Hello ! Here is the third OS, this one is a pure drama. I don't want to spoil you before the end, so I beg your pardon if it brings back some painful memories for some of you. I promise you that the next one will be much lighter and more funny... I hope you'll like it.

The sentence followed by an asterisk really exists, it is written by JF, it is in season 6 episode 4.

Thanks to Pixie for the proofreading and her kind help.

I don't own the universe of this wonderful series, nor the characters, so I don't perceive anything.

Hurt

1898

Charles Carson was sitting in a chair, his hand holding Mrs Hughes'. He didn't notice that the chair was uncomfortable, that his back and buttocks would probably hurt when he stood up. He was no longer even aware that he was sitting. He was just aware of his hand clutching the hand of the sleeping Elsie Hughes.

He had arrived at the hospital as quickly as he could, he had been told by Lord Grantham that she was in hospital with a serious lung infection, and that she had asked him to be at her bedside. The Earl, as a generous employer, had allowed her to leave at once. Lytham-Ste-Anne was several hours away by train and he had seen the distress and anxiety of his butler. Lady Grantham had taken care of everything for him, she had arranged for a heated room with en-suite facilities to be available close to the hospital and all expenses were covered by the house.

He was still in shock. He was trying to process the words of Dr. Peters, a small, soft-looking man with a bald head, thick sideburns and round glasses.

"Mrs Hughes became ill, the infection spread to her lungs, she is breathing better now, but she came in with respiratory distress. We had to sedate and intubate her to oxygenate her for three days. She is no longer sedated and is now breathing on her own, but you will find that it is still difficult for her. Don't make her talk too much, Mr Carson. She's named you as the person she trusts to tell if anything happens to her. I'm glad you're here, she needs support after what she's been through."

A nurse had then led him to Mrs Hughes' bedside and his legs had almost given out on him when he saw her lying there, pale as a ghost, she looked tiny in that minuscule hospital bed. She was sleeping fitfully, wheezing and looking like she was sweating. Charles had turned to the nurse with a worried look on his face, he needed reassurance or to be told what to do to make himself useful.

"Her fever is up a bit, we'll get her some medicine for that when she wakes up, in the meantime I'll get you a basin and a cloth and you can sponge her forehead to try and cool her off." He had nodded, grateful, and waited for the basin to arrive to perform his task as best he could.

Elsie was very agitated, moving nervously and sometimes snatches of words escaped her mouth. "Save him...", "leave him to me please", "hang on", "Charles"...

He passed the cool, wet sponge over her forehead, speaking softly. He was trying to reassure her, telling her that he was there, that he was going to take care of her, that she had nothing to fear, that now she had to get better. It seemed to her that she was calming down at the sound of his voice and she repeated in a breath,

"Charles.

-Yes Elsie, I'm here."

He sat down and took her hand as she seemed to have fallen calmly asleep, less feverish now.

Charles was unsettled, he felt as if a heavy weight had fallen on him. That the earth was shaking beneath his feet. Mrs Hughes in hospital. Elsie, his Elsie in a worrying state. He could not breathe, could not think. He could feel the tears and the panic, so he thought of her to try to calm himself, to regain his composure. He had to regain his footing, support her, comfort her and hold her hand.

And this is what he did for hours. As soon as she began to stir and talk in her sleep, he would get down on his knees and whisper in her ear, "I'm here Elsie, my love, I'm here. Everything will be alright now, we are together. I'm holding your hand my darling. I'm here Elsie, my love."

And he repeated these phrases like a prayer, until she calmed down, then he sat back in his uncomfortable chair and kept his hand in hers.

In the evening the nurse told him that the visits were over, that he had to leave now, to rest a little, but that the next day he could be with her again first thing. He sighed, ran his hand over his face, then placed a kiss on the sleeping housekeeper's hand before rising, cracking his knees.

"If there's anything, Nurse Davies, I'm at Mrs Taylor's boarding house, let me know immediately." He took one last look at Elsie, the nurse saw the genuine concern in his eyes:

"Don't worry, we're taking care of her, the doctor thinks she's out of it now. And we've never seen her as calm as she is now, since you've been here. She'll soon be better now. Go and rest for the night, I'm sure in the morning she'll be well enough to say hello. See you tomorrow, Mr Carson."

