Matthew is exhausted by the time the session is over, both physically and mentally. He manages not to blow up at Dr. Robinson, although the doctor's theories were not particularly pleasing to Matthew. He manages to walk slightly more normally with the crutches, although putting any weight on his damaged leg is painful and Dr. Robinson seems very disappointed with his current state.
Matthew is grateful, surprisingly, to see Grace with the hated chair; the idea of trying to hobble back to his room sounds horrible. He sits down and does not look back to Dr. Robinson. He will have to be back soon enough.
Grace comes behind him and begins to push him out the door.
She starts talking, but Matthew doesn't hear a word that she says. He presses his lips together and sulks silently, so absorbed in his own thoughts. However, hearing her talk incessantly wears on Matthew's mood. Finally, he snaps.
"Is this all you do all day? Take poor chaps back and forth and talk at them?"
He realizes what he has said as soon as it comes out of his mouth, but he does not turn around to look at Grace. He can only imagine how stricken her face looks.
"Actually," she says, her tone only the slightest bit defensive, "Once patients have been in for a few sessions, I take them through their initial exercises before Dr. Robinson comes to look at their progress."
He nods, solemnly. "That's... good."
"I think so," she says. She starts to say something, she clearly wants to keep talking, but she refrains.
He mentally kicks himself for being so rude to her. On one hand, he could blame the shellshock- why should he be able to control his speech if he clearly has no control over anything else his mind controls? But on the other hand, he doesn't want to give in. He doesn't want to be the awful person the war has shown him he can be.
"You said you've been to Manchester, so what sort of traveling have you done?" he asks. Suddenly, he finds himself faced with anxiety, questioning whether that was what he should have said. He doesn't know how to do small talk anymore; it is only Mary and Isobel he talks with, and obviously they are past that point of discussion. Otherwise, he realizes, he has been quite isolated from human contact. In a way, it is good; he would really rather not slip in front of someone he barely knew. But it also strikes him that perhaps that will make adjusting back to normal life, if there is such a thing anymore, much more difficult.
"Oh, well, London really is the furthest I've gone. My parents didn't have much so we went to Edinburgh once a year or so to visit my grandparents but otherwise we just stayed on the farm. It was awfully exciting to go to London to train to be a nurse, although it was also sad because there was so much of the war everywhere. But I did like it better than Manchester, I'm sorry to say."
"Manchester isn't for everybody," Matthew says. "But it's home, for me. Or at least it was..."
"Is Yorkshire your home now? I'd love to go to Yorkshire someday, it seems such a nice place in all the novels."
Matthew looks down at his lap. "I'm not sure, really. I have a lot of family there, and it will have to be my home one day, but I've realized that home is not really just a place, it's where your loved ones are."
"That's a lovely sentiment," Grace says. "I love it here, but part of me just wants to explore the world. But I'm the only child now, so my parents expect me to take over the farm and carry on with it, although really I'd rather nurse. I like it. Although I almost quit after the first week because one of my patients died."
Matthew isn't sure how to respond to that.
"After my brother died, my parents wanted me to come back and just work on the farm but I couldn't... there were too many memories there, and I needed a different distraction. But then it was hard to keep from getting attached, but I begged them to let me stay on, so eventually they assigned me to physical therapy."
"Where..." Matthew licks his lips, which are suddenly dry. "Where did your brother die?"
"The Somme..." she says, her voice hardly a whisper.
"Oh." He shouldn't have asked, because the response brings back horrifying images of a place he has scene, of a battle he has lived over and over again. But in a way it is comforting to know that other people are struggling with the effects of war as well. Sometimes he feels so self-absorbed in his misery that it is a comfort to him when he realizes that others also suffered because of the war.
"Were you there?"
"Yes." Matthew says, his tone hard.
"Someday I want to go to France, to see where he died. Because we never got his body back, so sometimes I still hope... and that's painful. I think going there might help me realize that he's really gone," Grace says.
Matthew would never want to go back to France, but he doesn't say anything.
"I'm sorry if I'm upsetting you," she says suddenly, sounding cheerful again.
He shakes his head. "No, you're not. In fact, I'm a lot less upset right now than I usually seem to be, so there's something."
"Why's that?"
"I don't feel so alone."
Mary is very glad to see him back. He has hardly been gone for more than an hour and yet she misses him.
