Here it is; the second part! As always, reviews are heaven sent & much appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

Never had the house been so silent. Mary coaxed her eyes open to see her bedroom around her, dark and meticulously clean. Everything was exactly how it should have been, with the exception of two things. The first was Anna, who was slumped in an armchair with her eyes closed, and second was the appearance of a rather peculiar object beside her bed. It looked to be a sort of army cot, with the added surprise of having Matthew sprawled out on top of it, arms hanging over the sides as he slept. He had on light pants, a linen shirt and waistcoat and the wrinkled state of his outfit entertained the idea that he had not changed in a few days. His shoes had been carelessly kicked to the floor at the foot of his cot. What was he doing in here? As confused as Mary was, she could not bring herself to be upset or worried about it; just his presence was oddly comforting. Trying to recall the events prior to falling asleep (that's what she assumed had happened), all she managed to do was bring up brief images that flashed behind her eyes: gliding down the main stairs in the dead of the night; the earth beneath her feet as she padded barefoot across the grass; the icy rain on her exposed flesh; laying under the leaves of the old weeping willow; Matthew's clear blue eyes gazing down at her, his features etched with worry; whispered truths and the gentle sway of his stride; reaching for his fingers as she fought to remain conscious. Mary watched his peaceful slumber; noticing that even in sleep Matthew still looked troubled. She admired the slight rise and fall of his chest, the way his light blond hair flopped across his forehead. Kept company by the two people dearest to her heart, Mary felt an incredible sense of peace settle in, despite the pounding in her head and the exhaustion that threatened to pull her under again. A rustling from the other side of the room caught her attention. Unwilling to take her eyes off Matthew, Mary listened to the sound of swishing material, shortly joined by the soft noise of quiet footsteps. Anna walked into view and smiled down at Matthew, gently lifting one of his arms back up onto the cot. She bent down to pick something up off the floor. When she straightened up again, Anna placed a small object in Matthew's open palm, her kind smile widening as his fingers instantly closed around it. Mary recognized the small stuffed dog she had given Matthew on the platform all those years ago.

"Mary!"

Mary glanced up from Matthew to see Anna staring right at her with tears in her eyes.

"Good morning Anna," Mary whispered, unable to raise her voice any louder.

"Morning m'lady," Anna answered with a laugh, overcome with relief that she had finally woken. Mary's eyes dropped to Matthew again, still clutching the somewhat scruffy old toy. Anna's eyes followed Mary's.

"Do you wish me to wake him, m'lady?"

"We should let him rest."

"I believe he would want to be roused. He did say he wanted to speak with you before your family was called in."

Mary's stomach fluttered.

"Very well then," she whispered. Anna bent over and began to gently shake Matthew.

"Mr. Crawley, sir, Mr. Crawley wake up!"

After a moment, Matthew's eyes flew open and he sat up frantically, his face immediately creasing with worry as he turned towards Mary.

"What happ –, " his panicked question died on his lips as he met Mary's eyes.

"Hello Matthew," Mary murmured; her voice still barely above a whisper.

"Oh thank God," he breathed, "Oh god you're alive. You made it." Matthew swung his legs off the cot and knelt at the side of Mary's bed, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. He clasped her hand and dropped his head forward onto the bed with a strangled laugh of relief. Mary was again confused, why was he so amazed that she was alive? Had she come close to death?

"Matthew," she rasped and he raised his head to look at her. She was shocked at the amount of affection she found in his eyes.

"Matthew, what's happened?"

The light in his eyes seemed to dissipate as if a large shadow had crossed his face.

"You caught the Spanish flu Mary."

"Was it very bad?"

"You've been unconscious for four days. The fever just kept climbing; it almost claimed your life a few times."
"But it didn't."

"No, it didn't," he confirmed, a distinct admiration now evident in his features.

"And you were here all that time?" she asked.

"Yes I was," Matthew answered, blushing slightly.

"Why?"

Matthew searched her face, trying to gauge her feelings. He expected her usual cold distain, stubborn defiance, and famous haughtiness. But all he found was an honest curiosity; something that threw him slightly off guard. For the first time, straight up honesty seemed to be the best option.

"Because I promised you I would stay."

