Disclaimer: I wrote an e-mail to Santa. Apparently, although I have been a good girl this year, there are just some things you can never have...

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I should have complicated less, worked less. I should have seen the sun set.

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"Mrs. Hughes!"

"Yes, Mr. Carson?" her calm voice the complete antagonist to his.

"May I ask what possessed you to change the dessert for tonight's dinner at the absolute last minute?"

She feels the urge to turn around and look at him, but knows that if she does, her eyes will be alight with annoyance, and she does not want to give him that satisfaction. So she keeps her back to him, pretending she's interested in the book she's reading.

"Her Ladyship asked me to. Apparently Sir Richard is not very fond of apple pie"

"The least you could have done was to warn me beforehand!" He closes the door of her sitting room behind him.

"Whatever is the matter this time, Mr. Carson?" She sighs. She gets rather tired of his constant nagging on a daily basis. It is, she thinks, so easy to forget she has such strong feelings for the man when he decides to act like an overgrown child.

"The wine, Mrs. Hughes!" instead of sitting down in the armchair he usually occupies when in her sitting room, he takes one step closer to her, and she knows his intention is to intimidate her.

"What about the wine, Mr. Carson?" she asks, and keeping her voice void of anger takes all the composure she has at ten o'clock on a Tuesday night.

"What about the wine" He mutters, as if asking about it is the most preposterous thing she has ever done "Mrs. Hughes, just this morning, when Mrs. Patmore informed me we would be serving an apple pie, I picked a strong wine to complement the flavor said dessert. Now, imagine my surprise when, upon serving the wine, I find that it is not a pie that it will be drank with, but a chocolate soufflé!"

She fights the urge to smile at his antics. Only Charles Carson would get this upset over something as silly as wine.

"I'm afraid I still do not understand, Mr. Carson" she says, looking at him for the first time since their conversation began. He's towering over her; she had not noticed him getting closer as they talked.

"Of course you do not understand, Mrs. Hughes. After all, your duties in this house do not go as far as having the responsibility to serve the family. How could you understand the differences between the brands of wine when your world consists solely of playing mother to the maids?"

He shocks her. Never, in all the years they had worked together, had he managed to diminish her and her job this way. And why for? Because she had, amidst all the drama she had endured that afternoon, forgotten to tell him Mrs. Patmore had changed the dessert. She stares at him, and forgets that she vowed not to let her anger take the better of her tonight. Taking a deep breath, she tries to keep her mouth from blurting out her thoughts, to avoid an endless argument that would only leave them angry, annoyed and exhausted the next morning.

"Mr. Carson, would you be so kind as to leave? Usually I would offer you a cup of tea, but I do not think I would enjoy your company this evening." She turns her back to him, hoping he will leave without saying another word. She sighs, thinking, not for the first time that night, how easy it is to be greatly annoyed by this man "Have a good night, Mr. Carson"

She does not turn back around until she hears the door closing.

X

He sighs as he opens the door to his bedroom. It had gotten out of hand. What was he thinking, barging in her sitting room this late at night, to complain about something neither one of them could change? Dinner was long gone now, and His Lordship had not seemed to notice the wine was not the right one for a chocolate soufflé.

Truth was, when he noticed he was serving the wrong wine, his heart had stopped for a second or two, as silly as it sounds.

"The world does not turn on the style of a dinner."

"My world does."

His words still rang in his ears. It's not that they were not true; it's that he wished they were not. Saying them aloud, especially to Mrs. Hughes, only made them more real, and, at the risk of sounding like a sentimental old fool, he knew his world, his life, should not revolve around what wine should be served at dinner, or what cutlery they should use. But, what was there other than this?

One answer came to mind, or rather, one woman. The same one that had occupied all his thoughts, waking or otherwise, for the past fifteen years. Shaking his head, he tried to keep his mind from going down that particular road tonight. Not tonight, not when he had most likely managed to hurt her to a point she would not even want to speak to him the next morning.

He looks out his window, and, staring at the darkness, wonders just when it got so late. He does not know if he is thinking about the night, or about his life. It would not surprise him if it were the latter, given his somewhat wistful mood tonight. Had life passed him by too quickly? Was it too late? Too late for what? For the dreams he had, long ago, given up on dreaming?

Lying down in his bed, he unsuccessfully tries to remember when was the last time he had seen the sun set.

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A.N.: I want to start by thanking every one of you who read (and reviewed) my first story, Sad Old Fool. I had some wonderful feedback, and I am ever so grateful for it. Now, about this one. Leave it to me to decide to start a multi-chaptered story right at the end of the semester, when no one has time for anything. But, well. I was listening to a song today (I wonder how many fics started out like this) and it made me think of our favorite couple. Mostly about Charles, actually, so this story will probably be more from his point of view, although I'll try to alternate it between the two of them a bit. The line in the beginning of the chapter, in italic (there will be one each chapter), is taken from the song, and will all be as if from Charles' point of view. The rating is K+ for now, but it may go up in later chapters. It's definitely angsty, but, who knows, maybe it'll get flufflier towards the end… As English is not my first language, I'd appreciate if you would let me know any kind of grammar mistakes I might have made. If you made it this far, then you should probably know I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this one, but I do hope you decide it is worth your while and stick with it, if only to find out if it has a future.