So he had left the hospital and landed in a boarding house, run by an elderly and relatively deaf widow, who screamed when she spoke to him. She cooked well, however, and Charles was grateful that she did not overwhelm him with questions, but instead left him alone while he ate. He had also been able to take a bath, which had relieved him of the aches and pains he had caught on that damned chair. He didn't think he could fall asleep, but when his head hit the pillow he fell straight into a deep sleep until morning. He dreamed of silverware, a blue eyes smiling at him and a small pale hand on a hospital bed.

He woke up at dawn as usual, it had been a long time since he had needed an alarm clock. He got out of bed, got ready as quickly as he could, hoping that Mrs Taylor would be up as well and would make him a substantial breakfast that would keep him going until afternoon tea, so that he wouldn't have to leave Elsie for several hours. His wish was granted, Mrs Taylor was a generous cook, almost as generous as Mrs Patmore. He ate without appetite but felt he had to keep fit for her, to accompany her in her recovery. So he tucked into two sausages, a good helping of red beans, some pancakes with marmalade, bacon and scrambled egg. He thanked his landlady warmly and rushed to the hospital.

When he arrived at Elsie's bedside, he was pleased to find that she was awake and that the nurse was giving her a drink through a straw. When she had finished hydrating, she thanked the nurse with a nod and lay back down, breathless.

She had seen him, of course she had seen him coming, his tall figure, his majestic bearing, his gentle, worried gaze on her. The nurse left them alone, and had the thoughtfulness to close the screen to give them some privacy.

He sat back in the chair, pulled her as close to the bed as possible, and put his hand on hers.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Good morning," she replied weakly, her voice hoarse and her breath short.

"I'm so relieved to see you awake, Elsie. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you? Anything, my love.

Elsie could see the real concern in his eyes, and all the love he had for her. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She was going to break his big giant man heart, but she had to tell him. She took a deep breath, squeezed Charles' hand as hard as she could, savoured the pressure he gave her back and the look of love in his eyes. She wanted to delay, to savour a little more of him, his warmth, his strength before she tore it all down. Her tears were really flowing now, she was far too weak to fight them anyway. Charles took a handkerchief from his free hand and dabbed at her eyes, whispering soft words, words of love that did nothing to help Elsie's emotional state.

"Charles, please stop, I need to talk to you." She paused to catch her breath.

Charles stopped, made himself as comfortable as possible in that cursed chair and waited, looking grave and serious.

When Elsie had caught her breath, she stood up slightly to be a little more level with Charles. She reached for her cup of water, but he was quicker than her and brought the straw to her lips. She sipped at it, thanked him and then settled herself properly against the cushions Charles had put in place for her. He was making it difficult for her.

"Charles, what I have to tell you is not easy for me. I had planned to come home, to plan a happy time just you and me you know. We would have taken half a day at the same time, we would have gone for a picnic by the lake, and I would have taken your hand and I..."

Her breath caught in her sobs and her laboured breathing. Charles waited patiently, the doctor had told him not to make her talk too much. He tried to tell her to calm down, that she needed to rest, that she would talk to him in the afternoon or the next day and that in the meantime he could do the talking for both of them. But she stopped him with a wave of her hand, wiped away her tears and resumed in a voice barely higher than a whisper.

"I wanted to tell you that there was a possibility of a future for both of us, if you had asked me to marry you, I would have said yes. But you see, Charles, that's all over now. I won't marry you, I'm finished, I'm nothing. Something has been taken away from me, the best part of me has been taken away. I'm nothing now, and I wish I'd died, never woken up. Do you understand, Charlie? I can't be yours any more, I'm not your Elsie. When we meet again at Downton Abbey I'll be Mrs Hughes to you and you'll be Mr Carson again, because it hurts too much, because I can't bear it. I'm not strong enough for this, Charlie, do you understand?"

