Hey everyone! I'm very sorry it took so long to update, but I moved and started university. It will take time until I get my stuff together (if that is at all possible) and be able to update faster. But I promise to finish the story no matter how long it will take. And there are not so many chapters left so I hope I'll finish it this year. Anyway: Enjoy :)

Hadn't it been for the shattered cup of tea on the floor, it would have seemed as though nothing had happened. But there it lay – the cup of tea – shattered into pieces, the liquid released from its cage and creeping over the floor like blood from a wound. Elsie hadn't moved or at least not moved from the spot she was rooted to. She was shaking, her eyes wide in terror. Where Charles had been standing only mere moments ago, nothing was left. He had faded right in front of her eyes and taken all of him with him – even his smell. Slowly she lowered her gaze to the floor. Had she shattered the cup or had it been him? Was she going mad? Or had it all really happened? She needed proof. Proof that Charles Carson was real and had been with her. With a gasp she raised her left hand. And there was her proof. A golden band adorned with tiny stars, sparkling in front of her eyes. I want you to have this ring so that whenever you look at it you know that I'm here and that I love you. "But you're not here", she whispered, tears falling. "Why aren't you here?"

…

Never before had waking up been so painful and time consuming for Charles. While his head was throbbing, sending waves of pain all the way down to his toes, it took all his strength and as it seemed ages to open his eyes. And when he finally had opened them, he had to wait what felt like another century until they did their work properly and allowed him to look around. Since he wasn't able to move his head yet, there wasn't much to see. Just a white ceiling and dust dancing in the late afternoon sun. It was quiet. Charles had no choice, but to lay there and wait. The time given he spend thinking about what had happened. He had been with Elsie and now he was here, back at the Abbey – he would know the rooms even if just by the ceiling – although he hadn't had a drop of that blasted potion. So why was he back? Oh god, Elsie, he thought. What had he done to her?

…

Elsie finally managed to move. Needing the support of the wall, she made her way to the hallway and grabbed the phone. She closed her eyes while listening to the beeps in the line. It made a cracking sound when Becky answered. "Hi, Elsie. What's up?"

Elsie took a deep breath, the sound of her sister's voice a small comfort. "It's Charles", Elsie managed to say, her throat hurting from holding back tears which Becky heard immediately. "What's wrong? Where's Charles?", Becky asked alarmed.

"He's gone", Elsie whispered.

"Gone? Elsie, where did he go? Did he leave you?", Becky wanted to know, a hint of anger in her voice.

"No, not like that", Elsie replied shakily. "Meet me at the old graveyard." And with that she hung up.

…

Finally Charles heard voices and footsteps on the corridor. It seemed to be quite a number of people and it sounded as if they were arguing. "His best chances to recover are in London. They've dealt with coma there much more than I have", Dr. Clarkson said in his calm yet insisting way.

"This is his home", Lady Mary protested.

"Of course it is and when he recovers he will return, but for now he needs help. Help I can't offer", Dr. Clarkson replied.

"And why now? You could have sent him away months ago", Lord Grantham pointed out.

"Months ago all signs told me that he was dying. That all we could do was make him comfortable and look after him until his time came…"

"But he didn't die", Lady Mary snapped.

"No, he didn't", Dr. Clarkson agreed coldly. "But until recently he also didn't get better. Only now I think he is ready to wake up and that demands the help of the doctors in London."

"And what if he wakes up? In an unfamiliar surrounding with people he doesn't know. That won't help", Lady Mary argued.

"Not to speak of the journey to London", Lord Grantham added.

"It is a complicated case and you can't expect the solution to be simple", Dr. Clarkson countered.

"We don't, but I believe there are other ways", Lady Mary said.

"Please, stop arguing. We're here to see how he is, not to fight a battle", Lady Sybil said.

"I quite agree", the Dowager said in her commanding voice.

"Mama, why are you here?", Lord Grantham asked.

"To see Carson, of course. I have visited him before. What's so strange about me doing it now?", she challenged.

"I didn't know you were visiting him", Lord Grantham replied astonished.

"Of course not. The only person apart from myself knowing at all times what is going on under this roof is lying in that room", she countered.

"Mrs. Patmore, what are you doing here?", Lady Mary asked.

"I wanted to bring Mr. Carson his dinner. I usually feed him around this time", the cook explained.

He was being fed? Charles felt the tips of his ears turning red.

"Of course you do", Dr. Clarkson said.

Charles' eyes wandered to the door, expecting it to be opened any moment now.

"Should we really all go in together? Won't we crowd him?", Lady Sybil asked.

"He's used to having us around", Lady Mary replied.

Dr. Clarkson let out an exasperated sigh. "But we shouldn't stay too long. Mrs. Patmore needs some peace for feeding him." And with that the door swung open. Beryl entered with a tray, looking up when she was already half way to the bed. Her eyes met Charles. She gasped and the tray fell, hitting the floor with a bang. The family was right behind her, alarmed by her dropping the tray. All eyes were on her, but seeing the look on her face they wandered to Charles and widened in shock.

"Charles?", Beryl asked quietly, not sure if she was imagining his dark eyes looking back at her so full of life. He managed a small smile and nodded. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the happy squeal that left her throat. Dr. Clarkson walked past her and set his bag down on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

Charles opened his mouth to answer, but his voice failed him.

"I see", Dr. Clarkson said. "Don't worry. Your voice will soon come back. Your body is still waking up. Are you in pain?"

Charles nodded.

"That will be the lack of moving", Dr. Clarkson concluded. "I will help you to sit up. This will make things easier." Charles was grateful for being sat up. It was a more dignified position and made him feel more himself.

