A/N: The concluding chapter of Broken :)

I've been absolutely overwhelmed by response to this fic - thank you so much, I've hugely appreciated people taking the time to review, it's so, so encouraging, honestly. I can't even tell you. Thank you. :)

Please allow me a brief reminder that voting for the Highclere Fan Awards still has a couple of days left! Broken has been nominated in a few categories - MASSIVE thanks, again, I'm so incredibly touched. The link is in my profile if you want to have a gander and a vote - there's lots of M/M fic in there!

Thanks to both Silverduck and Eolivet for proving excellent sounding boards and polish!

And without further ado...

Chapter Four

Mary stopped dead, frozen into place by his voice cutting harshly across her words. Her knuckles were white on the chair handle, she couldn't breathe.

For endless moments, they remained motionless, silent. Matthew felt sick. His hands clutched the arms of his wheelchair as his mouth opened and closed, questions spinning round his mind but never quite fully formulating. He felt winded, could feel his chest rise and fall in sharp pain as he tried to steady himself. His eyes fixed, unfocussed, staring at the ground in front of him as he saw far more clearly the image assaulting his mind's eye, of… of… He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping. He wanted to ask, questions, questions, so many questions, but he didn't really want to know, didn't want to think of it, of her, of them…

He swallowed. His throat was dry, sore. Threads of thought spiralled through his mind as he struggled to grasp what she was telling him. He thought he had felt pain before, but this…

"Why…" He licked his lips, also painfully dry. His voice rasped out, barely audible. "Why are you telling me this?"

Mary was so relieved that she did not have to face him. That she couldn't see the hurt on his face, the disgust… He must be appalled by her. And she had kissed him again. What must he think! Her voice, when she spoke, was deathly quiet, small; almost like a little girl, ashamed of herself, admitting to her folly.

"Because you deserved to know."

"Did I? Why?" His low voice shook. He hadn't wanted to know. Did she not think he'd suffered enough, only to throw this at him? His chest hurt, his gut hurt, his heart hurt. A painful lump was swelling in his throat.

Mary took a deep breath. Though she was reluctant to open these wounds again, it was unavoidable. Regrets filled her afresh as she wrapped her mind around it; how much she had wanted to accept him, how much he had wanted her to and how it was this, this that had stood in her way… There seemed little point being coy about anything now.

"I couldn't ever have married you without you knowing."

Her words hit Matthew like a fresh blow. He almost winced as she said the words, stung all over again by the pain of his proposal and how she had played him so cruelly. He'd suppressed it all, so carefully, buried it and covered it with a different pain. Physical pain had gradually overtaken it, but now…

He made a noise as if to speak, but suddenly, something stopped him. A connection formed in his mind, pieces of memory and information slotted together and his gut churned coldly. He shook his head. Surely…

"That's… why you never…"

"Yes."

With a soft groan, Matthew lowered his head to his hand. She hadn't married him because she'd… she'd… His mind battled against the thought, not wanting to consider it fully. There was something else in her words though, and he latched onto it desperately.

"But you – wanted to?"

"Yes. I wanted to so very much… but I was too afraid. I'm sorry."

"I see," Matthew whispered. His head was whirling as the pieces of the broken jigsaw of their relationship fell into place. She'd wanted to. Wanted to marry him. Wanted to be honest with him. Cared enough to be honest with him. She had been sure… They could have… His heart panged sharply with the thought that all this time, these three bloody long, hard years, they might have… might have loved each other. It hurt, almost physically hurt, the dawning realisation that it so easily could have been so different, if only he'd known…

In the back of his mind, somewhere, he was angry at her for it. For not having the courage to tell him then, for not having enough faith in his love… But, he realised, all that was so long ago. It seemed like a different lifetime. A different existence. Different people. Three years of war had changed them both, and it suddenly seemed almost absurd to be bitter over a situation so far removed from where they now were. She was bringing up all the pain afresh. It seemed mad. Unless…

"And –" he swallowed again, staring at his feet, bracing himself against her answer. He could be wrong, so wrong, but what if he wasn't… "Why are you telling me now?"

