AN: As many of you may remember from tumblr, when I can't wait to post something I tend to follow that instinct which means posting earlier than anticipated.

TRIGGER WARNING - There is discussion of sensitive topics, not unlike what happened in canon. I don't want to spoil it for anyone, but if you don't like reading sensitive topics, stop reading now.

"And then I told Cecelia of course. And then that was that." Edith sounded proud of herself and Mary didn't suppress the urge to roll her eyes. After all, it wasn't as if her sister could see her through the phone. Matthew caught her expression and bit back a laugh. He found it endearing in an odd way.

"Was there a reason you called?" Mary broke through Edith's rambling gossip. Her patience had begun to wear thin. She would much rather actually be hanging out with Matthew instead of just being in the same room as him.

"I was getting to it." Edith sounded put out. "I am heading home on the last train. I just wanted to see when you were planning to be there."

"I'm driving." Matthew ran his fingers up the arch of her foot causing her to squirm. She could sense he was growing impatient with this phone call too.

"So you mean the driver is getting you." Edith supplied. "Why do you get the driver?" It was an accusation and a whine all wrapped up in one.

"Because I requested it. If that is all, I actually do have some things that must get done-"

"One last thing. Mama rang me up to tell me Patrick's parents were joining us for the holidays. She wanted me to tell you." Edith wasn't aware of the effect those words were having but Matthew watched the color drain from Mary's face. Her normally fair skin turned as white as a sheet.

Mary stared past Matthew, focusing on nothing. Memories flooded her mind, memories she had long since thought dead and buried. "I have to go Edith." She managed to say interrupting Edith mid rant.

"Okay. See you -" Mary didn't wait for her to finish before hitting the end button and dropping her phone onto the bed. She continued to stare at the wall and Matthew began to worry. He had never seen her so silent or so still. Even when she was irritated she couldn't help but make disapproving noises under her breath. It worried him.

"Mary?" He reached out to take her hand but she pulled away. He didn't try again. "You're worrying me."

"What?" That finally seemed to catch her attention. "Why? I am perfectly fine." She shook her head and smiling tightly. "I think you should go." She stood, crossing the room to open the door.

"No." He moved to stand in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She blinked rapidly.

"I don't believe you." It pained him to see her so upset. He knew she wasn't doing herself any good by bottling it up.

"You don't have to believe me, it's the truth." She was adamant.

"I can tell something is wrong." He insisted. "If you told me maybe I could help-"

"You can't help. No one can." She finally cracked.

"How do you know that's true?"

"Because it is Matthew. You couldn't understand." Her voice turned to pleading. "Please just forget about it."

"No Mary. I can't forget about something that upsets you so much."

"I want to forget. I need to forget otherwise I feel like I am drowning." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks. "Please. You would despise me if you knew and I wouldn't be able to bare that."

"I never could despise you." He assured her but she didn't look convinced.

"My own mother -" she didn't finish.

"I'm not her. And no matter what you tell me, I am not going anywhere." Matthew guided her back to the bed, making her sit before sitting beside her. "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." He laced her fingers through his. It seemed like an eternity before she began to speak.

"I was fourteen. I mean, it happened when I was fourteen." Mary stumbled through her words. Matthew felt his heart drop into his stomach and he tightened his grip on her hand. Nothing ever good came from those words, put in that order, with that tone. Nothing good at all.

"What happened when you were fourteen?" Matthew prodded gently when Mary trailed off. She was frightening him, her face somehow looked haunted but by what he didn't know.

"I don't think I should tell you." She looked off into space to avoid his gaze. She knew that of she met his eye, it would break her resolve. It had taken her years to bury what happened, to not be reminded of it each day.

"Why not?" He shifted on the mattress, the old springs squeaking and causing her to look towards him. Silence stretched between them and not in the usual, companionable way.

"You wouldn't look at me the same. And I don't think I would be able to bear that." Her voice was soft but her eyes were dry. She refused to cry. She had shed enough tears about this and refused to do so anymore.

"I never could, never would look at you any differently than I am now." He placed his hand over hers, disappointed when she didn't react. Her hand was limp within his. "Mary, what happened?"

Mary looked at him then, at their joined hands before slipping hers free. Any touch now was an uncomfortable reminder of what it was liked to be touched when you didn't desire it. Instead of feeling Matthew's warm, soft skin, she felt his rough cool skin and she didn't want to associate Matthew with that man. He didn't deserve that.

She brought her legs up between them, wrapping her arms around them and pulling them as close to her chest as possible. It felt safer that way somehow. Her lips were dry, so she brushed them with her lips as she tried to figure out where to start. The beginning, she concluded, it was easier that way. "My family isn't like yours Matthew." His brow furrowed at the non-sequitur. "I am fairly sure my father never got over the disappointment."

"What disappointment?" Matthew had to ask when she didn't readily supply the answer. Mary's mind with each fleeting look from her childhood that her father thought she didn't notice. The pain it caused hit her anew, worse now because now she knew what it meant. How was her five year old self supposed to understand? It had hurt then but it was worse now.

"That I was a daughter and not the son he expected. The doctors had made a mistake when looking at the sonograms, so they told my parents I was a boy. To say they were surprised when I was born was an understatement." She scoffed. She imagined that Matthew found it ridiculous but it was nothing of the sort. But then again, he didn't know what it was like.

"Patrick was a year older than me and the moment I was born a girl, and with the birth of each of my sisters, he became the surrogate son. He practically lived with us that's how often he visited. I was nine and he was ten when we found out about the inheritance issue. I think Patrick expected Downton to be his. After all it had been that way in my family for years. After that he became cruel. Not to Edith or Sybil mind you, just me."

