Year of Cobert

April – canon divergence

rating: T for tw: sad stuff

What if Doctor Clarkson's message for Cora would have looked different in "Downton Abbey – A New Era"?

Her fingers were stiff when she buttoned up her coat. It was as if time stood still and no matter how quickly Cora moved, her actions had no impact on the world around her anymore. Her fate was already decided.

Doctor Clarkson had called and had the message extended that he would like to see Cora at the hospital. Since she was the president of the hospital, this message didn't rouse suspicion. Cora, however, knew exactly what it meant. Dr Clarkson didn't want her opinion or decision on anything. He had something to tell. News she so dreaded to hear.

She had been calmer about it as long as the worries existed only between the doctor and her. It was easier then, to tell herself it wasn't real or that she had to be strong for the others not to start worrying. Now they did. Robert knew she was waiting for news from Dr Clarkson. And Cora knew, even if she tried, she couldn't hold the information from him once she found out what it was. She had considered keeping Dr Clarkson's call from Robert and going to the hospital without telling him, to gauge the news herself first and only tell him what he could really stomach. He certainly didn't need any more bad news. And maybe, maybe, everything was fine, she told herself desperately, not believing it one bit. She had a bad feeling. When she woke up this morning, she already sensed that bad news would come. So, Dr Clarkson's call hadn't been the biggest surprise.

But the idea of keeping Robert from it all didn't convince her for more than a few minutes. She couldn't lie and she couldn't keep this heavy information to herself, even if she wanted to. Robert would see right through her. He knew she was waiting for the results of the tests the doctor had run. He knew how anxious she was. He could read her like an open book, and she was sure her emotions would be painted boldly on her face when she would return from the hospital. At the latest, when he would address her while she was trying to keep it all together, she would crack and he would know.

So, she told him of the call. Of course, he was just as anxious as she.

Cora thought about how he was in the room next to her and getting dressed simultaneously. His long coat surely already lay on his shoulders. His thick fingers would be still while he pushed the buttons through their holes. His hands wouldn't tremble as he stood in front of the mirror, deep wrinkles on his forehead as he looked through his image in the mirror and was trapped in his convoluted construct of fears, just as she was.

Baxter's hand softly touching her arm ripped Cora from her thoughts. The maid looked at her with pity and gave her a tentative smile. Even though she never really elucidated Baxter the details of her health, Cora knew that her lady's maid was much more aware of it than anyone else in the house. She had this knowing look from the first time Cora asked for something against her heartburn weeks and weeks ago.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

Cora tried to take in a breath but her throat constricted painfully. She barely nodded instead.

Baxter stayed standing behind her. Her idle hands were folded in front of her stomach as she waited for her employer to indicate the next step. But Cora was frozen to the spot. Time stood still and her fate had caught up with her. What would be good in hurrying to collect her tailor-made fate at the hospital? It would only suffocate her sooner.

So, Cora waited in her room, fully clothed in her coat and hat for outside. If it was up to her, she wouldn't move at all for hours and days until her fate had gone stale as no one had picked it up at Dr Clarkson's office.

The sound of the turning door knob, though, was sentencing her to go pick up what belonged to her. She waited for Robert to enter the room and say something before she turned to him and attempted to give her frozen face a breath of a warm smile.

"Are you ready?" She had heard his steps halting for quite a few seconds before he spoke. He brought his question out in a careful tone, close to a soft whisper. When Cora turned to him, her smile was small but she hoped he believed it to be genuine. She nodded because she couldn't say that she was ready. It wasn't true. Weeks ago, she would have been ready to know the truth about her health. She was nearly desperate to find out how her future looked. But now, as she saw Robert's expectant and hopeful eyes, catching the light of the blue sky from the window he stood by, an expression, maybe only paralleled when he had asked for her hand in marriage after a particularly animated conversation that had given him the confidence to ask the question, now Cora wasn't ready all of the sudden anymore.

She took his outstretched hand and let him lead her out of the room and down the halls and stairs.

Maybe everything was all right and her worries were unfounded. She held onto that thought the entirety of the way to the hospital.

Robert clung to her hand because it was the only thing that held him steady. Maybe it was uncalled for as Lord and Lady Grantham to walk through the hospital corridors holding hands but he couldn't care less.

When they entered the doctor's office, Robert tried not to read too much into Dr Clarkson's pinched expression. It was not unusual to catch the doctor with a scowl. He had a lot of fates to worry about after all.

