Author's Note: After many years, one of my favorite people finally sat down and fell in love with one of my favorite shows. The result? This series.

This is one of those collections where it'll be unrelated one-shots, and drabbles inspired by the occasional episode. In regards to the inspiration itself, that's all thanks to my sister. She makes a hilarious comment, and I end up coming up with a story. It's happened before, and I'm delighted to say it's now happening with Downton.

In any case, as always, enjoy!

Today's Inspiration: "Okay, but I doubt Carson's cool being dismissed like that. Also, are we seriously going to be doing this Carson/Hughes back-and-forth thing for six seasons?"

Disclaimer: Still don't own the rights to Downton. If I ever do, you'll be the first to know. Also, Spoilers for Series 1, Episode 1.


She'd hurt him with that remark about the family. And she'd confused him by proceeding to ask about what life might've been. He didn't understand the connection, he couldn't see where she was going with this.

Worst still, he was worried this was a sign she wanted to leave. So very worried this was her way of confessing the truth: that, for all the pride she took in her work, she was ready to move on. She was ready to let go of her life at Downton and start going down those other paths she spoke of.

Hence, his reluctance to answer. Not only did the man need to know what prompted these questions, he couldn't bring himself to respond. He hadn't been prepared for this, he didn't know what it meant. He only wished for a return to normalcy, he only craved for life to make sense again. No crashing of the Titanic, no doubt of the inheritance, and no question of what life could have been.

Despite their not seeing each other for quite some time, her questions still lingered in his mind. For once he couldn't focus on his duties. Instead, the man found himself remembering of his own bemusement, his own questions he tended to dismiss. These were thoughts he never cared to voice, the ones that surprised him every time they flitted through his mind.

Until she'd spoken up, he hadn't realised how often he'd wondered similarly.

And though he tried to set aside any and all pondering, his efforts proved futile. With every attempt to ward off those thoughts came something that dragged him right back in. Lord Grantham's tactless remark and dismissal of his opinion. Lady Grantham's earlier slights, comments that bordered on manipulative. And these were only slivers of the disconcertion that stuck with him throughout the day.

In retrospect, he should've given some sort of answer then and there. Something to soothe his friend's concerns, a throwaway remark to change the conversation, anything! He shouldn't have allowed that stifling silence to wall up between them, that was obviously a mistake.

The problem was, after everything, he didn't know what his answer was. If she were to ask him those questions again, he would be helpless to the silence. The only thing he did know was that he had to go back and find out what she'd really meant by it all. He needed to understand what prompted her to say the things she'd said.

To broach this subject was a terrifying notion to think about, let alone act on. But with every moment he avoided the subject, it only felt more vital.

A little while later, the butler found himself in the entrance of the housekeeper's sitting room. He gave a tentative knock, she gave a confused answered. The door opened and he stood there. And continued to stand there in silence. So by the time a pointed brow accompanied a tilted head, he couldn't help but bumble his way through a confession.

"Mrs. Hughes," His trepidation was as obvious as O'Brien's manipulations. Oh, yes, they were off to a really lovely start. "You recently asked me something to which I had no real reply."

"Did I?"

He couldn't help but give a small smile at that, if only because that was a very familiar tone. It was that soft incredulity she held so well. She had other kinds of incredulity, of course –– the sharper kind, for instance, for when she was making it perfectly clear you made a mistake. But this was the kind of incredulity that sometimes traveled with amusement, but always came with a warm curiosity.

And it was this kind of incredulity that he liked the most.

Well, this and the kind wherein she was pleasantly surprised by him. Where even he could see the fondness in her eyes, and even he could hear the tender warmth in her voice –– both of which touched him more than words could say. Those moments were rarer still, but they were just as delightful.

"Mr. Carson?"

Ah, right. She was still sat in front of him, that lovely head of hers managing to tilt just a bit further in concern. All of which meant that if he didn't manage some sort of response soon, she would become more than just curious. She would be worried, something he never liked to see and certainly not something he liked to cause.

