Matthew looked at the little stuffed bear, the story book, and the toy sand pail and shovel sitting on the small table in his cottage. "Am I… spoiling him?" he said to his friend Jeremy and his wife Amelia. It felt like he was overdoing it with presents. "I thought who… doesn't like a bear? And I'm going to show him the seaside and I doubt he has seaside toys…Then I thought 'what if it rains?' We'll b-be stuck in here…" He took in their amused expressions. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"

Amelia, a pleasant red haired woman, grinned. "I think you're acting like a doting new daddy. I'm sure giving a little boy a story book and a few toys won't spoil him, John." She shook her head. "I mean Matthew." Her Scottish lilt grew more pronounced. "I'll break the habit, I will."

"D-don't worry," he waved off her words. "I've been John for a long time." Even now, five days after his mother and Dickie Merton had confirmed he wasn't just fabricating a backstory for himself, he didn't know quite how to handle it with people who knew him as John. They weren't wrong to call him by the name they knew. Half the time he still thought of himself as John, he still reacted to being called John even though the name Matthew had been rolling in his head for close to a year. Images, memories of events had taunted him for some time, with never quite enough information for him to make the leap. Then his last name, Crawley, came to him. Once he had that, it was a matter of looking himself up, and the more things he found, the more he was able to put names to faces and images. The giant house was Downton Abbey. The dog that always snapped at him was Isis. The beautiful woman who haunted his thoughts and dreams was Mary…

There were gaps still, but by the time he'd written the letter to his mother, he had little doubt that he was Matthew Crawley along with being John Gardener. He hadn't really needed his mother to confirm it. He had needed her to confirm that the good outweighed the bad. He still had doubts, truth be told, but the die had been cast. His family knew he was alive. And he could admit a certain amount of relief. The uncertainty was gone, he wasn't making up a story and hurting strangers with lies.

He was just hurting his family.

"When will your mother arrive?" Jeremy asked as he poured the three of them cups of tea and brought them to the table.

"Sometime… before…" He took a deep breath and let it out. "Before lunch. They'll stay at the inn tonight and tomorrow and go home on Monday."

"Will you go with them?" Amelia asked. She seemed to catch his discomfort. "You need to start thinking about it, you know."

"They are your family," Jeremy added. "I understand your concerns…"

You don't, Matthew thought tiredly, you can't. "I will… but I think we… should go slowly." How to explain that as much as he loved his family, his reappearance in their lives was a problem of some magnitude. "I am… going to visit. Soon. I think… we all need to get settled first."

"Has this wife of yours sent any word?" Amelia asked, a touch of pique entering her voice.

"Don't…. don't be harsh," Matthew said. He leaned back in his chair. "It's only been five days since… she was told and… She has another husband." And while he hadn't been keeping up with changes in the law for the last five years, he was still certain it was illegal for Mary to have two husbands. As much as he wanted to see her, it was her marriage that had stayed his hand. His mother had wanted him to simply get in the car and return to Downton and he hadn't been able to do it. There was more to it than Mary, although she, and all the legal problems were a large part of his hesitance. The truth, the real truth, was that he hadn't been able to face giving up his life as John Gardener. Not that quickly. He'd made his choice, for George's sake, and he knew it meant returning to Downton. It meant picking up the mantle of responsibility, of accepting the responsibility of the earldom and the estate he'd never wanted and was now even less capable of handling. It was when his memory returned that he realized that the last five years of his life represented the first time he'd ever lived without the expectations and requirements of others pressing down on him. There was a freedom in being brought so low. He liked being a gardener. He liked seeing the roses grow and intertwine on the trellises and seeing the landscape bloom and know that it was due to his work. He liked writing poems and going to the bohemian gatherings with the art crowd without ever needing to care in the slightest what people would think. He missed his family, he missed Mary at his side and his heart ached for the poor little chap who he didn't even remember, but he didn't miss the life where all of his choices revolved around pleasing others. "It's… awkward."

"Of course it is," Jeremy said easily, giving Amelia a dark look. "But leave that aside for now. Your mum is bringing your little boy and you'll have a good time with him."

0o0o0o0

Tom looked at the two women in the car and wondered what he had gotten himself into. Even George seemed to catch the unpleasant mood. The little boy was curled up in the front seat with him, while Mary and Isobel sat in stony silence. "Look George," he said with forced cheer, "there's a farmer's market, just like Downton Village's." The little boy looked with interest but didn't say a word, no doubt sensing the tension.

"Tom, why don't we stop?" Isobel said suddenly. "We can stretch our legs a bit, and maybe George and I can get some treats for his father. Would you like that, George?"

George nodded quickly, and smiled, no doubt understanding that shopping for treats for someone else likely meant getting a treat himself. Tom stopped the car near the many stalls, and in seconds Isobel and the little boy were gawking at fruit.

Mary got out of the car and took up a position next to him. "Are you planning to lecture me as well, Tom?"

