A/N: Thanks for all your amazing reviews! To the guest reviewers, I wish I could respond to you! HUGE HUG to silhouettedswallow for pointing out inconsistencies here, I truly appreciate it.

Song choice (don't hurt me - there's a method to my madness) is "Wasted Time," by The Eagles. (I love them - great, great band.) I've put it up on my Spotify: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, Playlist: Chelsie Potpourri.

xx

CSotA

You never thought you'd be alone this far down the line,

And I know what's been on your mind

You're afraid it's all been wasted time.

The autumn leaves have got you thinking

About the first time that you fell

You didn't love the boy too much

No, no, you just loved the boy too well ...

It had been a very long, very busy morning, and by mid-afternoon things were finally starting to calm down. Dr. Clarkson had arrived to check up on Mr. Carson's progress, and the butler was hoping to be able to return to dinner service as soon as possible. It was approaching tea time when Anna's knock startled a quite-exhausted Elsie, who was still trying to make sense of her ledger.

"Mrs. Hughes, Doctor Clarkson would like a word. Is this a good time?"

Elsie sighed, nodding. "It's as good a time as any, I suppose. Where might I find him?"

"He said to tell you he'd be out in the garden, actually," Anna said, a look of confusion on her face. "I do hope everything is alright."

"I'm sure it is, thank you. I must say, I won't mind getting out for a bit." Elsie rose and thanked Anna, then left her office. Having been unable to sleep well following her midnight chat with Mr. Carson, Elsie knew that a good dose of sunshine and fresh air would do her good; it certainly wouldn't do to fall asleep at her desk before dinner.

As she made her way out of the servants' entrance and walked around to the gardens, Elsie reflected on how her relationship with Mr. Carson had changed over the years. When she'd first arrived at Downton as head housemaid, Elsie expected they would maintain a strict, professional relationship, particularly since he was her superior. Then she became housekeeper, an event which arrived much sooner than either of them had anticipated and, from that point on, Mr. Carson had to accept her as an equal (or almost, she thought). No one at the house knew that Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had been previously acquainted; since her arrival they'd been pretending to be strangers who were forging a new relationship from nothing at all, a collegial existence that was a way of getting to know each other once again, albeit in a very different way. She had initially told herself she wouldn't pressure him into discussing what was past as she had anticipated that he'd feel the need to bury that knowledge deep down inside himself; therefore, Elsie dove into her work, tried to force herself to only see the man as a trusted colleague.

But, after a while, Elsie realized that she couldn't fight her thoughts; like snowflakes that would appear on her fingertips, melting before she could get a decent look at the details, her memories would flit through her mind, only to disappear instantly at the sound of a knock on her door, his baritone in the corridor, or the questioning voice of a young maid. She eventually learned to manage her memories, to compartmentalize them instead of trying to ignore them completely, but she still never spoke to him about them at all.

Well, that's not entirely true, she did push him about it once, asking if he wished he'd gone another way. His answer slapped her into the harsh reality that no, he really didn't regret it at all. That statement alone had nearly been her undoing, both stabbing at her heart and igniting her anger. She'd wished she could make him realize that there could be more to this life they now shared, that there could be infinitely more possibilities open to them that only what his professional mind allowed him to see … that the opportunity for it all had always been there if he'd not been so downright stubborn, so afraid … and if she'd not given up so easily all those years ago.

And then the beach, and the train derailment, and now everything she thought she wanted could be right there in her grasp. The man was more open, he was starting to remember things that he'd always ignored. She knew that he had forgotten so much, and she was astonished to find him placing everything she'd ever wanted in front of her, virtually laying it at her feet – if only she weren't so afraid to touch it.

"Dr. Clarkson? I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting."

He turned to face her, giving her a gentle smile. "No, not at all Mrs. Hughes. Please, have a seat," he said, indicating the small table and chairs. "And do not worry, I have obtained Lady Grantham's permission for us to meet here. I find it quite lovely, actually – a nice little escape from my day – to just sit and enjoy nature every so often."

Elsie hummed her agreement, thinking back to the days when she was just a lass near the sea in Scotland, when she'd take long walks over the beach just to revel in the beauty of it all.

"Mrs. Hughes," he began, "Mr. Carson has made enormous strides these past couple of days. He did ask me to keep you informed of things, as did Dr. Gill." He paused. "Mr. Carson doesn't quite remember everything about his past, of course …" his voice trailed off.

"No, he doesn't," she acknowledged, knowing where this was headed. "And I've declined to help him along in that regard."

"And I agree with your decision, despite the protestations that I just received from the man himself," he chuckled. "He is quite stubborn when he wants to be."

The sharp laugh escaped Elsie's mouth before she could stop it, and she shook her head. "You're telling me."

Dr. Clarkson's face became serious, and he got to the heart what he wanted to say. "I am aware that Dr. Gill explained how common it is for recent events to fall back into place first with regards to recovering from amnesia, especially when the patient is surrounded by the scenes in which they occurred." Elsie nodded, but said nothing.

"It is your decision as to how much you lead him, Mrs. Hughes. I can assure you that no one else will ever know of the details of your past that you've confided in me. And while I do agree with the fact that you've not yet filled in all the blanks for him, you must be prepared for the fact that he may never be able to do that himself … but, perhaps more difficult for you, you should also be prepared for the fact that he may, indeed, fill in those blanks – and that he might then hold your reserve against you."

