This one-shot is set post-canon when Cora receives her treatment. Hope you enjoy it. Please review :)
Blue – Trust, Loyalty, and Security
Her limbs were pulled like heavy weights into the mattress. Her eyes blinked against the bright light above her bed, her eyelids growing more leaden by the second, even though she had just woken up from a nap. She really didn't like the room her new London doctor had given her to receive the magic treatment that was her only chance at salvation. The small exclusive clinic had a few beds for patients like her. Willing to pay whatever it took, desperate to get the new treatment that promised her a life despite the fatal diagnosis of pernicious anaemia. In the beginning, Cora told herself how pretty her room at the clinic was; ignoring the fact that it held her sickbed for the next many weeks and would be witness to all the unpleasant experiences she would have there. She ignored it for the sake of her sanity and maybe even more so to take away as much from Robert's alarm as possible.
But now, in a moment alone, she had to admit to herself that she didn't like the room. She didn't like the sterile blue paint on the walls. She didn't like the aseptic smell that was strongest when a nurse brought a new infusion and cleaned every yet so small metal area around her bed with these cloths dripping in a blue liquid, she had never noticed at the village hospital. She didn't like the bright electric ceiling light that took away every indication about the time of day.
The mattress of her bed probably wasn't the worst. No hospital bed at their village hospital could compare. After all, Robert was paying a good deal for her therapy here. The furnishing of the room showed that. But after nearly four weeks of treatment and long inescapable bedrest, her back ached no matter in which position she lay.
Cora craned her neck to see the window at the head of her bed. It was closed most of the time because it was directed to the busy street, and she often needed quiet. The sky behind the window was a deep blue now. The sun had gone down but night had not yet fully arrived, its black coat still on its way. Robert had probably gone home. Cora had fallen into a deep slumber after the last infusion had been exchanged in the afternoon. Robert had still been there, sitting by her bedside and stroking her hand. When she awoke a few minutes ago, she was alone. The look outside told her it was time for him to seek his own bed at Grantham House and get some sleep. She was glad he had decided to go home and take care of himself for once. Often enough, she had implored him to go home at dawn but his hold on her hand had just tightened and he shook his head silently. He stayed. Day in, day out, it was the same discussion. But Cora really meant it when she said he had to look after himself. She couldn't do it in the same way she had done for years. Today it seemed he had listened. Finally, he was getting some reasonable hours of sleep in a comfortable bed.
These late evening hours, when Robert looked most tired, often were moments where Cora was relatively well-rested. She got her last infusion of the day at four in the afternoon. She was lucky when she got to doze after the first minutes of the infusion, which were unexceptionally unpleasant. As she often had slept multiple hours during the day and the infusion had restored some of her energy, Cora was a little more refreshed in the late evening. Maybe this was why Robert seldomly left for Grantham House on time. He wanted to spend quality hours with Cora when she was awake and refreshed.
Cora tried to roll over onto her other side. The bed always squeaked and Cora groaned as she struggled to move her heavy limbs. Once she fell onto her right side with a sigh, the door to her room opened. Her eyes widened when she saw him. He hadn't gone home after all.
Closing the door behind him, Robert said, "You are awake."
"And you're here."
He sat on his chair by the right side of her bed. His eyes looked tired. The bags underneath them were especially dark. Nevertheless, there was a hopeful light in his eyes.
"Of course," he said matter-of-factly. "Where else would I be?"
She rolled her eyes as she looked up at him at an angle from her lying position on the bed. "In your comfortable bed, you sweet Donk," she said softly.
He just grunted.
"Where were you?"
"I asked the nurses for some tea," he explained. "How do you feel?"
"Alright. I think I actually slept well."
"Do you want me to take you to the yard then?" Robert inquired.
