A/N: Basically this is a deleted scene, wasn't originally planning on posting this. "Picking up the Pieces" was originally supposed to be ONE GIANT CHAPTER. I had trouble fitting this in properly the way I had cut it into chunks. So whatever, think of it as a DVD bonus. Doesn't really advance the plot at all (which is why it originally got axed) and only a minimal (tiniest) bit of character development.
Picking up the Pieces (coda)
Accounts of Mary and Matthew Crawley
She waited for him. It wasn't in her nature to be patient but she waited for him. He had asked something of her so how could she refuse? How could she refuse after he took the momentous step of letting her in. They had spent so long, so many months, so many years, dancing around the edge of intimacy. No longer. She was focused and more determined than any point in her life. She felt different, she felt like someone new. If Matthew's traumas had changed him irreparably perhaps then, so too did her own ordeals. Perhaps just didn't notice because she read his letters more than she read her own diary entries. Perhaps, the change in her happened beyond her notice because she had been so focused on him.
She supposed she should've been cold but it didn't seem to bother her. It was still on the Mason farm, unreasonably still. There were a few cows roaming about but other than that and the wind itself, nothing moved. It was bleak. She could stare out in all directions and see the same thing, gentle rolling hills of a green so pale it could've easily been confused with grey. The only sound was of the wind whistling through the desolate expanse.
She brushed the hair out of her face as she stood silently a few feet away from Mr. Mason's door. How long she had been there, she couldn't know. And if this were any other circumstance she would've been bored out of her mind. But she knew the gravity of this meeting and what it meant to Matthew so she felt, somehow in her own way, that her solemnity in waiting would be her way of supporting him.
In truth, she felt ridiculous. Not for waiting but for her lack of participation. She was absolutely thrilled that he had asked her to come, to be his strength, to give him courage, as he put it. Mary was flattered and humbled by his request but she had no idea what she could truly offer him. It made her feel truly inadequate. Matthew had suffered three long years of this war and as much as she read about the events in the newspapers and read his letters, she had no way of relating to them. How could she possibly hope to share his burden?
She heard the door and was immediately snapped from her train of thoughts. A few moments later she could see his crutches emerge the darkness of the house. She ran towards him as fast as she could. She reached out to help him but he was insistent that he was fine. In fact, he looked better than fine. He looked like a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Thank you again, Mr. Mason, for seeing me," Matthew said as he turned around to say goodbye to Mr. Mason.
"No at all, Captain Crawley," Mr. Mason said with a smile on his face, "and please, milady, take good care of him."
"I will certainly try," Mary answered regally.
"And thank you for coming along, milady," Mr. Mason said, "I'm sorry, I should've invited you in."
"Not at all," Mary answered, "Captain Crawley knew that this was something he had to do alone. And so he did. You should know, however, that we were all very fond of William at Downton and we miss him greatly."
"That's kind of you to say, milady," Mr. Mason.
"We all owe your son a great debt," Mary said as she offered him a smile.
They made their way back up the long dusty path to where Branson was waiting for them. They took their time and enjoyed the scenery. They were much too apprehensive to notice upon their approach. Cloudy grey skies and the endless fields in every direction may not have been the idyll of their imaginings but they treasured every moment of solitude they had in each other's company. She was glad to see him smile. And while they had only spent only been reunited for three days, she could already see an improvement in his mood and demeanour, even if he couldn't recognize it yet.
In time she would re-earn his trust. But for now, she would settle for making him a little less miserable. Even if misery was what he had ennured himself to for so long. And if things were finally getting better for him and he felt uncomfortable about it, she thought it would be her duty to remind him that he had every right to be happy. And little by little, inch by inch, he might come to believe it.
"So, how are you feeling?" Mary asked cheerfully.
"What do you mean?" Matthew asked back as he looked at her.
He probably didn't realize that he was actually smiling at that very moment.
"Just that… how do you feel?" Mary persisted.
"That's an odd question, don't you think?" Matthew replied.
"I don't think so," Mary said as they continued walking, "I'm just wondering if you've noticed."
"Noticed what?" Matthew asked.
"That you're smiling," Mary answered simply.
He immediately began to blush when he realized that she was right. It was even more noticeable as he looked down at his feet while he hobbled upon the dirt path. He hadn't even thought about it until she mentioned it but his mood had been better now than it had been in months. His ribs still hurt when he breath became heavy, the crutches still stuck deeper into his armpits causing him quite a bit of pain, and his leg was still not well enough to walk with a cane yet, none the less, at that moment, he felt content.
Their ride back to the hospital was quiet. Matthew had actually fallen asleep in the car. Mary would've preferred some conversation but opted not to bother him. He must've been tired from all of that walking.
When they arrived it, was already getting dark. Mary told Branson to hold the car while she walked Matthew back to the hospital.
"Aren't you getting sick of me yet?" Matthew asked.
"It will be perfectly clear when I've gotten sick of you," Mary replied with a devious smile.
"Really?" Matthew said with a smirk, "and what will that look like?"
"Lucky for you, you'll never find out," Mary replied his smirk with one of her own.
Matthew stopped and turned to her. Mary turned to face him with a peculiar look on her face.
"What is it?" she asked blithely.
"Well… it's a little difficult to say," Matthew said as he stumbled over his words.
"If you're going to try to push-" Mary began in an impatient tone before being cut off.
"No, no, not that. Quite the opposite in fact," Matthew began nervously, "I know that I've been rather difficult the last three days. Moody. Morose. A trembling mess."
Mary listened and smiled at his attempts at levity.
"But I want you to know… I really appreciate it all," Matthew continued, "You are far more than I remember… and I hope you take that as a compliment."
"I certainly will," Mary replied still rather curious what this was all about.
"And you have been patient beyond reason with me and indulged my rather embarrassing self-pity. And while I still don't think I deserve you," Matthew said, "the fact is… I'm still in love with you."
Mary smiled as tears began to form around her eyes. Was this it? Had the labours of her devotion and patience finally start to bear fruits? Was he finally starting to understand and trust her love for him? She had dreamed of for this moment for so long. A part of her thought it never actually thought it was going to happen. But now it was. It was all becoming so real and so fast. But that's exactly what she wanted right? They had both wasted so much time, suffering needlessly just because they thought it best for the other. When all along, they were best for each other. She had her doubts, her insecurities, earlier she thought she would never truly be able to connect with Matthew's war experiences and she would be insufficient to help him heal. But she put that out of her head for now. One step at a time, she thought.
"I know. You told me in that letter, remember?" Mary joked through her tears.
"Yes, of course," Matthew said with a light chuckle, "but I mean it, Mary. I know I'm still a crippled half-man who can't do much of anything without help. If you'll still have me after all of the pain I've caused you. I mean to try to be worthy of your love."
Tears streamed down Mary's face, it was no use trying to hide it now. But these were happy tears and she hadn't cried tears of joy for quite a while so it was a welcome change. She was speechless.
He placed his crutches down close to her feet. He pivoted forward closer to her. He started to lean it. Oh God, he's doing it! He's doing it! Mary thought to herself. She wasn't going to wait, she reached her arms over his shoulders and pulled him in.
Their lips met.
Time froze.
