One-shot story inspired by the Tumblr Ship Drabble Challenge! (Story posted originally on Tumblr) It was supposed to be just a little drabble, but it turned out to be much more! So excuse me for that :) When I got to writing it, the words just started to flow so well that I couldn't possibly stop!

But now, enjoy and have a great Monday, lovelies!

Downton Abbey, a few hours into 1926

The eventful last hours of 1925 had now brought them into 1926. The house and its inhabitants were slowly lulled to sleep by the falling snow outside, their dreams filled with all the marvellous things the new year would bring with its arrival. Happier times for some, a fresh start for others. Perhaps a little bit both to the rest.

The only sound in the otherwise quiet house was the housekeeper's chatelaine clinking against itself as Elsie Carson made her way towards the house's main hall. She made sure she had locked the front door. And yes, it was locked. With a last glance around the room, to make sure everything was in perfect shape, she turned off all the lights; complete darkness soon surrounding her. One would have trouble finding their way around in the dark, but Elsie Carson knew the house by heart. She pulled open the green baize door, entering the servants' staircase, carefully placing her feet on the stone steps as she made her way towards the servants' quarters.

She could feel the strain of the long day weighting on her shoulders and sighed; she'd have to take it a bit slower tomorrow. But doubted such a thing would be possible- No. She knew it wouldn't be. She reached the bottom of the staircase, taking a mental note of anyone who might still be up. The servants' hall was empty, and the only lights turned on in the whole downstairs seemed to be in the kitchen and in her husband's pantry. Mrs. Patmore would undoubtedly be still up, waiting for her. But it was late, and Elsie thought it'd be best to let her friend go to bed. Morning would come soon enough.

She made her way to the kitchen, finding the cook sitting by her desk, drinking a cup of tea, she presumed.

"Oh- you're back.", the cook said upon seeing her in the doorway.

"I am. Everything's locked, and I've turned off the lights upstairs.", Elsie said quietly as if trying to keep the house from waking up.

"Hmm."

The cook yawned, trying to cover her tiredness with the palm of her hand.

"Go to bed Mrs. Patmore."

"I was waiting for you to come down.", her friend replied.

"I know. But I'm here now.", Elsie smiled faintly.

The cook slowly stood up, taking her now empty teacup to the sink. She would let Daisy wash it in the morning, there was no need for her to do it now. She'd be sorry in the morning in case she didn't turn in now.

"Very well.", said Mrs. Patmore."I'll go up then."

The housekeeper just nodded, and she dropped her face to look at her shoes; unable to hold the cook's gaze for longer.

"Take care of him, won't you?"

Elsie lifted her gaze to meet her friend's. She could see just how sorry she was of this turn of events written on her face…There was no need for words to explain it.

"Yes. I will. Of course I will…", Elsie swallowed, and a few moments passed before she continued."Good night, Mrs. Patmore."

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes. I'll see you in the morning."

The cook then turned to head up the stairs, only stopping to give her friend's hand a gentle squeeze before she disappeared into the dark passage. The very tired Elsie Carson was left standing still in the empty kitchen.

She moved slowly as she clicked off the lights in the kitchen, now the only light guiding her was the one shining from under her husband's pantry's door. Elsie was about to open the door but stopped herself. She tried to listen for any sounds but heard nothing. He must be asleep, she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally knocked on the door and not two seconds later, pushed it open.

He was sitting in his chair, his slightly trembling fingers tapping against the wooden surface of his desk. He didn't lift his gaze to see who had entered his office at this time of day- well, night. She knew he knew it was her and so she didn't say anything, waited for him to speak up first.

It didn't take him too long.

"I thought you had left for the cottage already."

His voice was quiet and the tone of it distant.

"No.", she simply replied.

He remained quiet; his eyes fixated on his fingers.

"But-", Elsie said gently."It's late. We ought to be on our way already."

She was studying his face. It was as if he wasn't in the room at all…

"Let's go home, Charlie."

