Isobel had cut up the pork pie into wedges and had placed them on a plate with some salad vegetables. When Richard rang the bell she greeted him at the door, in his hand was a bouquet.

He held them out to her and she exhaled softly, "Oh, these are lovely."

Richard felt warm, Isobel was genuine, she could no more fake an emotion than a blackbird trying to be white. She waved him inside and he felt relief. Crawley House was warm, his office had a draft to it. They sat and tucked into dinner. Ate the rate he was placing food into his mouth she was certain that he hadn't had a decent meal in days. A treacle tart followed, this was Isobel's weakness. Mrs. Bird would make this whenever she went to visit her sister or when she spent a night away she considered it a form of apology for leaving.

With their stomachs full they moved to the drawing room. Instead of coffee they she had a sherry while he had a measure of whisky. They sat together on the small settee Isobel took a sip of sherry letting the warmth give her courage, "Are you sleeping?"

Inhaling through his nose Richard weighed his options, he could ignore her question and claim it was none of her business. Or he could talk about his dreams of involving Sybil. Generally speaking of dreams would be done while reading tea-leaves with a slew of women. Isobel was different, and more than that he trusted her. "I dream about the patients that I couldn't save. Generally it's right after they have died and they ask me why I couldn't save them. Sometimes they don't speak they just follow me." He took another swig of his drink to steel himself against the memories. "I can speak to them, all I can say is 'I'm Sorry.' they don't react to this they merely stare at me. Sybil is different."

"how?" Isobel squeaked.

He sighed "I don't know it's as if she doesn't want to hear it."

Isobel didn't need to pry, Matthew had told her everything. She knew that Richard had done all he could and more! "I think in this case she's right, you don't need to tell her you're sorry. You did everything you could."

Richard bowed his head over his glass chewing on his bottom lip trying to keep his emotions in check.

Isobel rose and went to the drinks table wiping her own face as she went. She grabbed the decanter and came back to refill his glass. After that she sat back down and they spoke of more mundane things. Isobel wanted to tell him about her own dreams but she didn't, tonight was about him not her.

The hours passed and the two of them stayed on the settee, when sleep claimed them they were unaware of it.

At the Abbey Cora and Robert had left the dressing room and were in Lady Cora's bedroom. Robert had missed this, the feel of his wife, the scent of her sheets. He held one another as they did on his small bed. Cora had placed the ring on her right ring finger. When Cora fell into sleep Sybil was there. They were outside again at a garden party. Sybil beamed at her mother, proud that she had done what she had asked. A small voice grabbed the attention of both of them. It was the small boy, he was standing near the sculpted hedge holding one of his toy trucks. With a wide smile on her face Sybil nodded to him and stood up. Cora panicked, "No, don't go."

"Scottie and I must go" Sybil delivered gently

"Please" Cora begged.

Sybil looked at her mother warmly, "You still have me, that won't ever change. When you really need me you'll see me again."

Cora watched as her daughter extended her hand and the boy named Scottie rushed up and placed his own in hers. "Who is he?" she asked.

Sybil smiled as she tousled his hair, "A friend, I have friends here who are going to help me fix things."

Cora then watched as her daughter and Scottie walked off the manicured lawn of the estate.

The drawing room lamps had dimmed from lack a fuel an hour ago yet Isobel and Richard didn't notice. He was in the corner of the settee his head resting on the edge. Isobel was cuddled beside him her head resting on his chest. While their bodies were still their eyelids flickered with the movement of dreams.

Richard was in Edinburgh, he recognized the streets. He passed by the market stalls where barkers were shouting their bargains. His bag was heavy in his hand and he shifted it to his other. There was a man before him that seemed out of place. His head kept turning as if looking for something or someone.

"Can I help?" He asked.

"Oh, I seem to be a bit lost" The man answered.

Richard noted from his accent the man was English and dressed in a Brown suit.

"What are you looking for?" inquired Richard.

"The Royal Infirmary." The man answered.

Richard wanted to laugh, trust an Englishman to miss one of the biggest and oldest buildings in Scotland. The laugh died in his throat, "Are you hurt?" he asked his tone switching to his more formal physician's tone. His eyes raking over the gentleman looking for signs of injury or sickness.

The man in the brown suit grabbed his arm and leaned in, "I'm not but you are."

"Excuse me?" Richard asked.

Richard watched as the man's eyes moved towards his chest and he looked down to find that blood was seeping through his shirt and jacket.

"I suggest you find a nurse." The man said before releasing his grip and leaving.

Richard moaned in his sleep and turned his head.

Isobel was once again inside the Downton Cottage hospital steadily making her way to the office. Richard was once again on the floor bleeding from his chest. She applied pressure with a towel and once again heard Reginald's voice by her ear, "Help him."

"What do you think I'm doing?" She cried as she applied more pressure onto the wound.

A clattering behind them had both turning to see what it was. Isobel saw what had made the noise it was a toy truck. A small boy shuffled up to them and knelt beside her. She watched as his small hand brushed against Richard's forehead before he bestowed a kiss on it. At the touch Isobel could feel the heart underneath her hands grow steady and strong.

"That's how you help him." The boy declared.