A/N: Thank you, thank you all so much for the reviews and follows! Kisses and hugs to everyone!

Cora tossed in the narrow bed, wrenching the tangled blanket out from under her body. She sighed, pulling the bedclothes up and over herself and stared at the ceiling. She groaned, kicking the covers off once again and letting her arm flop heavily down, outstretched. The boat swayed in time to the waves it cut through, a motion that was barely perceptible. The Mediterranean had been mostly calm after they had left Malta, a welcome change from the tumult of the ocean but even the slight swells were enough to nudge at Cora's rancor. She was tired, so extremely tired of life at sea. After having a brief taste of walking on land, dragging Mitchell with her to the Maltese market while Robert tended to some clandestine errand, Cora's tolerance for cruising had dried up. And now, their last night on the ship, could not end fast enough.

Along with the malaise that had lingered for several days was a growing impatience to meet up with her parents party. Cora had tried many times to coax the itinerary out of Robert, but each of her inquiries had been met with vague answers which were abruptly delivered before Robert changed subjects. The oddity of his behavior left Cora uneasy. She was beginning to worry that not all was what it seemed with this trip and that Robert was keeping something from her. It was not a pleasant feeling to be left with.

With too many questions crowding her tired mind, Cora found no respite in sleep and her body became restless in its fatigue. Throwing her legs off of the bed, Cora bolted up and off of the hard mattress, reaching for her dressing gown. Slipping her feet into the slippers that waited by the arm chair, Cora padded quietly to the door that connected her room with Robert's. She leaned in, listening. Something else had been eating away at her, adding to her inability to shut her eyes and relax.

There had been too much silence on the other side of the wall.

Usually she could hear the muffled sounds of Jones and Robert talking as he readied for bed, the muted bangs and thuds of cases being moved and opened wafted into her space each night. But the undisturbed quiet coming from Robert's room had been as loud as any noise they could make and it had remained so into the late hours.

Cora squinted in the dark to the clock on the fireplace mantle. The hour hand just passed the twelve. Robert had walked her to her room hours before, turning back toward the lounge after seeing her safely in her room. Some of the men were drinking to the end of their voyage and Robert had joined them. Cora had thought he would be back by now, preparing for the traveling they would be doing the next day.

Knocking tentatively on the door, she waited. When it was clear the room was empty, Cora swung open the door, needing to see the vacant bed for herself. Cora leaned against the wall, her thumb finding it's way to her mouth as she chewed at the nail, thinking. She couldn't help but remember the last time he had gone wandering from her sight, almost missing the boat to Egypt, trapped on Malta with no papers. Robert was a grown man, a proud and stubborn man, but sometimes Cora wondered if he didn't need someone to watch over him. She would gladly be that someone, if he allowed it.

Cora looked back into her own room, her tea dress from the day before airing out, her corset and chemise laying on the top of one of her trunks. She could shimmy herself into it all and go searching for him. Deciding that was the only way to stop her nervous musings, Cora took a step toward her things when the jiggling of the door knob stopped her.

The outer door swung open dangerously, banging against their adjoining wall and the flimsy light of the hallway illuminated Robert's silhouette as he stumbled, several drunk steps behind the door, trying to catch it. He missed, and the sound vibrated through the room. Robert covered his hand with his mouth and winced dramatically, before grasping the knob and slamming it back into the door frame.

"Oh dammit!" Robert slurred and Cora giggled.

Robert sucked in a breath and whirled around, knocking his equilibrium off and he lurched to the right. Cora ran to his side, gripping him as he hung onto her shoulders. Once it was clear Robert would stay on his feet, Cora released some of the tension of her hold, but Robert did not move his hands. Instead, his fingers dug a little deeper into her, roughly massaging her muscles.

"Hello Cora," Robert sung lazily, a goofy smile spread across his lips.

His glassy eyes jumped around her face. The smell of whiskey and tobacco clung to his clothes and Cora's stomach rolled. Drunk and uninhibited, Robert's features lost the pinch they could sometimes pucker into, like he was always deep in concentrated thought, and he truly looked like a little boy. Cora fought the off-putting smell of a night out with the men and hugged him close.

"Hmmm," Robert hummed, sagging into Cora's embrace. "So warm…".

Cora laughed some more. "Robert, are you drunk?"

"Such a pretty sound…" Robert cooed, ignoring her question. He nuzzled down deeper into her neck.

"What?" Cora asked, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

"Your laugh. It's so…". Robert's words petered off into a jumbled mass of unintelligible garbling, but Cora didn't mind. This Robert was her favorite Robert, though she had only seen him so uninhibited a handful of times. Neither over-thinking nor over-correcting himself, he was authentic, genuine. This was the Robert that hid behind the layers of the Viscount Downton. This was the promise of Robert, the man Cora had caught glimpses of during that twirling, rushed season in London.

"Cora?" The content little purring noises Robert had been making in her arms stopped abruptly and a new clarity cut through his voice as he yanked himself away from her.

