Mrs. Hughes is a professional glarer. It's no great secret. Also, Green is known as Mr. Gillingham… no one knows his real name downstairs. Anyway, my heart was literally in my throat thinking about (and writing part of!) this. This won't happen, because it simply can't happen. I wouldn't stand for it. But, logically it could. But it won't. Downton isn't THAT dramatic, right? However the F word makes an appearance because it was in use back in the day and well, let's just keep the ridiculous Downton drama train going.

There weren't many flaws to Mrs. Hughes' character. Over the years, she had been able to adjust any faults she might have had. Her accent, the way to properly make a bed, the way she handled her charges. However, she was always told one thing, over and over, in her youth that she knew she hadn't mastered: She wore her expressions on her face. She didn't hear it much anymore, but then again, there weren't many left who could so openly scold her.

Of course she managed it quite well when dealing with the Lords and Ladies of the manors she worked for and by the time she arrived at Downton, she only revealed her emotions to her employers if she chose to do so – Like to her Ladyship's mother and the time she suggested they have an indoor picnic. She smiles at the thought. Downstairs was a different matter. Her charges knew when she was troubled. Satisfied. Irate. Gloomy. They knew who the temper was directed to, and stayed out of her way. She never had a problem showing her feelings downstairs, nor getting those who deserved her glares to shut their mouths and stay away.

Until now.

Until that man assaulted her precious Anna. She wasn't sure she could hold her glares back, even if she wanted to. But because Anna was adamant that nothing should be said or done, it was the least she could do. And so, when he'd speak, she'd fix him with her worst scowl. He hardly seemed to notice, and it never shut him up. She felt lost, confused. This has worked with every person who has stayed under this roof. Dozens of visiting valets and ladies maids have respected my authority. Why isn't it working now?

She had taken to protecting Anna at any chance she had. In fact, she was falling behind in her work because she was so worried to ever have Anna alone. During the day, it wasn't so bad. She made sure that Anna stayed upstairs. Taking care of the girls; forcing Anna to make the beds – even though it was no longer her job. Anything she could, to keep her away from the always loafing around valet. But at night, when the darkness crept through the house, when people would congregate in the servant's hall, when they would start drifting off to their bedrooms, she would worry. She would either personally have Anna stay in her sitting room or would actively sit beside her in the servants hall. It confused Mr. Carson greatly, as it seemed she no longer wanted to spend her evenings with him.

And they were doing so well. It had felt like ages since they had been on the same page. Where she would happily let him have his temper tantrum about the current way of the world and he wouldn't immediately chastise her for her liberal views. Laugh with each other when discussing the goings on of the house. Try to kindly show each other another opinion. Sit with each other in the evenings in contented silence, drinking their sherry. After Mr. Grigg's departure, she had been happy. They had been happy.

Then Anna was raped and the happiness was taken from Mrs. Hughes in the blink of an eye.

Earlier that morning at breakfast, Mr. Gillingham had pointedly asked Anna a question. An inappropriate question that could have been taken more than one way in a way that was obvious to her, but not the others. They had no knowledge of the events that had transpired. Except Mrs. Hughes. The question caused Anna to shake and no one noticed except Mr. Gillingham and Mrs. Hughes. And she would not tolerate that.

So, she did what she always has in that situation, only with much more venom. She snapped at him and set her glare at him.

His face changed. It registered something.

And now, as she sat in her sitting room trying to sort the rotas, she realized what she had done was a mistake.

Possibly, a grave mistake.

She was fortunate he had already turned in for the night. She was fortunate Anna had left for home hours ago. But, she still felt uneasy. Thoughts of asking Mr. Carson for a large nightcap floated through her mind, but he mustn't know. To ask for a nightcap would invite talk. It was obvious that he was picking up on her discomfort, her anxiety. She had managed to keep him at bay the past few days. Anytime he asked if something was wrong, she'd reply that she had a headache, or had a mountain of work to do. Tonight was different. She wanted his company because she needed him. He was the one who could always calm her. She was tired of trying to handle this alone.