The yard was the most beautiful part of the small clinic. It seemed like a patio of one of the nice restaurants they'd often visited in London. It didn't feel like they were in a doctor's office at all when they sat on one of the benches and looked into the fountain and bushes. It was a retreat between the examinations and treatments (but only if she was strong enough). And it was a little adventure to go there once the sun had already gone down. They had done it last week for the first time that Robert had supported her as she weakly descended the stairs to see the patio at night. The experience had been something so special in her dull hospital routine that she had been excited over the top when Robert brought her to bed afterwards. It seemed he wanted to repeat that.
"And you really don't want to go home in time for a good night's sleep?"
He shook his head.
"Then, yes, I would like to go to the yard," she smirked happily.
He smiled. "Good."
He got up from his chair and went to the closet. Knowing perfectly where to find it, he reached for a hanger and took Cora's coat. "You can manage the stairs?" he asked with his back still to her. His palm brushed over the sleeves of her coat.
"Yes, when you're holding my hand."
"I'm helping you, of course," Robert said earnestly, passing over her coquettish way of putting it.
Cora tried to get up and the bed squeaked again.
"Wait! I'll help you." Robert turned to her when he heard her moving in the bed.
"I got it, Robert. I'm not completely invalid."
"Of course, you're not. But why wouldn't you let me help you when I'm here?"
"I got it," she said more purposefully and heaved herself to the edge of the bed.
"I'll get your stockings in a second," Robert murmured. He put her coat down on the foot of her bed before he turned to the closet again and looked for the stockings.
Cora watched him as it was her routine every day. She smiled when he got down on his knees in front of her and caressed her leg while she lifted it for him to put on the stocking. She cherished every moment that she got to experience his touch. She liked the gentle way in which he brushed over her skin.
"My shoes are over there." She pointed towards the head of her bed where they looked out from under the metal bed frame. But of course, he knew. He always got her the shoes.
Silently, he also helped her put on the shoes and fasten the clasps. Then he raised from his kneeling position with a groan and held out his hands for her. She took his offered support and let herself be helped into the coat. She tied it around herself tightly and tried to hide her nightgown underneath completely, even though it didn't matter. Everyone knew she wasn't wearing a nice dinner gown. Everyone knew her main identity now was being sick.
Robert brushed his hand over her forehead and pushed a piece of hair from her face. Her braid wasn't neat and tidy at all anymore.
"You look splendid, my dear."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do. You can't see the lively colour in your face, but let me tell you, you look really good," Robert assured.
Cora hooked her arm on him. "Let's go. Before the night nurse gets mad."
The way to the yard was less straining than most of the time. Cora was glad for Robert's support at her side but she managed well on her own. The two nurses they met on their way down smiled friendly at them and seemed to be happy to see Cora up and about. The patio was empty save for the two of them. It was dark and only two lanterns at the exit were lit. But they knew their space on the bench in the middle. It was hidden by a butterfly bush on either side and looked directly onto the fountain in the centre of the patio. Robert stirred her there but when he saw how she pointed with her finger in a round motion around the yard, he let her have her short walk before they sat down. When they reached the fountain, Cora leaned more against his side. Her legs felt weaker but she knew Robert was there.
When they got to their bench, Cora was quite relieved to sit again. They sat with their knees touching so that they were able to see the other's face. Even though it was dark, Cora could tell the blue of his eyes apart from every more shadowy tone surrounding her. This blue was her anchor. Whenever they sat like this and looked at each other like this, it pulled her in. It lulled her into a peaceful world of their own. Just Robert and her. His look held so much love and its blue was a reliable resort in her draining days. She would do badly if she wouldn't be able to look into his face every day. Robert was the light of her day. His loyal companionship kept her warm and held her safe. Still, there was something she was missing. Today, this thought had been more present than ever. Cora knew, everything at the proper time, but somehow a great impatience overtook her.
"What are you thinking about?" Robert asked. He must have read her changing expression, her thoughts wandering off to less easy matters.
Cora cleared her throat.
"I want to be home."
Upon hearing this word, Robert's eyes softened. "The doctor said you'll soon be able to come to Grantham House and get the rest of the treatment and care there." His hand had circled hers and his thumb brushed over the back of her hand ceaselessly.
