Here it is! The latest chapter, just in time for Halloween! Although I confess it lacks some of the "zombie action" from the previous chapters; it's mainly a character-building chapter, but more fights with zombies are on their way, more moments to see characters kicking butt and being awesome, just hang tight!

THANK YOU for the comments and follows! I hope you've enjoyed this "Hallo-week" of updates. I will try to get another chapter up by Sunday, so stay tuned!

ONE LAST THING...I want to dedicate this chapter to all those out there who are living in areas affected by Hurricane/Superstorm Sandy. Thoughts and prayers are with you, and I hope you and your loved ones are safe.

Chapter Eleven

"Questions"

She remembered how she insisted that she was going with him. They had argued in the past, but that argument was like a summer breeze, compared to the raging hail storm they were having now. He told her it was too dangerous; she countered that if it were, then why was it alright for him to risk his life? She argued that she knew how to shoot, that he had taught her well, and that she wasn't afraid of those things, that what truly frightened her was the thought of never seeing him again. If they were going to die, then by God, it was going to be on her terms, with the two of them fighting side by side. Nothing he said would have convinced her otherwise…and so, with reluctance (only because she knew he was worried for her) he admitted defeat, and it was announced the next day that Anna would be joining their small search party.

She was glad she had gone. She would have been worried sick otherwise, and doubted she would have been much use to Mrs. Hughes or anyone else. No, she had decided, many years ago, that her place was beside Mr. Bates, no matter what. And so, here she stood, once again by his side, while Lady Sybil examined his leg.

"Thomas did a very good job in bracing his leg," she murmured, which brought a small smile to Anna's lips. She glanced up from where she stood to see the former footman standing in the doorway, the expression on his face mimicking that of a child muttering, "I told you so". "Yes, I think the bone will heal nicely, so long as we keep the brace fixed and tight…"

Anna nibbled her lip. "But…is there anything we can do for the pain?" He continued to groan, and his face was covered in perspiration. It had been agony for him during the car ride, and while she had prayed that by the time they reached Downton and he was lying in a bed that things would be better...he still looked just as pained as he had then.

Sybil looked up and sighed. "If this were the hospital and we still had some, I would offer him morphine. But…probably best to take some spirits. I'm sure Papa wouldn't mind offering his finest brandy." Anna tried to smile at Lady Sybil's words, but she found it difficult. She always found it difficult to smile when John was troubled. She still remembered all the troubles that his first wife had caused for them…

"I'll come back and check on him after supper," Sybil murmured. Anna smiled and gave a polite curtsey, thanking her softly under her breath. "He'll be alright, Anna, he just needs rest," Sybil reassured, before reaching out and giving the housemaid a quick hug. "I'm so glad you're all back," she whispered, before releasing her and leaving the room.

Thomas gave a small smile to Lady Sybil as she left, however his usual "cat caught the mouse" face returned once it was just the three of them in the room again. Anna wasn't sure what that expression was for; did he expect her to fall to her knees and thank him for the wonderful binding he had done?

"Well, this will put things in a bit of a predicament for his Lordship…" he sighed.

Anna frowned. "What do you mean?"

Thomas dug into one of his pockets and retrieved his carton of cigarettes. "Only that his Lordship has come to depend on Mr. Bates for so much…whether it's as his valet or as his…security," he withdrew one of the cigarettes and placed it between his lips. Anna's frown deepened at the sight. No one was allowed to smoke in the house (save his Lordship of course) but even then, cigars were restricted to the dining room and library.

"Things have changed, Thomas," she muttered under her breath. "We've well gone past those days when you and Miss O'Brien were scheming to toss Mr. Bates out and take his job."

Thomas lifted an eyebrow at this. "Have we?" he murmured. And without another word, he gave a small bow of his head, and left the room.

Honestly…after…after everything they had been through over the past few days—no, even before that! Was that all the vile man thought about?

