Author's Note: It's been a time to be alive, but I am back. That being said, I've decided to take liberties again (and that includes keeping today's inspiration a secret once again). Moreover, I promise to properly respond to all reviews for the last chapter –– I'll just need a metaphorical minute.

In any case, I really hope you enjoy today's update! Spoilers for Series 2, Episode 9!

He hadn't liked finding out the housekeeper had been called for the prosecution. But what he liked less was seeing the woman come back looking far more haggard than she had before. He wished he could have pulled her aside, wanting her to take a moment before she faced the others. But he couldn't catch her in time, she hadn't allowed it.

"How will we ever face her?"

"With kindness, I hope." He silently stepped into the room, relieved to hear that tone. It meant that, as poorly as things had gone, she hadn't completely given up.

She could have coldly put an end to all discussion by bringing up kindness and leaving it at that, a tactic that would have revealed how distressed she was. But instead she was taking their questions as calmly as she could, something that alleviated a few of his concerns.

"When will he be hanged?" The butler had expected such unfortunate cheek, though it still shocked him to hear it. But despite the fact that he would have preferred to sternly lecture the boy, he knew there were more important matters to attend to.

Matters such as getting his wife out of here as quickly as he could, "Her ladyship wondered if you could give her an account of the day."

For once she didn't see through his ploy. Well, that could be because it was less of a ploy and more of a manoeuvre. Lady Grantham did ask to see Elsie. However, the aristocrat was well aware of how taxing this all was, stating the housekeeper could take her time. He was simply speeding up the proceedings, using the request as an excuse to get her away from the others.

"Of course."

Charles gave a nod, turning back to the stairs, assuming the matter settled. He should have known she still had more to say.

"I'd like to say that I may have been called for the prosecution, but I do not believe in Mr. Bates's guilt." Oh, Elsie. Of course she didn't believe in his guilt. He knew that and now he knew how grief stricken she was.

It seemed she would need a lot more than a moment or two alone to recover.

_._

First, Mr. Bates and now this! It felt foolish to be this upset over a missing dog, but she couldn't help it. "You'd think the Good Lord would have spared him the loss of his dog at a time like this."

"Ours is not to reason why."

Elsie knew that. It didn't keep her from wondering about it all, "When will we hear about Mr. Bates?" She could feel his concern from across the room. And though she ought to have let the subject go, worry kept clawing at her. "I don't know how they've kept it out of the papers."

A new consideration hit her, something even more worrisome. "I suppose that'll change i–– if it goes ahead."

This time, she didn't catch his looking at her. Instead, she remained stuck in a courtroom miles away, despondently watching the proceedings over and over again. "I can't bear to think of it. How will Anna––"

Comfort was resting on her shoulder, his hand a reminder she was not alone. They couldn't stay like this forever, not with the door wide open, but it helped.

"How will Anna bear it?" Elsie quietly repeated, feeling the comfort slip away, a residual warmth lingering despite the necessary distance.

"As the widow of a murderer?" He didn't shudder at the thought, though a sigh did sneak through his next words, "She'll have to get used to a degree of notoriety, I'm afraid. And so will we, as the house that shelters her."

Charles was well aware Elsie didn't give a flying fig about notoriety but he felt pressed to mention it. He liked Anna, but Downton's honour and reputation was at stake, and that was not something to take lightly.

"Then let me put you out of your misery right away, Mr. Carson," He inwardly groaned at the unexpected arrival, knowing this next bit couldn't be good. "By handing in my notice."

The man didn't have to turn around to see his wife's shock. He himself was only mildly surprised. He didn't like the thought of losing Anna, but he had wondered if she would take it upon herself to leave. And, yes, he was able to see the benefits in this. He could only hope Elsie was able to see those benefits, too.

Judging from the protesting jangles of key, that was not meant to be. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do." Charles didn't doubt it. Anna was a wonderful worker and part of that came from her ability to stick to what she thought was right. "If I stay here, I keep the story alive. If I go away to Scotland, say, or London, it'll die soon enough. I'll be just one more housemaid, lost in the crowd."

He didn't hate her logic, exactly. It was only that he loathed what her logic did to his wife. Still, as the butler of Downton, he felt it necessary to point out the frustratingly obvious: "She has a point."

"Not one that I accept." The man was well aware of that fact, even if he had felt it his duty to state the truth. But now that he had said his piece, he could quietly watch on as Anna did her best to get her point across.

It remained thoroughly unaccepted by his wife, but was that really a surprise to anyone?

When they were finally interrupted –– taken out of their misery, more like –– Charles didn't know what to feel as he watched Elsie march past him, the woman far too bothered to want his company. All he knew was that she wanted to be left alone.

More to the point, she needed to be left alone.

He just wished she didn't feel the need to keep to herself for the days to come. She'd withdrawn even more after that day, not angry or upset but quietly defeated. Personally, he would have taken vexation or tears instead of this dismaying silence.

That this attitude of hers carried on, becoming a part of their days, was disquieting to say the least.

