A/N: Same scene, different perspectives. Familiar to some of you – longer note of explanation at end. xx

I see you at a party and you look the same

I could take you back

But people don't ever change

Wish that we could go back in time

I'd be the one you thought you'd find …

From "Burning House," by Cam

Saturday, 10 September

"Oh, my God," Elsie murmured as she looked out the car's window, and she heard Sybil laugh beside her.

"You shouldn't be surprised! It's just like all of Mum's bashes," the young woman giggled. She leaned forward and slid open the divider separating them from the limo's driver.

"Come on, Tom, can't you park properly? What kind of chauffeur are you, anyhow?" she teased.

"Tall, not too dark, and handsome," he replied instantly, giving Elsie the impression they'd had this conversation before. It warmed her heart knowing that they seemed to have found happiness with one another; she knew it was still early days for Sybil and Tom, but Elsie remembered that first flush of young love only too well.

I hope it works out better for them, she thought grimly.

Tom pulled into the next available spot in front of the Crawley's sprawling estate in the Hollywood Hills, and as he stepped out of the limo, he tossed his chauffeur's cap onto the front seat and turned the car over to the valet.

"She's all yours," he said, and the valet nodded as Tom held his arm out to Sybil. "Tonight, I get to play the guest instead of hanging out with you lot."

The valet tipped his hat. "Enjoy, Tom! Have one for us, will ya?"

"Sure thing - maybe I'll even manage two."

"Cheeky," Sybil told him as she took his hand, and she turned to find Elsie staring out over the grounds. "Elsie? Are you all right?"

"Hm?" Elsie turned around to find Sybil looking at her peculiarly. "Oh - yes, dear, I'm fine. Shall we?"

The sound of Elsie's sandals clicked on the gravel walkway as they made their way to the front door. The perfectly manicured lawn and the small pond and fountain were the perfect backdrop to the stunning flowers pouring out of the decorative urns that lined the paths. Fragrance from hydrangea, lily, and peony mingled together in a pleasing way; the evening was warm, but not overly so, and a soft breeze blew at the wisps of hair that Elsie had left down from her up-do. She'd been afraid she'd overdone her outfit ... until she'd seen Sybil, whose hair was also up and studded with rhinestones that matched her sparkly shoes.

Elsie looked down at her own choice of attire: her soft, cream-colored palazzo pants, out from which peeked her open-toed sandals; her favorite jade green silk blouse with a faint paisley print. She reached up to finger her emerald teardrop earrings, a favorite from her Uni days that, despite the sad memories attached to them, she couldn't seem to part with. The comb holding up her hair was ivory like the pants; all in all, she felt pretty good.

Cora had insisted that the party was to be a relatively small affair to welcome the new employees who had never worked on a film with Robert's company before, but one glance at the number of people currently occupying the vast grounds of the estate told her that "relatively small affair"was probably a gross understatement.

The place was teeming with guests. Elsie and Sybil were some of the last to arrive, and Elsie spotted the entire Crawley family (save for Violet, whom she couldn't seem to locate), every member of the crew, staff, and their spouses, and all of the key actors in the production milling about. It made her wonder who was inside, but she had her answer soon enough as a team of a dozen or more waitstaff - mixed women and men, clad in tuxedos - came out bearing trays of hors d'œuvres, which they began offering to the guests. Of course; the house would be full of staff to wait on them all, too, and no doubt Cora's massive kitchen was being put to good use.

"The children are inside," Sybil said, as if reading Elsie's mind. "Mum hired some sitters and set up a sleepover for anyone who wanted to bring children and not drive home after the party. I believe she used the words 'tent party' when describing the downstairs family room."

"I've got to hand it to her," Elsie replied. "Your mother certainly knows how to make people feel welcomed, spoiled, and appreciated."

"That she does," Sybil said. "We're going to go around back, so that I can introduce Tom to Edith and a few of her friends. She's just texted and told me where to find them."

Elsie turned to face Tom. "You've not met Edith? How is that possible?"

"She's always working," Sybil said. "And so is Tom."

"I don't mind the working bit - especially for you, Elsie," he insisted, winking at Elsie before she could formulate some kind of unnecessary apology. "And when I'm not working, I'm with Sybil."

"I never see Edith anymore," Sybil added. "We get on so well, despite anything Mary would tell you, and I've missed her."

"Then go on, you two lovebirds," Elsie said, shooing them away with her hands. "I can manage here on my own."

Elsie smiled after them as they left, arms around each other's waists; just as she turned around, a waiter appeared by her side with a tray.

"Champagne, ma'am?"

Elsie lifted a glass off the tray. "Don't mind if I do. Thank you."

She meandered through the garden paths for a while, having no desire to go into the house if all of the adults were outside. Stopping here and there to chat with a few friends, she eventually found herself at the edge of the back patio, standing by the railing and overlooking the gorgeous view that Robert and Cora had of LA. They were far enough away from the main parts of the city that the lights were visible but didn't interfere with the glorious sunset that she was now witnessing.

After a few moments, Elsie felt as though the very energy around her suddenly changed; the back of her neck tingled, and she closed her eyes to the sunset and blinked slowly, rubbing her neck for a moment before she took a deep breath, and turned around.

Sure enough, Charles Carson had just arrived at the party - or perhaps he'd just found his way to this quieter part of the property - and, as Elsie had suspected, he was staring right at her from across the vast patio.