In the office, Robert hurried to pull a chair back for Cora. She thanked him with a smile that pulled her features into an angelic expression, and Robert's heart clenched at the sight. She was getting softer and softer the more real the possibility of her fatal disease got. Every gesture, every tone was an ethereal copy of how she usually acted. Robert thought it was a new sense of carefulness, and he caught himself adopting it too. There was the irrational thought, that if he would meet her gently enough and appreciate her enough, then her intactness wouldn't break. It was foolish. Of course, he didn't only act that way for this reason. He did it anyway, for he didn't want to be anything but gentle with his dear Cora.

Dr Clarkson offered him a second chair, and Robert sat. His palms began perspiring the moment he had to let go of Cora's hand. He rubbed them over his thighs and started kneading the fabric of his trousers when the doctor took his time to start the conversation.

Dr Clarkson had prepared the words he would say. It was easier for him. He had established a few phrases he always used and only slightly modified when he had this kind of conversation. Of course, today was quite different. His patient was very different from his usual clientele. She was not only Lady Grantham but also the president of his hospital. And she was such a kind person. Richard Clarkson sensed that he had to apply a different transparency.

But as he saw in her hallway, he was totally thrown off his plan. He had expected her to come alone. He was only prepared for a private setting tête-à-tête. Now that she was in the company of her husband, Dr Clarkson was a lot more nervous all of a sudden.

Lord Grantham was a kind man and a gracious lord. He hated everything medical, though, and was beyond protective of his family. Dr Clarkson feared that Lady Grantham and her health were his Lordship's weakest spot. He would prefer not to be in the room when Lord Grantham realised the state of his wife's health.

Richard Clarkson was scrambling for the right words to start this conversation. He evaded both his guests' looks and instead skimmed through the documents in front of him. He knew he was uselessly prolonging this situation. But his mind blanked and before he knew it a daily automatism pushed in.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to his patient and asked, "How are you feeling today?"

Lady Grantham started a bit. Her wide eyes briefly pierced through him as his words had apparently pulled her from a faraway place. When his question registered in her mind, she threw her look out the window behind him. She smiled graciously as she answered, more into the empty part of the room than directed at the two men present.

"Well, of course, it could be better." A dry chuckle paused her speech. "But I am doing all right." Her gaze dropped into her lap. Dr Clarkson thought he noticed her distracting herself by scrutinising her fingernails. Then he could see how Lord Grantham put his hand on her Ladyship's knee. A gesture of reassurance Dr Clarkson didn't witness for the first time – both in similar situations with other patients and in different situations with the couple in front of him. Lady Grantham's head shot to the side. Her lips were pressed tightly together as she gave her husband a smile that made him pull his hand back again. The doctor tried reading her expression. It seemed she was barely holding it together. But he remembered to not let himself be fooled. She had proved several times that she was stronger than she looked.

"I am glad my call reached you. And how good of you to come so promptly."

Lord and Lady Grantham both nodded. They looked at him with similarly expectant faces. Dr Clarkson decided to move faster through this situation. They all dreaded it.

"The results of the tests I ran are all in now," he declared and gathered some documents, partly to divert the attention from his own person. "I waited for all the tests to be complete before I informed you. I hope it wasn't too great a torture for you to have to wait these extra days." He instantly regretted this statement. Of course, it was torture.

But Lady Grantham waved off. "No, it's alright. We were busy anyway with our trip to the south of France and bursting in on the set for the moving picture at Downton on our return. My mind was perfectly distracted with all kinds of other topics."

He knew it wasn't true.

As he set to continue speaking, he made the mistake of quickly chancing a glance over to his Lordship. His expression was indescribably dark. A thick cloud of gloom hung over his forehead. Richard Clarkson immediately looked away again.

"As the results are complete now," he said directed at Lady Grantham, "I am able to make a diagnosis."

Lady Grantham nodded smilingly at him. Didn't she know that she made it all the harder for him?

"I am afraid it is was we had already feared."

"It is stomach cancer. And at a very advanced stage already." The doctor dropped the diagnosis at Cora's feet bluntly without delicacy. Robert felt his throat close. He couldn't say a word, he couldn't breathe in or out. But nothing mattered anymore. The doctor had spoken Cora's death sentence. Why should he continue breathing or existing then? It was over.