"Rob-". Cora's calling of his name was lost as Robert staggered toward the washroom, bouncing into walls and furniture. Cora watched, stunned. She screwed her eyes shut and swallowed down as the harsh sounds of retching filled the small quarters.

Cora tread quietly toward the direction Robert had fled in, and peaked into the room. Hunched over the toilet, spasms continued to ripple over Robert's back. Cora's nostrils flared, the acidic smell a trigger to own queasiness and she breathed purposefully through her mouth, ignoring the gooseflesh that broke out over her arms. Finding a small glass by the sink, she filled it with water, and crouched down, laying a tentative hand on Robert's back. Instantly he stiffened at her touch, before slouching again, another wave of illness taking over. Cora murmured soothing words to him, things she wasn't even aware she said, as she stroked the back of his head, the space between his shoulder blades.

Soon silence filled the air, Robert quiet and still. Cora let her hand fall away from him. Wordlessly, she reached around and presented the water. He looked at it dumbly for a moment, his shadowed profile hiding half of his face, before taking it. The glass shook slightly as he brought it up to his lips. Robert hesitated before greedily siphoning the clear liquid. Once he had drained the glass, he handed it back to Cora, refusing to turn and meet her eyes. Cora pushed away the pangs of sadness his embarrassment caused. Hadn't she also hid her sickness from him? The early days of her pregnancy had been spent rushing to the washroom and being as quiet as she could, else she be heard.

Cora shrugged off the hurt and rose, hooking her arms under Robert's and heaving him up. His mass alone made it impossible for her to really get him off the ground but he resisted as well, trying to shake her off. Determined, Cora kept her grip firm, tugging again.

Finally, Robert braced his arms on the floor and hoisted himself up, latching onto Cora as he teetered. She led him to his bed and motioned for him to sit. Robert's eyes blinked heavily, his face slack. His head bobbled on his neck unsteadily. Quickly Cora took off his tails, pants and shoes, leaving his underclothes to be dealt with in the morning. Peeling back the covers, she guided him gently down into the cocoon of the bed. She patted his shoulder and turned to leave when he grasped her hand.

"Stay," Robert mumbled and Cora's heart drummed against her ribs.

Nodding in the darkness, Cora smiled as Robert wiggled toward the middle, making room. She perched on the edge of the bed, glancing at Robert as she slid under the blankets. His mouth hung open, his eyes closed. Cora curled onto her side and just as she settled into the small space left for her, Robert's arm snaked over her hip, his hand pressed into her abdomen. He pulled and she followed, slinking back into the curves of his body. Robert's lips skimmed the top of her shoulder before she felt his head rest against her back.

"Love you…".

Cora tensed, the air in her lungs halted, and she did not move. Her mind frantically rewound the seconds that passed, as she replayed the breathy words again, searching for a misinterpretation. But he had said it! He may have still been intoxicated, he probably would not remember it, but he had said it.

Robert loved her.

Cora gripped his hand, she listened to the light rumble of his snores. The first of her tears pooled in the creases of her eyes, before tickling the bridge of her nose and spilling over onto her pillow.

Robert loved her.


The inside of his mouth felt as foul as it tasted. His tongue was bloated and thick against his palate, the surface fuzzy and unpleasant. Robert could smell his own breath as he heavily exhaled and his already tender stomach complained, the odor making it lurch. His head protested the smallest movement and when Robert chanced to open his eyes, he immediately shut them, the little light of the room sending rockets of fire to the back of his skull.

When the excruciating throb subsided to a steady thump, Robert tried to think about the previous night. It came back in hazy snippets. Drinks. Cards. The men he'd befriended laughing and carrying on. The contents of his glass never seeming to drain. There was the walk back to his cabin, which had taken longer than it should have because he had gotten turned around. There was falling into the room.

There was Cora.

Her face appeared, a mirage in his remembrance, and he couldn't quite determine if he had dreamt her or if she had been real. Opening the covers and seeing his state of undress, Robert determined it had been her handiwork. Despite the pain behind his eyes, despite the sourness of his stomach, he smiled. Cora.

And then he flung the covers off, the sourness no longer willing to swish around his stomach. He ran to the washroom, and as he hung over the porcelain bowl, another memory bubbled to the surface. Cora had witnessed this very thing. He had vomited right in front of her.

"Ugh." Robert spat furiously into the toilet before climbing back onto his feet, his hands shaking as he doused his face with water.

How would he ever face her this morning? Robert shuffled back into his room and let himself fall onto the bed, the world spinning behind his closed eyes. He inhaled carefully, his stomach still unsettled, when he smelled it. On the pillow, the lavender scent stuck to the sheets. Robert took another deep inhale and the subtle perfume seeped into his pores, erasing his own repugnant odor. He closed his eyes, a wave of peace rippling over him.

And in the distance, beyond the dividing door to her room, a door which had been left opened, he could hear her humming.