She was scared.

But, there was no need. He was in bed. Seven floors above her. On the men's side. Where he couldn't get to her, or Anna. She had a thought, suddenly. Why not lock up now? Then she and Mr. Carson could retire together, and she could happily let him through. Maybe rub his arm. His touch had the ability to calm her down. Maybe she would finally reach for his hand?

She reached for her keys on her desk. There was a knock at her door. She turned with a smile on her face – it was a bit early to retire for Mr. Carson but they have had a busy week. The door opened.

Her blood ran cold. Mr. Gillingham simply raised his eyebrows as he shut her door.

She was sure she'd die of a heart attack. Right now. This is how she would go, and she couldn't complain. She'd rather go now, under her own power, than at his hands. Damn it, she knew the fear was written in her eyes as his eyebrows narrowed and a small smile formed on his lips.

It's okay. It's alright. Calm down. He could be here for something else. He certainly wouldn't want to take me.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes."

"Mr. Gillingham," she tried to banish the panic in her voice. "How can I help you?"

"I wanted to discuss something I noticed today."

If her hands weren't clasped so tightly in her lap, they'd be shaking. "What's that?"

"It appears you may think something about me. Something negative. And I want to clear that up."

Stop biting you lip. Stop wringing your hands. Just stop.

"I don't know what you mean. I haven't interacted with you enough to form an opinion."

She took a shaky breath as he looked around her room.

"Oh, I think you know what I mean. Perhaps you haven't interacted with me, but that doesn't mean you haven't interacted with others who have. Others who may know something."

She held her gaze just over his shoulder. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

He stepped toward her. "You do. And I want to make sure that we're both clear on something, that not a word is uttered about it."

Her fear was replaced by rage. She'd be damned if this man threatened her with anything. Besides, Mr. Carson was next door, and she was fairly certain Mrs. Patmore was still in the kitchen, though she hadn't heard that mixer for over an hour. He couldn't harm her, not if they were so close by. She had the numbers on her side. And she had the rage. The rage that a mother would most certainly have if this had been done to their child.

"Mr. Gillingham you are not in a position of power to threaten me. What I choose to do with whatever knowledge I may have is my own affair."

He stalked over to her. Put his face dangerously close in front of hers. She was pinned between her desk and him. One scream, Elsie. One scream. That's all you need and they'll come.

"See, I cannot have that. If I'm not certain I have your word, I'll go to her tonight. I'll kill her. Kill that cripple too. One scream from you, one word and you'll never see either of them again. And then, how will you find me? You don't even know my real name."

He reached down and forcefully gripped her wrist, bringing it between them. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't make me hurt you, Mrs. Hughes. You seem to be such a kindly, old woman. It'd be a shame to hurt someone who is so loved in this house."

Her eyes narrowed as her mouth dropped open. His demeanor changed in an instant and his features darkened considerably. He increased the pressure to her wrist. The pain shot through her arm. There would most definitely be a bruise. Still, she would take whatever pain this man was planning on giving her, if it could save Anna from this torture.

She took an unsteady breath and spat, "As if you could get away with such a thing. Get out of my room."

"I know I can. And I'm sorry you won't listen to reason, Mrs. Hughes." He was still gripping her wrist as his other hand tightened into a fist. He pulled it back in a flash.

She heard her door open and heard the most wonderful voice on earth, "Mrs. Hughes, I for the life of me, cannot find the –"

She felt a rush of air go past her face. He missed his target. His fist collided with the shelf of her desk and she heard the wood shatter as her items toppled to the desk. Mr. Gillingham grunted in pain before standing awkwardly and released her wrist, turning around in a flash.

Carson's face was murderous. His eyes were darting between her and Mr. Gillingham, putting two and two together. She knew he saw where his hands were. Prayed he saw him strike her shelf. What she needed to do was make sure he was on the same page as her. That he knew Mr. Gillingham meant her harm.

