A/N: It's just one long conversation.

IV

The silence that settled between them continued for several more moments unbroken. Neither exactly knew how to proceed in this situation. There was something between them that made things a little more tense than it should've been. Mary had been trying to dismiss it as mere guilt. Matthew had tried to explain it away as the inescapable effects of fame. But both knew, deep down that something else was happening, something beyond their control.

How did he end up in this situation? How was it that he had spent a year trapped in the prison of Lavinia's memory only to be set utterly and completely free by this most perfect and enchanting of strangers? Matthew didn't think of himself as particularly susceptible to the charms of most beautiful women. At least not like this easily and certainly not this quickly.

The evening wind whistled through the night sky, accompanying the chorus of car horns and sirens that was the tune of every evening in the city. The sun had long since set and in its place was a tapestry of urban stars, little points in the distance, each representing their own little story, their own unique moments, to which they themselves were merely contributed one tiny infinitesimal, but not unimportant, part.

Her hair fluttered in the wind like it did in the movies, perfect and enchanting. Her eyes beamed at him in that way that was deliberately meant to make men melt. All this he recognized, all this he saw right through. But somehow it didn't matter. Somehow, she had slipped right past his defenses. Somehow, he was softening to her. Somehow, he was taken by her.

And that just couldn't happen. It was too soon. The wound was still too fresh. And he certainly didn't want it with her. Her, this angelic stranger, that seemed to step through his TV screen into his life, so suddenly and so abruptly, that he had no way of processing it all.

"That's my cake," Matthew said in a slightly befuddled voice.

"Yes, I know," Mary said as she rolled her eyes, slightly glad that he had finally said something, breaking them out of their dangerous moment, "and I found these beers in your fridge. I know this isn't much of an apology. But I'm trying to make an effort."

Matthew finally relaxed and smiled. If this was a trick, it was working, Matthew thought to himself.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Matthew said warmly. "I know I can come off a little defensive, a little bit cold. I assure you, I'm not like this most of the time."

"And when is most of the time?" Mary asked playfully.

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, you got me. I confess, I haven't been the most amiable person to be around for the last few of years. But I, too, am making an effort."

"I know," Mary said in a conciliatory fashion, "and, despite my earlier rudeness, I am grateful that you invited me into your home. Truly."

"Of course, think nothing of it. Would you like to sit?" Matthew asked as he held out his hand towards the two chairs and a circular glass table he had out on his balcony, flanked on each side by modernist firepits.

"Yes, please," Mary answered.

They sat down at the table as Mary placed the cake directly in the center of the table and meekly looked up at him.

"I brought two slices…" Mary said awkwardly.

"But Rose got to the other one," Matthew said with a grin, completing her thought.

"Precisely," Mary replied with a giggle.

She put the two Stellas she had in her other hand on the table and slid one of them towards Matthew.

"However, I did bring two of these," Mary said excitedly, "and luckily, Rose didn't notice."

"That's okay, Rose doesn't drink beer," Matthew said as he unwrapped the white paper seal that covered the top of Stella bottles, before putting the edge of the bottle cap against the corner of the firepit and taking popping it off.

Mary watched intently as he did so. She had forgotten that Stella Artois did not have twist-off caps. She unwrapped the white paper seal and mimicked Matthew's method of opening the bottle. To his surprise, she managed to do it without breaking the glass. She glared at him as she took a long swig out of the bottle.

"Impressive," Matthew remarked.

"I'm a quick study," Mary said as she put the bottle down on the table.

"So, I can see," Matthew said.

Mary reached in towards the cake and picked up the single fork and held it up. "Split this with me?"

He has still suspicious. As much as her charm and her sudden friendliness was winning him over, he was still unsure of her. Why the sudden turn?

"What's your game?" Matthew asked.

"What game?" Mary asked innocently.

"Why are you being so nice all of the sudden?" Matthew clarified.

Mary took a deep sigh and leaned back into her chair. She took another swig of her beer. "You think I'm such a bitch."

"No, I don't think that," Matthew said politely.

"Yes, you do," Mary persisted. "And you're not wrong. I have been acting like a bitch today. And I guess.. I'd just like you to know that I'm not always like that."

Still unable to read her, Matthew found himself without words.

"And to apologize for the whole sideboob incident, I guess," Mary added, although with a little more sarcasm this time.

Matthew smiled and shook his head a little before taking a sip from his own beer. "It's not your fault that the whole world wants to see them."

Mary's gaze nervously dropped into her lap as her shoulders shrugged at his comment. She wondered how her visibly red her cheeks were as she could feel herself blushing.