"How did it go?" she asks him.
He groans. "It's not going to be easy," he murmurs, as he settles back into bed. "And who knows if I'll ever really recover. Everything I tried just hurt, constantly."
"It's early days, it will get better," Mary says, sitting on the edge of his bed. It is entirely inappropriate and she doesn't care at all.
Matthew frowns and leans back against the pillows, letting out a heavy breath. "But what if it doesn't? Everyone is saying my shellshock is going to get better and we've all seen how that's worked-"
"You are getting better," Mary says firmly.
He doesn't meet her eyes. "Maybe."
"Here, it's like this," she says, taking a hand in hers. "It's two steps forward, one step back. You're making progress, it's just not as quick or linear as you would like it to be."
"Maybe it'll feel like progress when I'm not stuck here," he grumbles.
"Dr. Warren is planning to release you after your therapy session tomorrow. He says you're doing very well."
He almost laughs. "Coming from Dr. Warren, I have no idea what that really means."
"Matthew, please..." Mary says, although she silently agrees with him.
He gazes into her eyes, almost cheering up just looking at her. But a stubborn part of him is still unhappy. "I don't like Dr. Robinson."
"Why not?"
"It's stupid, it's just... I feel so judged when he's working with me. Like my injury is a result of my own failure. Which, of course, it..."
"Is not true," Mary interrupts, before he can disparage himself. Her voice is firm enough to dissuade Matthew from protesting.
"He told me that exercise is the best way to get rid of shellshock, which proves that he knows absolutely nothing about shellshock," Matthew continues, rolling his eyes. "He didn't hide the fact that he thinks I'm a failure."
Mary's heart breaks, although she knows Matthew could easily misconstrue the doctor's intentions. Still, she wants to take his side and fight for him.
"Maybe it will help. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's the cure to anything because clearly I know it's not, but maybe it will help."
Closing his eyes, Matthew says, "Maybe. But I'm probably beyond help."
He does get released the next afternoon, and Mary is happy to see him like a prisoner freed. After a difficult therapy session, he seems more than relieved to step into the cool November air beside the waiting car.
He takes a deep breath and lets a smile grow across his face. "Let's go home," he says.
Dr. Warren had interrogated him before releasing him, but finally signed the papers. He didn't say anything about the shellshock, which was a relief to everyone involved. Mar had been concerned that he would have set something off in Matthew, but Matthew now seems happier than he has been in weeks.
"Home?" Mary asks.
"As home to me as anywhere is, really," he shrugs, as Shrimpie's chauffeur helps him into the car.
"That is something I'm glad to hear," she replies, climbing in after him.
Matthew remarks on several things excitedly as the car travels down the rutted lanes, and for a minute Mary lets herself think that he's so much better. But then he grows more sullen and Mary remembers that progress, like she told him, is not linear. Two steps forward, one step back. But he is making steps forward.
When they get back to the house, they eat a delicious dinner, just the three of them. It is only about five in the evening, but they are on their own time.
Matthew seems talkative and cheerful again, something that is almost miraculous. Perhaps being here, being in this house, is better for Matthew than Mary realized. But then, she thinks, this was the same house where he nearly took his own life. That thought is hard to swallow, but Mary must remember, so that she can prevent it ever happening.
"I'd like to take a bath," Matthew declares, after they eat yet another round of Daisy's delicious chocolate cake. Matthew had remarked on the meal several times, but had frozen when Mary asked if he was ready to speak with Daisy about William. Clearly some steps were yet to be taken. "I haven't had a full one since ...my last leave, really. Not with my leg and everything."
Molesley promptly goes upstairs to draw a bath.
"Could you close the door?" Matthew asks, leaning against the counter in the bathroom to keep his balance. His dressing gown is tied loosely around him, and the steam coming up from the bathtub looks very inviting.
Isobel stands in the doorway, frowning. "Are you sure..."
"I'll have Molesley help me into the tub, and I'll have the bell right near me for when I'm finished. And don't worry, there's nothing in here I can hurt myself with. The tub is too small and I'm not even flexible enough to put my head in the water once I'm in," he argues. His rationale is so logical, so lawyer-like that Isobel is almost reassured.
Almost.
"I just don't want you to..."
"Mother," Matthew interrupts, holding up a hand. "I haven't been alone in a room for weeks, since before I was in hospital. And honestly, that's been driving me crazy... as if I wasn't already crazy enough."
