A/N: The third of the three updates! Go back to CHAPTER 6 if you haven't read that or ch 7 yet ... or you'll be quite confused, I think, about a few details.

"Pictures of You" by The Cure. Great song. Go listen to it somewhere, like on my Spotify "Chelsie Potpourri" playlist, or even on YouTube. It's intense.

xx,

CSotA

Looking so long at these pictures of you

But I never hold on to your heart

Looking so long for the words to be true

But always just breaking apart,

My pictures of you.

Elsie woke just before dawn, barely able to move, her neck almost frozen in place.

Oh, honestly! You fell asleep sitting up, you foolish woman, she chided herself. Moving slowly, she forced her head into an upright position and massaged the back of her neck, then reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. Remembering she'd been looking through the wine ledger, she glanced down to verify that she'd not done it any harm in her sleep.

She was relieved to find its pages crisp and unblemished. She closed the book and rested it on her nightstand before pulling the staff album into her lap. Opening the front cover, Elsie slowly flipped through pages upon pages of photographs and names. Each page had a photograph, with the names and other information recorded below it. Every so often, smaller photos were added of certain staff: one appeared to be a cook and housekeeper, another a pair of ladies' maids, and their names were written directly below each photograph. But, for the most part, there was one solitary photo per year, going back decades. The staff would submit to the group photo just before the beginning of the Season, and the names and positions of each person photographed would be carefully inscribed by that year's housekeeper. Elsie glanced down at the date of the first photograph: 1892.

Flipping ahead, she stopped a few years later and saw herself as a head housemaid, standing stock still and looking rather proud to be part of the group. And she had been proud to be standing there; she'd been quite lucky to have been hired at Downton, and she knew it. She flicked her eyes over toward Mr. Carson, remembering how he'd been a bit thinner then, how there had been an absence of silver from his hair, and seeing that look of pride that she always associated with him. She scanned the names of the other staff members, thinking of stories she could recount to him about each one if the need arose. Yes, she thought, we'll start with this one.

The sun was just beginning its ascent, light peeking in through her bedroom window. Elsie carefully laid the photo album and Alice's picture on top of the ledger, then made her way to the wardrobe to pull out clothing for the day. She was all too well aware of how stiff she felt, kicking herself for first falling asleep practically on top of Mr. Carson, and then allowing herself to fall asleep sitting up last night.

She then stopped for a moment, and realization dawned: No other family are here except for Lady Mary, and she won't be up for hours! And I'm not expected to even WAIT on her!

Elsie smiled as she realized she had more than enough time for a long, hot bath. She laid her outfit over her bed, wrapped her dressing gown around herself, and headed off to fill the tub.

An hour later, Elsie felt like a new woman, dressed and ready to do battle once again with Charles Carson's formidable mind.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Lady Mary climbed the steps to the hospital, Mrs. Hughes at her side. She took a moment to look at the housekeeper, noticing something different in her demeanor but unable to pick out precisely what it was. Her hair, perhaps, Mary mused … well, maybe not ONLY that … She shook her head, unable to figure it out. Mrs. Hughes turned to face her and she realized exactly what it was: fear. She'd never seen the woman look fearful in all the time they'd been acquainted, and she realized that the housekeeper's trepidation mirrored her own. She tentatively reached out for the woman's forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. She noticed Mrs. Hughes startle at the motion, but then give a small smile and nod in return. Thus fortified, they passed through the hospital's doors.

"Lady Mary," the woman at the window greeted her, "welcome back." The matron looked past Mary and nodded to Elsie, who managed a relatively bright, "Good morning, Ma'am."

"Mr. Carson is awake this morning, Milady. Dr. Gill is expecting you both and asked me to send you directly back to Mr. Carson's room. Do you remember the way?"

"Yes," came Elsie's quick reply, and she noticed that Lady Mary seemed happy for it. Elsie wondered if it was her years in service that had enabled her mind to make quick sense of the rabbit's warren that was the hospital's halls, wondered if Lady Mary was perhaps lacking in that ability. No matter, she thought, we're on our way now.

Dr. Gill stopped them just outside of Carson's room. "Good morning," he greeted them. "I wondered if we might speak before you head on in?"

"Of course," Lady Mary replied. "Is everything alright?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, actually, things seem remarkably improved this morning. Mr. Carson woke early and has made a great deal of progress in his recollection of who he is. He remembers now that he is a butler, although most details of your family still remain a mystery to him. But we started asking questions related to his work, to people whom he may have encountered over his time at Downton Abbey, and he was quite easily able to answer most of them. He is worried that he is not currently able to work, but we tried to calm him and seem to have succeeded in convincing him that your family are quite happy for him to remain in hospital to be cared for as long as that's necessary."

"Quite right. May we go in to see him now?"

"Absolutely," replied the doctor, moving aside to allow the women in. Elsie didn't budge.

