A/N: By popular demand, here is Part 2 of "Everything is Ending," told by everyone's favorite solicitor-turned-heir, Matthew Crawley.

Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey

Enjoy~

Ever since returning from the front, Matthew found it impossible to sleep as soundly as he once had. The sound of over a hundred soldiers moving through the trenches like debris in the gutter after a heavy rainstorm remained in his memory, from the brush of wool uniforms against each other on the way to the mess hall, to the crack! of shots being fired at the Germans and the sickening crack! of bodies underfoot as Matthew and his men retreated. Whenever he closed his eyes in hopes that the darkness would convince his body to give in to sleep, images that belonged in his nightmares more than they belonged in his memories played out behind Matthew's closed eyelids.

Tonight, the sounds of the trenches and battlefields fell silent, and the disorganized fragments of flying debris and bloodied soldiers disappeared. Mary occupied his thoughts instead, sitting with her hands folded loosely in her lap and telling him the same story she'd told at dinner the other night, the one about Perseus and Andromeda.

He listened to her speak, his eyes drifting shut as she neared the ending he knew would come. Perseus saved Andromeda; the ending never changed, and never would change. True, stories such as the one Mary now recited were subject to embellishment and some details were often omitted, but they always ended the same way.

Perseus would always save Andromeda from the sea monster, regardless of if the princess was clothed or in the nude, or if she was chained to a post or a rock. It would always be the same, because good always prevailed, and Perseus was good.

"...the sea monster claimed Andromeda as his own, and King Cepheus's kingdom was restored."

Matthew sat up in bed, his heart racing as if he'd had a nightmare.

No, that couldn't be it.

That wasn't how the story ended. It ended with Perseus saving Andromeda and killing the sea monster, it always did. Nothing ever changed; good always triumphed.

Always.

But not this time, he realized, his mind racing back to when Mary had told him the story for the first time.

They'd been sitting at dinner, Lord and Lady Grantham, the Dowager, Sir Richard, Lavinia, and Mary's sisters present as well. It had been very unlike Mary (at least Matthew thought) to show such interest in a myth, and he should've known that there was a reason behind it.

She was trying to tell me something, Matthew thought, sitting up in bed, his blue eyes staring into the darkness. But what?

Sighing, Matthew folded back the duvet and slipped out from under the covers, retrieving his dressing gown before heading for the door. If anything, a walk around the house was likely to clear his head, and maybe solve the mystery that had so suddenly presented itself.

Mary was clearly Andromeda; that was easy enough to figure out, but who was he? Was he the sea monster, or was he Perseus? If he was Perseus, he was doing a rotten job of saving Mary from the sea monster, which had to be Sir Richard, it just had to.

You had your chance to save her, and she refused to be saved, he reminded himself as he closed the door behind him, keeping a strong grip on the doorknob so the door wouldn't creak as he closed it. You're not responsible for her choices.

Oh, but he was, wasn't he?

It was because of him that she was marrying Sir Richard and embracing a life that would take her away from Downton, her home. No doubt she had expected to spend the rest of her days alongside the future Earl of Grantham and her children at her childhood home, but he had taken that away from her, hadn't he?

If you truly loved her, you would've given her a second chance, he thought, his memory drifting back to when she'd rebuked his proposal, back before the war had started. Everything had been so uncertain then, with Lady Grantham pregnant, potentially with an heir to the estate, which would make Matthew useless to Mary if she wanted Downton.

If she wanted him, she would've said "yes," regardless of the uncertainty that had permeated the air during Lady Grantham's pregnancy. She would have taken him as he'd been before the letter from Lord Grantham made the solicitor from Manchester the heir to an earldom, and they would be happy together.

He made his way to the railing that overlooked the entry hall, folding his arms atop the stone and shifting his weight forward so he was leaning against it, as if he were a child who didn't know any better than not to lean over railings. He breathed in the still air, closing his eyes against the dimly-lit vestibule and the coats of arms that were lined up on the opposite side.

In that moment of still darkness, two thoughts crossed his mind.

First, how many heirs to the estate had faced the same dilemma that he now faced?

And second, how many members of the Crawley line had jumped to their deaths from where he stood?

The first question made sense enough; it was human nature to wonder what those before had done in certain hardships, was it not? That was the point of history, so there would be a model for those in present times could look to the past for guidance when there didn't seem to be a way out.

It was the second question that perturbed Matthew. Why would he think such a thing? It would be foolish to contemplate ending his own life, not only because he was perfectly happy (the situation with Mary excused), but because there were so many things that depended on him. Who would look after his mother? Who would inherit the estate?

Matthew shook his head, dismissing the morbid curiosity that had prompted his second thought. It wouldn't do to think like that, it simply wouldn't. He ought to be ashamed of himself for thinking such a thing. Jumping from the railing probably wouldn't even be enough to end his life, just break a few bones, and then he would have the law to answer to.

A chill ran down his spine (it never ceased to surprise him, how drafty it could be), and Matthew forced his eyes open, afraid he might fall asleep at the railing and startle a few of the servants when they came through in the morning.

That would be a tale they'd tell for decades, he thought, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. I'll be known as the earl who fell asleep in the hall. God forbid it becomes a habit.

He was turning to leave when he spotted someone standing in the shadows of the hall across from him. He squinted to see, managing to determine that the figure was female, with a dark braid lying atop a pale nightdress, but nothing beyond that.

Mary?

He almost called out to her, but the low, resonating chimes of the grandfather clock in the hall reminded him of the hour, which was too early to be speaking above a whisper. Instead he remained silent, watching her gaze longingly at the vestibule, at the hall beneath them, and even up at the vaulted ceiling. A few minutes passed like this, until the woman's eyes fell upon him, and for the first time since her appearance, Matthew could see each proud feature of her face in the half-light, and his heart lept in his chest.

Mary.

Before he could make his way to her, Mary turned away, returning to the shadows that lined the hallway of the women's rooms, disappearing from view more gradually than she had come.

Matthew was left stranded in the still half-light with the same words that perched themselves on his lips every time the two crossed paths.

Mary, please come back. Please wait.

A/N: So there's the end of Part 2! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading. As per the usual, reviews are more than welcome, and I hope to keep working in this AU in the future.