Mary looked at the other version of herself and shook her head, turning back towards Downton. "I do not know what sort of game this is but I don't like if very much."
The other Mary merely smiled at that. "No, I don't expect you do. But you are going to play it all the same."
"You claim to be me, or another version of me, and think that I will just idly stand here and go along with this delusion? Well, that only proves of this is just that: a delusion. And I reject your offer to join you in your reality. Now, if you will expect me…" She turned and walked back into Downton, letting out an annoyed huff as she did so. "Of all the foolishness…"
"You know," the other Mary said, moving to follow her, "Tom always tells me that I have softened with age. I like to tell him that he's wrong, that I am still as stern and determined as when he first met me. And yet seeing you… I realize just how utterly pig headed I truly was!"
"I am NOT pig headed!" Mary complained before giving her head a violent shake. "And we are not having this conversation!"
"You can complain all you wish; it is happening," the other Mary said. Mary made her way towards the dining room, as that was the last place she remembered seeing her family, pointedly ignoring the sounds of her doppelganger's shoes on the hardwood floor. "I know Downton as well as you do! You can't run away from me like you do everything else!"
"I run away from nothing," Mary declared. "I face it head on!"
"Oh, so when Matthew proposed you didn't hold off because you weren't for sure if you wanted to be with him if there was a chance he wouldn't be the heir?"
Mary suddenly turned and smiled in triumph. "No, I did not which only proves you are not me! I stood with Matthew when Aunt Rosamund suggested that. And when Papa threatened me into breaking the engagement I refused then."
That little bit of information caused the older Mary to pause. "You… didn't waiver?"
"Not at all."
"Why?" she asked. It wasn't accusing or disbelieving. Rather than were hints of several emotions within her words. Regret. Remorse. Envy.
"Because I loved him," Mary replied. "He taught me to be a better person. For so long I thought that I had to be a certain way because the world saw fit to take all I desired away unless I played my role. Matthew tore up the script though and said that I might be-"
"The author of your own fate," the other Mary said, a sad bemused smile forming on her lips. "Oh Matthew… of course you changed things."
Mary just stared at her counterpart before scoffing and turning away. "There, we aren't the same person. Not if you'll excuse me…"
She continued one but heard her other self following after.
~MC~MC~MC~
"Matthew… love…" Mary whimpered, rolling her head back and forth. Sweat covered her brow and her skin was a sickly whitish yellow, as if all the blood had been drained from her.
"I'm here, my love, I'm here," Matthew assured her as he dipped a cloth in a bucket of cold water, not caring at all that he was getting his shirt sleeves wet. That was minor when compared to Mary; already Baxter had changed her into three different sleeping gowns as she kept sweating through them. The bed was soaked with her perspiration and the pillow had become flat from her constant movement. "It's fine, Mary, I am right here."
"Not… me…" Mary said.
"I don't understand," he told her. "You are Mary…"
"Yes… not you… Mary… Matthew…"
His mother laid her hand on his shoulder. "She's hallucinating, Matthew. She doesn't even truly understand what she is saying. She might not even realize that you are here."
"I don't care," Matthew said, grabbing her hand and holding it firmly. Not hard or tightly… just firmly. To let her know he was with her. He ran his fingers along her wedding band, smiling as he looked at the simple piece of gold. They'd joked that it was the plainest piece of jewelry she had but she never complained about it; no, she loved that ring so much and refused to take it off… "How are the others?" Matthew asked, feeling terrible that he was so focused on Mary that he hadn't thought of the other members of the house suffering under the effects of the Spanish Flu.
"Edith slips in and out," Isobel stated. "Cora is caring for her with O'Brien. As for Tom… well, Sybil was almost thrown out of his room by Dr. Clarkson for questioning his orders but Robert is with her now."
"Sir?" Molesley said, entering the room with a tray. "I brought this for you and Ms. Baxter to eat." He walked over to the bucket, touching the lady's maid on the arm. "I'll take over… you can eat here though. You'll need your strength."
