A/N: The quote from this was recently used by chelsiefan71 in her amazing "Downton Academy." I had it in and thought it looked familiar, and she verified that. So ... just tossing that out there. (Ahem - that's a fab fic series, btw.)

Thanks to all for your support. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble, but I'm not sure why. It's set up, as the title indicates, as parallels between Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, and it's somewhat of a jumble because their thoughts are a jumble after that last chapter. No dialogue here, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Time-wise, we're still between Ep 1 and 2 of Season 5.

xx,

CSotA

You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

~Dr. Seuss

Mrs. Hughes closes the door softly, feeling as though she's floating through her room. If it weren't for the soft sound made by her slippers' soles touching the hard floor boards, she'd never have known her feet were making contact with the floor at all.

Her lips are aflame with a heat matched only by the one burning in her chest. She can recall each second of the last hour, replaying them all on a long, drawn-out loop in her brain, and she's fairly certain that sleep won't come easily tonight.

The fire was awful, but her relief upon hearing Mr. Carson's voice carrying through the stairwell overtook all; it banished the fear from her heart, and the brief but fleeting touch of his hand to the small of her back as she scurried downstairs and outside with the others … well, that is something she won't soon forget. He'd gasped upon touching her, and she remembers sighing happily despite the situation as her feet carried her further down the stairs. Not long after, her relieved smile met his own when he joined her on the path by the Abbey, although they were both pulled away from one another's attention too quickly. But they had jobs to do, first and foremost, and they always performed them admirably.

Her mind wanders now ... She's worried about Lady Edith, and now that she's alone in her room she can allow herself to process that. The housekeeper has no doubt in her mind as to the identity of Miss Marigold, not after seeing Mr. Drewe speaking to Lady Edith in hushed tones by the pump truck. Mrs. Hughes's first clue had actually come months ago, from Madge's behavior - once boisterous and jovial, but lately quieter and not willing to discuss Lady Edith with anyone anymore, particularly not with Anna. And now Mrs. Hughes knows perfectly well that her suspicions were accurate, because the look in Mr. Drewe's eyes when he'd seen the housekeeper watching him had spoken volumes.

Something else to keep hidden from Mr. Carson, she tells herself. But he doesn't need anything more to worry him anyhow.

She knows he's at sixes and sevens with the entire war memorial situation. As she climbs underneath her covers, she allows her chest to fill with pride at how he's managed the entire situation thus far: how he's managed to keep Lord Grantham involved in the entire process, how he refused to proceed without his Lordship being involved. The corner of her mouth curves up in a smile as she thinks of how he manages them all so effortlessly, even Lady Mary most of the time, and of how they likely don't even realize it. It's what makes him the best butler in the county, she's certain.

She rolls over, still wide awake but more than ready to enhance her dreams with touches of her new reality. She wonders for a moment if Mr. Carson isn't perhaps managing her just as deftly, for just when she thinks she's in charge of their whole precarious, odd, more-than-strictly-a-friendship, he surprises her once again with his need for her ... and with his uncanny ability to knock her off her feet.

Only tonight, her need was just as great. She feels her body thrum with excitement and longing as she recalls having so wantonly grasped his shirt and pulled him toward her, not willing to wait another moment to feel his lips upon hers.

He didn't seem to mind.

Only now what?

Now what, indeed? They still don't have an understanding, not properly. How many times has she played this over in her head? She's lost count, she thinks. He's not given her any indication that he wishes to court her, really … or marry her, the thought of which both delights and frightens her equally. They'd surely lose their positions - well, she would. She can't imagine that they'd let him go unless circumstances changed drastically in the next few years. Anna would be a more than suitable replacement for Mrs. Hughes, and the housekeeper knows it. Even Miss Baxter shows promise there.

But Mr. Barrow as butler? Hardly.

She tosses and turns for another hour before sleep finally claims her; much to her chagrin, she discovers upon waking that her dreams were, in fact, devoid of anything having to do with Mr. Carson.

Damn.

oOoOoOoOoOo

As Mrs. Hughes walked away, Mr. Carson couldn't take his eyes off of her feet.

Of all things to be captivated by, he chuckled to himself.