"Lady Mary, why don't you go first?" She wasn't sure how to say it out loud, but she wished to speak with the doctor – privately.

"If you're sure?" Mary answered. "Then, yes, thank you." She headed in, smiling at Carson and clutching the items she'd brought along in her hand.

"Carson, it's so good to see you looking so well," she told him warmly.

"Thank you, Milady," he answered. "Things are coming back to me rather quickly, but …"

"… but you do not yet recognize me." She swallowed, but wasn't deterred. "That's quite alright. I'm happy to hear from Dr. Gill that you're doing much better. You do remember Downton now?"

"In bits and pieces, yes," he answered. "I can recall the Abbey itself, and many of the rooms, and I do now remember that I am your butler."

"Excellent." Mary placed her handbag on the bedside table and handed some items to Carson.

"I brought these along with me, to hopefully jog your memory even more. But you must tell me if it all becomes too much for you."

"Thank you," he replied, taking the items from her hands. "I shall."

As he moved his fingers across the first item – a photograph – something tickled his memory. He looked up at Mary, then back at the photograph, and returned his gaze once more to Mary's face. "Your grandmother, yes?" he asked, struggling. "… Violet? Lady Violet?"

Mary beamed. "Yes! Exactly … you've known her a number of years, Carson. How about the other two?" she asked with no small amount of trepidation.

Charles placed the photograph of Lady Violet aside and examined the other two items she'd handed him: another photograph, this one a bit smaller than the first, and a tiny stuffed animal. He turned them both over in his hands for a moment, the small dog almost dwarfed by his palm. He returned his gaze to hers, held it up, and asked hesitantly, "Is this yours, Milady? I feel as though it is."

She nodded. "And the photograph?" she asked in a whisper.

He shook his head, looking at the face that was looking back at him. A young man in a soldier's uniform – blond hair, definitely not resembling this Lady Mary, he thought, so likely not family. He felt that the young man looked much too serious for the youth that the photograph portrayed, although the uniform did explain that away.

"No, I'm sorry … I cannot recall who this is." Then he returned his gaze to the little dog, and added, "I presume they go together somehow? In a way that I might recognize?"

"Yes," she replied softly, "but that's fine. Most would not recognize the connection, and we only spoke of it once." She reined in her emotions once again and reached into her handbag for her final selection, the bits she'd withheld from the rest thinking she may not even bother. "These are the last things I've brought, but I plan to bring more items next time if you're up to the task."

He nodded quickly. "Oh, please do, Milady. I feel more … myself … today, looking at these, even though I can't get everything just yet." He held his hand out as he said it, and she dropped a few wrapped candies in his hand.

"Peppermints," he whispered softly. He looked up at her then, staring intently at her face in a way that made both of them slightly uncomfortable, and she saw the glimpse of recognition in his eyes only a half-second before he spoke. "You like these. They're your favorites, aren't they?" he asked hesitantly, his eyes crinkling as his head tilted, his soft eyes still examining her.

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, they are. And only you would know that, Carson. So just because you can't quite remember me at the moment, the fact that you know that puts my mind at ease."

"Good," he said, patting her hand briefly before holding the candies out for her. "Then you should take these back, Milady."

Mary rose. "Excellent. Oh, Carson, it's so wonderful to see you returning to us at last!"

"Thank you. I'm sorry I can't recall everything, I feel rather guilty about that," he said, looking down at his lap. "It's rather frustrating, I don't mind telling you."

"Please don't worry yourself. And as I am not your last visitor of the day, I will bid you good-bye for now. Have faith, Carson – you've come such a long way today."

"I will," he replied, his brow furrowed. "Who else is here?"

Just then, Mary turned and stepped aside as she heard Mrs. Hughes approach, the clip of the older woman's tentative steps getting louder as they approached the bedside. "Mr. Carson," she said softly, "you look very well!"

Mary watched Carson's face light up with joy and relief as he laid his eyes upon their housekeeper, then allowed her eyes to move between the two of them, feeling as each second passed that she was intruding on some intensely private moment once again.

"Elsie," he said reverently, reaching his hands out to take hers, keeping them mid-air until she deposited the basket she'd been carrying onto the floor so she could grasp them. "Oh, thank God."

Elsie was completely taken aback, seeing his eyes full of love and recognition – and an intense gaze of something else, something she wasn't sure she needed Lady Mary noticing at all.

"Mr. Carson," she whispered, "oh, but you've not called me that in such a very long time."

He looked puzzled for a moment, but shook his head as he lifted her hands to his lips and brushed them with a kiss. "Oh, Elsie, I am so glad they sent for you. If anyone can help me remember the rest, I know it's you."

Neither of them saw as Mary headed out the door, suddenly feeling horribly out of place. Well, that's one thing sorted … the 'wife' has been found.

And … we're getting somewhere. Did any of you doubt me? :)

So here's where I beg for reviews once more, as I have no shame. xx