A/N: Life intervened, but I'm back! Can't tell you how much it warmed my heart that so many of you got in touch to make sure I was okay. And indeed I am. Hugs to you all!

I must disclaim the fact that I am not a doctor, so the medical protocol mentioned in this chapter came from reading JAMA articles discussing the treatment methods available for arrythmia and cardiac arrest in the 1920's. If I have erred please don't hesitate to let me know!

This chapter expands upon ideas first explored in No One Else Can Find Me. You certainly needn't read that to understand this, but I would love it if you did. ;)

Many thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for beta.

Songs that appear herein are available on Spotify ... Go to Username: ericajanebarry and Playlist - Worthy and True.

xx,

~ejb~

February 1922

One month had passed since Richard and Isobel's return to work. In some ways the familiarity of their routine was comforting. It was all Richard had known for four decades and he was good at it. There was great satisfaction in seeing the ill and infirm rise to strength again at the hand of his care. And for Isobel's part, while she kept her schedule to three full shifts per week and on-calls as needed (she was, after all, still in mourning, and now she had the responsibility of keeping a home as well), she was happy to be serving her community with the skill set she possessed.

But then there were the aspects of the job that weren't so gratifying ... the ones that, in fact, left a great deal to be desired. For instance, despite the fact that they shared an office - with desks perpendicular to one another - Richard and Isobel seldom occupied the space at the same time. He made rounds, kept appointments and performed surgical procedures. She spent most of her days moving from bed to bed on the ward and, at the close of her shifts when she finally sat down at her desk to complete her charts and to review those of the other nurses, he might pop in for a moment - long enough for a quick kiss and an, "I'll see you later, but don't hold dinner. There's no telling how long I'll be," before he headed out on after-hours calls.

To make matters worse, the two were rarely at home together and, when they were, they found themselves passing one another like ships in the night. Most evenings Richard came home so late that Isobel was at least in bed, if not already asleep. They were cross with one another because both felt the absence of the physicality that had become a cornerstone of their relationship. And Richard was just plain tired; physically run down from the long days and little sleep. Why was it suddenly catching up to him now, when it wasn't as if these aspects of his life were new?

Richard wasn't the only one surprised at his newfound distaste for the lifestyle that had suited him just fine for such a long time. Isobel found herself downright irritable. The grueling hours and separation were something she and Reginald had always dealt with, but somehow it had all seemed more tolerable at twenty, at thirty. She was widowed by the age of forty so she couldn't speak to how it felt then. Or perhaps she could. It felt lonely. And now she could feel the ghost of the old loneliness creeping back in again, and it didn't sit well with her at all. She hadn't waited nearly twenty years to find love with Richard only to discover herself apart from him as often now as before they were married. While it was true that she had plenty of things with which to occupy her time, she was developing a sharp new awareness of the fact that biding her time was the last thing she wanted to do, the last thing she ought to be doing.

Time. Who knew how much of it was left to her, to them? They were both in good health, and they weren't exactly old, but she had seen far too much of sudden, early loss to take her days - their days - for granted.

The shrill, incessant ringing of the alarm clock jolted Richard awake after a particularly restless night.

"Dammit!" he growled, turning it off and slamming it back down on the nightstand. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. His outburst startled Isobel and she, too, sat straight up, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

"Richard?" She rubbed her eyes and grabbed his forearm. "Darling, what is it?"

He pulled her close, resting his head against hers. "I've had four hours of sleep in the last thirty-six. We're due in at eight and the board meeting is today, and I have it on good authority that the news isn't going to be favorable."

Isobel's brow furrowed and she wrapped her arms tightly around his midsection. Richard was sometimes given to letting his emotions out in sudden bursts, but usually it took far more than simply waking up to rile him to such an extent. The daily grind was having a deleterious effect on him, indeed.

She held him in silence while she contemplated what to say. They needed to revisit the subject of retirement, but this moment was not the one in which to broach it. What Richard needed now was his wife's gentle encouragement to get through the day, her confident example of how to put one foot in front of the other.

She looked at him after a moment. "Why don't you get dressed while I go downstairs and make us some coffee and breakfast?" She stood, but he caught her hand and pulled her back down.

"Isobel, you're a saint. I'm sorry to have awakened you so rudely." He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender that he'd know anywhere as hers. "I love you, darling girl."

"Love you, too," she said with a smile, quickly kissing his lips. She gave him a playful swat and rose to stand once more. "Now, get on with you!" She fixed him with a knowing look as she walked away and he smiled appreciatively back at her.

