A.N.: I know you most likely thought that this story was dead. But yes, I'm finally, finally finishing this. I hope you're not too disappointed with this ending. For a very long time I tried to write it, but inspiration decided to strike me during a week I'm away from home and have no computer. So this was typed on a phone, and it took me a whole morning to write. If you see any typos, please let me know, so I can correct them next time I'm in the vicinity of a device with REAL KEYS and not those touch-y things that are the devil's spawn, in my humble and old-fashioned opinion.
X
I should have complicated less, worked less. I should have seen the sun set.
X
She does not remember the last time he said her name.
He used to do it all the time, of course, when she was the headhousemaid.
She used to think she would never forget how it sounded in his voice. However, the years went by, and she found other things, more important things, to occupy her mind with.
But as she hears it again, she wonders how in the world she could have forgotten it.
It's foolish, it's overly dramatic, it's not like her at all, but she thinks it's the most beautiful thing she has ever heard.
It sounds just like it did before. And still, she doesn't believe he has ever said her name quite like that.
X
He does not know how to start. How does one overcome decades of reticence in mere minutes?
A few days ago, he would have been appalled at the idea of telling her. A few days ago, he was content to never do it.
But ever since their argument (he feels foolish thinking of it as their argument – he had been the only one doing the arguing), it has been brimming in his subconscious: the knowledge that he cannot possibly go on another day without at least trying.
"Your friendship has always been the most important of my life"
There are a million different words he could have started this with. Yet, somehow, he knows there are no better words than the ones he spoke. Especially as she answers, quickly and firmly, as if she had rehearsed this conversation in her mind a thousand times and knew what he was going to say before he said it.
X
"You will always have it, Mr. Carson"
The words tumble out of her mouth and she wonders how long they had been lurking around in her mind without her knowledge.
She is surprised, but that registers only after she answers him. It's the first time he has ever acknowledged their more personal connection. That they were friends on top of colleagues was always implied, but never admitted.
But perhaps he feels the need to assure himself – both of them – that their friendship remains intact. It does, of course it does. How could she ever deny herself this?
She feels alone enough as it is.
X
She is waiting. She knows there is something he wants to say, she knows there is something he doesn't know how to say.
What else does she know?, he wonders. Does she know he thinks she's beautiful? Does she know he compares all the women he meets at Downton, Ripon, London, with her? Does she know that whenever he enters a room, his eyes seek her first? Does she know that he tries his best not to smile whenever he sees her?
Does she?
He doubts it. Sometimes he thinks he doesn't even know it himself.
That she said 'Mr. Carson' instead of 'Charles', even after he used her first name, doesn't go unnoticed by him.
Perhaps it is her way of saying that anything more intimate in between them is unthinkable, that even their friendship has very clear boundaries.
She is his best friend. They can't even bring themselves to call each other by their first names.
It occurs to him that he knows much more about Mrs. Hughes than about Elsie.
He knows Mrs. Hughes is a hard worker, he knows she cares about the maids under her jurisdiction, he knows nothing irritates her more than Mrs. Patmore asking for the store cupboard key.
About Elsie, he doesn't know much.
Except that he loves her.
X
"Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Mr. Carson?"
She does not know what she is waiting for.
It's late.
She has waited for too long already.
X
He has waited for too long already.
The clock ticks, the minutes go by.
His past increases as his future recedes.
He has more years behind him than ahead of him.
He doesn't know how it happened. Sometimes, it feels as if he was on a stage with Charles Griggs just the night before. Perhaps because he replays those memories often – so often that it feels as if he's there, and he has the chance to do it over again and make different choices than the ones he made. But he cannot. They are just memories, set down permanently as if they were carved in marble. He is condemned to watch himself do the same things over and over again.
For years, he had been stuck on yesterday.
It is, he thinks, time for a change.
"Yes, there is, Mrs. Hughes"
X
Mrs. Hughes.
Of course.
Elsie is now but a memory - has been a memory for many years now.
How foolish of her to even care about it.
X
"I have been meaning to tell you something for a while now"
With each word spoken, he feels his heart growing lighter.
A ridiculous thought, of course. There is no such thing.
He has turned into a hopeless romantic in a matter of minutes.
"For a great many years, in fact"
No, not hopeless, he thinks, as he takes one step closer to her.
Quite the opposite, actually.
X
She resists the urge to step back when he steps closer.
It wouldn't do to stand too close to him.
She hopes he doesn't notice the slight catch in her voice as she says "Yes, Mr. Carson?"
She resists the urge to step forward when he takes one more step towards her.
It wouldn't be appropriate.
X
He hopes for many things. But most of all, he hopes that this very moment will not soon be added to the list of memories that often play themselves in his head - as if they're mocking him, beckoning him to come closer, to live them again, to live them differently this time.
He hopes to never wish to live this moment again, differently.
"You do know, I hope, that your friendship means a great deal to me. But I am afraid you don't know exactly how much"
He doesn't think he could ever explain it to her.
"You mean a great deal to me, Elsie"
The words rush out of his mouth and he wishes he could take them back and deliver them again more carefully, so that their meaning would not be lost.
X
There's an eternal pause in between each one of his words, it seems to her.
And when he finishes, it is as if she had just lived her whole life in one minute. She is exhausted.
But she is ready.
There are so many things she would like to say now. She closes the distance in between them, and takes his hand in hers, cradling it, as if his strong palm is somehow more fragile than her small ones. She is not aware she is smiling.
But she doesn't say anything. It seems she never knows what to say.
X
She always knows what to do.
His heart leaps as he sees the smile on her face.
His composure breaks as he feels the warmth of her touch.
He pulls her to him, strongly and swiftly, but she's halfway there already. He feels her arms around him, and wonders, for a second, how exactly she ended up resting her forehead on his chest.
But it doesn't matter. His arms around her shoulders – she's much shorter than him, but he never realized how much – keep her close to him, and he hesitates only for a second before kissing her temple.
I love you. The words run wildly around his head, but are not the ones he speaks.
"Stay with me"
She looks up at him, silently asking him what he means.
"Stay with me, Elsie. I know I'm an old fool, and you can do so much better than me, but please, stay with me" his words are desperate and urgent. He's aware he is begging, but it doesn't matter.
For the first time, nothing else matters.
I love you.
X
She laughs. She laughs because who else is there, if not him? Who else could it be? It's him, it has always been him, and she tells him so as she kisses him.
Joe Burns never loved her – he loved the idea of her. A hardworking and good woman he could build a farm and a family with. She never loved him either, but sometimes she thought that they could have been quite happy together. After all, there is more to a life together than simply love, isn't there?
But now, as she feels Charles' smiling lips under hers, she understands how foolish she had been to ever think that she could be happy any other way.
X
I love you.
He thinks it as she brings his head down to kiss him.
I love you.
He plays with it in his mind as her lips caress his softly.
I love you.
He concentrates on it as their kiss grows passionate.
I love you.
He says it as they break apart.
X
She never knows what to say.
But she does this time.
"I love you, Charles"
X
"The world does not turn on the style of a dinner."
No, it doesn't.
X
The End.