His eyes were glued to Cora. She had sat rigidly beside him in the last minutes. Now that Dr Clarkson's cruel words took up the entire space in the room, her shoulders relaxed and a sigh slipped from her body. It nearly seemed as if she relaxed after what the doctor had said.

"I am very sorry," Clarkson added unnecessarily. As if his commiseration would help her more than the medical procedure, he couldn't offer her.

As Cora answered, she smiled more serenely than ever, "It is good to have clarity." Her voice was steady and warm.

Robert couldn't help the pained grimace scrunching up his face as he had to listen to her.

"So, I guess if it's as bad as we had thought, we have no measures in hand against it."

Something seethed in Robert as he heard her talk like this.

"But there has to be something you could do, Doctor," he found his voice.

Dr Clarkson shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"I don't believe that," Robert insisted. He turned to Cora. "We have to ask Isobel. She has to know something."

Cora's smile changed into a sad expression. She put her hands around his balled-up fists and looked him deeply in the eyes.

"Robert."

She only said his name. It was all he needed to know that this was really it. Everything good had left his life as some cruel Creator decided to crush his dearest Cora in front of his eyes in her beautiful prime. Nothing could convince Robert that this was right and this was how it had to be.

Months later

It was fascinating yet terrifying to witness the pace of her bodily changes and her decreasing constitution. By now, she lost strength and abilities every single day. As long as Dr Clarkson gave her enough medication against the pain, she was surprisingly alright with it. The only thing she couldn't handle was the suffering looks on the faces of her loved ones. It wasn't fair that they had to go through so much heartbreak. It was her disease and it should be enough if she had to cope with the burden.

She lay in her bed. It was nearly all she did these days. The curtains were pulled wide open, so Cora could catch a glimpse of the outdoors. The days were getting colder, and Baxter nearly never gave in to Cora's pleading anymore to keep the windows open. Cora wanted to hear and smell the gardens but apparently, everyone agreed that it was too cold to allow Cora's dreamy wish. Cora knew it wasn't out of malice. In fact, they tried to cheer her up with rather sweet gestures.

Sybbie once sat at her bedside with paper and pen and asked Cora to give her a list of her favourite books. In the following days, she returned with copies of them she had found in the library and began reading them to her grandmother. Cora had to give her best not to cry the first time that Sybbie started reading "Little Women" to her. She sounded just like her mother; her voice had the same sweet-raspy tone to it as the little girl voice of Sybil Cora was already beginning to forget. Now she wouldn't forget. She certainly could keep this memory for a few more months.

When Sybbie was busy with her lessons and couldn't come to her grandmother's room, her aunts gladly relieved her. They both did their best to give Cora accounts of the ongoings in the house and the developments of their children. Edith had come to live at Downton for the next few months – no one dared to put a date on her stay – and Marigold and little Peter didn't object to living with their cousins for a while. Tom and Lucy decided to postpone their move to their own estate because they didn't dare to keep Sybbie from her Granny.

Most of all, Cora relaxed when only Robert was by her side. He took to sitting on the bed next to her, but it had taken her countless times of begging him to not sit so far away to get him there. When she was comfortable enough, he took her in his arms and laid her against his chest. Other times, when her cramps and heartburn didn't allow it, he just held her hand and stroked repeatedly over her fingers and hair. He too sometimes read her something or told her of any news he could think of but often they also just pulled reassurance from mutual silence.

Cora often was too exhausted to speak. It hurt her throat, which was already burning from the acidic lesions that seemed to get more severe every day. So, she preferred to listen.

He opened the door carefully. He didn't want to disturb her sleep if she had nodded off. As he looked around the door, he saw her sitting upright in bed. All of the pillows were stacked up to support her back and the down duvet nearly drowned her. Robert didn't know if he imagined it but her frame seemed to get smaller and narrower whenever he visited her. He wanted to hold her and keep her safe.

Her look was directed out the window but soon she noticed him. Her face – her sweet expressive face – lit up and she sat up straighter. Her hand dropped to her side, a daily invitation he wouldn't reject. He had taken up wearing more comfortable trousers because of that actually. He had asked Bates for them not to get too strongly starched. Robert didn't want to compromise his hours of sitting in bed next to Cora.

He sat down next to her in his rather soft trousers and was very careful not to jostle the mattress too much. Her pain-filled hisses always gave a sting to his chest.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

Cora only nodded, and her easy smile told him she wasn't just masking some pain.