Over breakfast Isobel did her best to assure Richard of her support and her confidence in him. "Redfern knows that I'm to attend the meeting with you, so she'll oversee activity on the ward. I'm meant to watch George afterward, but I'll stay if you need me to."

Richard shook his head and grinned despite his exhaustion. She was extraordinary, this woman, his wife. Surely if she, with all she had been through, could approach life with such resilience, he could manage it too. "No, my love, you need the break. I assume you've already submitted the fiscal year-end expense reports?" She nodded. "Then there's nothing more I can ask than for your calming presence there beside me during the meeting."

She squeezed his hand. "We'll get through today, darling. We'll get through today, and then soon we must talk. I sense we're both feeling that change is on the horizon."

"I'm more inclined to agree with you by the moment," he sighed, and she couldn't hide the wide-eyed look of shock that came over her face.

Oh, praise be, she thought. I may not be in for a fight after all.

They chose to walk to work that morning. They were ready with plenty of time to spare and Isobel knew that the exercise would serve to calm Richard's nerves. They spoke very little but each kept the other close, and for once the virtual silence didn't irk Isobel. She had as much on her mind as Richard did. It was warm enough to go without gloves, so they held hands, fingers entwined, until they were in sight of the hospital.

Before they were near enough to the building that anyone would be able to see them, Isobel squeezed Richard's hand and they halted momentarily.

"Nervous?" she whispered, smiling prettily at him.

"I'm alright. The sooner we get started, the sooner it'll be over with." He attempted to be stoic, but his true feelings were betrayed by the sigh he let go. Isobel chose not to press the issue and drew him down for a kiss.

"I'll be right beside you, come what may," she said, and she knew by the way his posture straightened and his shoulders squared that her words had achieved the desired effect.

The meeting went much as they had suspected it would, with choruses of, "Expenses are increasing," and, "We must cut costs without sacrificing the quality of care provided," from the Granthams. Richard and Isobel countered for a while ("Great pains have been taken to ensure we have spent as little as possible while still maintaining the quality of care that has been the hallmark of this hospital since its inception."), but soon they both found themselves losing the will to fight a battle they could not win; when it was announced that there would be a twenty percent reduction in the operating budget for the upcoming fiscal year, they shared a knowing look across the table.

They retreated to the quiet of their office when the meeting concluded. "We can afford to sit down for lunch," Richard said decisively, prompting a raised eyebrow from Isobel. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that we can't afford not to."

Isobel sat in stunned silence as Richard unpacked the lunch she had made for them. The news of budget cuts hit her particularly hard because it meant eliminating the positions of two of the nurses who worked for her. How in the world was she to make that determination, to ruin the livelihoods of two unsuspecting, hard-working, proficient young women? What was more, how could she do it when they were already short-staffed, the case load spreading them perilously thin? She felt caught in the middle … between Richard and her nursing staff, between her husband and her family. Was she the doctor's wife, the head nurse, or the cousin? She could not be all three without causing a rift in relationships that meant a great deal to her. She finally understood her husband's plight once and for all. And to think that he had felt this struggle every day of his life for years!

Richard watched as one pained expression after another passed across the beautiful face of his wife. It was altogether unlike her to silently agonize … In fact, the last time he had seen her do so had been in the hours immediately after Matthew had died. She was deeply troubled and he knew it was up to him to draw her out.

He reached across his desk to cover her hand with his own. "I suspect I know what's got you in such a state, my love. I knew the news would not be to our liking, but this is abysmal."

She nodded, fighting desperately to rein in tears since the staff could walk in at any moment. She swallowed hard. "I can't do it, Richard. I won't do it. There are five of us on the nursing staff. I can't sack Redfern - she manages far better than I these days. And the rest of them - Jenkins, Maycroft, Langrish - all young mothers dependent upon their earnings for the survival of their families. I'm through. I'll retire this instant before I allow my family to force my hand! They needn't pay my salary a moment longer. That should save the rest of the staff."

Richard's eyes went wide. Isobel was given to saying many things in fits of exuberance, but her steely gaze and the determined set of her jaw told him this wasn't merely a whim.

"I will support you if indeed that is your decision, but if you do leave I won't be far behind you. We need to properly discuss the situation and all that it entails together before we make a final determination, and that cannot happen here."

"There's no question in my mind, Richard. I choose you. I told you that and I meant it." There was that dead-set determination in her eyes once more.

"I only ask that we consider all the mitigating factors first so that our decision is well-informed," he replied and while the tone of his voice was stern, his eyes beheld her with tenderness.