No, he didn't understand. She was telling him that she didn't want him any more, that she was finished, that she would have preferred to die, that she had considered marrying him one day but didn't want to now, that she was in pain. But hurt for what? No, he didn't understand and he tried to tell her.

"Elsie I don't understand what you are saying to me my love, of course we can be together. You have been very ill my dear but you will get better, you will come back to the Abbey with me and we will take care of you until you are well. And everything will be as it was before my love, you and I in charge of the ship.

-You don't understand, Charles! God, Charlie, I'm so sorry, I feel so horrible. Forgive me my love, please forgive me." She began to sob, her free hand resting on her belly, clutching her sheet so tightly that the knuckles of her fingers turned white.

"There's nothing to forgive Elsie, nothing at all. Calm down my love, please calm down, you need to stay calm."

-Oh my Charlie, oh my love. I've lost him, our baby, I've lost him!"

Charles felt as if he was in a boxing ring and every word Elsie said was an uppercut that knocked him out.

"The baby? I don't..." He ran his hand over his forehead, took a breath and tried to put the words together properly. "Elsie, were you pregnant? I didn't know." He said in a whisper. He managed to hold back the sob that choked him but not his tears.

"I was two and a half months pregnant, the pregnancy was terminated due to infection and high fevers. She answered him in a dull voice, as if she was no longer really with him.

Charles nodded, taking in the news. Elsie, his Elsie, his love, had been pregnant and she was no longer pregnant. She had almost died, she had survived. The baby; THEIR baby, no.

He didn't know what to do or say. He wanted to yell at everyone, at the nurse and her compassionate look, at the doctor for not telling him, at himself for feeling so angry and at Elsie for not telling him she was pregnant. If he had known he would have taken care of her, he would have forbidden her to go and take care of her sick old cousin or whoever. He would have built a cocoon of love for her and the baby and they would both have been safe from sickness and grief.

He got up, started pacing around the hospital bed where she was lying. He didn't want to let his grief get the better of him, so anger took over.

"How long did you know you were carrying our child Elsie?

-I was a month pregnant when I found out.

-So you had a month and a half to tell me. Why didn't you?

-Because you'd have felt obliged to overprotect me, and you'd probably have resigned to find us a place to live, without telling me. You would have given up Downton Abbey, which means more to you than anything else, you would even have turned your back on your dear little Lady Mary, and I was afraid you would have blamed the baby and me for forcing you to give up this life you are so rightfully proud of. So I waited, I thought about what I wanted. And I had finally figured out how to tell you, I had figured out how you could have kept your job as a butler and kept an eye on your child. But..." She fell silent, overwhelmed by her own sadness, by this impossible mourning.

He returned to sit beside her in the cold, uncomfortable chair.

"Elsie, you know I would have listened to you, I would have heard you.

-Yes, maybe, but it doesn't really matter now, Charles, it's over.

-What do you mean?

-This. We're over. You and I are finished, Charles. We won't meet again. I don't want to. I can't risk losing my job. It's always easier for men, but I risk ruin and dishonour. So, you and I will keep this story to ourselves, anyway there is nothing more to say. There's nothing more, it's over." She continued to cry, and Charles continued to hold her hand, stunned by the flood of news that was coming at him and the earth continued to shake beneath his feet.

She had to end it, so she drove the knife into the painful wound of the man she loved, resuming her cold, professional housekeeper's tone:

"Go back to Downton Abbey tomorrow, Mr Carson. I'm out of the woods. If I am to believe the doctor, in a week I shall be there as a governess too. I'm grateful to you for coming to my bedside, Mr Carson. But go back to your life as it was before... all this thing. Go on, back to the house. Now I've talked too much, I'm tired, I'd like to sleep and get some strength. Goodbye Mr. Carson."

