Authors note: Before you read this chapter please be aware that it is in NO way spoilers for the coming episode this Sunday (aka the last in the second series) This is purely my mind telling the story of Sarah and Andrew Lang if they had run away together at the beginning of the second series. Please review! Xxx

The train ride back to Downton was uncomfortable and made Sarah's stomach twist with a terrible nauseas feeling. Andrew sat next to her, holding her coat tendering across his knees. Husband and wife, bound together in guilt and love. She watched the country speed past them as they left the comfort of the coast and felt as if she was once again loosing a part of herself.

The comfort of their little heaven had been left behind; the bed in which she was so happy, so full of joy and delight was left empty.

His fingers gently grazed her clenched hand on her leg and she felt him softly slip his hand into hers, rubbing the tense skin and attempting to sooth her nerves.

Sarah sighed and lent her burning head against the cool glass of the window pane. It did not good as it rattled with the shift of the train as it tore through the landscape.

Downton was drawing closer and closer.

It scared her.

Bleeding hell, love had made her weak.

His hand clasped hers loosely and she looked down at it, brow furrowed. She did not resent his touch; it was more that she felt she shouldn't need it. And yet...it calmed her, his very presence, his breathing even, calmed her.

The station drew in and a whirl of smoke smothered the carriage. Sarah adjusted her hat nervously and stepped out on to the platform, Andrew followed her obediently as she lead the way through the village, their hands remained attached. Downton Abbey loomed up over the horizon and Sarah faltered, white faced.

He bumped right into her, enticing a gasp of nerves to show. He stood behind her and brought his hands up to her shoulders gently.

Pushing her forwards.

She stumbled up the gravel path, not towards the servants entrance, but to the main doors. They were so very big and grand and forebodingly shut. She raised a trembling hand to the door bell...

"I can't do it..." Her voice came out soft, scared. Terrible.

"You can, my love"

It was like she was seeing him in slow motion. His simple warm features, soft expression, his hand on her back. She could feel his fingers tenderly supporting her though the strict confinement of her corset.

She rang to doorbell.

It seemed to take an age for the door to open, to be answered and Sarah shuffled nervously for foot to foot in agitation. Andrew stood calmly beside her, if she hadn't been so caught up with her nerves she would have noticed how very dashing he looked in his brown suit and hat.

The door opened slowly, revealing Carson.

He looked old and tired. There were tell tales dark circles under his eyes, his face didn't even register shock when he saw her. His once dominating presence simply seemed to have shrunk and his eyes flickered uncaringly between them.

"O'Brien…I wondered when we'd be seeing you…"

It was only then that she noticed the black fabric tied in a loose knot around his arm. The house was in mourning. Sarah took a shaky breath and felt Andrew draw closer to her, placing his arm protectively on her waist. Carson didn't even blink.

"I assume it is Mrs Lang now then?"

Sarah nodded dumbly.

He stood aside and let them in, he didn't even seem to care that they were entering using the main entrance. Sarah footsteps echoed loudly as her boot heels clicked against the marble floor, Andrews footsteps were heavy behind her and she took a deep shuddering breath.

"I came ter speak ter Lady Grantham"

"I'm sorry, you can't"

Sarah felt suddenly horribly faint and weak and useless. It was like all the breath had been knocked from her body. She tripped over her own feet and felt Andrew grasp her waist, steadying her, loving the familiar comforting feeling of his arms around her. Carson raised his eyebrows in confusion and opened his mouth slowly.

"You don't know?..."

"Tell us, man!" Andrews voice was louder than either of them had been anticipating, it was as if they had both been whispering, afraid of what to say.

"Lady Grantham is gravely ill….the whole house is…influenza was brought back from the front with Matthew Crawley…." Carson broke off, his voice shook terribly. It startled Sarah, to see Carson so lost and upset. This was not the annoying, over bearing butler she had left behind.

Carson seemed to slide to the floor in front of her, he just collapsed.

Sarah felt herself scream.

She ran through the house, up the stairs, alone the endless corridors…

Lady Grantham lay still in her bed, eyes wide open and unseeing.

Dead.

Sarah felt her legs give way underneath her and she stumbled to the floor, feet scrabbling for grip. Her skirts caught around her legs and she felt her chest heavy with sobs. Downstairs she could hear Andrew calling for help but there was no sound thorough the house, just an eerie silence. With difficult Sarah pulled herself to the bed and grabbed her ladyships cold hand, the skin was waxy and icy, she shook it uselessly and sobbed into the bed sheets. Eventually Sarah looked up and screamed as Cora Granthams head lolled on to onside, her dead eyes boring into Sarah's.

"I'm so sorry…" Sarah whispered fleetingly.

She ran as fast as she could away from the bedroom and into the ones along the corridor, attempting to muffle her sobbing into her sleeve.

Lord Grantham.

Dead.

Lady Edith.

Dead.

Lady Sybil.

Dead.

Sarah caught her foot on something and fell heavily to the ground. There was a dull thud as she whacked her head on the bed post and she felt terribly light-headed for a moment, the ground moving around her in a haze and she brought her hand up to her had unsteady, it came away bloody. Biting back the sweeping wave of nauseous that gripped her she turned on the floor into a sitting position and nearly threw up.

Anna lay on the floor next to her.

A trail of dry black blood ran from her ears.

The house was still all around her. Silence seemed to creep over her and made her shiver with fear. Andrew had stopped calling out and Sarah wanted him to hold her, to take her away, to tell her they could stop it.

Somehow she got downstairs and fell down next to his still figure. He was sitting next to Carson uncomfortably, heavily breathing and a horribly trail of blood pouring unstoppably from his nose. Sarah sobbed and pulled him into her arms, stroking his sweaty hair and she felt him collapse against her, his full weight bore down on her and he coughed loudly, echoing in the deadly quiet house.

She turned his face to wards hers and kissed him, weeping on his hot lips, he did not kiss her back. She pulled away and stared into his face.

Cold and waxy.

Dead.

She screamed and the whole world came crashing down around her.

Sarah sat bolt upright on the bumpy train ride. Andrew looked questioningly at her and smiled as he squeezed her hand. The landscape of the countryside sped past them. She felt him stroke her cheek softly and turned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head into his neck.

"What's this for?"

"Nothin'…"

Sarah replied, glad her voice was muffled as she struggled to control the tears that slipped from her eyes into the white collar of his shirt.

"You're not nervous are you?"

"Course not…"