A/N: Yes, it's me again. This one, well this one is special and different. I suspect it's going to be quite a long-ish ride, although I'm aiming for this sort of chapter size quite regularly. It's a Modern AU with all of our characters, Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson being the central focus, but with a familiar ensemble of people. Set in a fictional (Downton) university and...oh, enough from me, I just hope you enjoy it! Rating will change in the future.

In which Elsie Hughes prepares for the new Term and the author sets the scene.

Chapter One

"Malteser?"

Elsie Hughes jumps as the small chocolate ball is thrust in front of her, almost colliding with her nose. She stares at it a moment, going cross-eyed and then turns to the woman next to her; Beryl Patmore; a food critic in a past life and purveyor of chocolate confections in this one. And Head of Food Tech. "No thank you." She whispers; they're not so far away from the front table and the row of Downton Board members that they might not be overheard.

"What? You're not still on that diet, are you? Go on, one little bit of chocolate won't hurt." The malteser, melting now between Beryl's thumb and finger, waves about in front of her. "They're more air than anything. You've seen the advert, where they blow at them through straws."

"I- no, no. And I'm not 'still on that diet', thank you. I gave it up as soon as I'd lost that bit of holiday weight, didn't I."

Beryl takes the malteser back, popping it into her mouth and sucking the melted chocolate off her fingers. "Pff. Holiday weight; your clothes still fit, didn't they? No buttons popping off, your seams didn't burst."

Mr Spratt snickers beside her and even as she turns to glare at him, she can still feel herself flushing.

She nudges Beryl with her elbow and points to the front where Professor Carson has just stood to address the Board. Her friend hums - and how a single noise can sound so knowing Elsie isn't sure, but somehow it does.

"Alright, alright I'll hush up. But only because he'll have a right sore thumb if he finds out you've not listened to him."

Elsie supposes that Charles beginning to speak is as good a reason as any for why she has nothing to say to that.

-x-x-x-x-

The Humanities lounge is practically empty when she eventually pulls herself away from her marking to grab a cup of tea. The meeting this morning put her behind and with the students returning for the Summer Term tomorrow, she really needs to get their essays marked and graded.

She surveys the room as she waits for the kettle to boil but there's only Anna and John Bates huddled over in the corner, balls of paper scattered around their feet and an iPad propped up between them. She smiles in sympathy and pulls down two more mugs from the cupboard, drops an extra teabag in the pot; at least she got her lesson plans out of the way at the start of the holiday. She had to really, to have time to go over every other plan her department Professor's sent her. It was the essays she put off as long as she could; there's always that moment as she reads them where she loses all hope for ever getting anything through her student's' over-primped heads and she hadn't wanted the disappointment to sour her holiday.

Not that she had much of a holiday to sour; getting through three books by George R.R. Martin might be an accomplishment, but she thinks it says a little too much about the amount of time she spent alone in her rooms to want to brag about it.

The kettle clicks off and she fills the teapot, swirls the water around a few times before replacing the lid and letting it rest.

Of course there was that day out in London, that was nice. Being dragged around the V&A by Charles Carson is not exactly everyone's idea of a good time, but she loves to see his passion, the joy on his face as he points out the exhibits to her. He's better than any museum guide or booklet, cheaper too.

She knows more now about Victorian-period dress than she could ever have thought she would, or wanted to honestly. But she's an academic and can appreciate learning for learning's sake and some of it was quite interesting. Some of it, well, Charles enjoyed himself so there's that.

She takes the milk from the fridge, gives it a bit of a sniff before pouring a few drops in each mug. It's not cheese yet, so it'll do for now but she'll try to remember to pick up a few pints in the morning; it won't do to run out tomorrow, not on the first day of the Term.

Topping each mug up with the tea, she stirs a couple of artificial sweeteners into Anna's cup, two heaped tea spoons of real sugar into John's and then uses the spoon to stir her own.

She hovers by the Bates' table for a moment, trying to find a safe place to put their mugs before spotting a tiny section of table under only a single layer of paper. There's already a tea ring on it so she supposes it'll do fine.

Neither of them look up and she chuckles beneath her breath as Anna reaches for the mug as soon as it's been put down.

Grabbing her own mug she blows across the surface of it, the steam wafting up and away and heads back to her office and the last of the Essays. They're her second year Journalism ones and somewhere in there is Edith Crawley's so there's at least some promise of light at the end of an otherwise dismal tunnel.

She nods as she passes Joseph Molesley and Phyllis Baxter having a heated conversation in the corridor. Phyllis has her hand on his arm, squeezing and they're closer together than usual. Elsie bites her cheek and rounds the corner; she'd known it was only a matter of time, Charles owes her a bottle of Glenlivet for that.

There's already an email from John Bates in her inbox when she gets back to her office, thanking her for the tea.

She sends a quick 'you're welcome' back with a smile and slips her reading glasses on.

Sipping at the hot tea as she flips open the next essay, she picks up her red pen and feels her muscles tensing up in anticipation. The heat of the tea steams up her lenses and she shrugs; they're not quite rose-tinted but it might help anyway.

'Journalism is an important media for freedom of speech because, like, if someone's caught lying, someone famous, then the papers should be able to print the truth and not be gagged because like-'

She groans; or not.

(If you have time, please let me know what you think!)

Also key for those who need it:
malteser - chocolate coated malt flavoured honeycomb ball thing
the V&A - the Victoria and Albert Museum; an art and design museum which in this instance was showcasing period wear.