Right. He was needed upstairs, it was true. But Charles knew it was far more important to be down here. The door to her sitting room was open, he could see that from the stairs. It was simply a matter of discreetly marching over and––

"Just so's you know, you're highly valued by all of us." His wife hadn't spotted him, thank the Lord. If she had, it would have invariably ruined whatever she'd intended to share with Anna. "Both of you. Very highly valued."

He could hear the tears a mile away, knowing now was not the time to interrupt. But he couldn't bring himself to leave, needing to know if the housemaid was the only one crying. Or was his wife also allowing her grief to pass through?

Charles spared a glimpse, being fortunate enough to see the truth without giving himself away. To catch Anna letting herself have a good cry was a little reassuring. However, to see Elsie doing her best to remain a pillar of strength despite her own grief was not.

But what could he do to change it? If his wife was continuing to avoid him, retreating more and more into herself, could he really do anything to help?

_._

After a while, it didn't feel like she was holding herself together. It felt more like this grief was a part of her, attached much like her chatelaine. She'd gotten used to it, absorbing a heaviness that only grew with every passing day. She didn't even recognise its presence after a time, not until those blessed words had been spoken.

"The point is, he will not hang."

Elsie had felt her jaw slacken seconds before this, all the pieces fitting together. The fact that his Lordship's declaration had carried a semblance of hope throughout, that he had called them here in the first place. There had also been a hint of something in Charles's eyes, a gleam of desperate relief that had hurrying her up the stairs and into the library.

A weight released, cracking apart at the proclamation. Pain followed, jolting through her body ruthlessly, something she hadn't anticipated and something she was terribly eager to be done with. But there was no time to manage it, not with the Servants' Ball back on. As she'd told everyone already, there was much work to be done now.

Regrettably, the pain refused to subside. Even as she did her job –– planning, executing, dancing, all of it –– pinpricks of unspoken grief remained. She carried on well enough, managing all the social requirements with a practiced air. But the moment she could the woman excused herself, citing a need to make sure all was well downstairs.

As it happened, the housekeeper had lucked out: her presence really had been necessary downstairs.

"What is it now?" Why that girl insisted on being stuck to that unsuitable game, heaven only knows. "I've told you before, Daisy: there's nothing in it."

"But I really think there is, at least this time." I doubt that. However, despite her misgivings, she gestured for Daisy to continue explaining. "It's just, Anna swore she hadn't been pushing it and I don't see why she would've said it in the first place, seeing as how Mr. Bates is still in jail."

"And just what is it that Anna was supposed to have said?"

"'May they be happy.'"

Elsie paused in her tracks, the original lecture stubbornly dying on her lips. What could she say to that of all things?

"I do remember what you said before, Mrs. Hughes," Already the kitchen maid was picking up the board game, chattering away possibly to avoid a reprimand, "And I'll put it away at once, I swear."

"See that you do." She dryly instructed, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

Apparently not. "I just really think there's something to it."

Daisy frowned a little, hesitant to say whatever else was on her mind. The housekeeper had half a mind to tell her to get on with it, if only so they could be done with the subject. Thankfully, it didn't need to come to that: "And I can't help wondering who 'they' could be."

"'They', Daisy?" What was he doing down here on a night like this?

But before the housekeeper could say a thing, Daisy was squeaking out some sort of answer, taking that game out of sight and hastening up the steps, "Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson!"

At least she'd taken care of that distasteful game instead of leaving it out.

"Goodnight, Daisy," Elsie called out, shaking her head at the girl's antics. She turned back to Charles questioningly, curious as to what brought him down here.

"Goodnight, Daisy." Charles echoed, plainly distracted. He silently motioned in the direction of the pantry, the message clear. Something was afoot, something he needed to discuss in private.

"Aren't you needed upstairs?" She belatedly inquired, trying to narrow down the possibilities. Was there some sort of catastrophe? If that were the case, why had he come downstairs to fetch her when he was doubtlessly capable of handling it?

"The only place I'm needed is right here." Her husband candidly informed her, only continuing to confuse her. And when she tilted her head, wondering what he was on about, "I'm worried about you, Elsie."

The woman didn't scoff at the sentiment. Nor did she dismiss it.

Or, rather, she didn't outright dismiss it, "Charles, there's hardly a need––"

"Isn't there?" Elsie felt another jolt of shock as comfort returned to her, its absence surprisingly missed. He was taking her into his arms and the disbelief that came with this was enough to throw her entirely off-balance. How long had it been since they stood like this? No quips, no lectures, just standing still and taking in one another?

A wince and sigh escaped her despite her best intentions, more of that exhausting heaviness breaking away.

"So, I see I had a right to be concerned." Comfort only grew, the embrace tightening. But no judgement could be found here, only the desire to help. With it came her own realisation: she had lost touch with the world, having become trapped in her thoughts as of late. But she wouldn't be admitting as such, not just yet.

Not whilst the pot was proclaiming to be in better shape than the kettle.