"Yes, I know." She shook her head and stood, then wandered over toward a bed of gloriously vibrant, early autumn flowers, finding it necessary to put a bit of distance between herself and this man who knew all (no, MOST …) of her secrets. She took a deep, renewing breath, sensing the changes in the seasons, in the very air itself.

"You know, I thought had it all worked out," she said quietly. "Once I came here, once I discovered he wanted to pretend that none of it had ever happened, I got on with my life. The work was plentiful in such a large house, and I was content to do it – grateful I had it, of course, as I had to pay for the child's keep. And then that damned flu hit, and he could have died, and I realized that I wasn't content with maintaining our professional status quo any longer. And then I was ill, as you well know …"

"Yes," he responded quietly, "and your secret was out – to me, at least."

She nodded, wiping a tear from her lashes before clenching her hands tightly in front of her stomach again. "And my secret was out – and only to you, thank you very much! But then I was well, and he was so happy, and I thought … well, it seemed that there was a different way after all. Now all this time has passed, and he doesn't even remember how it all began! But despite that, or perhaps because of it, he wants more than he did before, and I'm not sure what to do."

Elsie took a deep breath, steadying herself after her long-winded speech. "I cannot believe I just said all that. I apologize, Dr. Clarkson – I'm not sure what came over me."

Dr. Clarkson rose and joined her at the flowerbed, hoping to bring a sense of peace to her mind. "Would it help if I told you I had guessed at a connection long ago – long before my conversations with Dr. Gill and with you?"

Shocked, she whipped her head sideways to face him. "You never did!"

He nodded. "I suspected, at the very least. He was so very concerned about you when you were ill, more than a mere friend would have been – or, at least, more than a typical male colleague would have been. It made me wonder. I've known the man quite a few years, and he opens himself up to no one like he does to you."

"And now I've become so used to how things are that I'm not sure I want the rest of it 'opened up,' as you've put it. Is that so awful of me?"

"No," he soothed her. "But don't close your mind to the possibility. You'll not be employed here forever, I imagine."

"He will be!" she answered harshly. "He wants to – what did he say? – oh, yes, to 'die in harness and haunt the place forevermore.' Something along those lines, anyhow. So, you see, none of it matters."

"I don't think that's true any longer," Dr. Clarkson mused. "He knows now that he's got another life out there, or at least the hint of one teasing at his mind. I wish to ask you something, but please don't answer if you don't wish to. It's horribly intrusive of me, but …"

She smirked at that, an eyebrow raised. "We're fellow Scots, Dr. Clarkson, and you already know more about me than I ever wished anyone on earth to know. By all means, fire away."

"Do you know where the child is now?"

Elsie closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and was silent for so long that he thought she'd never answer him at all.

"Aye, Dr. Clarkson, I know where she is. And, if he can ever pull it from his hazy mind, so does Charlie. I can't believe he hasn't already put it together, to be honest."

"Well, then, perhaps you should see what conclusions of his own he can draw? At the moment, there are only four people on earth who know the truth that we're discussing, and Dr. Gill and myself are barred professionally – and ethically – from speaking of it to anyone except for you. I hope it's at least some small comfort that you can always come to me if you have any concerns."

Elsie nodded gratefully. "You're a good man, Dr. Clarkson, and I thank you for all of this. I'm just not sure what to do, and it's not a position in which I often find myself."

"No, I realize that. One day at a time, Mrs. Hughes. One day at a time."

With that, they turned and made their way back to the house, where Elsie caught the slightest glimpse of a man whisking himself away from the cracked-open doorway.

Well, well, Mr. Barrow, she thought. Because I needed something ELSE with which to occupy my mind.

Dr. Clarkson seemed to notice her discomfort and sent her a questioning glance.

"It appears we've had company, Dr. Clarkson."

"Which is why I asked you to the garden, Mrs. Hughes. I presume Mr. Barrow was attempting to join you here, inasmuch as he was able?" He frowned. "It's unlikely that he heard anything, but please be careful."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me, Dr. Clarkson. I've been managing that bit of trouble for years now."

After dinner (during which Charles had been strangely quiet) Elsie headed back to her sitting room, hoping to finally finish balancing her ledger from the time she'd been in London. She had been pulled in all directions following her chat with Dr. Clarkson and had even missed staff tea. At dinner, she quietly suggested to Anna and Miss Baxter that she needed a solitary hour in her sitting room, practically begging them to keep their eyes open for any issues that might come up with the other maids.

Upon entering her parlour, Elsie's nose picked up on something fragrant. She scanned the room and her eyes fell upon a beautiful vase of wildflowers placed in the center of her desk, blooms which were vaguely familiar to her but that she couldn't quite place. Definitely not from the Abbey's gardens, she thought. What on earth?

As she approached the desk Elsie saw a small envelope tucked behind the vase. Her breath hitched as she instantly recognized the stationary as being from the set she'd gifted Charles with only last Christmas. With a trembling hand she reached for it, slid her letter opener under the flap and opened the envelope very slowly. With a deep breath she removed the paper that it contained and unfolded it. On it were written very few words, but their impact caused Elsie to plop unceremoniously in her chair, grateful for the fact that it was there so that she didn't end up on the floor.

Elsie ~

I think we need to speak. About the flowers ... and everything else.

~ Charlie