They chatted about inanities while they ate, the conversation as companionable as could be expected under the circumstances. When it came time to part ways, Isobel's attempt at being strength for the both of them faltered momentarily. Richard had embraced her, and when he let go and pulled back to look at her face he caught her on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry," she choked, bringing a hand to her sternum as if to push down the disquiet. "I, ah …" She cleared her throat and blinked several times as she tried to hold the tears at bay. "I find myself rather saddened by the prospect of letting you go, as I'm not at all certain how soon I'll see you again." She looked away from him and pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. "And I feel utterly ridiculous! Reggie and I managed this kind of schedule for twenty years … I don't understand why suddenly I can't handle it."

If the last month's grueling workload, his level of sheer physical exhaustion, and the devastating outcome of the board meeting hadn't been enough to tip Richard's hand, hearing his beloved, a woman of stronger constitution than any he had ever known, express such distress made the answer crystal clear.

"Isobel," he whispered, lingering on the last syllable. He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek and wiped away the tears that spilled over. "I will be home just as soon as I am able, and you will sleep in my arms tonight, my beauty." He longed to say more and she sensed it, but he kept himself in check.

He caught her and kissed her as she was on her way out the door to go and visit George. "Give the wee chap a kiss from Granddad, will you?"

Isobel regarded her husband with shock for a moment before breaking into a wide smile. He always knew the right thing to say, and he could not have picked a more fitting moment to lay claim to George as his grandson, and not just hers.

"I'll do just that, my darling," she answered before placing a lingering kiss to his lips.

It was after eight when Richard finally walked out of the office, locking the door behind himself before leaning heavily against it. The day that had begun in discouragement had ended in despair. He looked skyward in disbelief before drawing great, deep breaths of the frigid night air.

Richard had just finished his evening rounds when two of the junior nurses ran frantically into his office. He was needed immediately, they said. On a bed in the triage area lay Roger Graeme, his longest-standing patient. Richard had delivered him when he was born and had cared for him all his life. Now he was forty years old with a wife and five young daughters. He was employed as a groom at the Abbey.

In a chair by the bed sat Graeme's wife, crying hysterically. Richard looked at Nurse Langrish, who nodded and sat down next to the woman, enfolding her in her arms. Nurse Jenkins began to brief Richard.

"Mrs. Graeme said he had just sat down to tea when he complained of shortness of breath. By the time she reached his side he had collapsed. The neighbor's son brought him in by car. He's unresponsive and tachycardic."

As Richard listened to Graeme's chest he knew the situation was dire. His pulse was thready and irregular. Acting quickly, he drew the curtain around the bed and called Langrish aside.

"Please take Mrs. Graeme into my office and fix her some tea. She mustn't be present for this."

When they were alone he and Jenkins began to administer supplemental oxygen and digitalis in an attempt to regulate Graeme's sinus rhythm. They kept at it until they had given the maximum safe dosage. Graeme never regained consciousness.

Richard shouted at him all the same.

"Come on, man! You must breathe! You're going to get up out of that bed and go home to your wife and daughters! You cannot die!"

But just before the clock had gone half six, Graeme's heart stopped. Richard and Nurse Jenkins had done everything in their power to save him. It wasn't a matter of being found in a backwater country hospital; there was nothing more that any doctor anywhere could have done. Even so, the knowledge did nothing to assuage Richard's feelings of guilt and remorse.

Richard had long ago lost count of the number of times he'd had to deliver news of a patient's passing to family members. This time, however, he found himself needing to sit and gather his wits first. There was nothing routine about the task this time.

As he walked home, Richard knew he had said the words. "I am so very sorry, Mrs. Graeme. We did everything that could be done for Roger, but he's gone." But he did not remember making his mouth actually form them. He recalled through a haze Mrs. Graeme fainting, and believed that he'd helped Nurse Redfern revive her. Indeed, he had lost many patients over the course of his career. But losing this patient was the last straw.

It's a five o'clock world when the whistle blows
No one owns a piece of my time
There's a long-haired girl who waits, I know
To ease my troubled mind

- Hal Ketchum, "Five O'clock World"

Soon he was walking through the front door of the cottage, but he was not at all sure how he had gotten there. He was effectively numb, mentally (if not physically) in shock. He heard the sound of the piano playing before he had the chance to wonder where Isobel was, and somehow his legs managed to carry him to the sitting room. She was seated with her back to him, and by her upturned face he knew her eyes were closed as she sang softly along with the song she played. She was soothing herself, he knew, after her dreadful morning. He allowed himself to get lost in the music as well, and when she finished the piece he approached her, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder so as not to startle her.