"Still," she said as her sarcasm softened gracefully into a tone of actual sincerity, "I'd hate for me to live up to the caricature of who I am that you've no doubt constructed in your mind from our interaction tonight."

"And why is that so important?" Matthew asked. "Why does my opinion matter?"

"You think your opinion doesn't matter?" Mary asked curiously.

Matthew paused for a moment and looked away.

"No, not particularly," he answered stoically.

"Isn't that kind of sad? A bit gloomy?" Mary remarked.

"Is it? Never thought about it that way," Matthew replied.

"At the risk of provoking your ire once more, can I ask… what happened?" Mary asked softly.

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked.

"Between you and your ex-wife," Mary clarified.

Matthew closed his eyes momentarily as if to strengthen his resolve. It surprised even him, that after all these months and all of the progress he had made in dealing with his divorce, simply talking about it, uttering the words out loud, still caused him the same amount of pain that it did that first fateful hour.

"You really want to hear this?" Matthew asked as his voice began to tremble.

"Is yes an inappropriate answer to that question?" Mary asked softly.

"No, it isn't. I just can't understand why," Matthew replied.

"Can't someone just take an interest?" Mary persisted as gently as possible.

"Seems unlikely," Matthew said.

"You're a very suspicious man," Mary said.

Matthew smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I am," Matthew said with a light chuckle, "A little bit closed off too, I'm sure you've noticed."

"Just a little bit," Mary teased.

"Tell you what," Matthew said as he sat up and straightened his posture, "I'll tell you about Lavinia if you tell me about Tony."

Mary's eyes widened at that last statement. She hadn't mentioned Tony to him at all. In fact, her mind had been a million miles away from him at that moment. If she was honest with herself, which admittedly wasn't often, she really didn't need the reminder of him. This party was a beautiful little escape from the rest of the complications in her life, Tony included. But she supposed that if she was going to prod him about Lavinia, he had every right to retaliate by asking about Tony.

"How did you know that?" Mary asked breathlessly.

"Who doesn't know?" Matthew replied with a crooked smile.

Mary returned his smile with one of her own. And in that moment she knew that he did know who she was, more than he let on.

"And you make it sound like you are so above the gossip and drama that follows and surrounds people like me," Mary said in an imperious voice.

"I… just did some research before our shoot," Matthew stammered as he was caught a little off guard.

"Research… sure," Mary replied knowingly.

Matthew was again at a loss for words and an awkward silence descended upon them once again.

"Alright, you got me," Matthew finally said, admitting defeat, "I know who you are, I know of your many exploits, I am aware and intimidated by your fame, your status, but most of all, your beauty. And I was really really nervous about the shooting this morning. Hence, my subsequent demeanour. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Mary didn't immediately reply, which made Matthew even more uncomfortable. Did he say something offend her. His secrecy and his indifference had been his shield that whole evening. All that was gone now. Now, he was open to her judgement and her ridicule, completely and utterly. Which for some unknown reason meant, seemed to mean more to him now more than ever.

"No, not at all," Mary finally said in dismay, "I wasn't fishing for a compliment."

"Just an acknowledgement that I knew who you were," Matthew added.

"Maybe a little of that," Mary replied affecting a subtle smirk.

"Well there you have it," Matthew reiterated, "I know who you are and you can lord my previous, wholly constructed, and completely farcical indifference over me."

"Is that what you think of me?" Mary asked.

And yet again, Matthew had been caught completely off guard. He was expecting her to completely slaughter him over his recently revealed pretensions.

"Now who's being rude?" Mary added.

"You're right," Matthew said as he hung his head in shame. "That was rather petty of me."

"I forgive you," Mary said stoutly.

"Didn't sound like it," Matthew replied.

"I'm not sure you get to determine that right now," Mary retorted.

"What is this? What are we doing? Are we still arguing?" Matthew asked incredulously.

Mary took a moment to slow down and take a deep breath. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't push the issue now that you've already conceded. But if you don't want to talk about her, that's fine. I shouldn't push you anymore."

"What is there to say really?" Matthew said. "She left me. She was right to. I mean we all have to suffer the consequences of our actions."

"Did you cheat on her?" Mary asked.

"Nothing like that," Matthew answered dismissively as if to say, I may be a bad guy but give me some credit.

"Well then... I can I just say," Mary said slowly and deliberately, "I don't understand why any woman would leave you, a doctor… and or a photographer, an excellent cook. All my friends constantly tell me, if I could just find a man that would cook for me…"

"The cooking is a recent thing, at least my enthusiasm and aptitude for it," Matthew said, maintaining the self-derision in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"Would you believe that I spent a lot of time in the past year doing nothing but watching YouTube instructional videos and dining alone?" Matthew asked as he finally turned to face her again.

