So, here is chapter 3! Thank you so much to those who reviewed, I was hesitant about posting at first, but thanks to you guys I'm very glad I did. There is definitely at least one more chapter, maybe two; we shall have to see what a 10 hour plane ride can produce! Enjoy!

"Matthew!"

He awoke with a start, Mary soundly asleep in his arms and smiled, enjoying this seemingly perfect scene. The perfection of the situation came crashing down however, when he glanced up and saw his mother sanding in the doorway looking positively outraged. Recollection of the events that led him to his current place seeped into his mind as he actually looked down at the woman in his arms, wanting to cry out at the sight of his beloved's swollen and discolored face.

"Mother, I – "He tried to say but was interrupted.

"What in God's name is happening now?" Lord Grantham demanded, having just come around the doorway.

"Sir, I, umm, - " Whilst trying to untangle himself from Mary's embrace and get out of the bed, he was interrupted once more. The sudden movement startled Mary and sent her into a semi-conscious fit of hysterics, screaming for help at the top of her lungs. Her reaction was so sudden that no one thought about what they were dealing with and instinctively closed in around her, scaring her even more.

"Get back!" Matthew bellowed, causing the rooms inhabitants to jump back in surprise.

"Just back up and let me calm her."

Isobel and Robert watched in stunned silence as he lay back down next to Mary, protecting her from her own thrashing limbs and spoke softly and gently to her, so low that only she could hear what he was saying. Gradually she calmed and gained consciousness, smiling at Matthew and struggling to take deep breaths against the pain in her ribs – not entirely aware of what had just happened.

"Hello," she whispered, "I'm glad you're here. I was so afraid you wouldn't be," she continued weakly, voice hoarse from the fresh round of screaming.

"I told you I would be. And here I am much to the chagrin of both our parents."

"Oh goodness!" she exclaimed, suddenly realizing they were no longer the only ones in the room. She tried to sit up, momentarily forgetting about her broken ribs and letting out a choked gasp as the injury made itself known. Mary fell back and focused on trying to control her heavy breathing as the pain subsided.

"Oh, oh… father," she said, still breathing deeply.

"Yes, Mary dear?" Lord Grantham asked, coming to her bedside.

"Please don't be upset with Matthew, it's my fault. I really needed him," she pleaded, looking from her father to the man lying next to her. Catching his shinning blue eyes she whispered to him, "I still need him."

The day progressed, and Mary won the battle over Matthew, keeping him with her as she fell in and out of fitful and restless bouts of sleep. He held her hand as her ribs were inspected; as she struggled to stomach the food brought to her, and through what seemed like an endless stream of people coming in and out of the room wishing her well. The day wound to a close at last and Mary feigned exhaustion simply to clear the room of unwanted visitors. After refusing once again to be left completely alone, Matthew rather willingly climbed into bed with her, drawing her into his arms while being careful not to knock her damaged ribs. They lay quietly for a time, both savoring the peaceful silence around them. Mary was the first to break it.

"Matthew," she spoke softly into his chest, "this cannot be wrong." She pulled back to look into his eyes, pausing for a minute before she continued, "You were wrong, we both were. Our love is not cursed. It is our stubborn refusal to accept what is meant to be. Think about it. Poor Lavinia's fate can be traced back to that awful day in 1914 when I had not the courage to follow my heart. It is our lack of faith in each other that has set all these terrible events into motion. No more denying! Our love itself is not, nor will it ever be, cursed! Can you see?"

"Matthew was stunned, but the more he thought about it, the more the truth of Mary's words dawned on him.

"If I had never gotten engaged to Lavinia, you would have never agreed to Sir Richard…"

"And we would be happily married instead of wrapped up in this mess." Mary finished with a smile.

"My God, this is entirely fault!" he started to say but Mary cut him off firmly.

"Matthew dearest, can either of us claim the glory of being at fault? The fault is ours; we share the blame; for we have both been foolish and stubborn."

Matthew could resist no longer. Tidal waves of emotion crashing over him, he leaned in, lips touching lips at long last. It was sweet and gentle at first but as his tongue slid past the barrier of her lips and tasted what he had so long denied himself, it evolved into something more passionate and raw. Their hands were everywhere, touching, exploring, desperate to tell each other feelings that no words could express. They clung hungrily to each other for what seemed like an eternity, until the essential need for air broke them apart. Matthew's eyes shone with emotion; they were so bright and clear that Mary felt as if she could see straight into his soul. Her affections and thoughts were mirrored by him, completely enchanted by her chocolate eyes that seemed to glow in the low light of the room.

"Oh Matthew," she exclaimed breathlessly.

"My darling."

The way he spoke the words made her heart swell, she was his darling, she belonged to him, and the knowledge of this fact made her so happy she thought she could burst from the pride swelling inside her. They came together again, pulling each other in and making up for almost six years of wasted time.

"I love you Mary" he breathed into her ear sometime later.

"I love you too Matthew, I love you so much."

"No more mistakes, no more doubts. We will be together."