But what to say? The man's perfunctory response, his tendency to avoid the subject, would defeat the entire purpose of this venture. What else, then, would be appropriate? Where else could he possibly go from here?

"If I may ask, what question of mine are you referring to?"

Bless her for changing the subject. For not questioning the fact that his hands had been fidgeting for the last quarter of a minute. For giving him a kinder silence than before, one that gave him some more confidence to reach the truth.

"You recently put forth a question about life's alternatives," He'd memorised every word of her melancholic inquiry, but didn't want to intimidate the woman with such knowledge. Not when this had already proven to be quite the delicate subject.

"Oh, that?" Now she was blushing, thoroughly taken aback. "I'm afraid I was away with the faeries when I asked that, Mr. Carson." And when he remained silent, she hurried on: "I can assure you: no matter what I say or ask, I am happy here."

"I know you are." Actually, he hadn't known a thing. But to hear as such warmed his heart to no end. If only she felt this way about the family. Still, tickled and wistful thoughts aside, he needed to learn more. If she was happy here, why bring the questions up in the first place? And why did it feel like there was more to this picture?

"Well, then," Oh dear. She had become flustered, that delightful lilt starting to slip into something stronger. In other words? If he didn't stop her now, this would be a conversation not briefly swept aside but buried firmly in the ground. And he couldn't have that. Not when she'd looked so forlorn earlier, not when he spent his day wondering what these questions of hers meant for them. "I should get on,"

"Actually," Charles could hear, rather than see, her freeze. His gaze had been transfixed on the floor for a second time that night. Truth be told, there was normally an enjoyment that came with meeting her gaze, whatever the situation. In this moment, however, he found it easier to take the coward's way out and hold a staring contest with the floor instead."Well, you see, Mrs. Hughes,"

There had to be a better way of finding out the truth than this! He was sure it was possible to unravel her answer without letting his own ramblings slip through the cracks. But she was closing herself off to him, already starting to politely retreat from the conversation. She undoubtedly assumed him to be on the verge of lecturing her for questioning her station. So if he didn't say something right now, that would be the end of this discussion. And, quite possibly, their friendship.

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

He brought his gaze up from the ground once more, really taking in the sight before him. Her hesitance remained, her inclination to dismiss the subject plain as day. But there was something else. Something in her eyes that he felt drawn to, something in the way she held herself that captivated him. It was something he'd noticed before but couldn't describe.

And it was something that provided him with a sense of clarity.

"Mrs. Hughes," Charles repeated, hoping she really heard him this time. "I am happy here, too. But I have also wondered about those 'other ways'."

She had been poised to say something, a witticism if he had to guess. But then the rest of his words reached her and she couldn't help but gape. It was a rather becoming sight, not only because he treasured these sorts of moments but also because it told him of her feelings on the matter. And what showed more plainly than her reluctance from before was quite simple:

A newfound hope.

"Have you now?" Incredulity continued to trail through her remark once she managed to get the marbles out. With it, that wall of silence from before crumbled, as did any thought of retreat.

That only encouraged the man to get to the point.

"I have."

Ease gave way to tranquility, confidence even. Charles found himself properly stepping over the threshold of her sitting room, a weight finally releasing itself from his shoulders. And it was with a sense of vague irony. Here he was, stirring the pot of tradition, whereas she had been doing her best to politely dodge the subject and stick to the life they knew best.

Only now it seemed she was too curious to drop the subject: "I don't suppose you'd care to share those thoughts?"

"Well, now that you mention it," He would get to the bottom of her truth. He would find out what prompted his dearest friend to so look terribly out of place with life. And he would do his best to help her any way he could. But for now, it was his turn to encourage her with questions and thoughts. His turn to share the musings he normally kept to himself.

And so he did.


Author's Note: One of these days, I'll actually write angst from start to finish. Not this day!

As always, I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this little piece and that you have a wonderful day! 'Till next time!