"Do you want to come here?" He opened his arms and tried to scoot as close as possible. Cora slowly leaned to his side and rested against his body. She sighed once she relaxed. Robert put his arm around her waist and his hand on her abdomen where it didn't put too much pressure on her stomach. Cora covered his hand with hers and tucked her head into his neck.

"Caroline collected some golden leaves for you today on our walk with Teo."

Cora breathed evenly against his chest. He knew she couldn't move too much to show a reaction to his words but she took up everything he said.

"The trees are turning into all the different colours, and Caroline is soaking it all up. She was very eager to pick the prettiest leaves for you. But don't tell her you already know. Maybe she wants it to be a surprise."

Cora gently closed her fingers around his hand. They were silent for a while.

The sound of her voice surprised him. She cleared her throat. Her voice was hoarse.

"I want to sit at the window sometime."

"You do?"

He felt her nod on his shoulder.

"I see." He thought for a second. "But you can see out the window from here, can't you?"

She didn't answer.

Robert didn't know what to say. Of course, he didn't want to deny her any wish she might have. But he saw no use in testing her stamina for something she could do just as well while laying in bed. Had Cora forgotten how weak she had become over the last few weeks?

"It is not the same. Maybe I can hear more when I'm sitting close to the window pane. I'm not allowed to open the windows to hear the birds and the wind. At least I want to sit up close." She coughed, and Robert already looked for a glass of water to hand her.

"And maybe…" her voice was very low. "Maybe I'll see you if I'm lucky."

A lump grew in Robert's throat. Tears immediately pricked in his eyes.

His lack of response prompted Cora to elaborate, even though Robert knew her throat must be burning from talking multiple sentences. The melody of her voice, however, was a rare and most valuable token for him. He was unable to interrupt her. "I so enjoy hearing your stories. I wouldn't want to miss them. To see the way Teo jumps into the foliage and Caroline bends down to collect all her little nature treasures, to see you taking good care of them would mean the world to me, though."

Robert sniffed. "Of course," he breathed. Cora turned in his arms and looked up at him when she noticed he was crying. "We will be only walking up and down beneath your window, I promise."

She brushed her hand weakly over his chest as he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. Leaning her heavy head against his shoulder again, she whispered to spare her throat a bit, "No, don't change your ways. You shouldn't be doing anything different because of me. I just want to catch a glimpse."

Oh, didn't she know he would do everything differently for her! If it was just for her.

He reached over to the bedside table and handed Cora her glass of water. He helped her take a sip, and she greedily took her tiny stomachable sips. Her face always contorted into a grimace whenever she had to gulp. Her stomach didn't tolerate much anymore, either. But every drop of water was still a boon.

After drinking half a glass, Cora was exhausted and she moulded even weaker against his chest and shoulder. Robert enveloped her thin body with his arms, and his thoughts wandered. She was so weak now after so little time. Whenever he allowed himself to think about it, the shock hit him anew. It was just two months ago that they had carried his mother to the grave, Cora still walking next to him as they followed the coffin. Everyone had already known that Cora was sick but no one had talked about it. Maybe because they were afraid, maybe because the Dowager's impending death and her burial and memorial were even graver and demanded more attention. It was shortly after Robert's mother's burial that Cora left the bed between the doctor's visits less and less. It was not that she didn't want to partake in the life downstairs and outside – no, her newest wish today showed him that at no point she developed disinterest. She was plainly incapable to hold up the appearance of a strong and healthy woman. Less than two weeks after Mama's funeral, it was unthinkable to put Cora in a corset and proper gown again. Whenever she made a fleeting visit downstairs, Baxter only managed to put her hair up in a makeshift hairstyle and wrap her in her most to-do dressing gown, before Cora dropped onto the prepared chaise longue. Robert had never in his darkest days imagined her demise to be so speedily. Dr Clarkson had predicted it like that but Robert hadn't wanted to listen. Why had this quack to be right just now?

Cora never showed any signs of shock or fear. Instead, she always smiled as if Dr Clarkson had promised her another thirty years to live. She suffered physically but her good spirits never wavered. And for her sake, Robert should abandon these gloomy thoughts now. He peered down at her in his arms. He wasn't sure if she had nodded off by now, which would be alright. He would hold her for as long as she slept soundly. But he didn't want to miss a waking hour of hers. He wanted to make good use of it and talk with her. Talk sweet talk and be as light-hearted as possible.