Matthew wanted to yell at Molesley that he wasn't hungry but he knew the man was right. "Thank you… yes, I would rather see her, in case the fever breaks."
"I'll bring it over to you," Isobel said. "Molesley, help me move this table." The valet nodded and grabbed onto an ancient oak end table, lifting it up to reveal it had been sitting by the window so long there was an outline from the sun bleaching the wood around its legs on the hardwood. "I'm sure Violet will complain but I know you don't want to let go of Mary's hand, Matthew. But try and be careful so you don't make a mess." She got a chair for Baxter and that was how Matthew found himself eating a breakfast of toast and jam across from his wife's lady's maid while sitting next to his wife's sick bed.
~MC~MC~MC~
"I think I would have rather liked to have tried my hand at baking," Other Mary said, sitting on a stool in the kitchen.
Mary had searched of the floors above ground for anyone, having given up on merely wanting to find Matthew by the time she'd checked the 12th bedroom on the third floor. She'd never realized that there were so many bedrooms in Downton and she honestly wondered why her ancestors had made so many to begin with. The largest the family had ever been at one time was five children and yet they had enough guest bedrooms to host a party so larger her granny would have accused her father of trying to be overly flamboyant. At this point though Mary would have happily settled for someone… anyone… to have been in the guest rooms. But there was no one upstairs and thus Mary had descended down into the lower levels, into the servants' domain, in hopes of finding someone so she wouldn't be alone.
"It's clear that you are a good baker and I think with my experience I would be an even better one."
Well… not exactly alone.
"You can't bake because you aren't real," Mary snapped at her doppelganger.
"You can't have it both ways, you know," the older version of her stated. "You can't claim that you are being sane and rational and then declare that you are talking to a delusion."
"So the other is true then? I am hallucinating everything except you?" she snapped as she entered the servant's dining hall. She'd been down there several times as a child, mostly to sneak cookies from Mrs. Patmore or to inform Carson she was running away, but she hadn't truly considered what it was like down there. It was so very… plain. And drab. And cramped. She imagined Anna and John down there and at once decided that with the War over once Downton's coffers were filled-
"See, I knew we were rather bright," Other Mary declared. "What are you thinking about?"
"That I am tired of talking to a figment of my imagination."
"No, no you weren't. I can tell from the way you looked about this room that something else is on your mind." Her counterpart walked around the table. "You might as well tell me. Do you honestly have anything else to do?"
"If you must know I was thinking of how sad the downstairs was and how with the War over once Downton's coffers begin to fill up again I'd like to very much improve conditions down here. Some new paint, a better table and chairs, that sort of thing. Make the people who work for us feel better about doing so."
"Noble," her doppelganger stated. "But don't plan out those renovations just yet. Papa… he has made some poor investments."
Mary though frowned at that. "Unless he has done something rather foolish in the last few years I'm afraid you're wrong, once again proving we aren't the same. Papa has invested in Downton and before the Germans mucked everything up the village was helping us grow and become self-sustaining."
"Hmmm…oh, of course." Other Mary smiled fondly. "Matthew? Am I right? It was Matthew you convinced Papa to do that?" She let out a tinkle of laughter. "Of course he would. It grated on him heavily that he relied upon Lavinia's money."
"Lavinia's money?" Mary asked as she made for Carson's office. He was always there and he had to be there now. "Lavinia lent us money?"
"It was left to him, by her father. After Lavinia passed-"
Mary spun around, horror written on her features for a moment at this copy talking so casually about her dearest friend's death… and then felt terrible rage. "Lavinia is fine and you will NOT claim otherwise."
"In this world she is," Other Mary stated. "In Matthew's first life… his life with me… she died. Of the very Spanish Flu that is bringing you rather close to Death's door."
"I am not sick," Mary declared.
Her other self frowned. "Where… where do you think you are right now?"
