A/N: There are so many great quotes about age/ ageing that it's hard to choose from, so for this one-shot I decided for one that was always a favourite of mine. Because it's true and because I simply love word plays.

Age is a question of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. - Leroy "Satchel" Paige

The scene is from S5, Baxley obviously. What else?

I always hate it when scenes are left unfinished in a way, like when two people are talking and then they just cut to the next scene and you don't know if that conversation is really over yet and they part ways or not.

Thank heavens for Molesley, Miss Baxter thought as soon as he had stepped forward in the servants hall and rescued her from Thomas' bullying once again.

After they had been out of earshot from the other workers, he had inquired of course, what it was that Thomas wanted from her. Miss Baxter had only given him as little information as possible about the matter. He thinks I know something about Mr. Bates, she had said and that she couldn't tell Lady Grantham about Thomas' behaviour towards her. Molesley had, in his never faltering kindness, accepted that she couldn't tell him any more about the matter, either. Even though he didn't understand what was going on between her and Thomas Barrow.

Baxter tried to offer him a small smile, it would reassure him that things were alright. Complicated, yes, but alright. Molesley said nothing, instead he leaned his head to one side, pressing his eyes together a little. She supposed he was contemplating what they had just talked about, slowly making up his own mind about it. Probably also thinking about what it could be that she might know about Mr. Bates that Thomas could use against the man. She had been rather cryptic in her answers, after all.

After a moment, though, Molesley began to move his head from one side to the other, and a little back in a more than unbecoming way. Baxter wondered what had urged the sudden movements.

„What is it?" She asked.

„What's what?" Molesley replied, his voice as unnervingly high as it always was when he was getting nervous about nothing.

Baxter watched him with concern, elaborating her question, „You're doing something funny with your head. Sort of, tilting it."

Dumbfounded, he tried to deny the movement, „I'm not, am I?" It was hopeless, though. The words left his mouth so fast that there was no way that the movement hadn't been intentional.

„How do you think I look?" Now, that was unexpected, Baxter thought. She couldn't make the connection between his strange behaviour and that question. His antics were starting to worry her.

„Why? Have you got a rash?" She asked him, frowning in concern.

„I've not got a rash", Molesley retorted, more than slightly taken aback by her insinuation.

„That's alright, then." Baxter blinked.

Instead of leaving the matter be, Molesley had decided it was time to elaborate even further, „No, what I meant was, ... how old do you say I am?"

He sounded rather defeated, Baxter noticed in his voice. This whole conversation was really getting more and more absurd with every second.

„I don't know, maybe 52?" She answered as honestly as she could. She couldn't have guessed that her answer would startle him, but that was how he looked all of a sudden when all he managed to say was, „Oh."

„Why? How old are you?" She softly wanted to know. She didn't know why but she was still a little concerned about him.

„Fifty-one", he stated. Molesley gave her a heartbreaking look. It was as if she had insulted him somehow by assuming him to be a year older than he actually was. She gave him a sympathetic smile when he sighed and slumped his shoulders a little.

It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed. Everybody who wasn't blind actually must have noticed how Molesley's hair had suddenly become much darker over the past two days. Most of the servants had been joking about it when he wasn't around and Baxter had found herself inwardly chuckling at his attempt to improve his appearance as well. Now, she felt bad for making fun of him, even if it was just in her mind. Obviously, Molesley had intended to make himself look younger and apparently, it had had the opposite effect. At least, if he believed her assumptions about his age. She felt bad for making him feel bad when all he ever was to her was kind.

She tried to make it up to him, this time giving him a real, bigger smile, „But you look good for 51, I'd say."

The nervous giggle Molesley was giving her in return did nothing to ease the awkwardness. It took him a few moments to find his voice again and say, „You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Why else would she compliment him? He was just an ageing fool who failed miserably at his attempt to look, … well, less ageing.

„No, I'm not", Miss Baxter said and there was such a simplicity in the tone of her voice that he believed her.

Before Molesley could even thank her for those words, Daisy appeared in the doorway. „Miss Baxter", the young woman called out, „her Ladyship's bell rang just a minute ago!"

On that note, Baxer collected herself immediately and hurried up towards Lady Grantham's room. Molesley instead, was left standing at the foot of the stairway for minutes after, staring at the long deserted stairs, thinking about how kind and caring Miss Baxter always was and how she always found the right words to say. He didn't mind now, that dying his hair had not helped at all to make him look younger. He also didn't notice himself being watched until he heard the harsh words of the underbutler, „Don't you have anywhere to be, Mr. Molesley? This is disgusting!", pointing at the stairs, no doubt referring to Molesley's daydreaming.

You know what would make me happy!

-lizzie