Hello and welcome back to the tumultuous ride that is another fanfic from me. Just kidding. I've had a bit of a break and thought it would be nice to get back to writing and I ended up with this. It's a work in progress. As in there is a lot of work needed and very little progress. I'm also very uncertain about many things but I wanted to get it out there just to push myself to get something done, or maybe because I missed writing. Who really knows why I'm putting you and me through all of this.

I would just like to preempt some things: No one, including myself, knows how this fic is going to turn out. I admit it's a bit too ambitious and hopeful, but I really hope you all enjoy it.

Also, this Alternate Universe so the things you might be used to in the canon verse, they might not apply here. There are certain relationship that are canon but aren't here. Just keep an open mind, I guess.

For my mummies. Love you both.

Anyway, in the light of the recent events in our world today, I just wanted remind everyone to take care and keep safe, and I hope this helps you forget the problems even for a few minutes. I love you all.

Without further ado...

Day One

The sky was quite angry that day. The rain poured without mercy and the wind was cold and harsh. She probably should have seen that as a sign. Hindsight has always been 20/20, and later when she looks back on the past, she would realize with quite the desperation that this was the very moment it all happened.

This was the very moment it all fell apart.

Maybe the sun and the moon were in collusion, maybe the fate really was just cruel, maybe one planet or the other is in retrograde, honestly she would never be able to tell - but this was it.

At that moment, however, she stood - unaware - at the tube, waiting for the train to come so she could go home. She was cold and exhausted, in desperate need of warmth and sleep. She'd pulled another late night, last night. The pleading she was supposed to be submitting today had left her disappointed and she'd spent all night revising it and making it sound like it was written by a solicitor in practice for however many years, and not by a seventh grader barely making it out of English class.

She huffed as she tried to balance her briefcase in one hand, her umbrella and handbag in the other. It was a difficult time. To say that she wasn't used to the changes in the weather in her 40 something years here on earth seemed like a lie, and it was, of course, but it never got better.

Inside her pocket, she felt her phone vibrate but she decided not to pick it up, knowing that she could just call them back when she was home. Just as she thought that, mercifully, the train arrived and she scrambled to get in. She could have taken the taxi, or even better yet, booked a grab, but she could not be assed to even struggle with that at this point. Besides, it barely took her ten minutes before she was walking out of the tube and walking just a few meters away to her home.

Her home was dainty, if she might say so herself. She'd moved here only a few years ago, when the last of her two daughters had moved out to college. As a woman in her late forties, it didn't make sense to maintain living in her former home. It was so much a downsize, if ever there was one, but it fit her well. She had her own space to work, which was basically a tiny den which she'd turned into an office by putting tasteful dividers and cramming all her office things in. She also had one master bedroom with her own bathroom and a decent-sized closet, and a spare that she kept clean and crisp, in case her daughters came to visit, which they then can share. She had a well-maintained kitchen, and a spare bathroom. It still seems like a bit much for someone who lived alone, but she'd come from a five beds and four baths house up at Chiswick, and moving here felt like a better choice.

She has not regretted that since. Anyway, after her divorce, that house hadn't felt like home and so moving had looked better and better, and then when she finally did, she'd felt so liberated by it.

She sighed as she placed her bags down and took a seat at the edge of her bed. She pulled her phone up and looked at her call logs. It was from work, and with a roll of her eyes, she deleted the log. Whatever it was, they could and should have solved it by now, or her partner could solve it, and if neither choice was available or correct, then it could wait till tomorrow.

She was off the clock.

She was in dire need of food, she thought as her stomach grumbled. She'd forgotten to eat lunch that day, preoccupied as she was with her case. She had been a lawyer almost as long as she'd lived here, but her profession has always been as challenging as it had been.

She didn't feel like cooking, but she was hungry enough that she knew she couldn't just forego another meal. She looked at the clock...it was a few minutes past eight. She could just grab some food at some pub and then come home at a reasonable hour.

There was a pub called Grantham just a few blocks away from home, and she thought that seemed reasonable enough, especially since she could not be bothered to cook tonight.

Standing up, she made a decision to go to the pub.

. . . . .

The pub was quiet and nearly empty. There was one guy tending at the bar, and less than ten patrons scattered about.

It wasn't surprising for a Wednesday Night. After all it was a work night, and it was only eight. So the people who do go out at this time of the night - by that she meant people her age - wouldn't go out, and the group of people who do go out on Wednesdays - the younger generations - wouldn't be partying at this hour.

It was good for her, because she just wanted to eat in peace.

She walked up to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools. Within seconds, the bartender was in front of her and taking her order. She ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and chips, and a glass of wine. Was that pretentious of her? Maybe. Did she care? Not particularly.

It only took a few minutes before her meal arrived, and she heard her stomach grumble again. She was starving, and the simple meal in front of her looked scrumptious, so she dug in with little care and started eating her food. In no time, she cleared her plate and she downed her wine. She flagged the bartender down and paid her bill, leaving extra as tip.

In and out, just like she'd planned.

But not really quite what fate had, because as far as fortuitous events go, this was one for the books.