Mary frowned, hand on the doorknob to Carson's office. "I am-"
She turned and saw that the world had changed. Gone was the downstairs. The hard floors. The bland walls. The old stairs. Just a swirl of light and dark, like she was standing in the yard looking at the summer sky and spinning about so the stars become rushes of light. And the door… it wasn't a door anymore but a gate made of pearl and gold, far larger that any structure had the right to be.
At once her other half grabbed her wrist and pulled her away.
"Is… is that…" Mary whispered, unable to seek refuge in denial anymore.
"You go there and you will have a long wait to see Matthew again… and even if it is from the other side of things I've done that… and I won't do that again."
"I… I don't understand," Mary whispered.
"You stand on the edge," her other self said softly. "Life and Death are currently battling within Downton. Edith. Tom. You… all of you are the prize." She turned and could suddenly see two more pairs of people, ghostly images of two Ediths and two Toms standing before the gate. "Living and Dying are battling and only Chaos knows who is going to win. But…" and now her older self gently held her hands in her own, "if you fight… truly fight… you can have a chance. We can have a chance. Not to start again like Matthew and Sybil and Michael Gregson were forced to… but to enjoy this new life that those three fought so hard to give us."
"They… they fought?"
Older Mary nodded, slowly leading her from the gate. "I want to tell you a story… of your life and how it almost went very wrong in so many places."
~MC~MC~MC~
"O'Brien…" Lady Grantham said softly as she mopped her middle daughter's brow. "I… I want to thank you."
"There is no need, my lady," Sarah said gently as she brought up a cloth that had been soaked in water to Edith's parched lips. She'd done this once years ago, before she'd come to Downton, when another lady she had served had become frightfully ill and couldn't even muster the energy to open her eyes. The cloth slowly entered Edith's parted lips and after a moment the woman began to lightly suckle on the cloth. It would be slow going but it was giving her back some much needed fluids.
"Yes, there truly is," Lady Grantham told her. "My daughters' lives… they are hanging by threads, I just know it. And I feel like you are behind me, pulling on the rope, dragging them back to us. I am… ever so grateful for you being here."
Sarah smiled slightly at that. She had never truly enjoyed service. She didn't hate it but she didn't love it either. It was… an existence. There were far better but also far worse and she'd accepted that. She was bitter about the things she didn't have, naturally, but also thankful for what she did get. And that thankfulness had only grown recently. His lordship had taken on her nephew Alfred and Mr. Carson, much to Sarah's own surprise, had grown to like the young man very much. Yes, he thought him too tall and Sarah had first bristled at that, but later on Mr. Carson had said that it was because he looked like he was far too dignified to be a mere footman. Sarah could accept that… she wanted Alfred to have far more in life.
She was thankful to Lady Sybil too. That woman… she was a rebel and wanted to change far too much in Sarah's opinion but she also listened. When Sarah had warned her about both Ethel and Sophie she had accepted at once Sarah's comments and asked if she wished to help expose them. When Sarah had asked to play only the smallest part, to protect herself from acusations of being a traitor to the rest of the members of the staff, Lady Sybil had never once made her feel guilty.
And now she was thankful for Lady Grnatham. Oh, she would still complain bitterly about some of her demands but her time in London had changed her. Made her more open with her praise. Not the weak praise that a lord or lady would give the staff purely to avoid any issues. True praise. Honest praise. Heartfelt praise.
"I am glad to give you that comfort, my lady," Sarah said as she moved to dip the cloth in the cool water once again. "She seems to be sleeping far better now. That will please Sir Michael." The knight had been commanded by Lady Grantham to get some sleep as he had nearly passed out several times due to worry and dread.
"She's cooler too," Lady Grantham said as she ran the back of her hand over Lady Edith's brow. "I hope that means the fever is breaking. Dr. Clarkson said that is the worst of it… that the fever is what truly kills a person. It burns them up from the inside out." She reached out and touched Lady Edith's cheek. "I need to check on your sisters. Sybil is working herself to death trying to help Tom and Mary… well, she's a fighter like you but I do worry."
