Silver:

"Go on! You were young once!" Elsie Hughes said as they walked side by side down the corridor.

"I'm young now! Well, I'm not old," he added hastily, seeing the look in her eyes and knowing when he'd lost the battle. He watched as she shook her head and entered her sitting room, leaving him standing there a little befuddled.

With a huff, Carson retreated to his own sanctuary, gently closing the door behind him. Did she really see him as an old man, someone whose prime of life was behind him? Did she look at him and see a tired, run down relic, someone who clings to the past and outdated traditions? Surely, he still had several more years ahead of him to work, then maybe, if he was lucky, another dozen or so to fill out his retirement years.

This was where Charles Carson paused in his musings as he passed the mirror hanging in his office. Perhaps it was time for a true assessment of himself, a hard look at the man he had become and a chance to remember the carefree lad he had once been.

He started with his chin. Clearly defined, strong, sturdy, with just a little cleft there. His mother used to cradle his chin in her hand, her thumb fitting perfectly in that little space. He remembered being a happy lad, of about ten or so, receiving his fist bicycle. He was sure, now, that his parents had scrimped and saved every bit of extra money they could afford just to purchase it for his birthday. His eyes now darted to the slight scar to the right underside of his face. It had hurt when he fell from the bike, but his father had scooped him into his arms and assured him that every lad falls from time to time. It was simply a matter of when and where, but more importantly how he handled the pain of the fall.

Thinking back on that moment, Charles smiled warmly. His father had been full of wisdom, love, and kindness. How often had those words resonated in his ears … reminding him that pain comes to everyone and it's how its dealt with that makes the character of the man.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the darker thoughts, thoughts of past hurts, Charles focused now on his nose. Prominent feature on his face and no mistaking his profile in the mirror. He moved his head from side to side, surveying his nose. The longer he stared in the mirror, the more he began to see his father staring back at him. It was true, just as his mother had always said … "You have your father's nose but my eyes."

Chocolate brown, warm, expressive. Those were the words that came to mind when he stared himself in the eyes of the mirror. He wondered if Elsie would say the same if she were to give an account of his features. Or would she think his eyes cold, uncaring, harsh, lacking in emotion? He certainly hoped that was not how she saw him. He wanted, more than anything, for her to look into his eyes and see the warmth and love he held for her, the depths of his affection hidden within those dark orbs. He couldn't help but feel a little like a young man again, staring at himself in the mirror, wondering about the girl who had so captivated his heart and mind.

A few more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth only proved that he had marked several decades on the calendar. He noticed that when he smiled, the little laugh lines were a little more pronounced. He attributed that entirely to Mrs. Hughes … Elsie. She was one of only a few people in the house who could make him smile, truly smile. Her little jokes and stories, from her childhood and even from the daily running of the house, made him grin, sometimes peel with laughter.

Combining all those features and ignoring others … like the spots on the back of his hands, the aches and pains he felt when he'd worked too long or the weather grew colder, or the extra weight he carried around his middle … Charles Carson felt he well represented the strapping young man he had once been. The truly telling sign of his age, he supposed, was the silver streaks in his hair.

Elsie had them, too, of course, but hers framed her face. She looked rather pretty with those silver highlights among the auburn locks. His hair, the salt and pepper variety, she had called it once, made him feel a bit dated, worn, and, for lack of a better word, old.

By the end of his little discovery session in the mirror, Charles was well and truly deflated. He was feeling every one if his years and then some. He could understand why Elsie had given him the disapproving look when he had so righteously declared that he was "not old." With a bruised ego and his mood darkening, Charles slumped into his chair and huffed loudly, never seeing Elsie as she stood in the doorway.

Silently, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She prayed that, for once, they would not be interrupted. It was easy for her to tell that something was bothering Charles. She could tell by his sad eyes, his furrowed brow, and his downturned mouth.

"What's troubling you, Mr. Carson," she asked softly, coming to stand beside his chair and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, Mrs. Hughes. Just a sad, old fool spending too many moments lost in memories, I suppose." He looked up and gave her a weak smile as a way of deflecting the hurt he was feeling inside.

"You may be sad, though you are not a fool," she offered, daring to each out and cup his chin in her hand just as his mother used to do. "I actually came in here to see if you'd like to take a walk with me, a turn around the gardens or perhaps down by the lake before dinner," she said trying to sound cheerful. "Perhaps the air will do you some good, clear the cobwebs from your mind. And, if you'd like to talk about what's not troubling you, I am told I'm a good listener," she said, giving his chin a little tweak before removing her hand.

But, before she could clasp her hands together in front of her, Charles reached up and claimed that hand, holding it tightly in his own. "Do you really think me old, Mrs. Hughes? Have I almost used up all the useful bits in me, seen my better days?"

"Heavens, no, Mr. Carson. Whatever makes you say that … even think it for that matter? I don't see you that way at all," she said adamantly. "If this is about earlier … I was merely frustrated." She could see now that her words had stung him, had wounded him, even, and that caused a pain in her chest. "Mr. Carson … Charles … every one of us in this house is getting older … by the second, the minute, the hour, but that's the natural order of things. True, we're not the same people we were in our twenties and thirties, but that doesn't mean we're any less useful or fit. In fact, I would dare say that we've learned a thing or two, made mistakes, hand more than a few laughs." She leaned down and pointed at the corners of her eyes with her free hand. "See these? Laugh lines. I blame you for most of them. You make me happy and give me reasons to smile." She then pointed to the silver hairs in her head. "You're also responsible for these, as well. Worrying about your health, hoping you'd stop working so hard, praying you'd stop and notice … the …"

"Notice what, Elsie?" Charles suddenly felt bolder and a little happier since she'd entered his office. "Notice that your eyes are the color of a summer's day when you're happy, and like a serious thunderstorm brewing when you're angry? Notice that you have those laugh lines and add to the beauty of your eyes? Notice that you always smell of vanilla during the week but always with a hint of jasmine on Sundays? Or these," he said, reaching up to lightly brush his fingertips across the silver streaks in her hair.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, smiling so softly and sweetly that it took all of his willpower not to lean forward and press his lips to hers.

"I notice all those things and so much more, Elsie Hughes. There are a thousand and one things I could tell you that I have noted about you, your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes. I am very observant, especially when it comes to you," he added softly.

She opened her eyes to find him staring directly into hers. Boldly, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his silver locks. "Then don't let a few silver hairs dampen your spirits." Her fingertips lightly caressed his ear, the side of his neck, then his chin. "I happen to think your silver hair is quite dashing. It makes you look so handsome and distinguished. I find you very … appealing, Charles Carson, so don't go changing on me now," she added softly before swiftly kissing him lightly on the lips.

Before he could respond, to her kiss or her words, she had left his office and closed the door behind her. Perhaps, it was time to reevaluate the way saw himself in the mirror. Just maybe, getting older and having a few more silver hairs wasn't going to be such a terrible fate after all, especially if Elsie Hughes found it … appealing.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews, support, and encouragement!