"Pay…no…heed to him…"

She looked down and quickly took the offered hand of the man she loved, who despite the obvious pain he was feeling, put on a smile for her benefit. "With the amount of times you've saved his skin, he should be thanking—"

"None of that matters," John insisted, gritting his teeth a little, but squeezing her hand affectionately. "You…said so yourself…things have changed…and we need to…move forward too."

Move forward. She wanted to, but it was hard to imagine now. Had it only been a year ago, when they were making plans for their lives after his divorce finally came through? They had talked about becoming innkeepers, running something small but cozy, with a pub or café attached. They would be their own master and mistress, and they would start a family, and they would be happy—so very happy…

That was what they should have been doing. The lives they should have been living. Not…trapped in this grand estate, forced to fight for their lives, never knowing when the nightmare would end.

She looked at John, her Mr. Bates, and returned the squeeze, as well as put on her own smile. This was not the life she wanted them to have, but at least they had each other. And really, that was all that mattered.

Elsie Hughes credited herself on being a patient woman. One had to be when working beside Charles Carson for all these years. But right now, that patience was thin—extremely thin—as she and the others gathered in the Servant's Hall were desperately yearning to hear the news from the recently returned search party.

"What happened in Ripon? Did you see anything?"

"Why did it take you so long to get back? And where did you find Capt. Crawley?"

"Where did you get the car?"

"Did you at least get us some decent things to eat on your journey?"

Poor William; he was being swamped with questions right, left, and center. He had to bear the brunt of them because, in Elsie's opinion, the two people best to answering them were somewhere upstairs, and no one really wanted to hear Thomas' input, as no doubt it would be nothing but negativity.

"Let the lad catch his breath before you throw another question at him," she attempted to reason on his behalf. The poor boy looked as if he were going to be sick; he was very pale…and he looked…troubled. "William, would you like some tea?"

He looked a little startled by her question, and then quickly shook his head. What on earth was bothering the lad?

"I just don't understand it; you told us last autumn that Capt. Crawley had died!" Elsie did her best to stifle her groan. Despite Mr. Carson's "nod of agreement", when she told them all to give William a moment and cease in bombarding him with questions—clearly that didn't include himself.

William paled even more, if that was possible. "I…I…I was…" he glanced up towards back of the room, where both Thomas and Miss O'Brien were standing. "I…that is…I—"

"What William means to say, Mr. Carson, is that he was mistaken, you see."

Everyone turned their eyes to Thomas, who was smiling like the preverbal cat who caught the canary. Elsie found herself frowning.

"Mistaken?" Mr. Carson sputtered, looking even more confused by this bit of news.

"That's right," Thomas continued, his eyes holding William's surprised gaze. "Capt. Crawley was declared dead by the hospital staff and thus informed William of this bit of false news. Little did they all know that he wasn't, not really dead, I mean. Maybe they thought he had stopped breathing…or couldn't find his pulse…know a lot of men in the medical corp. who sometimes miss something as simple as that…"

Elsie's frown only deepened. "You're not exactly filling me with great confidence about the medical corp., Thomas."

He shrugged his shoulders. "We all make mistakes…don't we, William?"

William's eyes widened, but he quickly began to nod his head. "That's right, that's right…" he whispered. "It was all a mistake…misinformation…"

No doubt more questions would have been asked, however they all came to a pause as Anna suddenly appeared at the Servant's Hall entrance, looking tired, disheveled, but also relieved to be back. Elsie was relieved to have Anna back as well.

"Anna!" Mr. Carson smiled. "Welcome back! Oh, please have a seat!" He rose from his chair and pulled it out for the young woman. She gave him a grateful smile before sinking into the chair, while Mrs. Patmore quickly poured her a cup of tea. The head housemaid lifted her eyes briefly from across the table and met Elsie's relieved gaze. They both exchanged a smile of greeting.

"How is Mr. Bates?" Mr. Carson continued. "What on earth happened to you all out there?"