"Isobel."

She must have heard it - the numbness, desperation, shock - in his voice for she rose, turned toward her husband and engulfed him in her arms in one movement. She kissed him hungrily, agony evident in both of them as their lips met. She cupped his chin in her hand and as the kiss broke she studied his features. He is exhausted, she thought, and upon further investigation, he is broken.

"I love you, Richard." She whispered it in his ear; felt he needed to receive it that way - intimately and directly - in that moment.

She held him out away from her to take in his appearance and gently but decisively slipped her hand into his, leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. He watched as she turned down the bed, then approached him and undressed him with great care down to his undershorts. He watched with fascination as she unbuttoned her blouse and let her skirt pool at her feet until she remained in only her knickers and a soft satin camisole. She smiled warmly at him as she watched his eyes take in the sight of her.

"Lie down," she urged, yet again managing to be gentle and assertive at the same time.

He did, and instantly she was there, her head resting on his shoulder as her arms wrapped around him and she insinuated a leg between both of his. She stroked his brow tenderly, willing the furrow smooth.

"When you're ready to tell me, I'm right here," she whispered. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm before placing it over his heart. He breathed in the lavender scent of her hair, the salty sweetness of her skin. She kept at bay the nerves brought on by his silence through touch, keeping one hand moving on him as she alternately stroked his chest and carded her fingers through his hair.

At last he cleared his throat, his voice breaking as he uttered the words, "Roger Graeme died this evening. Massive heart attack. He was in full sinus tachycardia when he was brought in. Jenkins and I gave supplemental oxygen, administered digitalis and performed carotid massage. It was all that could be done, but it wasn't enough. He was forty years old. Leaves behind a wife and five daughters, all under ten." He closed his eyes, shaking his head as though if done properly he could shake away the day's events. "He was the first baby I delivered when I arrived at Downton, Isobel. And he's dead."

"Oh, my love," she said softly, tightening her hold on him. "And today, of all days for it to happen. No wonder you're so broken. Oh, darling …" She kissed his chest, right over his heart, and the gesture - and the timing thereof - caused him to choke back a sob. "How can I help?"

He looked at her and the compassion he saw in the rich depths of her eyes took his breath away. He reached up to trace the contour of her cheekbone with his thumb. "Talk to me, Isobel. Strange as it may sound to hear me say it, I need to hear your voice right now."

She had been changing lately, growing toward him and learning that if she wanted to communicate love and support to him it often meant a quieter, more thoughtful approach than that to which she was accustomed. But he had loved her for such a long time now, and part of what he loved was the way she spoke her mind, the way he seldom had to wonder what she thought. He needed that now, the comfort and familiarity found in Isobel's words.

She pulled the covers over them snugly and tucked herself tightly against him, her palm resting over his heart. "Richard, you did everything you could to save Roger Graeme. You did everything right, love. There is not a thing you could have done to change the outcome for him. Do you know what you did for him? You welcomed him into this world. Yours were the first eyes into which his ever looked. And such kind eyes they are! And those same kind, sympathetic eyes looked upon him as he breathed his last. He may not have been conscious, but I'm certain he could feel your presence there with him and that it brought him great comfort." She paused and noted the way she could feel his heart beating beneath her fingertips. It was not lost on her that across town a newly-widowed wife would be spending her first night without feeling the same and her eyes filled with tears, for she knew that pain intimately.

She pushed on, determined to soothe her husband. "That's what you do so well, my love. You're the calm after the storm. You have great inner strength, and you impart it to others when they need it most. I'm proud of you, Richard. So very proud of the career you've had; the lives you've brought forth and seen through to their final moments, the battle-weary young men to whom you've given refuge. And even more than that, I'm proud of the man you are; that quiet, steadfast strength that defines you. It never changes, and it grounds me. It's you who have kept me sane since I lost my son. It's your values that keep me from going off half-cocked when I'm caught up in a whim. I love the life you've built for yourself and for us, and I cannot wait to share the rest of my days with you." She was rambling, but the more she spoke the calmer he became. She went on in this manner, whispering all about her love for him and his worth in her eyes until she felt the tension in his body dissolve.

When she lifted her head to look at him she was gratified to find a smile upon his lips. She reached out to touch it with her fingertips and smiled a smile of her own just before her lips brushed his. She had gone where no other could go, reaching into the depths of his anguish and pulling him back from the precipice as he'd so often done for her. She had found him and brought him home.

