Hello and welcome to another Cobert story by yours truly :)

This will be a multi-chapter story and I intend to upload a new chapter every week. Now that university courses have taken up again, I have less time to dedicate to writing. I still hope you will enjoy this.

Set during/after A New Era – and with an alternative storyline concerning Cora's illness. I am afraid there will be rather more heavy stuff, in the first few chapters at least.

tw for grief/loss as well as dealing with terminal illnesses

"I won't beat around the bush, Lady Grantham. The test results came in yesterday, but I confirmed them with specialist colleagues in London first before coming here, just to be safe. Though, I am afraid that it really is as bad as we initially feared."

The doctor stood in front of them, clasping his hat in his hands in front of his body. He was most uncomfortable having to relay the bad news. He had so wanted to have been wrong, wanted his colleagues to tell him it was a misdiagnosis, but they had not.

The Earl and Countess both stood there, their hands intertwined, standing so close to each other that their shoulders were almost touching. Neither of them moved or seemed to breathe.

Robert felt all the colour drain from his face, felt his hands getting clammy, and his heart stopping its usual regular beating, now merely stumbling along, or so he thought at least. This could not be, he must have misheard the Doctor's words. This just could not be true.

"So it really is cancer?" Cora asked or rather said, her voice leaving little room for discussion or uncertainty.

Robert didn't dare look over at her. If he did, he was sure he would lose his composure again, just like he did in France when she had first told him of her suspicion. This time, however, they weren't alone, they were never alone in this house – least of all with Doctor Clarkson still standing there. He would not cry in the middle of the great hall of his home, in front of their doctor, not as long as he still had an ounce of willpower left inside his body.

"Yes, my Lady, I have had it confirmed by several other doctors in London, specialists in this particular field of medicine. I wanted them to tell me I had made a misdiagnosis, but they did not. They offered to help draw up a treatment plan for you and are doing that as we speak," the Scottish man replied, a remorseful expression on his face.

The doctor did not know what else to say, and so he waited for both of them to process the information.

After another few uncomfortable seconds of silence had passed between them, Cora found her voice again.

"Thank you for coming all the way here to tell us, especially this late in the evening. Please have yourself some dinner from the buffet. Though I am afraid we don't have any servants out here tonight, they are all busy becoming film stars," she said with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly, mostly unsuccessfully.

The doctor nodded curtly and walked to the buffet tables a few feet away to grant the Earl and Countess at least some privacy after having delivered the horrible news.

"Robert?"

He still had not moved, not an inch. He felt hot and cold at the same time. His heart beat fast in his chest, but it also felt like it had stopped altogether. He could feel her delicate hand on his arm, sensed her gaze on his face, but he couldn't bear it. He could not look at her, not without losing it.

Just when she was about to step in front of him as a last resort to gain his attention, a frantic voice rang out from the gallery above them. The loud shrieking snapped him out of his trance-like state.

"My Lord, my Lady. Come, quick!"

It was Denker, his mother's maid. She was waving her arms frantically, trying her hardest to catch their attention.

Oh no, she couldn't, could she? Not today.

Doctor Clarkson spun around on his heel at the noise, searching the gallery above for the source of the noise. Looking alarmed, he quickly followed Cora and Robert upstairs after putting his still-empty plate on the table.

It was not long after that that the whole family had gathered in Violet's room as she was saying her goodbyes. It truly was a good thing that Mary had persuaded her grandmother to move back into the Abbey when she had first talked about her visit with the London doctor. This way, she was surrounded by the people closest to her in her last moments and was not lying alone in her bed in the Dower House.

He stayed strong, not showing his inner turmoil, not even as his mother drew her last breath while holding his hand. He watched his two daughters, who never seemed to have much affection left for each other, clinging to each other and crying in their shared grief over the loss they both felt at that moment.

He felt Cora run her hands over his suited chest and squeeze his arms, trying to reassure him, silently telling him that he was not alone. He knew he should be there for her, should be the one comforting her after her horrible news just minutes before, but he could not move.

Robert did not want to let go of her hand, he couldn't. Not when she had taken his hand in hers on her own accord. She had never done that, not even when he had been but a young boy who had scraped his knees playing outside with the nanny. It had surprised him when she stretched out her frail hand in his direction, and he had taken it without hesitation, running his thumb lightly and delicately over the back of her hand in soothing circles.

She had said her goodbyes to those closest to her, all joined together at that moment, assembled in her bedroom. Even in her death, his mother had kept her wit, and it made it all just a bit easier for him and everyone around, or so it seemed.

And she had said it, said that she had been wrong about Cora. After all these years, she had finally said the words he had longed for her to say ever since he got married almost forty years ago. She had apologised, and they had made peace after so many years, it made him feel glad and gave him some needed comfort in these trying times. And he would certainly cling to this moment, he knew. How the two women most important to him had finally come to some form of understanding, had accepted each other.

Robert had then looked at the doctor hiding away in the corner, not wanting to intrude even more in this private moment. Only then, he had stepped closer and checked the pulse, confirming what everyone had already known was coming with a quick nod. Luckily for Cora and Robert, everyone else was too preoccupied with the proceedings of the evening to question Doctor Clarkson being there at the estate the minute Mrs Denker had alarmed them about Violet's deterioration.

The doctor then stepped out of the room shortly after confirming her heart had stopped, giving them the room to say their last goodbyes as a family, and heading downstairs to tell the staff. He was met at the foot of the stairs by Charles Carson, the former butler, who had been as much of a constant in this house as the now-deceased dowager had been for the last five decades.

Richard Clarkson did not need to say a word, the doctor's grim expression told the former butler all he needed to know. As the doctor left the abbey for the night, Carson went down to start making arrangements with Grassby's to help his former employers – and to tell the staff. They had all been aware of the steady decline of the Dowager's health and knew it was only a matter of weeks when the family returned from the south of France. The day had come sooner than they thought, but it had come, and they were waiting downstairs for any news.

Back in the room upstairs, Robert was the last person left, still sitting in the same spot, everyone else granting him some last moments alone with his mother. He sat there, kept her company and talked to her without a word ever leaving his lips.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there on his own, and he had not heard the door open and close again.

"Robert, it is time to let go. Come to bed, please."

Cora's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but she startled him, nonetheless.

He turned his head to her, his eyes full of unshed tears. She had rarely seen him like this, and it scared her, thinking about their future or whatever it was they would have.

"Give me another minute, please. I need another minute."

His voice sounded hoarse, as if it belonged to a man twenty years his senior, until eventually giving out at the end. He even looked as if he had aged those twenty years within the last three hours, and it broke her heart to see him like this. It broke her heart to think that someday, soon, he would be sitting there again, with her lying still in the bed, him holding her hand and refusing to let go.

She didn't reply, fearing her voice to betray her as well, but walked over to where he was sitting at her bedside. She noticed that had not moved away from his chair.

The both of them looked at the still form on the bed, both lost in their own thoughts, until he finally let go of the hand he had still held firmly in his. He set it down as gently and carefully as he could, letting his big hand rest on her smaller, wrinkled one for a final time.

Robert got up and lightly pressed his lips on her forehead, giving his Mama a last kiss. He straightened his back, and stood at her bedside for another second, just looking down at her, taking a mental image of her peaceful form in the bed. He wanted to remember her, his mother, for as long as he possibly could, especially looking so peaceful in her last moments. There were no lines of worry on her face, only marks of a long, fruitful life.

If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought she had just fallen asleep.

And in a way, she had.