"I'll get you fresh dinner", Beryl announced and stormed out of the door.

"And bring the good news to the staff", Lord Grantham added. "I'm so glad to see you awake, Carson."

Charles nodded gratefully while Dr. Clarkson checked his pulse.

"I double that", the Dowager said. "And a triumph on the battlefield no less", she added with a side glance at Dr. Clarkson.

"Granny, really", Lady Sybil laughed.

"We should let you rest", Lord Grantham said. "I'm sure there'll be a number of people who would like to visit you in the next few days. You've been missed."

"It seems as though you are in good health", Dr. Clarkson said. "I can't find anything a miss."

"Our Carson is a fighter", Lady Mary said. "I never doubted it."

"And Lord Grantham is right. You need rest. I'll go down and give Mrs. Patmore something for the pain, nothing strong, but it should help", the doctor added.

Dr. Clarkson left, followed by Lord Grantham and the Dowager. The two ladies remained. Lady Mary took Charles' hand. "I'm so glad you're awake. There was a time I thought we had lost you."

Charles managed to squeeze her hand reassuringly. "We'll come back tomorrow", Lady Sybil promised. And then he was alone again.

…

Becky caught Elsie at the gate to the old graveyard. "What on earth is going on?", she asked, grabbing her sister's arm to make her stop. Elsie turned around to her, revealing her red rimmed eyes and pale face.

"Oh my god, Elsie! What happened?"

"Charles is gone", Elsie said and looked back at the graveyard. "And I need to know… I need to know when…" She choked back tears.

"Elsie, I don't understand a word! Where did Charles go to?"

"Back to 1912", Elsie answered.

"What?", Becky asked in confusion.

"Charles he… He was born in 1856 and came here from 1912, Becky", Elsie explained.

"Are you feeling quite all right?"

"No, I feel bloody awful", Elsie snapped.

"Els, I don't get it. You mean to say that Charles' amnesia wasn't an amnesia, but real memories?"

Elsie only nodded and stared at the graveyard. "I need to know…", she mumbled to herself and hurried through the gate.

"Need to know what?", Becky shouted after her.

…

Beryl returned with a new tray which she placed on the bedside table. She moved a chair close to his bed and took a plate of hot soup and a spoon. Charles tried to tell her with a look that he didn't approve of being fed, but Beryl only shook her head. "Charles, I forced food into you for the past nine months and until you are able to move your arms again I won't stop."

Charles gave her a sad look. Nine months… "Sorry", he whispered hoarsely.

"It's not your fault", Beryl replied, her face falling.

Charles tried to reach for her hand, but couldn't move it. The door opened and Henry came in. "Sorry, Mr. Carson. I only wanted to clean up", he stuttered.

Charles was relieved to see the boy alive and healthy.

"Henry behaved very bravely during the night of your accident", Beryl said. "He ran all the way to the Abbey to get help and then ran all the way back so you wouldn't be alone until the ambulance arrived."

Henry shuddered at the memory of that stormy night and knelt down to clean up.

"Thanks", Charles said.

"You're welcome", Henry replied.

Beryl raised the first spoonful of soup to Charles' mouth. It was an awkward situation, but everyone around him had been through so much pain that he couldn't be grateful enough for all the help they had provided. Henry left when he had finished cleaning up and Beryl patiently fed Charles his dinner. She stayed with him afterwards, keeping him company.

…

Becky watched Elsie run from grave to grave, still not quite understanding what was going on. And then suddenly Elsie stopped, staring down onto one particular headstone. With a scream she fell on her knees and Becky started running. Completely out of breath she came to a stop next to her crying sister. She knelt down next to Elsie, putting one arm around her shoulder. Her gaze fell upon the headstone. When she read Charles' name on it all she did was staring at the words in shock and disbelief.

…

"Do you remember what happened?", Beryl asked carefully.

The warm soup had soothed his throat a bit and he managed to speak in small, but full sentences. "I remember the storm…", he said, thinking carefully before he continued, deciding that he could tell Beryl the truth. "And I remember the potion."

Beryl pressed her lips tightly together to hide how much they were shaking.

Charles didn't notice that. "Beryl, it worked. Your potion worked", he said enthusiastically.

"What?", Beryl asked confused.

"Your potion worked. It sent me straight into the arms of the love of my life", Charles explained.

Beryl stared at him in shock. "Charles, you have been lying in this bed for nine months."

Charles shook his head. "I didn't. I don't know how, but I didn't."

"And where do you think you've been?"

"I travelled in time – I know it sounds ridiculous, but I did. And I met Elsie and her son", he told her and coughed.

"Charles, you were here", Beryl said slowly to make sure the words reached him. "You didn't meet anyone. Only people you know visited you. Alice was here very often. She read to you, watched over you, sometimes even stayed to feed you. Dr. Clarkson said you might still hear us and dream, but…"

"No, Beryl, I didn't dream. I was there. How could I possibly dream about things that haven't been invented yet and people I have never seen before in such detail? It was real", he insisted.

Beryl shook her head, having difficulty to keep her composure. "You nearly died. You were here."

"The potion worked, Beryl. I swear it did! I have to go back."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to drink that potion and go back, Beryl", he clarified.

Beryl gasped. "That's impossible."

"Beryl, I have to go back."

"But you can't, because there's no book", Beryl snapped, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Charles was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"I burned that blasted book, Charles", Beryl shouted and bursted into tears. "I thought I had almost killed you with that potion. You, my best friend. My brother. So I burned it."

Let me know what you think. And I know I created a plot hole with the book… to be solved next time.