Robert concentrated on the fragrance Cora had left behind and the happy little tune she was singing to herself and the awful feeling that had plagued him since wakening was made a little more tolerable. He sighed, letting himself fade back into sleep.


The chaos of off loading the Victoria began as soon as Alexandria's shore was within sight. The boatswain, a scrawny, bird-like man almost a foot shorter than Robert, yelled to where the passengers had congregated, most pushing their way for a view of the ancient land they approached. Robert stretched up on his toes, looking over heads to see one long, straight pillar of stone reaching up to the sky.

"Pompey's Pillar," Cora supplied, holding her hat to her head as she too mimicked his posture. "Do you see the Pharos on either side?"

Robert squinted his eyes into the hazy sun and found that he did indeed see two Pharos constructed on each side, sentinels guarding whatever mysteries were contained within the monolith. The boat slowed its progress, the Egyptian antiquities bobbed ahead of them, and suddenly, this trip became very real. They weren't just thousands of miles away from home. Robert had been thousands of miles away from England before, when he had made the Atlantic crossing, playing the doting fiance visiting his betrothed during the winter of their engagement. Aside from the imposing face of the Statue of Liberty staring him down as the ship entered New York Harbor, the city he stepped foot in was not so terribly different from any other city he had traveled.

But this, this was like being in another world entirely. Robert couldn't reconcile that the rolling hills of England inhabited the same planet as the mysterious desert land awaiting them. The headache from earlier came back and Robert contemplated how much it would cost to convince the captain to turn around and bring him back to Downton.

Cora, by contrast, was having no such fits of anxiety. She clasped his arm, trying to see over the people ahead of them, eager to drink in the first views of Egypt. Reflected on her face was a look Robert had seen before. The first time he brought her to his home, and she looked to each thing he pointed out with the same large eyes, the same breathless expression. Their honeymoon in Paris, where he was certain she would have stayed out all night absorbing all the city had to show her if he'd let her. And now. She was an adventurer, his Cora.

His…

Robert brushed the thought aside, noting the movement that seemed to be happening. A man he recognized to be the Third Officer stood before the crowd, clipboard in hand and began instructing people down the plank. Robert glanced over the ship's railing to see his fellow seafarers climbing aboard small pontoons, which once full, began ferrying its cargo to land. He and Cora filed into line, shuffling slowly to where the man was.

"Alright, miss, onto this one." The gentleman waved Cora forward, making a notation on his list before holding up a hand in front of Robert. "You'll have to wait on the next one, mate."

Robert clenched his hands together. "It is Viscount and Viscountess Downton, thank you, and I will be going on the same boat as my wife." Robert gestured toward Cora, who had stopped.

The officer shook his head and shrugged. "No can do, milord. Milady will be the last one allowed on."

"Well, then, choose another and she shall wait with me," Robert stammered, pointing behind him.

The officer only shook his head more, a mild irritation lifting his eyebrows. "Sorry, that I cannot do either. If I had to count out every pair or party it would take us all day to unload. Nope, she's got to go. And you have to stay."

"But...but…" Robert could feel the heat raising over his collar.

"Robert," Cora called out, smiling. "It's quite alright. It's barely a few hundred yards."

"I haven't the bloodiest idea what a yard is Cora," Robert mumbled, watching as she walked away from him, farther down the winding plank. He looked over the edge, observing as another officer helped her into a life vest and then she climbed into the small boat. Cora found his eyes as she looked up, gave him a reassuring smile and a tiny wave.

And then the boat was pushed off, cutting through the river and toward the shore. Robert followed its trajectory, could see Cora's slim figure sitting up front, getting smaller and smaller until it became hard to distinguish her from the other passengers. The officer waved him on impatiently and Robert sped down the the ramp, struggled into his own life vest and clambered onto the swaying little vessel that would bring him behind Cora. As the others loaded, he searched the waters for her boat, and when he couldn't find her, he searched the people dotting the shore. It was impossible to distinguish her, he knew it would be, but he kept looking.

"Honeymooning?" The older woman beside him, whom he hadn't noticed until she spoke, asked in a rolling Scottish brogue. Robert didn't recognize her from their time on the ship, but then, he doubted he really noticed any of the other women.

Robert glanced down, his hands bunched into fists, clutching his trousers, creasing the fabric. "No".

"Well, either way, that man should have let you on with your wife!" The woman declared, her ire making Robert snicker.

Robert shook his head. "I think I was perhaps a little too aggressive with him. He was only doing his job. And I shall be with her again soon enough."

The older woman patted his hand, "It's quite clear how much you love her. And it's beautiful."

Robert's stomach tightened at her words, his first instinct to slide away from the stranger, and end their conversation. But then he glanced back out past the hull, saw as they got closer and closer to their destination. He easily picked Cora out from the crowd, her graceful figure something so familiar to him already, that he barely need look and he could spot her. He knew her instantly. His heart knew even before his eyes had adjusted. It leapt, she was there, safe and waiting for him.

"Yes," Robert said softly, "yes I do."