She lay down completely, pulled the sheet up under her chin, got into the fetal position and turned her back to him. She had closed her eyes, she didn't want to see him go. But she had to protect herself, protect him too, protect her reputation and position. She heard a slight sob followed by a sigh and a rather inelegant sniff, then she heard the chair scrape the floor and his voice: "Well, if that's what you want Mrs Hughes, I'll take the first train tomorrow morning. I am glad to see you are better. Goodbye Mrs Hughes." Charles's voice was broken, full of tears, anger at her certainly. But she would rather he hated her than mourned her, it would be easier for him. She heard him walking, listened to his footsteps until she could not hear them at all. There, he was gone, it was over.

oOo

Two months later things were back to normal at Downton Abbey. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes ran the house as they always had. Charles tried to avoid Elsie as much as possible, they were forced to sit side by side at meals, but neither he nor she lingered too long. In the evenings, they locked themselves away in their offices and if one of them went upstairs to bed, the other waited patiently for their turn so that they wouldn't have to pass each other in the corridor.

They were in pain.

Carson was often angry and he took it out on his footmen or his hall boys who had come to really fear him and didn't dare approach him at all to ask him this or that as part of their training. Elsie seemed extinguished, her work was still impeccably done, but her eyes no longer sparkled, she spoke only when necessary and even her arguments with the cook had ceased when she had wearily left her a spare key to the storeroom.

One night, unable to sleep, Charles went downstairs to get a book from Lord Grantham's extensive library and a glass of water.

As he reached the kitchen, he saw light coming from his study. He sighed, his anger surging as it had for the last two months. He walked briskly into his pantry and found Elsie sitting in her chair, her face in her hands, her body shaking with sobs. When she heard him, she pulled herself together, wiped her face and rose from the butler's chair.

"What are you doing here, Mrs Hughes ? Isn't your office enough to keep you from invading my space ?"

She shook her head.

"I'm sorry Charles, sorry I hurt you so much. I didn't mean any of this.

-Yeah well... um, it's too late now.

-Yes, it's too late, I know, and I think it's for the best, but I see you suffering and getting angry at those who had nothing to do with it, when I'm the only one who deserves your anger. I didn't mean to hurt you Charles. I wanted - I want what's best for both of us.

-And you know what's best for me ? Stop it Elsie, stop it."

He had almost spat out his words and he was forced to admit that taking his anger out on her felt good.

"In the end it's better this way, you're right. Elsie, is this what you wanted ? To let me get close to you, to let me love you, to care about you... pfff what a fool I was."

She had come closer to him, she felt like he had slapped her with his words, but at least his anger was coming out, it would do her good. It didn't matter, if it had been weeks and weeks that she felt like she was falling down the drain, she wanted him to get better. Hate me my love, hate me if it makes you happier.

He watched her come towards him, she reached out in his direction but he swept it away with a backhand that snapped and made her recoil in fright. He'd never raised a hand to anyone, not even that lout Grigg. He immediately raised his hands in apology and peace. He was now more sad than angry. He looked at her intensely, he found her beautiful, undeniably, madly beautiful. He still loved her, he would probably love her to the end. But they had to bury this story. They had to mourn in their own way for a life they would never have. For this baby that they had not been given time to love, but who was nevertheless such a strong part of them. Charles let out a breath of contained grief before saying:

"I would have married you, you know? I would have married you. I would have found us a little house to raise our children in. I would have given Lord Grantham my resignation on the spot.

I would have married you, not because I got you pregnant, not because I had to. I would have married you because... I was madly in love with you, Elsie.

He turned his back on her and walked out of the room forgetting the glass of water he wanted to drink and the book he wanted to read. He quickly went upstairs to his room to muffle his tears in his blankets.

Elsie had remained motionless for a moment after Charles' words. Then she had collapsed to her knees on the floor, muffling her cries of pain and sorrow in the hand she had clamped to her mouth. She had lost both her loves, she was crying for her dead heart now.

oOo

As the years passed, they gradually found a friend in each other.

They began to share a glass of wine or sherry in the evenings to report on the running of the house and to indulge in a few confidences. But they were still very professional.

Their relationship deepened slowly and naturally, and in the summer of 1923, she finally held out her hand to him. As the waves were crashing down at their feet, she told him : « We're getting on, Mr. Carson, You and I, we can afford to live a little.* ». He then tenderly slipped his hand into Elsie's. They had found each other at last, they were finally steady.

FIN

Sorry for the depressing little story, but it ends well. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Please remember that English is not my first language at all, so be kind and forgiving.