If their interaction that whole night could be described as verbal-sparring, Matthew once again, quickly and quite unexpectedly, took the advantage.

"The thing about photographing warzones is that you never really leave," Matthew said as he relaxed into his chair. "Even when you're back Stateside, you're always there, you can't escape it and they don't teach you to put it away like they teach to soldiers. I mean, look at John, he's been and seen a lot more shit than I ever will, he's fine. He's well adjusted."

"You're not?" Mary asked incredulously.

"I definitely wasn't for the last few years," Matthew answered despondently as he took another swig of beer, "to say I was a mess is putting it lightly."

"And now?" Mary continued.

"Work in progress," Matthew said with a melancholic smile.

"And that's why she left?" Mary asked.

"In a sense," Matthew confirmed, "but who was she really leaving? I was never here, even when I was... I wasn't really. To be honest, I was long gone before she ever packed her bags."

"You're pretty hard on yourself," Mary commented.

"They say blame isn't really a useful concept when it comes to things like this, but I'd say it was pretty cut and dry," Matthew stated simply. "It's hard to sustain a marriage when one person is closed off completely."

"You seem to have a good understanding of your role in all of this," Mary commented. "Why did you anything to try to prevent her from leaving?"

"Hindsight is 20/20, I've had a lot of time to reflect," Matthew said as he absently took another sip of his beer. "A lot of time to think… But even if I did know then, I'm not sure if I would've changed."

"Well, I'm sorry to have pried into your business," Mary said with genuine remorse in her voice, "I really didn't mean to upset you."

"It's done now. Anyways… enough about my sorry ass," Matthew said understandingly. "Tell me about Tony."

This again, she was hoping that Matthew would have forgotten about that by now. It's what she was trying to do. How was she supposed to answer? Was she to give the usual prepared statement? Where they met; at the Hurlingham Polo International, how long have they been dating; a year and a half, what does he do; investment banker, first date; Coldplay concert, got to meet the band afterwards (she didn't even like Coldplay).

What's worse was that there was nothing really to talk about. They got along fine and he was quite respectable. Maybe their subdued courtship didn't exactly set the tabloids on fire but it was what she preferred for her public image anyways. He was handsome, rich, and supportive of her career; the kind of man she knew that she could build a life with. She didn't know if they were forever, she didn't even know if she was actually in love with him. But that didn't matter to her. He was what she was supposed to want. Besides, love was a concept she gave up on long ago.

"What's there to say?" Mary began unenthusiastically. "He's great, charming, loving, takes care of my dogs when I'm away filming."

"He's a lucky guy," Matthew said.

Mary couldn't help but smile when Matthew said that. She couldn't decide if he was making a pass at her or if he was just being polite. She didn't know him well enough to say for sure. Her gut told her that he didn't have the self-confidence to pull off a move like that. Not after what he had just revealed about his divorce and his feelings towards it. Still, even if he didn't mean it that way, it still, very much, made her happy, especially after their rocky start.

"He could stand to be a little more exciting, I guess," Mary added listlessly.

"If you ask me," Matthew said plainly, "excitement is overrated."

"Well, I'm not looking to get shot at by ISIS, if that's what you mean by excitement," Mary said with a laugh.

Matthew found himself with a stupid grin on his face, when she threw back his harrowing, but ultimately selfish and juvenile, adventures back in his face. She made him sound like an utterly ridiculous person. He was a ridiculous.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Matthew said as her derisive laughter caused him to blush a little.

"What is?" Mary asked.

"Him not being exciting, me being too exciting," Matthew said.

"Were you really that exciting or just an out of control prick?" Mary asked incredulously.

"Probably the latter," Matthew admitted with a hearty chuckle. Boy, she wasn't going to let him get away with anything.

"Things with him are good. As they should be," Mary said with a rather disinterested shrug of her shoulders.

"Well, when you say it like, you definitely have me convinced," Matthew said with a raised eyebrow.

"What am I supposed to say?" Mary asked in a playful yet defensive tone. "He's the love of my life, he makes my everyday just a little better, that I couldn't live without him?"

"It's a nice feeling," Matthew said apologetically.

"Well, I think people are a lot more complicated than that," Mary said.

"I'm not saying they're not," Matthew said as he played with the rim of his beer bottle, "but love isn't just some silly juvenile pastime, something you waste your 20's chasing, it's a real thing. And I think people dismiss it too easily these days."