He realizes it now that he's tucked into his room and removing his dressing gown that what he was truly distracted by were her slippers ... the ones that he'd gifted to her on that strange Christmas, the one when they'd simultaneously (and silently) decided they were more than mere colleagues but weren't really sure how else to think of themselves. He smiles as he recalls that they'd each given a gift to make the other person's life a bit warmer, softer … something to make them cared for in a way that neither of them normally are by anyone else.

Her feet are so small, like the rest of her, and he'd been enthralled by them, clad in the soft leather that took her away in a whisper of sound. It was such a contrast to the Mrs. Hughes they all see during the day, the woman who embodies strength, the one whose chatelaine clinks with every determined step she makes through corridor, office, and hallway as it collides against the stiff fabric of her skirts.

Mr. Carson has so much on his mind lately, and Lady Edith's narrowly escaping harm is most definitely at the forefront. There is something not quite right about the entire situation.

How did a fire start in her room?

Something is niggling at the back of his mind, but he can't manage to bring it forth amidst everything else in there. It's just that if a fire were to spontaneously start in any area of the Abbey, he'd have suspected the kitchens, or perhaps the library, but not in a bedroom.

He leaves that train of thought for the moment, though, because the war memorial committee is bothering him greatly. He feels he's been played a bit by the people from town, can't help wondering if he's being used as a pawn in something that's a larger statement than just constructing a memorial. He wonders if perhaps having asked him to be their leader was just an example of their desire to stand up against the established order.

He could almost stomach that, could very nearly accept that the world is changing and that he is, despite all efforts to the contrary, being swept up in that change. But a direct blow to Lord Grantham? That he cannot support.

Except you may end up supporting them in the end after all. Because if you and his Lordship don't agree about how to proceed, then what?

What, indeed?

Which brings him back to Mrs. Hughes, the one who encouraged and supported him to lead the committee, the one who truly believed he'd be the better man for the job. He knows full well that, most of the time, she's managing him, steering him toward decisions that support her own desires and decisions. But this time, in this instance, he had understood instantly that her support stemmed not from wanting anything from him, not from wanting to prove a point, but simply from her faith in him and in her belief that he's capable of making decisions to benefit the entire town.

Mr. Carson can't help but to find it ironic that there is so much that he wants from her - personal things, things that will move their affection for one another to the next level and beyond - but there is very little of substance that she ever seems to want from him other than to have him be his best self, to have him be true to his convictions and yet willing to see things from others' point of view. She's perhaps the only one in the entire household who not only sees him for what he is, but appreciates him for it as well, and he returns her appreciation and …

... Yes, Charlie, love, at least on your end ... in spades.

And now, he knows, he's faced with the seemingly insurmountable task of telling her that.

He can't come right out and declare himself, no. That type of thing is for the young, and would open both him and Mrs. Hughes to the possibility of scrutiny, perhaps even to suspicions that they've not been the ultimate professionals that they claim to be.

He rolls over almost violently in his bed, angry at the unfairness of it all: their positions are what forced them into a close working relationship, necessitating an awareness of and care for one another in order to keep the Abbey operating seamlessly. Over time, that working relationship clearly blossomed into something more, something ignited by the brief-but-intense kiss they'd just shared in her sitting room. And now that they're at the cusp of something so beautiful, they must back away from it for the sake of those very professions that put them into this predicament in the first place.

He's certain that Lord Grantham wouldn't let them go should Mr. Carson choose to court or, dare he even dream of it, marry Mrs. Hughes … but he feels he needs to have a plan, something concrete instead of just talk of love and affection.

And so the butler tosses and turns for well over an hour, knowing that if he can ever manage sleep tonight, his dreams will be so much richer for knowing - finally - the sweet feeling of her soft lips against his own, and the fire ignited inside of him from the glorious moment when she'd grasped tightly to his pajamas and pulled him toward her, unwilling to wait even a second longer for them to claim one another as their own.

Someone wondered in a review of the last chapter how they'd possibly have gotten from a kiss to the awkwardness that we saw on our screens in S5. I hope this suffices to explain that. 3 Let me know what you thought! x