She wasn't sure if it was the mention of home or his name that made him lift his gaze to meet hers. But in the moment, it didn't matter. And once again, she stood there, waiting for him to speak.

"You must think me silly."

"Why on earth would I?", she asked, not understanding where he was aiming with his statement.

He shrugged, bringing a heartbroken frown on her face.

"Well, I don't think you're silly."

She heard him huff and a silence fell between them again.

"It's an end of an era.", he spoke after what must have been minutes.

"I know. But it has been a wonderful era."

"Maybe. But when the clock strikes six in a few hours, I will not be sitting behind this desk, nor waiting on the Crawley family. I'll be just a useless old man, supported by his wife."

"That's not true."

"You say that because you want to believe it's not true.", he mumbled, fidgeting with a pen that had only moments ago rested next to his hand on the table.

"No. I say it because my lovely husband is not a useless old man, and certainly not supported by his wife.", Elsie insisted, her eyebrows sown together with worry.

"Well- be that as it may…"

He let the pen fall from between his fingers as the trembling, that had been only slight moments ago, overtook his hand. Instantly he was tucking the trembling hand on his lap to hide the shaking from his wife. Even if he knew it was completely in vain.

It broke her heart, seeing him feeling a need to hide his condition from her. She was his wife, and she loved him, there was no need to hide anything from her.

All she could do was stand still for a moment…That was until she couldn't stand to watch his silent suffering anymore. Her legs took her to his side with a few long strides, the sounds of her heels hitting the stone floor and her chatelaine clinking echoing in the room. She knelt on the floor before him, her knees giving a loud protest, but she paid them no attention.

"What are you doing?", she heard him ask.

"What do you think I'm doing, Mr. Carson?"

He remained silent, watching her plant a sweet kiss to his palm. The trembling instantly got lesser and lesser, kiss by kiss.

"I don't know how to make you feel better, darling, and I won't try if you don't want me to, but please remember; nothing could ever make me see you differently.", she whispered, still holding his hand, her other one resting on his knee."I am your wife, and I love you so very much."

She watched a single tear appear to the corner of his eye, making her want to brush it away, but he was quick to do it himself.

"Do you really mean that?"

"How many times have you caught me in a lie?", she decided to ask him back, a loving smile on her lips.

"Not very many.", he said without the slightest of hesitation.

"Then there you have it. I meant every word."

He gave her a weary nod, trying his best to keep his tear at bay. However, with not much success…

"Oh Charlie…", his tears didn't go unnoticed by his wife, who quickly stood up from the floor, a quiet 'pop' coming from her knees as she did so.

His face was wet with his tears, his body shaking as he sobbed into the quiet of the night.

"Shhh, my love. It's alright.", her hands found their way to cup his face."It's alright."

She repeated the words so many times that she lost count.

"You're alright- we're alright.", she whispered, her forehead against his.

"I'm so sorry.", he cried.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about…I'm right here."

Eventually his tears ran out, leaving him shaking as he tried to gather himself back together. She was planting sweet kisses to his forehead, her hands still cupping his cheeks. She pulled away only when she was sure he was not crying anymore.

His eyes were red, and his face was wet, making her face wet as well, but she didn't mind. She was so sorry for him…So sorry indeed…

She heard him swallow another wave of tears and she leaned to kiss his lips.

"I'm so sorry.", he mumbled when they broke apart.

"Don't be. I'm your wife, you are allowed to cry in my presence."

He forced a smile. And so, she showed him one of her own.

"But you do look like you need a hug.", she whispered, brushing that stubborn loose curl from his forehead.

He let out the smallest of laughs at this; it was music to her ears.

"I wouldn't mind one to be honest."

And he didn't need to ask twice. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her chest. He hid his tear-stained face against her bosom, holding her tightly. She sat herself on his lap, running her fingers through his hair and whispering soothing words to calm him.

And that's how they stayed for a long time…Letting both their scars heal. And when they eventually made their way back to their cottage and climbed the stairs up to their bedroom, she kissed him goodnight and held him through the night. Because even if they weren't ready, morning would come. And she knew he needed the strength to face it.