Cora smiled weakly, and then bending her head slightly she lowered her gaze into her lap. She shook her head. "I want to be at Downton." His thumb stopped.
Home.
He squeezed her hand. "But do you think you could manage the journey?" he asked carefully. She couldn't. It would be too great a strain on her exhausted and weak state to take the several-hour-long journey. No, she couldn't and she knew Robert knew. He would never let her make the journey in her frail state. But his careful inquiry showed his trust in her evaluation and opinions. He wanted to listen to her thoughts. He wanted to obey her wishes, even if he had his reservations.
"No. I know I can't go back home just yet. I still have to wait to get better. I think what I just wanted to say was… that I just… I miss it." She looked up and sought his blue eyes that looked at her so full of attention and expectation.
"I miss…" There was no way she could word everything she missed about home. "I miss it," she whispered again, a little sigh of resignation carrying her words.
Resignation about her inability to put into words what she wanted to let him know most of all. He, who loved Downton more than nearly anything in the world – because it was so much of his identity, he could barely draw the line where he ended and Downton Abbey began – he should know how much her heart desired to beat in this vast part of land again, in these sturdy walls of sandstone. She wanted him to know that she, too, wanted to be where everything was that made up her identity. She wanted him to know that never had she been able to understand his wish so well, that he – as he was born at Downton and given his life to it – wished to die there. She might not have been born there and her duties to Downton had been different but it was where her life pulsated, and she wanted to die there, too.
Cora took her other hand to put it around their already interlaced fingers. She tried to squeeze his palm hard with both of her hands. Her tongue was tied and how could she possibly let him know what home was meaning to her?
She wanted to be home to be able to feel alive again. And home was Robert, but it also was Downton.
"They miss you too," Robert whispered.
She looked into his reassuring eyes and smiled as she knew he had not only listened to her words but also tried to listen to her thoughts. Despite her silence, he had caught aspects of her message that were conveyed only by the familiarity between them.
Cora choked. She had tried not to think too much about her family because she knew how emotional she would get after weeks of mostly being separated from everyone. Now that Robert had mentioned them, tears welled up in her eyes.
With a tear-bubbly voice, she joked, "I guess I have to make do with you for the next few weeks."
"I know I'm a rather humdrum company on my own," he gave back, but his smile at her was warm and genuine. In a more earnest tone, he added, "We will get you home as soon as possible. And I'll ask Edith to really bring some of the grandchildren with her the next time she visits her office. She could be down here more often anyway. It is her newspaper after all. Do you think she could bring Marigold and Sybbie with her? Sybbie is old enough to travel with her aunt, right?"
Cora just nodded. She liked listening to Robert when he got so inspired as he loudly developed his thoughts.
"I'll call her tomorrow," he decided.
Cora shimmied closer on the bench. After having looked at each other for a while, she pressed her body to his side and waited for his arm to sling around her like a warm coat. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, and they looked at the dark fountain in the centre of the patio now. Robert gently pulled her into his arms.
As she looked into the constant flow of the dark bluish water in the marble basin, Robert's unwavering presence became suddenly so very clear to Cora. His devotion beyond everything else – beyond his own needs, his sleep, his preference to be at Downton – was unparalleled in the history of their relationship. He had been such a great husband for nearly forty years. But never had he given himself up so completely to give her the greatest comfort possible. He deserved some rest and good for himself now too (Cora's thoughts were often dominated by her strong urge to take care of him because he neglected himself for her sake). But still, wasn't that the biggest sign that despite every rocky patch, they still had done everything right? They looked out for each other, he more than her at the moment given the circumstances, and weren't they fruitful in giving each other comfort and happiness?
She turned her face into his neck. His warmth and scent clouded her mind. She felt Robert shiver from the soft touch of her breath, and nose, and lips.
"I couldn't be more grateful for having you by my side," she whispered. She had to tell him. But he knew, right? She hoped he knew.
He turned his head too and his lips travelled through her hair. She wasn't sure if she felt them quiver on her scalp.
