I deeply apologize, I know, I was very very bad. Personal problems and a huge lack of inspiration and motivation stopped me from writing. I hope you will forgive me and enjoy the last chapter of this story.
As always, nothing belongs to me except for Phillip and Emma.
Please rate and review.
Days had passed since Anna came storming into the kitchen baring the good news. The joy and relieve in the faces had been apparent and no one had cared to hide it. They had laughed and smiled, they had hugged and in case of Anna and Mr Bates, kissed each other. And for once Mr Carson did not feel like reprimanding any of them. His own relieve was too overwhelming, too strong.
Mrs Hughes in her never ending wisdom and foresight had had already prepared the rooms for Mrs Crawley, the Dowager Countess and Lady Rose. One by one the family retired to their respective rooms and beds, trying to get some much needed sleep. The servants following their masters example soon after.
By the morning news had travelled to the village and a steady flow of visitors and well wishers started to arrive. They brought flowers and food and came to bring or receive the occasional dose of gossip. The old Mrs Harper went on and on about, how she had always known, that man couldn't be Mr Crawley until her grandson gently but persistently forced her away. Yet her words fell on fruitful ground and by the end of the week at least half of the village were convinced they had always known Mr Crawley was still alive. After all, God was merciful and would not take away such a good and kind man so shortly after becoming father for the first time.
Slowly but steadily Downton returned to its old self and its inhabitants to their daily routine. And if their ways led them past Mr Crawley's room more often than really necessary, nobody said anything.
At the end of the week Mr Crawley's fever had almost completely disappeared, but he had yet to awaken. Dr Carrington and Dr Clarkson both assured this was not uncommon and by no means reason for worry. Finally Anna even succeeded in prying Lady Mary away from her husband's bedside, so she could at least take meals with the family. Yet she always returned to his side within the hour.
There was really not much to do, except for watching him sleep and, hopefully, recover. Always by Mr Crawley's bedside was Dr Carrington. The young woman ate and slept in his room, never leaving him for more than a few minutes. Her dedication was admirable and yet also troublesome. What exactly was her relationship with Mr Crawley, the entire house wondered. A question she had yet to answer and had elegantly evaded whenever it was posed.
Her driver was only slightly less puzzling. He hardly spoke with anyone and was, at times, almost rude. Once a day he would take his violin to Mr Crawley's room and play for the sleeping man for several hours.
One night, ten days after the fever had broken, Lady Mary sat once again at her husband's bedside. All this time, she did not allow herself to dwell on the possibility he might live. What if she hoped and he died anyway? She knew, she would never get over losing him again. So she sat at Matthew's bedside, changed his sheets and clothes whenever he sweat through them, cooled his forehead with miles of wet bandages and refused to hope, refused to think. For a while she had distracted herself by listening to Dr Carrington's driver play the violin, but eventually he put the instrument down and stared blankly out of the window.
Dr Carrington sat on a chair in the corner, quietly reading a book.
"How did you know?" Mary finally voiced the question, most pressing on her mind.
Dr Carrington looked up.
"About the mark on his shoulder. The girl said, you told her to mention the mark on his shoulder, should we not believe her." Lady Mary clarified.
The doctor smiled thoughtful. "Oh, that. A flower and a cross, rather poetical, isn't it?" She grinned. "Don't worry, nothing inappropriate ever happened between Matthew and me. We don't have that kind of relationship. I know about it, because I'm responsible for the cross … so to speak. I was a field doctor during the war. My field dressing station was close to where Matthew was stationed. Every time one of his men got injured, he would come to check on them. Over time we became friends."
"Matthew hardly ever speaks about the war." Mary mumbled.
"That is not surprising. No one who wasn't there, could ever understand the horrors of what we saw."
"Would you try to explain it to me?" Mary asked. "I know he still has nightmares, and I wish, there was something I could do for him."
"I was never at the front, so I can not tell you, what Matthew experienced, but I can tell you what I saw." the other woman looked at her over Matthew's unconscious body.
Mary looked up. "Please."
"All right." Dr Carrington hesitated. "I know, from the letters Matthew sent me, you worked as a nurse, during the war and your home was a place of recuperation, so you have seen with your own eyes how much these men suffered. But you have to realize, what you saw … were the lucky ones. I lost more men out there, than I could safe, and I was considered to have a good survival quota. I can't tell you how many limbs I amputated in those few years, how much blood and flesh I cut and burned. Sometimes it felt like the blood was everywhere and I would never get rid of it again. Most days I felt more like a butcher than a doctor. I saw young boys hardly old enough to be out of school, who had been blown to pieces … screaming for their mothers … begging me to kill them, to end their suffering."
"Yes, but that is not the terrible part. Not really." Interrupted Rogers her. The tall man sat on the window seal, staring outside into the sky. After a moment he continued. "Most of us volunteered, you know? I suppose you do, since Matthew also was a volunteer. Yes, we were idealistic fools, but we weren't idiots. We might not have known about the extend of the horrors, but we expected them. The blood, the dirt, the pain, the cold … all of it. What we were not prepared for, was how the war would change us inside."
"Inside?" Mary whispered, not entirely sure, she really wanted to know.
"Yes." he mumbled. "War brings out the worst in us. I'm not talking cowardice or fear, we all were afraid, we all thought about running at least once. I'm talking about cruelty. I'm talking about the worst parts of human nature. You can not possibly imagine, what kind of atrocities seemingly ordinary men committed during this war, how many of them turned into monsters ..."
"Phillip!" Dr Carrington interrupted, he looked at her surprised. "It's enough." Mr Rogers turned back to stare outside of the window.
"It's true. The war did change many men for the worse. But it also brought out the good in some people. Your husband, for example." Dr Carrington said to Mary.
