I love being a Chelsie Shipper! I love writing and I LOVE reading so many of your stories! Thank you for your enthusiasm and encouragement. I offer the same to ALL of you who write about our loves!

It is sometimes hard to write the hard stuff and I often struggle to write in canon and keep it as real as possible. I know a lot of this is NOT but I didn't feel like I could totally ignore what Elsie has been through as a woman. I've experienced some of what she has, in this story, and it SUCKS when you cannot control your own mind and thoughts.

Weeks turned into months and they passed slowly. Charles and Elsie Carson had fallen into a pattern of work and life that, outwardly, was working. Elsie however was struggling to keep her wits about her. She was melancholy most days and Charles knew it. He had spent the first few weeks, outside of her illness, working so hard to fill their days with laughter and love and memories. His efforts slowly waned as her mood became more depressed and emotionally unstable. She cried more than anything else. Elsie cursed herself, blamed herself for it, albeit Dr. Clarkson had warned her about this.

'Sometimes, often times, a woman who goes through what you have, will experience a period of deep depression and melancholy. It's not uncommon but it can be very devastating, especially on a marriage.' His words had turned over and over inside her when the silence of her mind was too loud.

She grieved for them, for Charles, for the child they lost. In rare moments of contentment, she reasoned how impossible it would have been to be parents, this late in life, and it simply was not meant to be. She even tried to convince herself, she was never pregnant, it never happened and Dr. Clarkson misdiagnosed the cause of the hemorrhage. He had been wrong before, she tried to reason.

Elsie had stopped going to the Abbey mostly. She went only to do invoicing and ordering but left the daily duties to Anna, who seemed to be getting along just fine.

Charles missed her terribly, missed her at the Abbey and missed her at home. She never failed to have his supper ready and fixed his breakfast most mornings. She was never cross or angry at him. She was sweet and loving toward him and had even let him make love to her a few times but he could sense she wasn't there...not really. He grieved quietly, fearful that she might never recover. He had shared his thoughts with Lord Grantham when he felt in despair about what to do...say..

"Apparently, it's to be expected Carson. She has suffered a great deal emotionally and apparently these things, with women, can really give them a wallop. She should talk to her ladyship. She experienced some of the same feelings after losing..." he paused. "Well...I'll encourage her ladyship to call on Mrs. Hughes." Robert had offered.

Charles walked home, the path lit only by a small lantern that he carried. It had been a long day, one in which he had not seen his wife for it's entirety. She was sleeping when he left and she never made it to the Abbey. He used to get sick with worry when she started not showing up, but now he almost knew she would still be in bed when he returned hours later. He reached the door to the cottage that had become theirs for the last 5 months. He stood for a long while before going in. The lights were off, he was sure she was in bed. His heart ached for her, for him, but he still believed in her and hoped beyond hope for her return. He stepped in and could see his supper on the stove, a candle flickered on the wooden plank shelf above it. The cottage was impeccably clean and smelled of her essence. He wandered back to the bedroom. She wasn't there so he went to the closed bathroom door and rapt lightly. "Love? You in there?"

"Yes sweetheart. I'm bathing."

"May I come in?" He asked politely.

"Of course."

He opened the door and stood in the doorway, a slight smile on his face.

She smiled back, her head rested on the curve of the claw foot tub, her knees drawn up slightly. "How was your day?" She questioned.

"It was alright...I guess." He stayed where he was but reached up to loosen his collar and unbutton his waist coat. "I...missed you." His words seemed so empty to him. He had said that so many times over the last months and he was beginning to hate them.

"I missed you love." She remained with her head back and eyes closed.

"What...did you do...today?" He glanced around, leaning heavily on the door frame and slipping his hand into his pocket.

She gave him a dismal look. "Not much.." she was embarrassed and berated herself silently.

They made small pleasantries about the Abbey and the Crawley's. The weather. "It's raining." he informed her.

"Oh? Must have just started."

"It did, on my walk home."

Her heart tightened in her chest, the thought of him walking home, in the dark, in the rain, with only a small lantern. She wanted so desperately to get out of this tub and go to him, warm him, show him it was going to be okay but she remained.

"I left supper for you, I wasn't sure what time you would come in."

"I saw it. Thank you love. Did you eat?" He inquired, knowing the answer was likely no.

"I ate...some..." she dropped her eyes. He had started to get on to her for not eating. She had lost so much weight and was starting to look sick again. He gave her a knowing look. "I did...a little," she insisted.

He let it go. There was no use anyhow, he thought. "Okay, as long as you're eating..."

When it was obvious she was not going to join him he finally moved away from the door. "I'll...uh...go eat supper and let you...finish..."

"Okay..." she returned sadly. He closed the door and she began to cry, once again.

Elsie hurriedly got out of the tub and dressed for bed. She wanted to be in bed before he returned. She accomplished that goal. She heard him put away the dishes and anticipated his return to the bedroom but he didn't. She laid quietly for an hour or so, she cried and fought with her mind to go see about him. She just couldn't bring herself to get up. She wanted to, she wanted him to know how very much she loved him and still wanted him but she just couldn't break the chains that had bound her.

Charles sat in the quiet of the living room, the fire light flickering softly while he nursed a brandy. His mind whirled with confusing thoughts. He didn't know what to think, how to feel. He had never been through anything like this. It was so different when Elsie was sick and needed him. Now, she had slowly retreated inward and didn't seem to need or want him. He had talked to Dr. Clarkson, his head knew this was normal for what she was been through but his heart was breaking and he was scared he was losing her. He took another sip of brandy and leaned his weary head against the back of the chair.

He considered himself past his prime but had enjoyed a few weeks of blissful passion and play with her, she had obliged him only a few times since this melancholy had taken over their lives. Often times he felt like he was back at square one, tending to his own personal needs, in the dark of the night, she having no clue like so many years before. He often felt ashamed but try as he might, he still wanted her...needed her and the mere sight of her still drove him to desire that he could not contain. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, emptied his glass and got up to go to bed.

From the window the morning light cast a long, narrow beam across the bedroom. It was early and Charles had not slept much. He glanced over and Elsie was still sleeping. He stared for a long while at her. She looked beautiful, peaceful. You would never know there was a war going on inside of her. He laid there, remembering their first days as husband and wife. He tried to keep his desire for her at bay. He knew it would not benefit him to think about her...sexually. It was to no avail. He wanted her so badly and squeezed his eyes closed and turned away from her, struggling to stop the onslaught of his erection.

Elsie awakened and blinked the sleep from her eyes. She stared at Charles' back quietly and quickly realized what was happening. The steady rhythm of his arm, shoulder, the movement, the upward motion, she knew what he was doing and her heart broke, as it had so many times in the last many months that she had denied him this one important pleasure. She endeavored to make no noise, she considered closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep but she was so convicted. She lifted her hand to touch him several times before actually doing it.

He tensed upon her touch and stayed motionless for a moment. He didn't want to turn over, knowing his desire would show. He wondered if she had noticed and if he could simply act like he was still sleeping. His heart ached.

The warmth of her hand, the caress in her fingertips caused his breath to catch, his teeth to grind. He needed her so badly. So badly. "He turned over and their shimmering eyes met with a familiar need and his forlorn expression was too much. Elsie reached up and stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, forcing the tears downward. "I need you..." he whispers. She nods in acknowledgement, her own tears spilling over their boundaries as he hungrily covers her mouth with his.

TBC...