Carefully, Robert lifted one of his hands from his embrace and brushed his knuckles over her hair. Looking down at her head, he saw the grey streaks in her chocolate hair that had increased over the last few months. Dr Clarkson said it wasn't unusual for severely ill people to turn grey in a much shorter time but Robert didn't want to know that. The strands were a very light grey, nearly white. Robert preferred to believe that it was something angelic that pushed to the forefront now.

Cora gave a low voiceless hum as Robert brushed repeatedly over her hair.

He tried to whisper very quietly, "Are you still awake?"

"Yes," she answered in a whisper, too.

"Should I tell you a little story?"

She nodded quickly.

"Okay, so the story plays in Egypt. Are you familiar with Egypt?" Robert began.

Cora nodded again. It was a well-known game between the two of them. Lately, he often told her stories about their past travels as if it was about two other people.

"Once, a beautiful lady from a faraway place came to Egypt, and I guess her husband was with her too. But he was a rather unremarkable fellow, so we won't concentrate on him in this story."

A weak "Hey!" left Cora's lips. She took his arm and shook it. Every time he said something like this, she protested and seemed to be seriously afraid that he would leave out everything about himself. She made sure to also hear the story about the beautiful lady's husband.

"Alright, alright. We will talk about him, too."

Cora relaxed again.

"They had booked the best suite in a hotel that overlooked the pyramids, and when they arrived, they were so exhausted from the long, long journey, and so hot from the unfamiliar climate that perspiration ran down their brows and necks, and they immediately fell onto the bed and dozed off then and there. That's how it happened, that they missed their entire first day in Egypt and didn't even wake up for dinner. When the night was falling in, they were slowly getting up, confused by their lapse and the passed time, and were getting made ready for bed right after waking up. In more appropriate nightwear, they slipped back under the covers and nearly talked all night about what they would do in the days ahead.

I still remember – not that I was there or something – but I know how stunning the lady had looked, bathed in the light of the Egyptian moon and with her nightgown pushed down one shoulder and not entirely buttoned up. She also was absolutely breath-taking the next days in her embroidered white robes that covered all her precious skin and the large-brimmed hats trying to cast their shadows on her face always. The intensity of the sunlight made quite some freckles appear on her nose and cheeks, and her maids were dismayed as they tried all day to prevent the sun from blemishing her skin. But I- her husband, I mean, actually found it rather cute, and I think I would have to agree."

"The museum," Cora quietly threw in as Robert paused for a second.

"Yes, that's right. On their third day or so they went to the museum, and to their surprise, they spent the whole day there. The lady was mesmerised by the rich exhibitions, as was her husband. Afterwards, he had to promise to build his wife a mosaic fountain once they came back, just like the ones they had seen. But I'm afraid it never turned out as beautiful as the originals in Egypt."

"Yes, it did."

"Maybe we should have gotten it restored," Robert pondered.

Cora cleared her throat. "You can still do so; for the children."

Robert just nodded. He didn't like how she said 'you' and not 'we'. She was right but he didn't like it at all.

He continued with the story, "Apart from the impressive sights and exhibitions, the greatest part of their journey was the nights. Despite the high temperatures during the day, the night always brought a fresh chill with it when one left the sanctuary of the city streets. When their nights had gotten hot and steamy anyway, the lady and her husband just had to step onto their balcony and cool off in the chilly air blowing in from the desert. They often held each other close as they tilted their heads back and took in the clearest starry sky they'd ever seen."

"Oh, Robert," she sighed. "It was beautiful."

"Yes, even though I- the husband got a nasty food poisoning during half their trip."

Cora stroked his arms. They both got lost in their memories of the trip. Reminiscing, they shared this warm moment and the silence. Unsure how much time had passed, Robert was called back to present, when Cora started talking.

"Robert. I hope you are aware that I won't go. Someday I might be gone. But I won't go." She caressed his chest, right where he felt his heart pounding against her hand. "There are so many rich stories in here. I am not worried at all about my continued existence. And I know you will keep all the stories to come – our children's and grandchildren's future – close and dear, and for me, that's enough. It will be as if I had lived them too."

"Cora," he choked.

"I am with you, so I am everywhere you go." In a tentative whisper, she added, "And in years and years to come, we will return as one again. And all your stories will truly be with me."

Robert couldn't hold it in any longer and bawled his eyes out in her lap. The tears wouldn't stop. Cora was his rock.

And as she said, she was at least half his soul.