She nodded slowly without really understanding what the other woman was trying to tell her.
"Seeing the horrors of this war, devastated him. Every death broke his heart a bit more. Every man he lost. Many commanding officers dealt with this by distancing themselves from their men. They started thinking of them as numbers on a spread sheet, but not actual people. It is easier, I think, not to feel, but it is also dangerous, for it can turn you into something less than human. Matthew was one of the few who managed to walk the narrow path between feeling to much and not feeling at all. He cared for every single on of his men. They were his motivation not to break, keeping them safe … or as safe as they could be under the circumstances."
"You think, he is still controlling himself? More than two years later?"
"Yes … you should be prepared. Eventually he will have to confront his suppressed emotions or he will break." Dr Carrington walked over to the bed. Carefully she checked Matthew's pulse and temperature. Seemingly satisfied she returned to her book.
Lady Mary lost herself in her thoughts. She tried to imagine what Matthew truly had been through during the war. But even with the descriptions Dr Carrington had just provided she couldn't and she was certain, there were things that she hadn't said. What had Mr Rogers wanted to say before she interrupted him?
Shortly after Anna came to take her to dinner. For the first time she followed her willingly. She had many things to think about and a separation from the people who had provided the questions, might be a good idea.
Since Matthew's return the family had started to gather for meal times again. Rose, Granny and Isobel spent came before breakfast and left after dinner. Even her mother had stopped taking her breakfast in bed.
When she entered the room, everyone looked up. Silently she sat down next to Tom.
"Any news about Matthew?" her father asked.
Mary only shook her head. Ever breakfast and every dinner, he asked her the same question. "But I asked Dr Carrington, how she knew him." She finally said.
Everyone stopped eating.
"And?"
"Apparently she was a field doctor at the front. Over the years they became friends."
"My. How curious! A female doctor!" the Dowager Countess said.
"It is not that unusual anymore. There are universities who permit women to study medicine. At it will only become more in the next years." Isobel commented.
"And why shouldn't it?" Edith asked. "It's not like women haven't dealt with blood as long as humans exist. And the nurses at the front were also women. Why not let them study medicine?"
"Edith, please. This is hardly a moment for your political opinions." her mother tried to stop her and Edith reluctantly kept silent.
Dinner continued silently until Anna came running into the room.
"Anna, this is starting to become a habit with you." Lord Grantham reprimanded her ironically.
"No, My Lord." she caught her breath, but grinned from ear to ear. "Mylady, come fast! Mr Crawley is waking up!"
A second of shock passed, but then everybody jumped to their feet and hurried into the hall, up the stairs and to Matthew's room.
At the door they stopped and took the picture before them in.
Matthew still lay motionless in the white sheets, Dr Carrington was bowed over him, the hand gently resting on his cheek. Mr Rogers was still at his position at the window, but all melancholy and thoughtfulness had left his expression and he observed the situation.
Matthew slowly blinked and opened his eyes. He gaze reluctantly focusing on the woman leaned over him. He closed his eyes again, a low groan escaped his lips.
"Please tell me, I'm not in France!" his voice was hoarse and raw but unmistakably his.
She smiled innocently at him. "Where else would you be? Have you not heard about the new orders? All female medical personal is to wear pumps and silk dresses, while attending the sick. It makes them so much prettier to look at, don't you think? And for our especially worshiped heroes we even rebuild their future bedrooms and fly in their future wives."
"Mary?" he whispered, eyes still closed.
Dr Carrington gently turned his face. "Turn your head and see for yourself."
Slowly he did as he was ordered. And there she was. Mary! His Mary. She stood at the door, silent tears running down her cheeks, both hands covering her mouth. He smiled and tried to lift his hand from the bed calling her to him. "Mary."
A painful sob was ripped from her chest and in the next moment she was on the bed, wrapping her arms around him as much as possible and hiding her face in the crock of his neck. Her whole body shock violently as she finally let go of all the tears, all the fear, all the pain.
Everyone else had tears in their eyes watching the reunion they had thought impossible. They hardly understood the muffled words coming from Mary.
"I love you! I love you so, so much! Please, don't ever leave me again!" she begged through her tears holding on to him even tighter.
"I won't, I promise. Never again! Oh, my darling! I love you so much!" Matthew, tears in his eyes, mustered all his energy and wrapped his arms around his desperately crying wife pulling her closer. Both holding onto each other for dear life.
Silently Dr Carrington ushered everyone out of the room, a wide grin on the lips. Just before she closed the door, they heard Matthew's voice again. "Phillip, get Emma into a bed. She needs sleep."
Mr Rogers rose just an eyebrow looking at his lady. "The man does know you."
Dr Carrington rolled her eyes and without another word she disappeared down the hall to the room, Mrs Hughes had prepared for her a week ago, but which was, as of yet, unused, leaving the Crawley family behind, torn between confusion, utter joy and amusement.
Ok, I admit it, I had tears in my eyes writing this. Which was slightly awkward since I wrote it sitting in a train surrounded by a Danish school class returning from a trip. :P But so worth it.
Oh yes, I don't remember exactly but I don't think Mary ever told Matthew she loved him. He told her all the time (especially in season three, curse you Julian Fellows for making him dieing even more painful, especially upon rewatching) but she always only said it back. I don't remember her ever saying the words 'I love you'. If I'm wrong, please correct me. Anyway I thought, why not let her make a really grande declaration of love and let her act completely untypical.
That's it for now. I will eventually post a sequel, but right now, I have other stories to write. If you don't want to wait for answers to the questions I have not given yet (for example, who died in Matthew's stead and how he survived) you can pm me, maybe I will spoiler you (yes, I actually do know how. xD)