Once again, the onslaught of questions began to be thrown about, but this time William didn't have to bear them all on his own. And if truth be told, Elsie was convinced they would receive better answers coming from Anna than from the former footman.

Anna gave a weak smile, looking puzzled on where to begin. However, her eyes paused on the man who was standing in the corner, his arms folded across his chest, silently watching and taking in the scene. "Hello?"

"OH!" Elsie gasped, forgetting all about their newest addition to the house. "Anna, this is Mr. Branson—his Lordship's chauffeur."

Thomas' eyebrows went up at this information, but he didn't say a word. Anna also looked surprised by this, but managed to offer a polite smile, as well as exchange her hand towards the chauffeur. Mr. Branson returned her smile, and took her hand, giving it a polite shake, but not lingering too long, due to Mr. Carson's stern gaze. In all honesty…

"We're all very curious to hear about what happened," Mr. Carson continued where he had left off. "But first, please…what happened to Mr. Bates?"

And so with a deep breath, Anna began her story, telling them all about how they searched throughout Downton Village, and then went on their way to Ripon, but found nothing. They decided to continue their journey, and search Malton as well, just in case. The sad truth was, Malton was nothing like Ripon…just as Mr. Branson had warned, on the night he had arrived.

"There were Walkers everywhere, and we had to hide-out in an old pawn shop—"

"Walkers?" Mr. Carson murmured with confusion.

Anna nodded her head. "That's what Capt. Crawley calls them. It seemed an appropriate name."

Mrs. Patmore clucked her tongue. "Demons are an appropriate name."

Elsie on the other hand was amazed by a different part of the story. "Good heavens, you were trapped inside a shop? For how long?"

"Two nights," she answered. "Mr. Bates saw the shop, saw the metal fence it had around its windows to keep thieves out, and thought that would be the safest place for us to hide." She then went on, pausing every so often to take sips of tea, about how William had literally ran into Capt. Crawley, how Thomas had seen a car, and the elaborate plan Capt. Crawley had in getting them out of there…which explained Mr. Bates' present situation.

"Heaven help us!" Mrs. Patmore gasped, when Anna had finished her story. "So it's just like you said, Mr. Branson!" All eyes then turned to the new chauffeur, and Elsie suddenly remembered the young man's story, about how he and his brother had gotten separated in the midst of a struggle near a village but a half-day's journey from Downton…a village like Malton.

"We don't know if Malton was the place Mr. Branson was talking about," Mr. Carson grumbled, and Elsie once again found herself rolling her eyes. Honestly, there were times that Mr. Carson was worse than the very people they served, when it came to rose-tinted denial.

"Then that makes it worse!" Mrs. Patmore muttered. "If he wasn't near Malton, then that means there's another place out there that's just like the one Anna described! And the point is that someplace, not too far away from here, there are those things, those…Walkers…a whole army of them from the sound of it…and it will only be a matter of time before they descend upon us!"

"Calm yourself, Mrs. Patmore," Mr. Carson muttered. "You'll frighten Daisy."

Daisy, who had been standing in the back near the entrance to the kitchens, suddenly perked her head up at the sound of her name. "No she won't—"

"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Carson…" everyone now lifted their heads to see Ethel, standing nearby, holding the remnants of a tea tray. "But…they're asking if William will come upstairs to the library."

Elsie turned her gaze to the poor footman, who actually reached out and gripped a nearby chair, as if he were trying to keep himself from falling over. She stood then and surprised everyone, including herself, with her statement. "William needs to rest, Ethel. Please convey that message to his Lordship."

Everyone stared at her, eyes widening in disbelief. Mr. Carson suddenly rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. "He has been summoned—"

"Aye," she acknowledged. "But that can all wait for tomorrow. Right now, what our champions need is their rest. So please…Ethel, go and deliver that message. And if there are any questions, please tell his Lordship to come speak to me."