Isobel sighs, but is relieved to hear his dry humor, even if she doesn't appreciate his self-deprecation. "Very well. But I'll be concerned if you're not ringing to get out in an hour or so."
Matthew rings the bell in the bathroom for Molesley. "Everything will be fine," he says.
However, once he is in the bath and the door is closed, not everything is fine.
The room is small and windowless, only lit by a small gas light. The water is warm and envelops him, but the room closes in on him claustrophobically.
But he stays calm, sitting up further in the bathtub. To do this, he pushes his legs against the edge, and idea which he immediately realizes was not a good one, as any weight on his bad leg is still painful. He winces. This is the opposite of relaxing. But he has to be okay. He has to prove that he can be alone and not fall apart.
The light is the last straw.
The lamp was already flickering ominously, but it is only about five minutes in that it goes out. It is all Matthew to do to keep from screaming; he does not want to worry his mother or Mary though. So he keeps his mouth shut and tries to embrace the darkness.
He has not been alone in the darkness since the ride back from France though. He tries to suppress memories that haunt him.
He fails.
The water is suddenly cold, icy almost, and he slips down into it. It is dark, but there is a light above him. He just has to reach the light, but he is so cold and so tired, the pressure of the water over him mounting. He struggles, but no progress.
He is going to drown here in the icy water.
Next to the light, he can make out the bottom of a boat. He wants to swim up to it, but he can't move. He is too cold, and his leg hurts too badly. He is so tired, almost relaxed by the water but at the same time intensely alert.
Above is the boat, the one that is taking him across the channel. Is he going to France? Is he coming back home? He'll never know, because he is drowning in the icy waters.
He blinks and looks across from him; there is William, also below the surface, struggling to break free. Matthew wants to save him, but... there is nothing he can do. They are both stuck, drowning in the icy waters.
He screams, but no real sound comes out. Anything that does is stopped in its tracks by the seawater surrounding him.
The boat is just above him, but there is no hope.
He is drowning in the icy waters.
Mary hears the screaming first, and almost rushes into the bathroom. Her hand is already on the doorknob when she realizes that... she can't go in there. He's naked in the bathtub. Isobel would be furious if she walked in and Matthew would be mortified.
She wants nothing more than to go to him, but this cannot be her.
"Isobel!" she yells. She looks at the door wistfully, beginning to talk through it. "Matthew? Matthew? I'm not sure what you're thinking is happening but listen to me please. You're in Scotland, you're in the bath, and people are coming to be with you very soon."
The screaming doesn't stop.
Mary wrings her hands, unsure of what she can do. "Matthew, calm down," she says through the door. "Open your eyes, you'll find it isn't so dark after all." She glances around helplessly. "Isobel!"
Isobel makes her way up the stairs, spurned on by the anxiety in Mary's voice. "What is it?" she asks breathlessly.
"He's... he won't stop screaming, but I can't go in there," Mary whispers. "He'd be mortified if I saw him ...undressed."
If Isobel wasn't so worried for her son, she would be rather charmed by Mary's nervousness. Despite all the liberties she and Matthew have taken, Mary is still concerned for Matthew's modesty. She is right, he would be mortified, and he'd probably still be mortified with his mother coming into the bathroom, but it is better this way.
Isobel nods and carefully opens the door, sighing when she sees the unlit gas lamp. "Matthew," she whispers, "look, there's light. And I'm here. You're alright."
He gazes at her with wild eyes, unblinking. "Drowning..." he chokes out. "The ocean, it was..."
"I'm going to call Molesley up here and he's going to get you dried off and into bed, alright?"
Matthew shivers, but nods. "Could you... could you save William?"
Isobel's heart breaks for him. "No, darling, we couldn't save William. But he saved you."
He cries out, burying his wet head on her chest.
Mary listens to this and wishes more than anything that she could go to comfort him. But she can only break the rules of propriety so much, and Matthew's much better off with Isobel anyway. Or at least she tries to tell herself that.
It doesn't stop her desire to help him.
Sorry it's taken me such a long time to publish this chapter... I was planning on doing it last week but then I had to get a shiny piece of paper saying I completed high school and that takes up a lot of time! Bur now that graduation is over and summer is here, the next update should come sooner. Thanks for sticking with it and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reviews would be very much appreciated!