Author's Note: If this story has any message in particular, it's this: do what you love.

Story Notes: This is a modern AU that plays with some canon details. It has Chelsie angst/fluff as well as a decent amount of the story written out, and that is all the detail I'd like to share.

Enjoy!

This story begins with, of all things, an image. One little moment in a sea of grandeur. A photograph taken at a charity event.

The subjects of this photograph? A woman in a black gown chatting away on a sofa, her companion dressed in equally distinguished attire. The pair looked utterly elegant and downright in love with one another.

Her face gazed at individuals outside the image, but her eyes and lips smiled at him. As for her body, her torso faced a nameless crowd but her legs curved in his direction. And if that wasn't enough, the engagement ring resting her left finger conveyed the message perfectly.

As for the man, he may have been hushed but his face said it all. His eyes were unashamedly fixed on her, not bothering to engage with anyone else. He looked enamoured with every word she spoke, entirely carefree as he listened. His ring complemented hers in every sense of the word, a perfect symbol of their sentiments.

This photograph was supposed to be hidden away. Quite possibly, it'd been destined for the bin.

It had never made it there, winding up inside a box in an attic.

It was this photograph that Allison Hughes had accidentally discovered at age six. It was this photograph that deeply confused the girl at age seven. She hid this photograph come age eight, wondering what sort of a person admired her mum like that and then ran off on them.

Age nine involved glaring at this man, the girl debating whether it was worth it to cut the picture in half and keep only the part with Mum. She had never seen her mother quite so happy.

Age ten had quieted the anger, if only a little. Eleven helped to bring confusion and pain back to her.

And as for age twelve?

Age twelve had been much the same, except for one tiny detail.

_._

Allison Hughes prided herself on being a studious individual. She couldn't claim to be the cleverest, but she was determined to be thought of as studious. After all, anyone could be clever. But it took real standards to be studious.

And at age twelve, Allison knew she had real standards. Yet there was one thing that got in the way of those standards.

One tiny little detail that derailed any studious and thoughtful intentions.

What was that detail, one may ask?

To put it quite simply: boredom. If ever something boring were to cross paths with the girl––say, a monotonous class presentation that bordered on torture, for instance––it was difficult to concentrate. Allison would bite her lip and furrow her eyebrows and twitch away the time until such boredom was out of sight.

Such was the case today. Phoebe, an––an endearing classmate and peer, was completing her class presentation for today. The concept of the assignment had been invigorating, but Phoebe's presentation was decidedly not.

Mrs. Barnes had required they each present an old house to the class. Allison took a fancy to the idea at once. She always loved a chance to dive into history. Nevertheless, what Mrs. Barnes had assigned did not match what the students had produced.

Why else would Allison's right eye be twitching?

Allison knew better than to rest her head on her desk as Phoebe droned on and on, but she could not dismiss the temptation. Phoebe's only saving grace was that she had real photographs to complement the presentation. Those photographs were what Allison was waiting for. For it was these photographs that would allow her to pass the time more discreetly.

Unfortunately, Millie had a similar idea.

Millie, never to be called Millicent, was hoarding the photographs and sneering at Allison whenever she looked her way. Allison was the only one who hadn't seen the photographs yet, there was no point in being so rude.

"And that is my presentation for Downton Abbey." It was over already? Well, that was unfair. Not because Allison wanted Phoebe's presentation to keep going. It was simply that she'd waited so long to see those photographs and now she wouldn't be getting a chance.

"Well done, Miss Miller," Mrs. Barnes commended from her desk, clapping alongside the rest of the class. Allison put her hands together in support of her classmate, but her brown eyes lingered on Millie's desk. "Now, where did your lovely, little photographs wander off to?"

"Here you go, Mrs. Barnes," Ever so helpful, Allison had little qualms about using her esteemed reputation to get what she wanted. By getting up and waiting by Millie's desk, she forced the bully to hand them ove––what is that?

The photographs. In particular, that one photograph. The one that held a picture of a very, very familiar room. She'd seen that room plenty of times over the years, having studied it time and time again. That was the sofa her mother sat on all those years ago.

How is that possible?

"Miss Hughes?" Unconsciously, she turned back to her teacher, determined to hide her shock. "Would you be so kind as to––?"

"Right." Turning back to the bully, Allison waited for Millie to fork them over––that is, bestow her with the photographs in question. And as she picked up all of Phoebe's photographs, an idea came to mind. It was with a sweet smile that she delivered these treasures to Mrs. Barnes, turning back to Phoebe and exclaiming, "It really is so cool that you were able to go to,"

Allison trailed off, content to let silence do the work for her. In seconds, Phoebe was filling in the blank, "It was so cool being able to go to Downton Abbey!"

"I'm sure it was." Right. Downton Abbey. Obviously, she had to visit the place now. At worst, a visit would give her an excuse to learn more about ancient homes. At best, it gave her a chance to solve a mystery she'd been wanting to piece together for years:

Who was the man in the photograph and why was he no longer in the picture?

I wonder if Uncle Charlie might be willing to help. She nearly giggled at the thought. Aunt Alice was the more likely of the two, but she was also much more likely to ask questions. On the other hand, Uncle Charlie could be counted on to be discreet.

Hopefully…

Author's Note: I hope this has proven more entertaining and intriguing than not!

Moreover, I wish I could remember who made this request, but I can't for the life of me.

Please, please, please let me know if you were the reader who gave this story prompt: ("Charles and Elsie have a child, but they wind up going their separate ways. Years later, said child wants to learn more about their absent parent.").

And, finally, to Time and Time Again fans (as well as Another Time, Another Place fans), expect another update soon! I promise I have not forgotten about either story.

In any case, as always, I hope you have a lovely day! 'Till next time.