Mr. Carson's jaw dropped, before he quickly shut it. There was a vein in his left temple that Elsie had always noticed; it seemed to throb whenever he was agitated. However, she returned his glare with one of her own; no amount of hot air that Charles Carson sent her way would blow down her resolve. And he knew it. "I will take the message, Ethel," Mr. Carson managed to mutter. "And I suggest to the rest of you to finish preparing dinner." And with that, he was gone.

Elsie quietly groaned to herself. She knew there would be words between the two of them later, but she refused to dwell on that now. Instead, she met William's gaze from across the room, and the lad looked back at her, a thankful smile spreading across his face. While she didn't truly know why his Lordship wished to see William, she had a feeling it was focused around the same question Mr. Carson had been asking, about how William could have been so wrong about Capt. Crawley's condition, when he had informed them all that the poor man was dead. As much as she disliked Thomas, she did think he had a point; in the midst of whatever panic had taken place in London, the doctors and nurses probably did make a mistake, and told William thus. Was that the lad's fault?

She was grateful that Capt. Crawley was alright, truly. She could understand the joy and puzzlement over everyone by this sudden surprise. But like Mrs. Patmore, she too was focused and worried about Anna's revelation—that Malton was crawling with these…Walkers, as Capt. Crawley called them. And then only two nights ago, one was seen on the grounds, for the first time in four weeks. What did that mean for the future? What would that mean for the rest of them? Were they all just sitting ducks, waiting for death to come knocking on the front doors of Downton?

In November, it was declared that the War had ended. But it wasn't really over. Somehow, it had managed to find its own, sickening way, to the fields of Yorkshire. And they may very well be on the precipice, of the end of the world.

He sat in a large, spacious chair, and his cousin Cora kept asking him if he wanted any more pillows. No matter how many times he shook his head in politeness, she kept asking. Tea was brought in by a housemaid he didn't recognize. The usual pleasantries were made as the tea was poured and passed around the room. It was clear that everyone was desperately waiting for the red-headed housemaid to leave; he was unsure why, but if truth be told, he was enjoying the momentary quiet, before he was bombarded with questions. He wondered if he would have a chance to ask his own? But all thought left his mind as he glanced across the room…and took in the sight of Mary, sitting on a chaise, with that gentleman he had just met standing right behind her…and who would every so often brush his fingers along her shoulder.

Matthew's jaw clenched each time he observed the gesture.

"Thank you, Ethel," Cora murmured, after the last of the tea had been passed around. "You may go; we'll ring you if we need anything else."

Ethel gave a small curtsey, and made her leave. The second the door had closed, the bombardment began.

"Good heavens, how is this possible? We thought you were dead!"

"Where did you come from? How long have you been looking for us?"

"Where did you find Bates the rest of them?"

"What happened to Bates? Where did you get that car?"

Matthew's head was pounding, and he hadn't even spoken a word.

"All right, all right, everyone, please!" Robert's voice boomed over all the others. "Let the boy answer when he's good and ready…"

Cora nodded her head. "At the very least let him sip his tea."

Matthew gave them both a smile of thanks, but he knew they were just as eager to hear what he had to say. He took one quick sip and then set his cup down. He doubted he would get much of a chance to drink it after he began.

"I…I woke up, only a little over a week ago…in London…" and thus his story began. He was met with wide eyes and slack jaws as he told his story, starting from the beginning. He told them about the hospital, about waking up all alone. He looked across the room, and noticed how both Sybil and Edith were staring at him in shock and horror at the thought. He wanted to look at Mary, but had a feeling if he did, he would no doubt catch Sir Richard stroking her shoulder once more, and he feared he wouldn't be able to continue. So he barreled on, talking about how he was nearly attacked, but saved by two people—once again, as he hadn't revealed Reggie and Lavinia's names to Bates and the others, so too did he not reveal them now to his cousins. More gasps were heard as he told them about learning how to fight the Walkers, being given the car and driving all the way to the abandoned farm house before being attacked and knocked unconscious, and then running into William and the others while wandering through Malton. Robert and Cora looked at one another in shock as they took in his words about the attack he and the others endured while there.