"I will remain with her, my lady," Sarah promised.
"And I will stay here," Mrs. Hughes said, entering the room. "To make sure you are notified the moment she awakens."
"Thank you both," Lady Grantham said before hurrying off.
"How are the others?" Sarah asked. "Truthfully. Not the kind words we give her ladyship."
Mrs. Hughes sighed. "Lady Lillian is confused but his lordship is with her. Probably for the best as I think he'd just get in the way. Same as Mr. Carson. He will see to his lordship and the little lady. Last I heard the two of them were curled up together in his chair, asleep."
"Good," Sarah said. "That little girl… she has gone through enough. She doesn't need to see any of this."
Mrs. Hughes nodded. "We're keeping as many servants away from the upstairs, to ensure none of them get sick. Two of the hallboys, a groom, and three maids all have the Flu but not as bad as the ones upstairs. They have been placed in their rooms. Mrs. Patmore sent Alfred and Daisy down to the inn to let Mr. Bates and Anna know they are under no circumstance to come up here to help… we must keep the fever from spreading." She paused. "She might have told them to remain there…"
Sarah let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Anna and Mr. Bates would gives Daisy and Alfred rooms to sleep in and tasks to do to keep them far away from Downton and the sickness. "Thank her for that. Please."
"I will," Mrs. Hughes said before looking down at Edith's sleeping form. "Do you ever wish for things to be calm again? For the madness to settle and for our days to become routine?"
"And what days were those?" Sarah asked bluntly. "Our lives have always been chaotic it is merely that we move from one disaster to the next, forgetting all the bad that came before and only remembering the good times."
"Let it never be said you aren't a ray of sunshine," Mrs. Hughes teased, no bite to her words.
"With Thomas gone I must cover for both of us-"
"Well, there is no need to do that then."
Sarah turned, her eyes going wide. "Thomas!"
"In the flesh," the former footman said, removing his coat and going over to a basin of water, washing his hands. He had a mask on over his mouth, something Sarah had wished she had thought of. "Now, I was sent here to relieve you for a bit Miss. O'Brien-"
"Whatever are you doing here?" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed. "Do you not know what is going on here? We are a house under siege."
"I know, which is why I have come with reinforcements," Thomas said before a nurse came in. "Isobel, Mrs. Crawley that is, called the General and we have just arrived with nurses to assist and doctors to help Dr. Clarkson. Jonsey!"
A tall man quickly entered and walked over to Mrs. Hughes, taking her hand and giving in a gallant kiss, though it was less that knightly considering he had a mask over his mouth too. "So, this is the woman that raised my friend Thomas like a second mother." He looked at Sarah and moved to kiss her hand but she scowled, causing him to laugh. "And you are Sarah O'Brien, who taught him to be so cunning! We will be sharing stories!"
"I am busy-" Sarah said only for the nurse to take over, a doctor from London soon entering and getting her to move aside.
"We are here to ensure that you do not make yourself sick," Thomas assured the two. "It will do not good if everyone is healed but you wear yourselves down."
Sarah, caught up in the whirlwind, could do nothing as Thomas led her to the otherside of the room, letting the doctor and nurses focus on caring for Edith.
~MC~MC~MC~
It was only because the other Mary was holding onto her that Mary didn't reach out and grab hold of the gate again. Not because she was eager to give up on living but because the information she was telling her of the life that she had almost had… that she had actually apparently had until Matthew, Sybil, and Michael had been sent back and been allowed to make things right… were like body blows. She remembered a horrible time when she'd been 12 and attended a rare hunt where she was allowed to ride with the men and one of the groomsmen for Old Man Styles had gotten kicked in the chest by a nervous horse. The fellow had gone flying from the blow and that was how Mary felt right now.
"It's a lot to take in, I admit," the Other Mary said.
"Granny would tell you that there were understatements and then there was utterly foolishness and you had just spoken the latter and not the former!" Mary exclaimed. She pulled away from her Older Counterpart and sat down on the ground… was it even ground? Was there ground on the boarder of life and death, in the limbo that existed between the Mortal Realm and Heaven?