She walked out of the pub, intent on getting home as soon as possible before the slight reprieve from the rain was taken away, and the cats and the dogs started pouring in once more. Just as she was about to cross, assured that the light for the pedestrian had turned green, a speeding car came careening toward her, and she would have been hit, or worse dead, had it not been for the speedy reaction of the man who was walking next to her. He'd pulled her just in time, and she had only been spared from an ugly accident by a hair's breadth, and saved at the eleventh hour.

She felt her heart racing, and her legs felt like lead. She didn't know exactly what to do, but her shoulders were heavy with warmth from the man who saved her life. She didn't quite know how to thank him.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his blue eyes holding hers. She could tell by the tone of his accented voice that he was a touch concerned.

She nodded her head, unable to find her voice just yet. She closed her eyes for a second and let things sink in. She almost got into an accident. This angel of a man saved her.

God, where were her manners?

"Thank you, " she spurted out, opening her eyes. He looked relieved to hear her speak. "I - I won't - I can't..." She stuttered as she struggled to find the right words. There were no right words.

"It's quite alright," he told her. He would have been a casualty, too, but he'd been quick, and thank God for that... He was her angel. "Would you like me to bring you to the hospital? Have you checked? Are you in any sort of pain?"

She shook her head in the negative. No she was not in any pain, just in shock. She was fine. Or will be. She needed ten shots of whiskey.

"Let's see," he murmured, head straining to look at the surroundings. His eyes stopped at the pub sign. "Look, let's get you to the pub. Get you a drink. You're in such a shock, and you've lost color. Maybe a drink would help."

It would, she realized. Numbly and wordlessly, she nodded, letting him lead her back to the pub. She did just walk out, but it's not like they'd sue her for coming back. Silently, they walked across the street. He was guiding her gently, a hand on her back, barely touching, and she was grateful for his support. She was still shaking, barely steady on her feet, and she was dazed.

Before she knew it, he was helping her to a seat and was calling the waitress. The waitress seemed puzzled upon seeing her, but went anyway, coming back minutes later with two glasses filled with amber-coloured liquid.

The man who had just saved her life helped her to a drink, and the fiery liquid shooting down her throat brought her back to the present.

"Thank you, again, for you know, saving me," she said softly, more aware now than she was a moment ago. "I could have -"

He cut her off. "Don't think about it. And you're welcome. Are you sure you're not in pain? Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

It was ridiculous. But she couldn't blame him. "I'm okay," she repeated with more conviction now. She really was. No pain, whatsoever. "I didn't get hit or anything. Thanks to you."

"Not a problem," he told her with a smile as he took a gulp of his own drink. If he was in shock or in pain, she couldn't tell. He didn't show it. And when she asked him, he answered with a resolute, "No, I'm not in pain."

That was good.

"Thank you again, Mr..." she trailed, not knowing his name. He saved her life but she had been so impolite and didn't even ask for his name.

"Robert. Robert Crawley," he told her, again with a smile. His blue eyes looked exhausted but they sparkled. He was a good looking fellow, with a kind heart. She imagined that he'd been quite the heartbreaker when he was younger. They seemed to just be the same age, but she wondered briefly if he was still a heartbreaker now.

"I'm Cora Levinson," she told him, reaching out a hand to shake his. He took her offered hand. "I really am indebted to you."

"Don't worry about it," he told her. "I'm just glad you're not hurt."

She shook her head and thanked him again. He just smiled and told her that it was his pleasure.

"Do you live around here?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"A few blocks away," she informed him. "I should be getting home, actually, it's late." She was exhausted and wanted to be in bed. This day had been too much, too exhausting for her. "But thank you again for saving me. You're a God-send."

He laughed it off, before calling the waitress again to get the bill. Cora said she was paying the bill, but he insisted. She felt further indebted, and although she cannot pay him off with one drink for saving her life, she also didn't feel right that he would pay for the drinks when it was his heroic act that was the reason she was here and not in a hospital.

"Please, let me," she begged, taking the bill from his hand.

"No," he said simply. "It's alright."

She huffed, knowing defeat was imminent. "Then please at least let me take you for lunch tomorrow or something. I know it doesn't quite pay for you saving my life, but please, just let me do something."

"Sure," he said. "We can have lunch tomorrow. We can just meet here again if you like?"

It was quite away from work but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Anyway, she might call in and take a leave for tomorrow, she didn't feel quite up to working after such episode.

"Sure, I don't mind anywhere as long as it's convenient for you," she told him.

He nodded. "Okay, we'll meet here at 12 noon tomorrow."

She smiled and shook his hand. "Deal."

"Deal."

He ended up walking her home, too worried still that she was shaken. She didn't say it in many words, but she was in fact relieved for his company. She has never been the scared type, but she was glad to have his comforting presence around.

When they reached her house, she smiled and thanked him once more for saving her, and for walking him home. She supposed that she would be thanking him for a very long time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Cora," he told her as she made her way to her front door.

"See you tomorrow, Robert," she said as she waved at him as he retreated.

That night, at that very moment, a tentative friendship was born.

Let me know what you guys think :)