"What inheritance issue?"

"As a gift to my great-grandmother, my grandfather broke the entail on the estate that had caused so much trouble for my family. So instead of going to the male heir like the title, the estate passes to the first born, regardless of gender. There's a whole story there but that's unimportant." She shook her head.

"So you are the heir." Matthew leaned back against the pillows at the top of her bed. She could tell that he didn't quite get the significance.

"To the estate. Not the title. That honor went to Patrick." Her voice grew cold at his name, her hatred for him rolling beneath the surface.

"Hence the animosity." Matthew nodded in understanding.

"Right, so during the summer I was fourteen, you can say I was surprised when Patrick suddenly became incredibly nice to me. Almost like it was before we found out. And then his friend joined him." She shut her eyes against the onslaught of memories. "The son of the Turkish Ambassador. Kemal Pamuk." Mary began to pick at the embroidery of her quilt. "He was incredibly charming. And flirtatious. He was always paying me compliments, seeking me out. My vanity was flattered. Patrick seemed to encourage it. Edith was upset that he ignored her which only made me more willing to reciprocate."

"Mary." He couldn't help but laugh slightly and she couldn't stop her lips quirking up slightly at that.

"Clearly we haven't changed in our relationship all that much." She pursed her lips to keep from laughing. "Edith couldn't stand that I had all the attention so of course I relished in it."

"Of course." Matthew joked, but it fell flat.

"On the eve of Pamuk's last day with us, there was a small celebration. My father broke out champagne and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to drink it. When my parents retired for the night and Edith had dozed off, the three of us, Patrick, Pamuk and I, snuck out. I wanted to look up at the stars and they indulged me."

"It must be a beautiful view." Matthew inches his hand closer to hers on the quilt.

"It is. Far away from the lights of town, you can see stars that are otherwise invisible. Pamuk was charged with carrying the champagne bottles out for us and I didn't think about the fact that he brought two even though one would have been more than enough. In hindsight, I think he must have slipped something into the bottle he gave me because the rest of the night is a haze. I remember laying down in the grass, not caring if my dress was ruined in the process. I was too relaxed to care." She bit her lip as she paused. "I don't remember seeing Patrick leave. The next thing I can recall is the feeling of someone settling on top of me and my dress being pushed aside. After that, nothing." She had tried, oh she had tried to remember. If only for her own peace of mind. Not knowing exactly what happened was torturous. Her mind made up all sorts of scenarios, what ifs as to what could have happened. But then again, maybe knowing would be worse.

"I woke up when the over night gardening system when off. The water was warm, oddly so, but it took me until I was soaked through to realize it was in fact just part of the sprinklers that was drenching me. My dress was ripped but I couldn't understand why. And then I saw the bottles, and," she swallowed thickly, "the condom." She could still feel the way the water pelted at her skin and it made her shiver.

"Mary -" he reached out for her but she pulled back.

"No. I need to finish. I need. Just let me finish." She struggled to get out.

"Okay." Matthew said softly, agreeing.

"I somehow made it back to my bedroom and all I wanted to do was sleep. But when I went to lay down there was something on my pillow. An envelope." The contents of the envelope were forever seared into her mind. She considered telling him what it contained but judging by the horrified look on his face, he understood perfectly.

"I think he meant it to be blackmail. You know, in the future. After all, he was destined to be an Earl without an estate. And I couldn't report him to the authorities because that would play into his hands."

"That's illegal." Matthew all but shouted.

"That wouldn't be the first time Patrick did something illegal. Nor the last. The next morning, Patrick, being the noble older cousin, told Papa about my reckless behavior the night before, the sneaking out, the drinking and I was punished the rest of my holiday. Patrick left with Pamuk later that day but not before making it clear to me none of the previous day was in fact a nightmare but reality." She didn't even fight it, her punishment. She actually relished the time alone.

"Your cousin brought Pamuk home, just to do this to you?" His anger was palpable.

"I don't know." Mary admitted. "I don't think he told Pamuk in so many words. But he sure didn't stop him."

"Mary." Matthew was at a loss for words.

"So now you know." Mary finished, easing up from the bed.

"What happened to Pamuk?" Matthew wanted to throttle the man with his bare hands.

"There was an accident. He was driving. It killed both him and Patrick instantly." Mary crossed her arms over her chest as she paced her room slowly.

Matthew followed her with his eyes, unsure what to do. "Thank you for telling me." He finally spoke, but Mary only nodded.

"You wanted to know." She shrugged it off, moving to her dresser and sorting through her perfume bottles. "Now you do."

"Is there anything I can do?" Matthew twisted his hands in his lap as he watched her. He didn't know what was appropriate. He wanted to take her in his arms but he wasn't sure that would be welcomed at the moment.

"Nothing, Matthew." She sighed. "Maybe you should go." She sat at her desk, pretending to flip through a text book. She didn't want to see the pity that no doubt was filling his gaze.

"I'm not going anywhere." He rested his hands over hers causing them to stop. Whatever reserve she had left broke at that. Looking at his eyes, she didn't see pity, but she couldn't quantify what she did see. Support? Love?

She allowed him to guide her to the bed, allowed him to wrap his arms around her as she tried to bury herself in his chest. His scent was a welcome distraction from the scent of Pamuk's cologne which seemed to torment her. She could still smell it. Matthew skimmed his lips against her hair, breathing in the scent of her perfume which he always seemed to associate with her.

They didn't say anything which was fine because words weren't necessary. All Mary needed was for Matthew to stay near. And Matthew had no intention of letting her go.

AN: So, that should answer most of the questions I have been dodging in your messages/reviews. I hope you let me know what you think.