"You think just because you hold out hope that she's gonna come back to you someday?" Mary sneered as she flashed him a skeptical look.

His eyes widened as he instinctively threw his hands up as a sign of capitulation. She knew that she could be mercurial at times and evidently, this was one of those times. Perhaps she should've warned him before hand.

"It's okay, I shouldn't be so hard on you," Mary said as she let out a remorseful sigh before taking another drink from her beer, "I think you've taken enough of my abuse for one night."

"Oh," Matthew said with a spark of hope, "are you planning a repeat performance?"

"Let's see how the photos turn out first, shall we?" Mary said, at once affecting a tentative and teasing tone.

Matthew anxiously nodded as he rub the back of his neck and once more turned his gaze into the lights of the city and the blackness of the night beyond.

"What?" Mary asked simply.

"Nothing, just nervous," Matthew said meekly.

"About the photos?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, actually," Matthew answered. "This is the first time I've seriously worked in a studio environment since med school. Who knows if I'm any good at this."

"I'm sure you're great," Mary replied comfortingly.

"You've changed your mind about me," Matthew replied with an awkward chuckle.

"No, I haven't," Mary responded. "I just hadn't made up my mind before."

"That's good to know," Matthew replied with a smile of relief.

"Can I be candid?" Mary asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Please," Matthew replied enthusiastically, "I'm feeling rather exposed right now."

"I'm not sure if I'm any good in this movie so the photos don't matter much anyways," Mary said meekly as her gaze dropped down into her lap.

"What makes you say that?" Matthew asked.

"Just a feeling," Mary said airily as she lifted her gaze once again, shrugged all of the tension from her shoulders, and forced a smile.

"There's usually more than that," Matthew pressed.

"I've been playing the same roles years. I feel… stuck, you know what that feels like?" Mary asked before realizing the implications of the question.

Matthew flashed her a knowing look but didn't chastise her.

"Of course you do," Mary said with a little bit of embarrassment. "That was a stupid thing to say."

"It wasn't stupid," Matthew said gently. "You don't have to… tread lightly around me. I'm not judging you. I'm sorry if I'm made you feel that I have."

"You were earlier," Mary said glibly as she took another swig of her beer, finishing it off.

"That was before," Matthew replied.

"Before what?" Mary asked.

"Before you asked if you could be candid," Matthew said slowly and deliberately. "You want me to listen. Then I'll listen. The first part of listening is not judging."

"Where'd you learn that?" Mary asked with an incredulous chuckle.

"Marriage counselling," Matthew answered seriously.

"Are you determined to make me feel bad?" Mary asked sarcastically.

"Alright, if you don't want to talk, I'm not going to push you," Matthew answered politely but with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "I think it is rather unfair for you to prod me all night, picking at every little detail of my life but not to share anything real about yourself."

"I'm scare I'm losing my career before it has even really begun!" Mary suddenly blurted out.

She kept doing that. She kept changing her rhythm, modulating her tone and her disposition. Matthew couldn't tell if she was doing it deliberately just to throw him off or if there was just something fundamentally unpredictable about her. One moment she was kind and encouraging, the next she was sarcastic and distant. He didn't realize until that very moment that the one thing she had never been this whole night, up until now, was forthcoming.

"I'm 28 years ago," Mary said as her voice began to tremble. "I've been playing the pretty girl ever since boys started staring at my bum. But how long can that last? At first, you're just excited to be working, making some money so that you can pay next month's rent. And then you start getting other offers, for more and more money and of course you take them. But somewhere down the line, you realized that years have passed and you've been on this ride for a long… long time. And where has it led me?"

"Money and fame?" Matthew said with a grin.

"Exactly," Mary said as she bursted into a fit giggling. "See I can't even complain about it without sounding like a complete ingrate."

"Yes, you can," Matthew said. "You just have to pick your moments."

"Did I just pick the right moment then?" Mary said as she looked over him stared deep into his eyes.

"Actually, I think I might've picked it for you by guilting you into spilling your guts," Matthew said as he looked away.

"No, it's fine," Mary said casually. "If I can dish it out, I should be able to take it."

"But your limited choices in rolls… the plight of most young actresses, isn't it?" Matthew remarked. "I heard that's quite common."

"Do you consider me... common?" Mary asked as she leaned back into her chair and stared back at him intently, waiting, expecting an answer.

His immediate impulse was to reply but when her gaze caught his, he stopped for a moment. She asking him and wanted an answer, but not quite yet. She was looking for something in his eyes, something far more revealing than anything he could've said.