"You shouldn't have listened Matthew."

"Of course I should have."

"It was wrong of me to ask. What if you had gotten sick?"

"I would have stayed even if you haven't asked me too."

"Why?"

Her question bounced around in his head. It was simple enough, why had he stayed? What had possessed him to fight so venomously to remain at her bedside for four days, refusing to even come down for dinner? In the end it all boiled down to one simple fact. The first time her breath had faltered, the first time he was told she would not make it, that lone, elusive fact had finally hit him with the force of a hurricane. He loved her. Matthew had denied it for years, over and over again, refused to accept that one simple fact until she was dying before his eyes. He had been absolutely terrified that he wouldn't be able to tell her, that she would die without ever knowing the depth of his true feelings. Mary had pulled through that night; had fought off death twice more in the days following, and now she was laying before him, waiting for an answer. Why?

"I love you," he whispered, brushing his lips to her thin fingers.

"Don't say that," she answered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Why ever not? It's the truth."

"You are too great for me Matthew. I don't deserve your love; I never have."

"Mary you've made mistakes, but so have I – "

"No Matthew," she interrupted, "I did something, made a mistake, long ago, something I never told you about."
"What?"

Mary looked away from him for what felt like the first time since she had regained consciousness. It was time for the truth.

"Mary please. Tell me; though whatever it is, it won't matter. It couldn't possibly matter."

"But it does." She turned to face him again.

"Matthew, I am not virtuous."

"What?" Matthew gasped, surprised by her confession. It was certainly the last thing he had expected her to say.

"It happened years ago – long before you proposed. Kemal Pamuk, he found my room, I don't know how, and he, he wouldn't leave. And he, he just died. In here, in my bed – "

"Mary," Matthew cut her off. He could see the distress her confession was causing her and he didn't need to hear anymore. It didn't matter.

"I don't care about that. It doesn't matter to me. Maybe there is a time when it would have, but certainly not now. The things I've seen, the events of these last years, things have been put in perspective for me. I know what is important, and what's important to me is you – you; alive and with me. Let the past be the past; those days are gone and there is nothing we can do to change them. All we can do is move forward. Together." His face was honest, his voice soft. The earnest look in his eyes reminded her of the old Matthew, the sweet country solicitor, the man he had been until he had been forced to learn to hide his feelings just like the rest of them. What he was saying went against everything she had been taught to believe, but she couldn't help but be swayed by the power of his conviction. It was time to take a leap of faith.

"I love you too," was all she could say back, her weak voice wavering under the emotion. Upon hearing those words fall from Mary's lips, the world around him shattered. His world of grief and misery broke into a million shards of glass, falling at his feet and revealing a whole new world; a world that burnt with the intensity, all shinning down on him and his love – Mary. An irrepressible laugh broke free from his lips, the kind of giddy, joyful laugh that can only follow heart wrenching despair. It was infectious and they laughed together, entwining their fingers tightly. Still very weak, Mary could not laugh for long and simply settled for beaming at Matthew. Matthew's own laughter died down and he lifted their entwined fingers to his lips, lightly kissing each of her fingertips. Mary sighed in utter contentment, letting her eyelids close as she concentrated on the silky soft feel of Matthew's lips.

"My darling Mary," he breathed, marveling in the freedom to address her with such love and affection. He noticed the effort it took for her to open her eyes, and remembered that although the worst had passed, she was still very ill.

"My darling you need your rest. Why not go back to sleep?" he asked.

"If my condition was really as bad as you have told me, I must see my family," she responded weakly, now fighting viciously to stay awake, "You must go and get them."

"I will fetch them m'lady," Anna piped up as she reentered the room, having previously slipped out in order to give them some much needed privacy.

"Thank you Anna," Matthew and Mary chorused in union. With a small bob, Anna turned and left the room.

"That girl's loyalty is astounding," Matthew commented after the door closed.

"We've been through a bit together, and frankly, I've never had a better friend," Mary explained.

"She was the one who found you. She ran all the way to Crawley House to fetch me. You should have seen her, what a force of nature!"

Mary laughed, "She's made of strong stuff."

They fell quiet again and when Matthew thought that Mary was almost asleep, she spoke again.