Tom shook his head. "Not lecture, no." It was a bad idea, he had agreed with Isobel on that, although he had different reasons. Isobel felt it was too confrontational for Mary to come with them, that Matthew was too uncertain about things to handle the marital situation along with meeting his son for the first time. Tom understood Isobel's point, and he allowed that it was possible Matthew was in that delicate of a state since he had apparently been without his memory for some time, but he had taken Mary's side on the argument, despite his misgivings. There was never going to be a perfect moment, and it had to be done. He just wished the two women weren't at each other's throats. "I know you're angry with Isobel. I know that this is painful and that there's huge legal and social problems. I know you're worried about Henry and the coming baby, and I know you're struggling with how you feel about Matthew… And you need to put all of that aside. Or some of it at least."

She sniffed. "Really? That's easier said than done, Tom."

"Consider what is really important," he said softly, taking care not to chide her. "George is meeting his father today. You always said it broke your heart that Matthew never got to do more than hold George. Whatever is wrong with Matthew," and he suspected Matthew wasn't as tiptop as Isobel made him sound, "and however angry you are with Isobel, you need to remember that today at least is about George and making this easy for him. This has to be confusing for him, and you and Isobel scowling at each other are turning this into a punishment for him. Do you want him to remember this day like that?"

After a long moment she sighed. "You're right, Tom. Of course you're right. I just don't know how I can face Matthew. I buried him. I remarried. I'm having Henry's child." She sighed again. "I know this isn't fair to George, but… I just couldn't face doing this, seeing Matthew, with every member of the family and all the servants lined up to watch our every move. And Henry. I won't lie, the idea of trying to talk to Matthew with Henry there… it feels like a disaster waiting to happen and unfair to both."

It was, Tom realized, a surprisingly reasonable way to look at it. And accurate on how awkward it would be. "How is Henry… handling the news?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "You would know better than I. His words to me are how he knows I'll do what's best. I don't think it's even occurred to him that it's not as simple as my telling Matthew I've remarried and he's free to move on. And it's not as simple as Isobel thinks, where I merrily toss Henry aside with a wave of my hand and return to Matthew's side as though we're the same people we were in September of 1921." She gave Tom a sober look. "This may all be moot, you know. Matthew made contact with Isobel because of George. Not me. He can simply and easily divorce me for adultery at this point. I can hardly protest, now can I? It might even be for the best."

He could hear the hurt in her voice. "I understand that this is a unique situation, and that you feel hurt but I wish you and Isobel had talked more rationally about it. I read the letter Matthew sent her." At her questioning look, he went on. "He was worried if he was wrong, that he'd be devastating a grieving woman. He contacted Isobel because he didn't want to hurt the entire family, if he was wrong about his identity then we would never have known about it. And he was right, if he'd written you, you would have told everyone and we all would have been on the road to Cornwall in minutes and then what if he was wrong? He was thinking of you, of… not putting you through the worry about Henry until he had to." It was Matthew all over, Tom thought, Matthew worried about everyone but himself.

Mary maintained her anger for a moment and then suddenly chuckled. "Goodness, isn't that him?" Tom could see tears welling in her eyes and he looked away so that she could gather herself. She daubed her eyes with a handkerchief. "I don't want to spoil this for George, I don't plan to. I mean that, Tom. I just… I just can't know he's here and not see him. No matter what this accident has done to him, I have to see him. All the problems… I can't even consider answers until I know he's real again."

She's still in love with him, Tom realized. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. Mary and Matthew had been madly in love, Sybil had often laughingly marveled at it, that she sometimes felt like their intensity made everyone else fade in comparison. He had to admit, as much as he liked Henry Talbot, and Henry was a good friend and business partner, he didn't think Mary and Henry had the same sort of passion. He didn't think that, with Matthew dead and gone, that the difference in passion made a difference. He considered himself open to finding another wife but he also accepted that it would be very different if it happened. He'd even considered some new partners and he didn't discount them simply because they weren't Sybil, but he also accepted that he'd never be in Mary's shoes. Sybil was gone, and as much as his heart ached, he was certain beyond a doubt that she was gone. "Promise me you'll be careful," he said after a long moment.

She smiled wryly at him. "Weren't you the one who said loving someone gives them the power to hurt you?" She smiled more as George and Isobel made their way back from the various stands, clearly with their arms full. "What sort of fun did you two get up to?" she said to George.

"We got pears and cherries, Mama!" George held up his sack for Mary to look in. "Grandma Izzy got some pies and biscuits for later but she let me try one. There's gingersnaps and gingerbread, too."

Tom was amused to see Isobel blush as she set numerous boxes and parcels in the car. "If I know Matthew," she said with some embarrassment, "he'll have spent the last few days planning this weekend, and he won't have bothered to fill the pantry. And he looked thinner than I think he should be." She glanced at Mary, as if bracing herself for harsh words.