"You're no humdrum company at all. And maybe," she added when she realised that maybe she had made a mistake, "I was wrong when I wished for Downton. I have you with me all the time, even when you should be sleeping, even when I'm asleep for hours. It's unappreciative to wish for more."
"No!" he interrupted decidedly. "It's not," he said a bit softer. "I promise we will get you home soon," he repeated. "And trust me, it will be better once there won't be…" He turned around on the bench and looked up at the building behind them. "… all of this every day anymore. Believe me, it's better to recover in your own bed. It's quite… sterile here."
"Of course, it is." She let herself laugh at his unshakable wariness for hospitals. "They're doing a good job," she added.
"They better be," he grumbled lowly and pulled her closer again. She was secure in his arms, fit perfectly in every mould at his side. Her head in the crook of his neck. Her shoulder in his armpit. Her waist against the small swell of his belly. Her thigh pressed at his thigh. And his arms were around her all the time.
They sat like this for a while. It was a substitute for falling asleep in each other's arms at night.
"It's nice that you're staying so much," she breathed.
He hummed in agreement.
"But I'm looking forward to sharing a bed with you again," she continued.
His next hum had more vigour.
"And it could be any bed really. I'm not picky. Our bed at home, at Downton, is great of course but I'd share any bed with you," she rambled on in a soft voice.
"I know that for a fact," he murmured.
She smiled into his embrace. She felt how his chest expanded before he set to speak in more than a whisper.
"I actually wanted it to be a surprise," Robert began. Cora's palm travelled around his body onto his breast to feel every word he spoke reverberate through her hand. "But I guess now is a good time as any to tell you. I wanted to surprise you to see the sparkle in your eyes but I know they'll be shining anyway, even if you already know beforehand."
Cora just listened expectantly.
"I organised to have a few alterations made to our bedroom at Grantham House," Robert said.
"What?"
"All nice, I hope. I knew you'd be living there for a while before we could go back to Downton eventually, and I wanted to make you feel most at home. Grantham House is home too, I know, but I asked Mrs Hughes to send over your favourite blankets and pillows. I also thought it might be nice to have the paintings you chose for our room brought over when we're staying multiple weeks at Grantham House. And…" he hesitated at that point. "And at the moment, there are new wallpapers being put up in our room. It took me ages to trace back the original wallpapers we chose for the Mercia bedroom back then but I finally found them, and now, our room at Grantham House is getting an old-new look in light blue. So, that you feel more at home."
"Are you serious?" Cora breathed in disbelief.
"I am."
"Robert, you're insane. You didn't have to–"
"I know. But I wanted to."
Cora lifted her head and put her hands on his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. "Thanks," she whispered against his lips. And then she kissed him again. She savoured the taste of his supple lips, the intimate nearness she couldn't get enough of. Her heart felt strangely full when she pulled back and let her adoring gaze sweep over his features covered in the dark shadows of the butterfly bushes. She saw his eyelids droop in satisfied sleepiness.
"I should go sleep now," she said.
"You're right." He slowly detached himself from her. "Now, I can tell you, that you know of the surprise, that I'm sleeping in my dressing room at the moment because of the renovations, and it's even more horrible than sleeping in my dressing room at Downton. I hate the room and the bed is awful. It's all right for having a nicer bedroom afterwards, but please, don't send me away early every evening to go sleep in this ghastly dressing room. I'd rather be tired after spending more hours with you than be tired after sleeping badly more hours in this awful bed."
"Alright. I can see that." She smiled tiredly as he helped her get up from the bench.
The walk down the path towards the entrance of the clinic building seemed unreasonably long with every step Cora took. Her tiredness grew exponentially and she felt half-asleep as Robert guided her.
"Soon, everything'll be better. Soon, everything'll be good," Cora murmured. It was a repetition of Robert's words. He said them like a prayer when Cora got a new infusion and felt so dizzy and unwell for the first minutes. She had absorbed these words as a singular truth. She had complete trust that he was right, that everything would be better. Now, she told him, and his tug at her hand made her think that he trusted her words as well.
