Thank you for reading so far!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Downton Abbey...

December 1896

Anna grumbled in bed. Her whole body ached from her head to her feet. She had been lying sick in bed, to the point that she had been able to get up for almost a full week without assistance. She had never caught the flu before, and it took over her body with great enthusiasm; much worse than anyone she had ever known.

Tilly had been playing the little go-between nurse between Anna and her mother, bringing her cold rags, and warm rags, and cups and cups of water and tea. Anna thought it a shame the only time she really got along with Tilly was when one of them was sick. Over the past few days she had more serious conversations with her than she ever had. Anna wasn't going to complain.

"Do you need anything else?" Tilly inquired. Anna smiled meekly, reaching out for her sister's hand. Tilly grabbed it gently and sat on the edge of the bed. With her other hand, she put a cool rag on Anna's forehead.

"Shall I read a story to you?" Anna tried not to laugh. Tilly was only six, and although she was bright, she couldn't read very well, and certainly not a whole story. But she nodded. "As you wish."

Tilly pulled Anna's fairytale book off the dresser. She flipped to one of the pages that had been ripped in the corner. "The Child in the Grave."

Anna raised her eyebrows at her sister's choice of story. "But it's really quite morbid, Tilly."

"It's sweet in the end. It's not like The Little Mermaid. That one's morbid! I'll never know why you like it!" Anna laughed again at her sister's first attempt at using the word "morbid," throwing her into a coughing fit. Tilly helped her sit up on bed, and propped herself next to her.

Tilly struggled through the first sentence. Anna, who'd normally make her stop, smiled and closed her eyes. She quickly fell asleep but Tilly kept reading until she, too, fell asleep just as she was delivering the last line of the story.

"Tilly! Mam-" Flora entered the room in a shouting fashion, but found both her sisters fast asleep in the middle of evening. Flora yawned herself, but returned faithfully to her mother and father.

Mrs. Smith was slaving away to finish Christmas supper when she felt a nudge at her apron. "They're sleepin', mam!" Flora climbed onto her father's lap and the table and waited patiently to be fed.

"I'm glad they're getting some proper sleep. From the sound of it, they were having a good time in there a minute ago. Well, you know, laughter is the best medicine." Mrs. Smith chimed.

"Poor things." Mr. Smith said, smacking his tongue on his lips. "And Tilly was feeling warm this morning. Such an awful way to celebrate Christmas. But they're quite the little troopers." The rest of the family quietly tried to enjoy the rest of their Christmas evening together.

Anna finally began feeling better a few days later. She had successfully managed to stay in bed the whole night, and although her aching body was still bothering her, her cough wasn't so violent and her temperature, though still a little high, was quickly breaking.

Tilly, on the other hand wasn't. Her week of playing nurse had resulted in her own contagion. Every breath turned into a steady wheeze, which was occasionally met with coughing up blood-tinted mucus and vomit. She was glued in bed next to her sister.

Anna stroked Tilly's hair out of her face, as she held her tight through her shivering. Flora ran as fast as her little feet could take her between her parents room and their own, carrying sheets, coats, and blankets to try to keep her sister warm and comfortable.

"Do you need anything?" Anna inquired. Tilly squeezed her hand tight, and pulled her near herself. "Don't get up." Tilly fought back.

Anna sulked back in bed, giving in to her sister's request. "Read-" Tilly whispered putting on a half smile. Anna reached for the book on the other side of her sister.

"Shall I read The Little Mermaid?" Anna asked, chuckling to herself. She was thrilled the pain was starting to go away. Tilly shook her head violently, until Anna held it and reminded her not to move too much. "We'll read The Cripple. You like that one." Anna propped herself up against the wall, much like her sister had the night before.

She found herself reading the book with much greater ease than her sister, but still found it hard with a pounding headache and blurry vision.

By the time Anna had finished reading the relatively short story, Tilly had fallen asleep, surrounded by a pool of sweat. Anna took the blankets and sheets off her, climbed over her body, and headed into the kitchen to find a cool rag to place on her forehead.

Having used all the energy she could to manage it, Anna was consumed by the mattress once more. Laying her heavy head down she became aware of her breathing, and that of her sister's next to her.

She found herself listening as the wheezes became waves crashing as she closed her eyes. She grabbed her sister's hot hand and squeezed it.

Later that evening, Mr. Smith found his daughter's still sleeping when he returned home from work. He was saddened their condition wasn't much better, but thrilled they were getting along, as he always hoped they would.

He closed the door quietly behind them and retired to his room with his wife and youngest daughter.

"Michael-" There was a certain timid air in Mrs. Smith's breath. She grabbed his hand, over their daughter, as he lay in bed. "Should we call for a doctor?"

Michael sighed heavily. "We don't have money right now. Not a cent to spare. They'll just tell us she has the flu and offer this and that, which we already know. They were no real help with Anna, and she's just about on her feet again."

"If she isn't recovering in-"

"Then we'll send for a doctor." He kissed his wife's hand gently. "Rest. I'll not have any more ladies of the house being ill or sleepy."

She grumbled, taking after the spirit of her daughters, and tried to find a comfortable position in their tiny bed with three bodies. Her mind wandered for another thirty minutes or so, thinking of her daughter's wellbeing.

"Go to bed, Mae."

She grumbled again, but eventually allowed herself to sleep.

"Anna, can you run this in to your sister?" Anna obediently grabbed a cup of water from her mother and brought it to Tilly who, a few days later, was still very ill.

"Thank you, love." Her father thanked her. Anna took a seat next to her father who was trying to keep her sister cool. She took one of the pieces of fabric and put it in the bowl of water, following her father's lead.

Tilly was sleeping and had been for most of the afternoon. Her father had taken off work, with no pay, to meet with a doctor under the strong urge of his wife.

"She's worse than I was." Anna lamented, half blaming herself for her sister's illness. Michael placed the fairytale book next to his daughter.

Michael read Anna's face. "Don't blame yourself." Anna wasn't having any of it. She just looked away coyly, trying to hold back tears. "It could have come from anywhere." He took her hand, and grasped it tight. "Why don't you read a story to her."

Anna shrugged bitterly. "She won't hear it."

"She'll know."

Anna smiled, turning to her sister's favorite story and began to read, "Now listen! In the country, close by the high road, stood a farmhouse; perhaps you have passed by and seen it yourself…"

Tilly stirred a little, which took Anna and her father off guard. But Anna just sat closer and read a little softer, moving her sister's hand onto the page, tracing the illustrations.