"No, of course not," Matthew finally said in a manner of contemplative certainty.

"Nice save," Mary replied with a devious and knowing smile.

Mary looked away for a moment to hide the redness that she could feel upon her cheeks. But she couldn't, nor did she try to, hid her smile. She provoked him with that question and he answered just the way she wanted him to. Earlier, she said she wasn't fishing for compliments but now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps, all she did want was a few kind words from him just to know that the things she had been feeling, all this time, all these many years, feelings that she had never once said aloud, were okay to have. That somehow, she was allowed to want more than just mere success.

She felt comfortable with him. As if, behind his professional persona (which he still had to work on, if he was going to be shooting people and models all day long) and his carefully cultivated distance between him and all things, was a remarkable gentle and loving soul. And if he had been hurt deeply, she didn't blame him for being guarded. Afterall, she wasn't exactly an open book herself.

But felt something else at the moment as well. There was still something about that moment that she found difficult understand, still more difficult to control. She felt something. It was new, unexpected and unfamiliar.

"I thought you were quite good in Raindance," Matthew said, catching her attention once again and snapping her out of her silence.

"So you've seen my work," Mary said in a superior tone.

"I think we've already established how full of shit I am," Matthew said with a nervous laugh.

She smiled. "Stop, tonight, I'm the only one who gets to tease you."

"Would you rather have me made you look like a brooding poet instead of the radiant, glamorous, girl that you are?" Matthew asked.

"Am I that?" Mary asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Or at least perceived to be?" Matthew clarified.

"To be honest, I wouldn't mind a change. Perhaps, do something completely unexpected," Mary said as she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "For example, tonight."

"I hope it was a pleasant evening for you," Matthew said.

"I'm glad to say that it was," Mary answered with a genuine and warm smile.

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" Matthew asked suspiciously.

"If I was, how would you know?" Mary said teasingly. "Apparently, I'm just that good an actress."

Matthew nodded with a smile. He hadn't smiled this much in years. He couldn't remember the last conversation that he had with anyone that lasted this long. It was a strange feeling. He had almost completely forgotten what it felt like to simply talk with someone, to connect with someone.

The wind howled as a sharp gust of wind caught them unawares. It had been getting colder. Matthew noticed as Mary curled inward for warmth little by little over the course of the night. Matthew checked his watch, 1:30. Wow, that flew by quick, Matthew thought to himself.

"My, my, it's getting cold," Mary remarked as she shivered.

"Oh, hold on," Matthew said casually.

Matthew turned around and reached by the fire pits and flicked on a switch. Immediately, Mary could feel the warmth upon her skin.

"Fancy," Mary commented.

"Not really, just some portable propane tanks," Matthew said. "You're not supposed to have these things in the building, shhh, don't tell anyone."

"I don't understand how you could have this place if you weren't working for a whole year," Mary asked.

"I didn't," Matthew answered with a hint of embarrassment returning to his voice, "I rented it out and spent most of last year in a shithole upstate."

Mary looked away awkwardly.

"Sorry, habit," Matthew said apologetically, "I really don't mean to keep bringing that stuff up."

"No, it's fine," Mary replied, "I kept prodding you about it, it's partly my fault."

"Maybe a little," Matthew replied with a hint of a smirk.

Silence fell upon them again. But this time it wasn't awkward. They had been talking for a long time. Longer than either of them had realized. And if they had their wish, perhaps, the night would never end and they could simply just talk for eternity. If it was a strange accident of circumstance that brought them to that point, alone, then something else kept them together in that moment, longer.

Perhaps, for Matthew it was enough that someone was merely interested in what he had to say, interested in how he felt, and understood what it was to suffer this quietly and this alone. Perhaps, it was enough for him that she didn't feel the need to give him advice and tell him how to get over it.

And perhaps, for Mary it was enough to have an evening away from the spectre of her own self. A moment away from the constructed persona that followed her wherever she went, making it harder and harder to know the difference between Mary Crawley, the actress, and Mary Crawley, the person. It was calming to have a few serene hours, when the mirror wasn't there, staring back at her, reflecting every inch of her, reminding her of how beautiful she was, how talented, how lucky… and as much as she tried to deny it, how empty she was. Perhaps, it was enough to know that there was someone understood that and didn't think that she was an ungrateful bitch for having those feelings.

"We should eat this cake," Matthew said, breaking the silence.

"There's only one fork," Mary replied coyly.

"How are you with sharing?" Matthew asked.

"Hmmm, not good I'm afraid," Mary said as she bit her bottom lip. "But for you, I'll make an exception."