.

"Get some sleep," he called as he slipped out and Mary shut the door.

Mary stood by the front door for a for a few moments after locking it, the silence of the flat unnerving her now that Matthew was gone. She sighed again, heading down the hallway to Clara's bedroom door. She pushed the ajar door aside, glimpsing into the room that was dimly illuminated by a small light on the nightstand. The light projected hundreds of stars onto the bedroom ceiling, allowing Mary to easily view Clara's sleeping form in her toddler bed. The little girl was fast asleep, her dark curls sticking out from every angle against the pillow as her chest slowly rose and fell again beneath her blanket. The stuffed rabbit, Bunny, was tucked under Clara's little arm, her chubby fist gripping one of the animal's ears for further contact.

As she watched her niece sleep, Mary's eyes filled with moisture, but her emotions were so different from what they had been only twelve hours before. Instead of anxiety, she was filled with warmth and even confidence. She wanted to be a mother. And she knew Matthew had been right. She would no longer despair.

There was always hope.


What did you think? xoxo