"How horrible…" Cora whispered. "Malton…I…I was so sure that…that it couldn't be possible—"

"Yes, well, I'm afraid it is," Cousin Violet sighed from her chair in the corner. "It shouldn't be too much of a surprise, considering how that one pesky creature managed to get into the gardens and attack Sybil."

Matthew's eyes widened at this. "Good God, Sybil are you alright?"

Sybil waved her hand as if she were waving away a fly. "I'm fine; truly, I had everything under control—"

"Yes, the best left unsaid on that matter, the better," Robert muttered, giving his youngest a look of warning. Sybil simply rolled her eyes.

Matthew had forgotten what these…'family get-togethers' were like, at Downton.

"I beg your pardon, Cora, but…it seems that the loss of Malton is the lesser of two evils in Mr. Crawley's story."

Everyone turned their gaze to Sir Richard, and Matthew couldn't help but bristle just slightly with how…familiar…he spoke his cousin's name. As if he's already her son-in-law…

"I'm stunned to hear that…that London has fallen, by what you say."

Bates had asked that same question the other night. Indeed, the loss of London was a great blow, although he wouldn't dismiss Malton as easily as Sir Richard seemed to. Loss of any kind was devastating.

"But…surely it can't be that bad…" Edith said, trying to find something to be positive about. "I mean, Cousin Matthew was there all this time…there must be some people, some institutions working—"

"If there are, then they are underground and in hiding," Matthew sighed. "I wasn't even in the heart of the city, but…no, Edith, I'm sorry…I was lucky, but the city is gone."

A silence fell over the room as this piece of news settled upon them all. Matthew wished he could offer some words of hope, some words of assurance that everything was going to be alright, that the world would eventually go back to how it was before all this started. But he knew deep down that would be an outright lie.

Cousin Violet was the first to finally break the silence. "Well, I suppose all those financial troubles we were once fretting over can be brushed aside."

"Mama, please!" Robert groaned.

Violet lifted her shoulders and looked about the room. "Well in times like these, it's always best to look for a bright side."

A collective groan went up around the room.

"I must say Mr. Crawley—"

"Capt. Crawley," Robert corrected.

Sir Richard nodded his head in apology. "I beg your pardon—Capt. Crawley," he continued. "I must say…it is…shall we say, short of a miracle, that you did survive, considering what had become of London."

"Yes," Robert nodded his head in agreement. "Very strange; William told us that you were dead—he had been in London when…when the outbreak began, and quickly returned, telling us you had died in the hospital—"

"A mistake, clearly," Cora interrupted. "No doubt caused by panic that was going on around the city."

"That may be, but it doesn't explain—"

"Does it really matter?"

Everyone turned then to Mary, who finally broke the silence. Matthew felt his breath quicken as he turned and looked at her.

"I mean, really…does it matter, Papa? The point is…Matthew is alive. He's alive, he's fine, and he made it back here, safe and sound. And all of them are back—Anna, Bates, William, and Thomas. Yes, Bates was injured, poor man, but…we're losing focus. This should be a time of celebration, not questions."

"Here, here!" Sybil replied, smiling at her sister. Mary blushed, and looked down at her teacup. Matthew felt his heart lift at her words, and wished she would look at him, but just as he had been avoiding her gaze earlier, so now was she.

"Well said, my dear," Sir Richard murmured. "But…as joyous as it is that your cousin and the servants have returned, it does mean we have to now consider the best plan of action."

"Plan of action?" Matthew asked.

Sir Richard smiled. "Why of course. I'm surprised, Capt. Crawley—you being a 'military man', I would think this would seem obvious." Matthew frowned at this. In the short time he had met Sir Richard Carlisle, he had found little to say that was positive. "The whole point of that search party was to go and see if there were any survivors…or…'Walkers', as Capt. Crawley calls them, that were still close to Downton. Well, sadly we know there are no survivors…save for that chauffeur—"

"Branson," Sybil quickly corrected, ignoring the frown from her sister.