March 1922

So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right
I hope you had the time of your life

-Green Day, "Good Riddance"

The outcome of the board meeting and the death of Roger Graeme brought about a series of discussions that Richard and Isobel had needed to have at least since the wedding, if not from the outset of their relationship. Richard had alluded to the fact that he had laid aside the majority of his earnings, having been single for the entirety of his career before they were wed. What he hadn't seen fit to discuss on their wedding day was the fact that he also had a sizable military pension from his years in the service, and that he owned the cottage and the land upon which it sat outright. Combined with the inheritance that had been left to Isobel by Reginald and the trust fund set aside in her name by Matthew from his earnings as a solicitor, the fact was that the two never need work another day in their lives. Armed with this knowledge, they began to set in motion a plan for their retirement.

True to her word, Isobel had tendered her resignation after the board meeting, citing her refusal to jeopardize the means of support for the three youngest nurses on her staff and giving a glowing recommendation of Nurse Redfern to succeed her as head nurse. The nursing staff would have to get by as a team of four for a while, but they were bright, young, and capable, and Isobel had no doubt that they would find their way.

Richard had gone into York on a day off to meet with his old friend, Doctor Stephen Burcham, and his new one, young Doctor Samuel Burcham. He announced his intention to retire, explaining to the very sympathetic elder Burcham that he had spent forty years married to his job and that now that he'd found Isobel, she was the only one worthy of that kind of time and attention. He asked - and received - his friend's blessing to recommend young Samuel to assume leadership of Downton Cottage Hospital.

Richard and Isobel met with the rest of the board - Lord and Lady Grantham and the Dowager Countess - to formally announce their intentions. Despite Isobel's inclination to go in with all guns blazing and call the family out for putting the couple between a rock and a hard place, she and Richard took the high road, explaining that while the both of them had intended to continue on indefinitely in their tenure at the hospital, marriage had shifted their focus in a way they could not have foreseen. It helped their cause that Isobel had already transferred all of her responsibilities over to Nurse Redfern, who was managing splendidly. Richard's recommendation of Samuel Burcham was well received, as Violet and Cora had been most impressed with the confident leadership he'd demonstrated when he covered for Richard during the honeymoon. Richard offered to stay on in a steadily decreasing capacity until the transition was complete.

This meeting was a success; both parties came away from it with a sense of respect from the other for their position, and the Clarksons felt appreciated by their employers for their (particularly Richard's) years of faithful service to the village. What Richard and Isobel had not been expecting was to be given the blessing of Robert, Cora and Violet as family. But then again, Cora would not have been Cora if she hadn't insisted upon hosting a retirement celebration for the pair at the Abbey.

Isobel glanced in Richard's direction when Cora made her proclamation. She was not much given to being the center of attention, not even with her gregarious nature, so she felt quite certain that the prospect of a party in their honor would greatly unnerve him. Instead, however, she found relief - and possibly even amusement - in his eyes when they met hers.

When the meeting dissolved, Cora took Isobel aside to begin planning the party and Violet halted Richard. She asked him into the small library and called for tea.

"I've asked you to join me not in a formal or professional capacity, but as a member of the Crawley family and a friend, Doctor Clarkson … Richard," the Dowager said. At the use of his first name she bristled and he could not help but let go a laugh, and was as surprised as anything when she laughed as well.

"It's quite all right, Lady Grantham … and if you won't be put out I think you will remain Lady Grantham to me for the time being, family or no family. It's a bit much to expect those of us who love tradition to give it up at the drop of a hat."

Violet gave him a grateful smile. "Oh, thank heaven, I do appear to have found a kindred spirit in that regard!" They shared a laugh again before she continued. "I'll thank you not to share this with your wife, but she is my dearest friend. One day, I will remain no more, and until the two of you found love she was all alone. It's about time that you and she set aside all else and devote yourselves fully to one another. I thank you sincerely for your commitment to this village, but it is now the time to commit yourself to making a life with Isobel. You've a lifetime of memories to make together, and I speak from experience when I say that you'll never regret doing just that."

"Lady Grantham," he answered, "nothing will give me greater pleasure. It warms my heart to know that we have your blessing upon our retirement, and that I can be counted among your friends and you among mine."

"Family, Doctor Clarkson," she amended seriously, though both of them smiled at the slip back into the use of his title. It was so very like the both of them. "We are family."

Aww, Violet. I can see the two of them thick as thieves. Let me know your thoughts, would you please? Thank you all for your continued support! xx