The breath she was holding escaped her in one swift whoosh, and her heart rate sped up. She'd spotted him peeking at her table in the restaurant a few days ago, but other than a couple of words at work, she'd not interacted with him much at all over the past week. She couldn't manage to move or wave or - heaven forbid if he should approach her - even speak, but it didn't matter anyhow.

After several very long seconds of having their gazes locked on one another's eyes, he turned around, deposited his empty glass on a passing waiter's tray, and walked away, leaving her staring hopelessly at his quickly-retreating back.

oOoOoOoOo

Charles tugged at the collar of his tuxedo. It felt tight even though he'd just had it tailored, and he made a mental note not to help himself to quite as many sweets from the catering cart on the studio set.

Of course, he did acknowledge that his physical discomfort was more to do with the fact that he simply didn't want to be at this party. He wasn't terribly friendly with many people working on the project yet, given his recent appearance on the scene, and as he scanned the crowd he wished (despite her many faults and their own marital struggles) that Alice had been able to attend. She was so much more established in Hollywood than he was, simply due to the fact she'd been filming projects in the States for years now; she was a master at mingling, meeting people, and keeping the flow of conversation positive no matter who the participants were.

But she wasn't there, and he felt a bit lost. He decided to walk around a bit and examine the property. He'd never been there at night, and only once during the day, and he was struck by the beauty of it all when it was decked out for a fête such as this. Taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and giving him a brief nod of thanks, he tried to find Violet, figuring he'd at least be able to maintain a decent, interesting conversation with her. But it was to no avail.

Perhaps she stayed home, he thought. She can't abide these types of events, either.

He smiled to himself as he recalled the conversation they'd had over tea last week. Her observations about a number of the people involved in the film - people who would be hard-pressed to believe that Violet Crawley even knew they existed - were remarkable, and he appreciated her candid input.

Except for her advice about Elsie: "Work with her, Carson, and not against her."

What is that supposed to mean? he'd thought at the time, but now he understood. And it was a lot to ask; too much, he knew, for the first couple of weeks. He'd been blindsided completely by Elsie's presence at the table when he'd arrived for his first staff meeting; ever since then, he'd felt he was a bit on the back foot. Robert had been apologetic, of course, but it didn't really matter.

It was years ago, Charles told himself as he swapped his empty glass for a full one, and you are over sixty years old. You need to let it go.

Easier said than done.

He meandered through the guests, nodding at a few whom he recognized, and eventually headed out to the quieter gardens out back that led to the patio. He sat and listened to the ensemble that was playing by the patio, lingering for a while as they played their way through a few of his favorite classical pieces. He stood up again after about fifteen minutes and headed toward the patio, thinking he'd like to take in the view of the sunset over the cit-

Oh.

His breath caught in his chest, and he was certain he'd felt an extra beat in there somewhere. He'd had that blasted dream the other night, the one that had been haunting him for the first time in decades, and as if she'd been conjured directly from it, he saw Elsie standing before him now.

But she'd not seen him yet; in fact, her back was to him, but he'd recognize her anywhere. Her size and confident stature were the same now as they'd been all those years ago: the curve of her neck and back, the flare of her hips. She'd clearly taken very good care of herself over the years, and he spared a thought for the husband she'd recently split with, wondering what it was that could ever make a man leave a woman like Elsie Hughes.

Well, he acknowledged wryly, it's quite possible that she left him, isn't it?

He watched as she put her glass down and leaned over the stone railing of the patio. The sun shifted; a cloud passed by, and suddenly the hair at her temple seemed almost aflame in the quickly-dying light.

Charles didn't know how long he stood staring at her - likely several minutes - but he knew the instant she'd felt his eyes upon her, saw her stiffen so minutely that she was quite possibly not even aware of it herself. Her hand came up to rub the back of her neck as she turned around.

Her eyes locked on his, and even though he couldn't see them, given the darkening night and his position far across the patio from where she stood, he could envision the precise shade of blue they were. They stood staring at one another for … well, he didn't know how long. It wasn't a challenge, but it wasn't comfortable. He thought for a second that it was more an assessment of one another, a sharing of a moment that no one else present would ever understand.

And she was strikingly beautiful. His gaze flickered just slightly, so little that he knew she'd not have noticed it from where she stood, and his heart - which had been beating so rapidly up to that point - almost stopped in his chest.

The earrings.

Her deep, emerald-colored jade teardrop pendants, the ones he'd gifted to her on her twenty-first birthday, were sparkling in the little fairy lights that were wrapped around the railing upon which she'd just been leaning.

He was simply speechless; any plans he might have had of approaching her to say hello were immediately destroyed. There was no way he could speak to her now and pretend they didn't share a complicated, hurtful past, the proof of which was dangling from her ears.

He turned away from her, dropped his empty glass on some waiter's tray, and made his way back to the valet service. With any luck, his chauffeur would be close by, and he could make a clean getaway without having to run into Elsie again.

A/N #2:

I know a lot of you read this chapter before; it was a chelsie-prompts reply that I linked on Tumblr and does appear in my Prompts story as well. That said, please don't feel that you need to review it again, although I hope you'll read it again as you've now got context from the rest of the story.

I've set up a small Lights, Camera, Action! playlist on my Spotify (username: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey) that you can access with a free Spotify account. You could also just look up the song on YouTube. There will be a few songs for this fic that seem to describe Charles and Elsie's thoughts and feelings, but they're mostly background inspiration. I'll post them as they apply.

Thanks to everyone for their reblogs and reviews. I appreciate your taking the time to do so. And a special shout-out to chelsie fan for her amazing beta work.

xx,

CSotA