"The point is…while Ripon and the village may be safe, what do we do about Malton? Or the possibility that they may come here?"

This was one thing Matthew found himself nodding in agreement with Sir Richard. While Downton wasn't a "populated" place, that didn't mean that the Walkers wouldn't eventually wander towards them. And even though he could tell that Sir Richard's remarks had been made as a way to mock him, the man was right; they did need a plan of action.

"Mary is right," Robert sighed, rising from his chair and walking to Matthew's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Tonight, let us just celebrate the return of our own 'prodigal'; we can discuss all these 'action plans' at another point, when the ladies aren't present."

An irritated huff was heard from where Sybil stood. Matthew winced a little at Robert's lack of sensitivity. Sybil wasn't the only one who seemed to take umbrage at his words. Indeed, even Mary and Edith looked a little put out by what he had said, perhaps even Cousin Violet—although Matthew was never quite sure what she was thinking under that haughty expression.

"I would still like to hear William's explanation, though," Robert muttered to his wife, while everyone else began muttering their thoughts on what to do about this news of Malton, possibly being overrun by Walkers. "He convinced all of us that Matthew was dead! Ask Ethel to fetch him for me," he murmured to Cora.

Cora didn't seem thrilled at the idea. "Must we, Robert? Can't that wait until tomorrow?"

Matthew had overheard the conversation and immediately began to frown. "I'm sure it was all a mistake. There's no need—"

But Robert was already rising from his chair and ringing the bell. Matthew sighed and gave a small shake of his head. After so many months of commanding officers and giving orders, he had forgotten, in some ways, what it was like to once again find himself in a place where someone else gave the final order.

"Papa can be a bit autocratic at times…"

He looked up and immediately rose to his feet at the sight of Mary, standing and smiling in front of him. A small blush colored her cheeks, and Matthew found himself smiling back at her, feeling that familiar warmth wash over him whenever he recalled Mary's smile throughout the years. "I just have to remind myself that…I'm still new to this," he sighed, his hand gesturing to the world beyond the library's windows. "After so many months of lying in a coma…to wake up and discover what's happened…"

Mary's expression changed to one of sympathetic concern. "I can't imagine what that must have been like."

Matthew shook his head. "Sometimes I can't either, even though it did happen to me. Sometimes I think I must be dreaming—trapped in some mad nightmare. I keep waiting to wake up, wanting to wake up."

Mary took a small step closer, her eyes looking deeply into his. "And…now? Do you still wish that?"

Matthew felt his throat go dry. How should he answer her? Tell her the truth? That for years, even before he joined the army and went off to battle, he was wishing it were all some terrible nightmare? That the day he walked away from her at that garden party hadn't happened, that he would wake up and find himself happily married, with her lying next to him? As much as he wished he could say that, he didn't dare…especially as her fiancée approached.

"It will be good to have you here, Mr. Crawley—I beg your pardon, Capt. Crawley," Sir Richard apologized, still wearing that polite smile, one that Matthew had seen so many times throughout his years a solicitor. It was the sort of smile a man wore when addressing those he either thought beneath him, or felt he had to be civil to, for propriety's sake. There was nothing genuine about such a smile.

"Please, Sir Richard…" Matthew put on his own polite smile. "Call me Matthew."

Sir Richard's smile broadened, and he gave a slight bow of his head. "Well, as I was saying, it's good to have you here. Never hurts to have another gun around the house…or another gentleman to protect the ladies."

"Careful…" Mary murmured under her breath. "Sybil might hear you."

Matthew straightened his shoulders. "Do any of you…meaning you and your sisters…do any of you shoot?"

Mary lifted her brows. "I assume you're not referring to birds?"