"Matthew has done so much-"
"Oh, I can tell that!" Mary snapped. She pursed her lips before whipping her head to stare hard at the other Mary. "He knew exactly what I was going to say in our first meeting! He set me up to look like a fool!"
"…is that honestly what you are focusing on?" her other self said before letting out an exasperated huff. "Of course it is. I'd forgotten how petty and vain I used to be."
"You also used to have fashion sense," Mary said, crinkling her nose as she took in her counterpart's short bob hair cut, far too casual dress, and overly large necklace.
Other Mary glowered. "This was the height of fashion from where I came from."
"Then clearly Matthew will also need to work on fixing the world's fashion choices along with keeping us all alive, saving Downton, and preventing our rape."
Older Mary frowned at that. "Kamal came to me, I admit, but I-"
Mary held up her hand. "It took Sybil to make me realize how vile that man was when I began to blame myself for his death. Perhaps you should go and find her if you are thinking anything you did with Pamuk was proper."
"This isn't what we need to discuss."
"Yes yes, Matthew," Mary said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He got a second chance at life and he seized it."
"…you are handling this better than I expected, I admit."
"I will deal with it when I am talking with my husband, not you." Mary turned and looked at her other self. "Why are you here anyway?"
The Other Mary smiled sadly, holding up her hand… which Mary could now see through. "Because… I want my second chance too."
~MC~MC~MC~
Robert sighed as he walked over to Sybil's sleeping form, pulling a blanket over her. "I know that you most likely disapprove, mama, but I think it is rather clear that this is no mere childish rebellion or a youthful infatuation." He looked over at Tom who was fast asleep, a wet rag on his head. "She loves him."
"I will admit this is not what I expected or desired for her," Mama stated as she looked at her second youngest granddaughter. "Mary was always going to want a position of power tied to Downton. Edith… well, I'm ashamed to admit that she tended to get pushed aside."
"By all of us, which is why I am grateful for Michael." Robert smiled at that. "He is a grand match for her and even without the title I would support their marriage."
"Though it certainly helps." Robert watched his mother as she moved over to Tom's bedside, looking down at the sleeping man. "I wonder… I know some people in the government. His articles, especially his work at the hospital…"
"Mama, you can't force the Crown to knight Tom," Robert said in exasperation.
"Knight? Oh no no no, I would never do that."
"…I don't believe you in the slightest."
"Well you should," his mother said. "I never lie." He shot her a dark look. "I never lie. Omitting information or not providing intel that has not been asked for is not a lie."
"You still can't get him knighted, mama."
"Of course not," she said with a shake of her head. "I would never do such a thing."
"Mama…" Robert pressed. "What are you thinking?"
The old woman gave a casual shrug, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. "Only that there are so many estates that have been abandoned due to losing heirs to the War. And even before that the line of succession for our peers were rather shaky."
"…Tom is not the heir to a noble estate."
"Would you have thought that a country lawyer could be an heir?" mama pressed. "And yet here we are…"
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is this really what we should be focused on?"
"What would you rather us focus on? The fact that three people, two of whom are your daughters, are in their sick beds fighting for their lives? I would much rather plan for their futures when they are well than wonder if they have one."
Robert opened his mouth to counter that comment before slowly shutting his jaw. She had been right… he had been dwelling on his family, how they were suffering. Fearing for Mary and Edith, wondering if he was to lose them only after he had regained them. And Sybil… if she lost Tom he didn't know what would happen to her. She wouldn't die, as she was simply too strong to pass on like that. She wouldn't give up her life like some poor widow, wandering like a black-cloaked phantom through Downton's halls as she slowly faded into nothingness. But it would be a long, cruel life. One that left her utterly broken and hollow because Robert knew after his time spent with both of them during the hospital's existence that Sybil most likely would never be able to overcome the wound his passing would leave upon her soul.