"Oh, really?" Her arched eyebrow was poised, the woman ready to inform him of all the times he'd scared her by working himself to death. At least she knew better than to do that. This had merely been a lapse in judgment, nothing more. "I must say, you're one to talk."

"So I am." Was Charlie really conceding the point? My, my. They ought to mark the date, make it a holiday. "But I am not the one who needs to talk."

"And I am?"

It was his turn for an acerbic gaze, the man's hands grazing her shoulders and watching her bite back another wince. The truth, that her back was currently more rigid than his standards, was far too obvious for words. That he of all people was able to see it was only the icing on the cake.

Elsie sighed, not seeing the point in denying it, "I suppose that there may be something to that."

"You 'suppose'?"

"All right. There is something to that. Satisfied?"

"I'm afraid it'll take more than that to satisfy me."

"Charles," The woman shook her head, amused by his phrasing and fully intent on gaining the upper-hand, "When you talk like that, I can't help but wonder what you really mean."

Her strategy failed, his stare becoming unabashedly pronounced. This whole interaction was coaxing a blush from her cheeks, all of which was quite unfair. That he was going so far as to massage her shoulders did not help matters in the slightest.

Where had her stuffy butler gone? The one who wouldn't dare to speak as such, and certainly not downstairs? Theirs was a full marriage, it was true. But they tended to refrain from being so forward, especially on nights like these. To hear him speak like was the equivalent of watching O'Brien frolic through a meadow –– a rarity if ever there was one.

"Now then" This rumble sent a shiver through her, the continued massage serving to further distract the woman. "Do I have to drag it out of you?"

"It won't come to that, I promise." Her breath threatened to hitch as he came across a particularly sore spot, but she was far too obstinate for such a reaction. "If you must know, I don't even know why I've been so worried."

"Go on." Only he could make those words sound tantalising, indecorous even. Really, they ought to be getting back upstairs and keeping an eye on things. Heaven only knows what he would be like if they were discovered here.

But she knew there would be no returning to the upstairs, not until she'd confessed the truth. Because for some silly reason he had found this truth of hers to be more important than their jobs –– something she never would have believed fifteen years ago.

And, even so, what was the truth now? Was this bother due to the ordeal with Mr. Bates? Had she become irrevocably distressed thanks to all the unknowns that had come with the Spanish Flu, a disease she hoped never to see again? Was this tension a result of the grief that came with the war, the endless nights spent trudging through change?

"Well, you see," Much was threatening to spill with those three words, much more than she intended. Worst still, she didn't know what would happen if she let it out. "I know things cannot go back to the way they were, but––"

But why did everything have to change?

"I don't know why it all had to change." Charles wearily confessed, as though she had said everything on her mind. She sighed again, this time relieved he understood. "You know as well as I, if we could go back I would be the first to do so."

Elsie gave a low chuckle at this, having known this about him since the beginning. He smiled at this, carrying a twinkle of mirth despite his solemn tone.

"But if you have taught me anything, it's that we don't need to fear change. Or, rather, we don't have to abhor it."

"Since when did I teach you that?" Was such a thing possible? He had never given her that impression!

"Since the moment you agreed to all this."

Oh. I see. Her mirth faded in favour of something a little more incredulous, taking in the rest of his words silently. She knew their marriage had changed the path they had been on, but she didn't think it had made that much of a difference.

"I know I'm not always the most agreeable," That was putting it kindly. "And I don't always take well to change. But if not for you, if not for us, I don't think I could have handled any of this half as well."

It would have been easy to quip about his collapse or that awful bout of Spanish Flu, to remind him that he had still struggled to handle these last couple of years 'well'. But as Elsie remained in his arms, she found herself unwilling to do anything of the sort. Instead, she softly intoned two little words:

"I agree."

"Hmm?"

The woman brought her head up, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Perhaps it was simply the fact that they hadn't done anything like this in an age. Whatever it was, she was grateful. "If not for you, I don't think I could have managed the trial or any of what's come since."

"But I wasn't able to come with. I couldn't be there––" He began to protest but a gentle peck of the lips stopped that all at once.

"That doesn't matter, Charles. Whether you were officially there or not, I have always had your support." Her smile grew sheepish, her gaze briefly downcast as another pang sank into her, "I wasn't able to see it at the time, I hadn't been able to remember it until now, but it was there all the same."

"And it's not going away any time soon." Her smile widened at this, her head leaning back into the comfort that she'd come to sorely miss. She might've doubted him when Carlisle was in the picture and Lady Mary threatened to take him away, but she knew better than to think that now.

"Just remember," Her words weren't sharp or solemn, but they maintained a point, "The same goes for you."

Elsie could hear his smile, feeling his delight as his words began to take the last of that heaviness away, "Of that, I'm sure."

Today's Inspiration: No official quotation. Just the belief that everyone has the right to be happy.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed that and have a lovely day! I'll be sure to get back to any and all reviewers by the next update. 'Till next time!