"No," Sir Richard replied before Mary could continue. "Lord Grantham does not wish to expose the ladies to…such violent scenes."

Load of poppycock, was what Matthew wanted to say. After those two days with Anna, and seeing how she had been able to handle a gun, he wouldn't dare say that she was "unable" to handle the violence. He had a feeling that if it meant saving Bates' life, Anna would go storming into a crowd of Walkers, firing every which way. Of course, Anna had told him that she had to convince Bates to teach her; maybe that was the difference? There was some small sense of freedom for the servants; he doubted anyone would look down their nose at the idea of a housemaid knowing how to shoot and fight a Walker, but for the women above stairs, like Mary…apparently it was "unheard of" and even possibly, "forbidden".

Well, that would be something he would have to address with Cousin Robert when they next spoke.

Matthew's eyes widened as a sudden memory stirred. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten, and felt ashamed that he had. "My mother…" he murmured, turning his attention back to Mary. "Anna told me that…that no one has seen her since…since before—"

Mary's eyes said enough. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it because she had nothing to tell that he hadn't already heard. Once again, he felt his hope shatter. What could have happened to his mother? And Dr. Clarkson for that matter? And then the memory of what had occurred prior to when he arrived at Downton resurfaced…

"I…there may be Walkers in the village…"

All the other chatter that was going on in the library suddenly ceased at these words. "What?" Robert gasped, coming closer to Matthew's side. "What do you mean? I thought you said that before you came upon them, Bates and the others had already searched—"

"On the way back," Matthew murmured. "We stopped in the village before returning to the house…to see if we could do something for Bates' leg," he explained. "I…I wanted to see the house…" he could tell by the understanding looks on their faces that they knew he wasn't talking about the big house. "I…I went there…and…and it was a complete mess, but…but there…" he paused and took a deep breath, feeling his emotions rise once again. "Molesley and Mrs. Bird…" he whispered.

"Oh no!" Edith gasped. "Oh dear, how horrible to see."

Matthew gave a small, thankful smile to Edith for her sympathy, but he doubted she understood. "It's not what you think," he whispered. "They…they weren't dead, at least…not completely."

"Oh Lord in heaven…" Violet murmured, her hand flying to her throat at this news. "Molesley…poor Molesley."

Matthew nodded his head, and a collected gasp went around the room. He felt two hands envelope one of his, and he looked down at the sight of Mary's fingers clutching his own. "I'm so sorry…" she whispered, and he saw the reflection of tears, brimming in her eyes. He squeezed her hand, thankful for the kind sentiment, and the kind gesture.

"What did you do?" Edith asked.

Mary shot her a harsh glare. "Don't ask such stupid, unfeeling questions!" she snapped.

Cora put up a hand between both her daughters, a sign that now was not the time to throw jabs at one another.

Matthew shook his head, once again feeling ashamed of himself. "I…I didn't do anything," he whispered. "If William hadn't arrived when he did…I probably would be dead."

Another murmur went up around the room, various voices trying to offer him some form of comfort in some manner, but they were all just one jumbled mess of sound in his head.

"I…I insisted on burying them, which we did, in the front garden of Crawley House."

"Good," Cousin Violet whispered, rising from her chair and coming over to Matthew for the first time since he had arrived. He knew she was fond of Molesley, and had done everything in her power to keep him safe during the War. He had a feeling that next to himself, she would feel his loss the most. "We shall eat in their honor and memory tonight."

He smiled and gave a small nod of thanks, although the idea of food right now was not the most comforting thought. The truth was there was only one thing he wanted to do: find his mother. Or at the very least, he wanted to know that she was safe. Perhaps she had said something to Cousin Violet? It just seemed so unlike her to leave so abruptly without saying anything to anyone, without leaving a hint of any kind. Something must have happened…something must have driven her away, but what? He was desperate to learn the answer…and at the same time, he was terrified of what he would learn.