Mary had not expected that. In fact, she frowned, puzzled, his entire response was quite unexpected. His quiet questions, searching her, testing her, seemed almost more difficult to face than his anger might have been, or his disappointment, or disgust. That, she would have deserved, but this… Not only that, but his question forced her to consider and express what had been pressing at the back of her mind ever since he'd come back.

The wait for her response hung heavily between them. The only thing to break the silence was the gentle rasp of Matthew's breath as he waited, every muscle tensed. Somehow, this silence, this wait, seemed to hold more dread than the terrible unending moments before combat. His very future seemed to hang on a knife-edge that would be fixed by her words.

Finally, Mary pressed her eyes gently shut, expelled a soft breath and told him. She had said she would not insult him with anything less than the truth. At last she had given him the truth, and there seemed little point now in holding anything else back. He still deserved to know. Because…

"Because I couldn't allow anything further to happen between us now, with you still in ignorance of my character."

Matthew pursed his lips. Mary waited, her breath held. The silent admission that something further could happen between them seemed to dance tauntingly in the air. She was amazed at how easily the words were coming; it was oddly comforting to speak them to the back of his head.

"Did you love him?"

Mary looked almost aghast. "Matthew, I barely knew the man an evening, how –"

"Did you love him?" Firmer, this time.

"No." She shook her head decisively, even though he could not see.

The ghost of a smile flitted over Matthew's face. The details, the circumstances, mattered not to him. She had not loved the man… Her emphatic denial and the resigned sadness behind her admission was enough to tell him that she considered it a mistake. And how could he hold that against her? A mistake (though a terrible one) that was committed… five years ago, he realised, before he'd held any claim over her. True, it had caused him to lose her then, and the very thought made him ache, but… That ache was for a time, a relationship, a dream, that was long past. He loved her still now; indeed, that seemed the only thing he had been sure of for months now. War, his blasted injury, had taught him that life was fragile, hanging only on a thread. What did anything of those years past matter now, when he might not live to see another? What reflection could it have on this new relationship between these two new people? Matthew frowned. He was getting ahead of himself. If only…

"And…" His voice trembled softly as he threw caution to the wind – it seemed senseless, now, after what they had already said and done. Mary had to strain her ears to hear him. "Did you – do you – love me?"

One question. One simple question that set all other concerns aside.

"Yes."

Matthew released the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding in a deep, shuddering sigh of relief. Nothing else mattered, he realised now. Nothing else at all. The ache in his heart dulled, slightly.

Mary waited, breathless, waited for any sign from him. She could tell nothing, nothing at all from the back of his head and shoulders. She gazed at what she could see, memorising the way the sun made his hair glint even more golden than normal, the strong set of his shoulders, the softness of the skin on his neck, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to face him after this conversation. After what she had admitted. Regardless of his reaction now, though, the sheer relief of the weight having lifted from her shoulders was overwhelming.

His hand suddenly waved out to the side of him.

"Come here," he beckoned forwards, softly.

Gingerly, Mary let go of the wheelchair (it took some effort to prise her fingers from their grasp), and stepped around in front of him. It was only after a moment or two that she dared raise her eyes to meet his. To her vast surprise, he was smiling. A broad, genuine smile; not that tight, uncomfortable smile that she'd seen earlier that day. Her lips parted in surprise.

As he saw her, Matthew's heart felt as though it could burst. The strange intimacy of sightless conversation had been a safety net for both of them, but to see the effect of it on her precious face… He felt as though a veil had been lifted between them. The veil of time, of pain, of distance – and it just left them, face to face, with nothing else between them.

He took her hands.

"Mary…"

She crouched in front of him, resting their joined hands lightly on his knees. Her face was still a tight, cautious mask, though she tried a tentative smile.

"Mary." His voice was unbelievably tender. He lifted a hand and brushed her cheek, so softly, as though he could brush away the turmoil there. "You… think you've been spoiled?"