"You see that I am right." He didn't give her the satisfaction of nodding in agreement. "Now Matthew and Mary are settled though I do think we should have some sort of celebration for the two of them. A proper dinner where we might celebrate their marriage."
"Perhaps on their anniversary?" Robert found himself suggesting. "It would draw less suspicion from them."
"Yes, that would do quite nicely! We could settle where they will live… if they are to remain in London we could provide them with the townhouse as theirs to use. If they prefer the country but do not wish to stay at Downton itself we have several estates we rent out now… it would be no trouble to give them one. Now, Edith will be married first, though I suspect Sybil and Tom won't want to wait. You must be firm with Sybil that she must allow her sister this moment and to have patience. It will also, of course, give me time to scrounge up some title for Tom…"
~MC~MC~MC~
Mary glared at her other self, hands curling into tight fists. "If you think for a moment you will replace me then I will toss you through that gate myself! Or… or the other one, if I must!"
But her older counterpart merely smiled softly at that. "No… not that. You have earned your happiness. And quite honestly I couldn't do that to Matthew. He loves you." She paused. "I hope as much as he loved me." The older woman let out a sigh. "It is so strange to think about, you know. That I have longed for him and he found love with you. I should be so very angry at him… but he remained faithful. The love he found… it was me. You."
"It isn't good for your case that you are confused!" Mary complained bitterly.
"My point," her counterpart stated, "is that I am not going to take Matthew from you."
Mary folded her arms over her chest and scoffed. "Yet you want another chance…"
Her counterpart walked towards her, placing her hands on her shoulders. "I do. My reward, a happy ending. And for you… a dream that lets you appreciate all you have. That you might not have appreciated otherwise."
And with that the older Mary suddenly slammed herself into the younger.
"Mary? Mary?"
~MC~MC~MC~
"What is it Mary?" Matthew said, holding her hand. It had been a long two days filled with little sleep. Even though the doctors Thomas had brought with him had assured him that Mary would be fine… that EVERYONE was going to be fine… he had stilled feared the worst. They had thought that Lavinia was going to be fine as well, that it was Cora who was in danger, and then suddenly she was gone and what had been meant to be his wedding had become a funeral for the woman he had betrayed. So he had refused to take their advice, remaining with her even as they told him to sleep and recover his strength. He had drifted into a fitful rest in the chair beside her bed a few times but otherwise he had remained the entire time, wanting to be there when she awoke.
And now her eyes were fluttering and words were coming softly from her lips. Too softly for him to truly understand them but they were coming. And they were far different from her ramblings as the fever had seized her brain.
"Matthew," Sybil said, rushing into the room. "Matthew, I must-"
"She's waking up, Sybil!" Matthew said excitedly. "She's pulling through."
"That's…that's wonderful!" Sybil said excitedly. "Oh Mary!" She hurried to the other side of the bed and held her sister's hand before locking eyes with him, forcing him to look away from his wife. "But Matthew-"
"Ma… Matthew," Mary whispered.
"Mary, I'm here."
It was a grand struggle for her to open her eyes, that much was clear. A task Hercules himself would have struggled to perform but Mary had the Son of Zeus beat when it came to willpower and inner strength. It took five long, painful minutes, but finally Mary managed to pry her eyes open and stare at him, smiling weakly.
"Mary."
"Matthew. I… I told you…"
"Told me what?" he said with a smile.
"Not… to drive… so fast."
He blinked at that. "…what?"
But Mary turned to Sybil, her brow furrowing. "You… died, didn't you? Because papa didn't listen-"
Sybil merely nodded before looking up at Matthew. "Its why I came to see you. Tom and Edith are awake… they remember."
"They… they what?"
Mary reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek. It was clammy and honestly was uncomfortable on his skin but he made no move to remove it even though she was so weak he could have wiggled his head and forced her to pull away.
"I like this life better," Mary told him.
Matthew looked up at Sybil and realized life had just gotten far more complicated.