Mary, to give her credit, merely smiled and nodded. "He did look a bit thin in that photograph." She picked up George. "And let's be honest, I think a certain someone just might help eat all this food. What do you think, George?"

"Maybe…" George allowed, a smile coming to his face. Tom smiled as well. Mary was declaring a truce by not chiding Isobel for buying food and treats as though Matthew was as small of a child as George. He thought he understood that impulse as well. Isobel was nothing if not a doting mother and no doubt was feeling some unreasonable guilt over the whole business. Both Dickie Merton, and Violet had already told her repeatedly that no one could have expected her to check her son's body for signs of life. There had been a fairly dreadful apology from Dr. Clarkson as well, that had ended with Robert helping the man drown his sorrows in the library until the wee hours of the next morning.

0o0o0o0

Mary looked at the stone structure Isobel was pointing at. "That's… a very nice cottage." Somehow she had it built up in her mind that Matthew was living in some filthy shepherd's shack or a fisherman's shanty by the sea, but the stone house was a well kept building. She felt relieved, one fear was gone. Matthew might have been working in a job well beneath his skill but he hadn't been living in abject poverty. The cottage was as nice as those in Downton Village proper. Certainly not as grand as Crawley House, or the Abbey, but it was a well maintained cottage that any of her tenants would be happy to live in.

"Well, he is the head gardener at Lady Barwick's estate," Isobel said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I understood that he was promoted several years ago when the old head gardener died and while Lady Barwick doesn't keep as much staff as you do at Downton, he has several men under him."

Tom nodded along to that. "I know he was taken on out of charity, but we've both been estate manager long enough to know he wouldn't be head gardener if he couldn't manage the work."

She found herself nodding as well. Downton had a few charitable cases that worked on the grounds or in the stables. One or two had done well enough to be promoted, but it was always due to their work, not the sympathy that had gotten them in. As the car slowed, she saw the door to the cottage open and…

Then she saw him. For an instant, it was as though her heart stopped. He hardly looks older, she thought in amazement. His eyes were as brilliantly blue as she remembered. He was smiling, pointing at the car and clearly telling something cheerful to the man and woman that had followed him outside. His clothes, a shirt, jumper, and trousers, had the bohemian look that so many in Cornwall chose. He has artist friends, she remembered Isobel saying something about it, that he had artist friends and he writes poetry. She could even dimly recall a phone call from Edith, not only sounding genuinely happy about the news but also somehow intensely impressed that Matthew was 'the poetic savant John Gardener'.

His eyes sparkled when Isobel and George got out of the car, an incredulous joy lit up his expression as he looked at his little boy. She felt tears rising up and willed them away. It was absolutely worth the long, irritable car ride to see his face light up with such joy. It was worth the car ride and more just to see his face, she realized.

She got out of the car and his mouth dropped, in that stunned beyond belief way it had the day they had first met. She had to laugh, it felt right, and in seconds he was smiling at her. "I…" His voice trailed off. Then he flushed with embarrassment.

He struggles for words, she recalled Isobel saying that, and he wasn't expecting Tom or I and now I've shocked him speechless. That had never been her intent in coming, to embarrass him. "Matthew, you look so well… I couldn't not come to see you." She stepped forward, feeling oddly shy.

"M-Mary…" Their eyes met and she almost blushed with the intensity of his stare. He dropped his eyes after a long moment. Breathlessly, as though the words were coming from very far away, he spoke. "I didn't… expect you." He pointed at Tom. "Or Sybil… I mean… "He blushed. "I'm s-sorry, I mean Tom… I get words wrong."

Another fear left her, although she was still worried. Speaking was difficult for him, that was clear, but it wasn't a horror show. People would need to show patience but he could speak, and speak clearly. She had worried that Dickie and Isobel in particular were putting a brave face on the speech issue. He seemed no worse than many other men injured in the war. And then Tom's earlier words chimed in her mind.

"George," she said as she took his little hand and led him to Matthew, "This is your papa."

George looked at Matthew as if sizing up whether he wanted to buy a particular piece of livestock. Then he looked at her, his serious little face all the more a reminder of his father. "But you said Papa was in heaven with the angels, Mama." Then he turned back to Matthew. "Mama said you went to heaven. Were you naughty? Is that why God made you come back?"

She could see Matthew struggling to not laugh. "I was very n-naughty, George. Because… I missed you… Finally, they s-said I could come back… but only if I did a good job as your papa."

George considered it. "Do you like gingersnaps? And oranges?"

Matthew nodded solemnly. "I d-do. Would you like t-to see my house?" He leaned down and held out his hand. After a moment, George took it and smiled at Matthew.

Damn it, Mary thought suddenly, letting her hand rest on her not quite flat stomach, as wonderful as it was, and she was close to overwhelmed, there was a huge problem. Two huge problems, Henry, and the baby to come.