Hey there. Whoever reads this: Thanks for being here and sticking with me. And thanks again to batwings79 for betaing this story. You're doing a wonderful job. =)

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my setting. But my idea of how it could continue.

My knuckles connected with the wooden door creating a rapping followed by profound silence. I repeated the motion – again, nothing. I leaned slightly to the right in order to be able to look into the long window next to the door. There was no movement to be seen, the house was dark. What has the man done now?

"Doctor Clarkson?" I called out through the closed door. I was answered by silence once more. "Oh, for Christ's sake, just-" Muttering and against everything I had learned and against all my principles, I tried the doorknob. It moved easily, he hadn't locked up the previous night.

When I entered the cottage, I felt as though I was engulfed by an atmosphere and darkness. The curtains were drawn and no lamp was switched on. Oh how I hate an atmosphere!

"Doctor Clarkson?", I said again, this time silently and cautiously. Who knew what state he was in? I received no answer. First, I checked the kitchen. It looked exactly the same as the day before. Except for the bottle of whiskey that I had left on the worktop. I willed my mind not to draw the obvious conclusions.

Next, I went into his study, the only other room downstairs, besides the kitchen and living room. I had been in the doctor's house before. When I first arrived in Downton, he was the only person I could relate to as a fellow countryman. We became friends. I think we would have become more, had I not fallen in love with Charles. After I had told him, that I had fallen in love, that I had decided to wait for the stubborn butler to love me as well, he slowly distanced himself from me. Now we were merely acquaintances.

When I had heard about Mrs. Crawley's marriage, I knew that he would need someone to lean on. I had been sure that they would eventually realize that they loved each other. Obviously she didn't. I knew it would break his heart. That's why I went to find him yesterday.

His study looked as chaotic as ever. However, nothing seemed to have been touched lately. I had often teased him about his slight tendency towards untidiness.

"How do you manage to find anything in here?" I would ask.

"I know where everything is. A genius can master chaos." He would answer with a twinkle in his eye and a smug smile in my direction.

When I entered the living room, I was met with the strong smell of alcohol. Found the bottle. I took one more step and nearly fell for something rolled out from under my foot. "And another one...", I muttered.

He was still sitting in the armchair, unmoving, staring into the dying fire. His eyes were bloodshot, his shirt was stained. Probably from the whiskey that didn't make it into his mouth. His jacket lay crinkled on the floor and he must have stepped on it a few times, judging by the state it was in. He had taken off his tie. I couldn't see it anywhere.

"Oh Richard..." The sight of him nearly made me cry.

When he heard my voice, he didn't startle, he just merely turned his head unseeingly in my direction.

"What are ye doin' here?" he asked and turned his head back to the fire. His voice sounded hoarse.

"The question is, what are you doing here?" I sounded slightly scolding and I wanted to, needed to in order to get my question through his alcohol clouded skull and into his brain.

"None o' yer business.." he simply answered. And then he took another sip from a bottle. Where did he even store all that alcohol?

"What do you mean? I told you to take care of yourself! And you go ahead and drink right through the night? Richard, listen to me, Richard -"

"Ye're callin' me Richard. She ne'er called me Richard. Only e'er Doct'r Clarks'n. But what right do ye have to call me Richard?" His voice escalated with each phrase.

I took one step away from him at his sudden outburst. He stared at me now,his piercing gaze seemed to try and burn my eyes out.

"Richard, I -"

"Yes, Elsie, love. You? Ye're no better than she is, ye are!" He had managed to stand up from the armchair now and came towards me. I was rooted to the spot. "I loved you once, you know?", he whispered when he stood directly in front of me. His accent had lessened and he appeared to be sober all of a sudden.

"I loved you, even had a ring for you and what did you do? You went ahead and decided to marry someone else. Someone else, Elsie. It's never me. It's always someone else." A lock of my hair that had fallen out of the tight bun captured his attention. He took it between his fingers. He leaned very close and inhaled deeply, before he brought his mouth close to my ear.

"Leave, Elsie. Leave me alone and don't come back. Do you hear? I don't want to see you here. Ever again. Go to your husband, be happy, but leave me alone." When he fell quiet he let the strand of my hair glide through his fingers. He turned around and took some steps away from me.

"But Richard, I'm only -" I had to try again, get through to him, make sure he would be alright.

"Leave!" he bellowed, and it was only due to my quick reflexes that I managed to duck the bottle that came flying my way and collided with the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces; alcohol dripping down the wallpaper.

When I closed the front door behind me, the tears started to fall. I had never before seen him so enraged. Richard was a quiet man, a patient man. But even the quietest people have their breaking point. I just hoped he would manage to overcome it. That he would manage to pick up the pieces afterwards.

I left then, and I didn't look back once.

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