Sarah O'Brien knew she would find him out here. It was second nature, really. If she didn't see Thomas in the Servant's Hall, then there was only one place he would be. She stepped outside, lighting her own cigarette, and smiled at his back, watching him exhale a long stream of smoke from his mouth and nostrils. She had missed having him around.

"So, who's the Irish rogue?"

Sarah came up to his side and exhaled her own stream of smoke. "Arrived two nights ago; just happened to 'be nearby' when Lady Edith and Lady Sybil were attacked. Saved Lady Sybil's life—I didn't see it, but I heard about it plenty from her Ladyship."

Thomas flicked some ash from his cigarette. "So no doubt they're falling all over themselves for him."

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "Time will tell. Don't know what to make of him yet. It's clear he's not fond of being here. According to what he says, he got separated from his brother, about a half-day's journey from here. Know anything about that?"

She watched Thomas' face closely as he shook his head. Sometimes he liked to keep things from her, and it irritated her immensely.

"Anyway, he's only staying until he finds his brother, at least that's what he keeps reminding all of us," she muttered, flicking her own ash from her cigarette.

Thomas now shrugged his shoulders. "It'll be nice to have a handsome face to see across the table, 'stead of that old codger, bumbling William, and his Lordship's boot-licker."

Sarah couldn't help but grin at that. "Best be careful; Ethel's got her eyes on him, too."

"She's got her eyes on anything that moves," he muttered, and now Sarah found herself chuckling. However that sobered up quickly as she turned the questions towards him. "So…that was a bit of a surprise, you returning with Capt. Crawley…"

Thomas turned and looked at her, exhaling smoke. "It was a surprise for me, too."

She took a long drag on her cigarette. "What do you think this will mean?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure; could be good, could be bad."

She narrowed her eyes and frowned. "Let's make it good for us, and let the bad fall on someone else."

"Already working on it," he explained, a wicked smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Noticed anything interesting about young William tonight?"

Sarah nodded her head. "Certainly found your sudden defense of him interesting when Mr. Carson started questioning him. But now that you mention it, the lad did look rather pale."

He nodded his head. "Turns out that William wasn't such a good little soldier to Capt. Crawley."

Sarah lifted her eyebrows with interest. "So you mean, he wasn't informed that Capt. Crawley had died…he just said that to all of us?" Thomas' smile only spread further. Sarah couldn't help but grin back as well. "Oh, that is interesting."

"Indeed," he murmured, taking another long drag. "William left the good captain there, lying helpless in his coma, to save his own skin, thinking there was nothing to be done. Capt. Crawley doesn't even suspect anything, he believes what the rest of them believe, that some doctor or nurse made a mistake and misinformed him."

"But we know the truth," she finished. "And I'm sure you made it quite clear to William that we do?"

"He knows that I know," he conceded. "And he practically begged me to not say anything."

"Which of course you agreed upon," she added. "After taking out some insurance."

"He promised he'll do anything I ask, whenever I ask him," he summed up, flicking more ash form his fingers.

"That was thoughtful of him," Sarah murmured. "And could come in handy down the road…"

Thomas grinned again. "Indeed."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them. "Shame what happened to Mr. Bates," she finally whispered after a while.

Thomas nodded his head. "He's no good to his Lordship in that state; even worse than before." He took one last drag from his cigarette, before throwing it down on the ground and stomping it with his boot. "His Lordship may find himself forced to put someone else in charge; Carson can't do it all on his own."

Sarah nodded her own head in agreement. "True…but you misunderstand me, Thomas," she sighed, turning and looking up at her partner in crime. "When I said it was a shame, I wasn't being sarcastic."

Thomas frowned, looking confused by her words.

"What happened to Mr. Bates is a shame…it's a shame that his accident couldn't have been more…permanent." And with that, she flicked the butt of her cigarette from her fingers, before turning and going back inside the house. She believed it was wise, to remind Thomas every once in a while, just how ruthless she could be.