AN: TwinsFan asked for this one months ago. I have had it sat waiting to be posted for as many months! I received a surprise review this week (and we got a trailer!) which reminded me that I need to get back to my unfinished stories.

This is angsty I am afraid. It is set in the immediate aftermath of the 'Journey to the Highlands' episode.

Cobert love to you all.

The chaos, tears and shock had passed. All that remained was the heavy storm of loss. It was a sensation all too familiar.

It had been almost the longest day of his life. The only one that he could recall as being longer, or feeling worse, was the day Sybil had died. He'd been unable to see or speak to anyone that day. He'd refrained from that this time, it hadn't been his place to completely collapse. That was for Isobel and Mary.

"Ahh, I've found you. I thought I would." He whips around, catching sight of her figure as she steps through the trees. She comes to stand just behind his shoulder, her hands both circling his upper arm and giving it a squeeze. She lowers her chin to press against his shoulder. She is still wearing the outfit she had worn when Isobel had shared news of their grandson, just like he was in the same outfit. She wears no hat and some of her curls are tumbling out her coiffure. Her eyes are red rimmed. She clutches a shawl over her shoulders, the summer nights not requiring a coat.

"How was she?" He was referring to Mary. As the news has unfolded the choice had been made that Cora would tell Mary and he had travelled with Isobel, to offer his support with the police. They hadn't had a chance to speak at dinner. There hadn't really been a dinner. Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes had organised buffet food. Robert didn't know what he'd even eaten.

"As you would expect." A heavy silence fills the air between them. The trees flutter and the birds call out, but they stand there in their stillness. "Clarkson gave her a sedative. She asked me to go. She wanted to be alone. Anna, bless her, has agreed to stay over at the hospital." It doesn't completely surprise him that Mary had asked for time alone. It also didn't surprise him that she had sent her mother away. No doubt she had allowed herself to weep in her mother's arms at first but had then backed away from the embraces that she thought were only for children.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to stay anyway?"

"I'm not sure there's much any of us can do to help at this stage. It seemed best to do as she asked. I thought I might be of more use to you." She adjusts her arms to encircle his waist from behind, her head still resting on his shoulder. She kisses the fabric then, and runs her nose along the seam of the jacket.

He looks out across the lake. The water had always been their choice of refuge. Cora had started it, she said she liked it because it reminded her as much as any place could in Yorkshire, of her times in Newport. Most people would prefer the other side of the lake, with the steep rising slope that from the top allowed a view over the lake and beyond the trees they now stood in the shadow of. But they had always preferred to stand, or sit, here with the trees as their shelter. It had proved useful in the moments of stolen kisses. Now, it cloaked them from the cruelty of the outside world, as much as anything could.

"My god Cora, the world is cruel." He feels her hands tighten on this waist and her nose press into the back of his shoulder.

"I'm here so you can cry." He swallows. She knew him well. "You don't need to be strong for anyone now."

The tears come then, it all comes gushing out. He'd held them in all day as he had supported Isobel, bitten his lip and pushed his tears away as she had wailed and wept.

He turns around to her as the tears fall onto his cheeks. He finds her shoulders and wraps his arms firmly around them, pulling her flush against his body. He pushes his face into her neck and her hair. He cries and she rubs his back and murmurs to him between her own sniffs.

They stand like that for an unknown amount of time. Her cheek against his chest, his in her hair. As he begins to recover himself he puts one of his hands into her hair and maintaining their embrace he kisses her soundly on the temple. He had Cora, and my goodness he was thankful for that. He kisses her again, this time somewhere in her hair. He inhales the smell of her. The roses and jasmine from her hair products fill his head and for half a second nothing else exists. The feel of her in his arms is calming enough, but to hold her like this was to be consumed by her. He knew he would need to be consumed by her to cope with yet another period of grief.

"Thank god for you Cora." He murmurs the words into her hair. He releases his unrelenting hold on her slightly and they naturally adjust their position to remain clinging to each other, looking out across the lake now lit only by the moonlight. She's still crying too, and they remain that way, watching the moonlight dance on the water, with their tears reflecting on their cheeks.

"How is it that both of our grandchildren only have one parent?" He swallows. That was an unanswerable question. It seems she isn't expecting an answer because she sighs heavily and clings to him a little tighter.

"We must just cherish them both a little harder. That's all we can do."

"Mary said she has decided on his name being George." Robert simply nods, there was nothing much to say to that. It was more than suitable as a choice of name. "I know today isn't a day to be happy about anything, but Robert," she turns in his arms to look at him, her hand reaching up to brush his cheek, "we're so lucky to have each other. I forget that sometimes. I'm so grateful to have you here with me."

"Me too, my darling. Me too." He takes her hand from his cheek and holds it tightly in his hand. He leans down to drop another kiss to her hair.

The time for conversation passes once again, and they stand there in their stillness. Her body is still leaning on his, her head on his shoulder. He keeps one of his arms around her back, the other now clutching at the hand she had dropped from his cheek.