"Haven't I?" She exclaimed incredulously. She wanted to weep at how good he was. She had ruined herself, ruined their chance! Of course she was spoiled. She was damaged, tainted, broken.

Matthew shook his head slowly. "And what am I, then?" He smiled sadly, gesturing at himself.

"But, Matthew, you're –"

"I'm what? Do you imagine my scars lie only on my body?"

"Oh," she breathed.

"I think everyone has chapters they're not proud of," he said quietly, his voice and expression laden with meaning.

"I suppose." Mary bit her lip, gazing almost tearfully up at him. "But –" Her guilt had weighed on her for so long, it couldn't possibly be this easy, she didn't deserve it!

"Mary." His fingers caressed her cheek, his thumb grazed her lips. "Don't… It was so long ago. Everything's changed." He sighed, smiling gently. "Thank you."

His meaning was clear. He was right, Mary supposed; so much had happened since those fateful events that it hardly seemed to matter anymore… But it had mattered. And he knew that. And now it was out, it didn't matter anymore... Not now. She grasped his arm carefully, running her hand up to his on her face.

A shadow suddenly passed over Matthew's face; his expression turned downcast. He had been so dumbfounded by the shock of Mary's secret that it had driven his own pitiful circumstance from his mind.

A frown flickered over Mary's face. "What is it?"

"It's only…" He sighed. "A bruised character, once forgiven, might be put out of mind with relative ease. Whereas I –"

"Matthew!" Mary gasped as she followed his eyes to down to his legs. "Good God, Matthew, do you think I expect your forgiveness at all? Or expect you ever to be able to put my indiscretion out of mind? To even compare the two…" She looked sorrowfully up at him, with a slight shake of her head. "Do you truly think that your injury makes the slightest jot of difference to my regard for you? An injury inflicted on you by another that you must bear the consequences of?" She frowned, trying not to think of the infliction of her own injury by another. That could come later, but not now.

She smiled, faintly, eyes twinkling with gentle pride. "And Matthew, you have borne them admirably – I believe it has only increased my regard for you!"

Matthew's lips twitched gratefully. He was overwhelmed by her estimation of him, and filled with a fresh, tentative hope. They were both injured, he realised, but somehow… they could help each other bear it.

"I… don't suppose we can start again?"He finally said softly, echoing his earlier words.

At last, Mary smiled; a glorious, beautiful smile. "Why ever not?"

She squeezed his hand and resumed her position once more behind his wheelchair. As soon as she was out of his sightline, Matthew turned his head back gingerly.

"Mary –"

"Yes?" She paused with one hand resting lightly on the handle. Matthew's voice was deep, sincere, beautiful.

"You know that I –"

"Yes. I know."

It was enough, for now. Standing behind him, Mary touched his shoulder again, though far more gently, this time, and ran her hand lightly down across his chest as she bent and kissed the top of his head. Her eyes closed and she sighed happily. She kissed his cheek, kissed lightly along his scar; his hand clutched her arm to him.

Reluctantly, Mary straightened. Once she had (with some difficulty) turned Matthew's wheelchair around to proceed back towards the house, she allowed one hand to fall softly on his shoulder in an unspoken invitation. He reached up and took it, squeezing gently and tugging it a little off his shoulder so he could turn his head and kiss each finger, kiss her palm, kiss the back of her hand.

Elation swept through Mary. He was here. It was behind them. She had found him again. Her mother had always said that things looked better in the morning. Reflecting on the thought that time could heal all wounds, she wondered if that might be true – in some small way, at least.

They both were broken, but, with time and care, the wounds would heal… even if the scars remained.

Fin

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, this chapter and the whole fic.

As a note (disclaimer, of sorts?) - I was very aware, writing this, of NOT wanting to simply repeat the M/M Pamuk conversation I wrote in Resolution. Bearing in mind also the effect of war changing perspectives (need I remind you of the teaser line, "war has a way of distinguishing between the things that matter, and the things that don't..."?), I hope you'll have found this a believable take on Matthew's reaction.

Reviews are always hugely appreciated - it's so lovely to get your thoughts! Thank you!