Sarah stood in her tiny bedroom in shock.

What was she doing?

A half packed suitcase lay on her bed, messy and confused, like her mind. In her arms she held the patchwork throw all those years ago. It smelt, nice and comforting, she buried her head into it and sighed, breathing in the dusty scent. The material was soft underneath her fingers and she trailed the lines were the different fabrics met, letting the bumpy stitches rub against her tired fingers.

Footsteps outside caught her attention and she turned around to see Mrs Hughes standing in the doorway, a look if blatant confusion plastered across her normally composed face.

"Where do you think your going?" The Scottish tone was questioning and barked with authority but Hughes expression was soft and bewildered.

"I…I don't know" Sarah felt her brow furrow in uncertainty. Her heart seemed to be tearing in two.

Leave Downton? Leave her ladyship, too whom she owed her own soul?

or

Lose Mr Lang? And her heart?

Oh, bleeding hell! She had no heart! Sarah struggled to keep her face calm but she could feel it contorting with anger. Her grip on the patchwork cover tightened and she could feel herself pulling it, stretching the seams, as her life was ripping for underneath her. She felt a hand on hers and was surprised when Mrs Hughes gently took the fabrics from her and patted her hands gently.

Sarah practically tripped over her own feet in shock when Mrs Hughes calmly sat herself down on her bed and began to repack Sarah's things neatly and slowly.

"How did you get the bruises?" Mrs Hughes didn't look up as she worked but her eyebrow raised a fraction. Sarah gripped the wardrobe for support and tried to concentrate on her breathing.

"Was is Mr Lang?"

"Yes"

Mrs Hughes looked up in surprise at O'Brien steady accepting tone. Something had changed, so drastically. The woman looked different. If she didn't know better, Elsie Hughes would have said it was fear, fear at the loss of a loved one. She had seen that look so many times before. But never on O'Brien. Sarah traced the smooth wood of the wardrobe behind her with trembling hands. Why was she so God damn nervous of the housekeeper? Normally she would have just put her in her place with a snide comment or a smirk but now…now she felt as if she were loosing someone else to; a hated aunt that always gave you sticky sweet at Christmas.

The suitcase snapped closed with a soft noise that seemed to stir the tension in the room.

Mrs Hughes got up briskly and made to exit the room. But not before she layed a firm hand on O'Brien's arm and said in almost a whisper;

"Don't forget us"

Her footsteps echoed down the long corridor and Sarah felt as if drums were pounding her ears. Slowly a few tears managed to escape her furiously blinking eyelids and trailed pathetically down her cheeks, she brushed them away with the back of her white shirt.

"I can never forget"

The room reverberated the words maliciously back at her.

Surprised at the colour of her shirt sleeve she looked down at herself and wondered how she would ever get used to not wearing the dull black maids gown every day. Her own clothes, the few she owned, were simple and plain. Today she would leave Downton in a grey skirt and jacket trimmed with cheap black velvet braid and a crisp white shirt. No jewellery, she didn't own any.

No goodbyes, she walked out of Downton alone.

She couldn't bear to face Lady Grantham.

At the wrought iron gates she pause, from this distance Downton Abbey looked huge, impossibly vast. She had lived her for so long but…she had not really lived at all, she had taken on another life, a half live in the shadows.

Her feet blindly lead her to the train station. The heels of her rough, black boot making clicking noises against the gravel. It was a steady rhythm, one which she tried to set her heart to.

The platform was quiet.

Smoke billowed from the recently departed train and Sarah made her way along the dais warily. Where was he?

As if in a twist of fate the steam cleared with a smooth gust of wind and there he stood. Mr Lang, uncertain and lost, at the edge of the platform. Slowly she walked over to him and slipped her hand into his. He briefly looked at her and his lips curled into a smile. She smiled back, loving the familiar feel of his skin against hers.

They stood together, yet alone on the platform as if they were the only two people that mattered in the world.

The piercing whistle blew to signal the oncoming train.

It came into the station in a rush towards them, mirroring the way Sarah felt the speed at which her life so suddenly seemed to be travelling.

They boarded the train together silently. His hand never left hers.

"Where are we goin'?" Sarah voice was low with question but without uncertainty. This was where she wanted to be; at his side.

They sat close to each other in the small train compartment, hands clasped, linked. More than love, a deep understanding.

"I don't know"

"It doesn't matter anyway"

Sarah laid her head on his shoulder and felt the train pull away from the station. The whistle blew again but she ignored it. His lips pressed lightly against the top of her head and she turned up into his kiss.

The world raced by as the train gathered speed.

Sarah didn't care.

All that mattered was his arms so firmly around her waist and his lips against hers.

A new life.

A fresh start.

End.

Authors Note: Sorry, it looks like this chapter will be the last of this particular story but if you want more I may be writing a sequel! "A not-so-innocent friendship"! Will probs be about their lives after this story ends and will be a rating of M as it will most likely have naughtiness! Shhhh!
Also if you want more O'Brien angst and love check out my other epic story "Forgiveness"! Love to you all and thank you for your continuing support and loyalty and lovely reviews! Xxx