"Matthew," she whispered, her voice betraying her true exhaustion, "you must promise me that you will get some proper rest, and food, now that I am better. No more sleeping on army cots."

"As you wish," he acquiesced, becoming aware of his own wariness. By the time her family arrived only moments later, Matthew had slumped forward on the bed and they were both deep in the peaceful slumber in years.

Over the next days, Mary's health rapidly recovered and she was soon back to walking around the grounds, yet no one made any move to end Matthew's stay at Downton. The two were inseparable. They spent their time reading books in the library, playing chess in the sitting room, and taking walks about the grounds. They found a surprising amount of enjoyment in their games of chess, finding that their equal intelligence was finally on an even plane. It didn't take long for them to launch into playing mind games, dragging out the matches to unimaginable lengths. During their games they were virtually silent, wordlessly plotting each other's downfall. Their walks were spent in playful debate or comfortable silence, but never really touching the heavy stuff, the issues that needed addressing. A week after Mary woke, Matthew jumped the gap.

"What happened that night Mary?" he asked, breaking the silence around them.

"Which night?" Mary countered slowly.

"The night you fell ill," he answered softly.

"Oh," Mary was relieved, that was not what she had been expecting. "Let us walk." The two of them rose from their bench and started across the grass, Mary taking the lead.

"These past months, since Lavinia's death, my whole world went grey. I couldn't find any drive or reason to fight form one day to the next; I couldn't find any color. For the first time, the Abbey lost its warmth. Suddenly I noticed how cold the house was, how imposing the walls were, how utterly trapped I was. My home had become my prison," Mary tried to explain as they strolled over another hill. Her eyes were glassy as she spoke, looking anywhere but Matthew.

"I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I was being suffocated. I had to get out. Obviously I had nowhere to go, so I came here – my haven of sorts." As she finished, Matthew looked away from Mary and at the willow tree they were now standing in front of. It was the same willow tree he had found her under, and he had been so engrossed in her tale that he hadn't even noticed that they were approaching it. Mary smiled and pushed some of the thin branches back, creating a small space for them to walk through. Matthew ducked through the opening and listened crunching of leaves that indicated she had followed him. Again he was struck by the magic beauty of this hidden place. He took his time to admire the tiny kingdom around him, and realized that Mary was just as an integral part of its beauty as she had been on that dreadful morning a weak prior. Except this time, Mary had settled herself down at the base of the trunk, and she was sitting comfortably, smiling up at him as she gazed around in wonder. Once more she was in all white, and the green shadows dancing across her light dress and pale skin cast an enchanting illusion. His faerie queen; all she needed now was a flower in her hair. Matthew lent down to pick a few purple flowers that were growing amongst the grass and then knelt in front of Mary, tucking the soft petals into the folds of her intricate hairstyle. Mary smiled and lent into his hand as it came up to cup her cheek, releasing a soft sigh of contentment. Realizing how utterly inane any words would be at this moment; Matthew closed the remaining distance between them and brought her lips to his in the sweetest of kisses. It was a deep, searching kiss, and when Matthew pulled back for breath, the inevitable question bubbled past his lips.

"Lady Mary, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Another kiss, this time mare passionate, their lips and tongues clashing, hot breaths mingling and entwining with one another. When they again surfaced for air, long repressed desire and need shone in their eyes, surpassed by only one other emotion.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The power of language is never more prominent than in the declaration of those three words. Three simple words, one after another, possess a force that touches each and every one of us. Eight letters arranged just so, have the power to heal any wound, repair any damage. Three words have the power to change a life, save a life, to make all the strife and heartache worthwhile. And there, on that day, those three words, uttered once by each set of lips, gave them reason to fight once more.

So there we have it. My runaway one-shot has come to a close. Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed and added my humble little story to your alerts/ favorite lists, your support is what keeps me going :)!

Now that this is out of the way, I may be left in peace to work on the second part to Forever Silent, which is finally coming along due to MASSIVE help from ThatsLadySeaMonsterToYou! If it wasn't for her, I would probably have a significantly smaller amount of hair left on my head ;). So keep a look out for that please!

ATudorRose Xxx

Just look at that darling little review button… that one just there… can't you hear it calling?