Please. Read my thoughts. You're so good at this. Help me. He was going to…

Carson snapped and grabbed Mr. Gillingham by his jacket slamming him into the wall, next to her door. She heard a sickening crack as the back of his head collided with her wall.

"What the fuck were you doing?"

He didn't have time to answer. Carson reared his fist back and Mrs. Hughes couldn't look. The sound that emanated around the room was enough of a mental image. The sound repeated itself. The third time, there was a nauseating wetness to the sound and she couldn't take it anymore. Mr. Carson could not, and would not, go to jail over this. She scrambled up from her chair and rushed to his side, throwing her arms around his elbow, which was poised for another strike.

"Mr. Carson. Stop. Please!"

She was looking at his shoes, which had a steady stream of blood flowing onto them. Her floor was practically covered. His arm moved in time with his heaving chest and he must have loosened his grip on Mr. Gillingham, as he promptly collapsed on her floor.

She had never seen a man's face look like that. She's handled blood before. One footman broke his arm so badly falling down the stairs that his bone protruded from the skin. But this was worse. Far worse. She couldn't find the man's nose. There was so much blood it was practically black. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she sagged against Mr. Carson, shaking from head to toe.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes."

She felt herself being led over to her settee and was gently sat down. Carson rested his forehead against hers for a second.

"Breathe. I'll be back in a moment."

She shut her eyes tightly and heard Mr. Carson reach for her keys. The last thing she heard was a long, pain-filled moan as her door was opened.

Mrs. Hughes awoke to a strange tracing on her hand and she jerked it away before her eyes snapped open, terrified that Mr. Gillingham was still in front of her. Mr. Carson was sitting next to her on her settee, incredibly close.

"I'm sorry, I was just…"

He was rubbing my hand. She felt her lip quiver and suddenly felt a fool. She was usually so strong, but she failed. She failed Anna. In all likelihood she now failed Mr. Carson. He'd surely be arrested, thrown in jail for the rest of his life for assaulting another man, and all because that man was trying to hurt her.

It was too much. Tears flooded her eyes and she couldn't catch her breath.

"I – I – Y – You…"

He shushed her and pulled her against him. "It's alright."

Her sobs were now wracking her body. There was so much she wanted to say to him – Thank you. You went too far. You'll be sacked for this. Imprisoned. You saved me. I love you. – But not only was speech insurmountable, it would remain so for quite some time. She only hoped that he would hold her until she could get herself under control, for she would not be releasing her grip on his lapels anytime soon.

Eventually, her racing mind had stopped; her sobs and hiccups were few and far between. He was rubbing her back and rocking her slowly from side to side, something she hadn't even noticed until she was calmed. His shirt was soaked – in fact, it was probably ruined, if not from her tears, then from the specks of blood that decorated it. She wondered about his hand.

"Is this why you've been so upset for the past few days?"

She nodded. It wasn't a lie. He didn't need to know about Anna, and she wouldn't tell because it was Anna who pleaded with her; not because Mr. Gillingham had threatened her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged awkwardly into his chest.

"Alright, but don't think I'm letting you out of telling me. We can come back to that another time."

She nodded again. Eventually, she dragged her gaze from her bloodied wall to his face. She sniffed.

"Your hand…"

He pursed his lips and cocked his head as he brought it up to his line of vision. He must have washed the blood from it, but it was twice the size that it usually was, and rather purple. "It's not so bad."

"It looks broken."

He grunted. They sat in silence after that. He returned to rubbing her back, and she returned to staring at her wall. She wanted to ask him why he reacted the way he did, why he took it so far, so violently, but she knew. She knew he cared that much about her. The realization was terrifying and flattering all at once. That he would risk his reputation for her. His employment. His life.

"Where is…" She didn't feel like finishing her question, too tired and overwhelmed from the ordeal.

"I locked him in the storage room until the authorities arrive."

"You've sent for them?"

"Of course I have. No man is allowed to assault a woman, most especially you. Not on my watch."

"But you'll be arrested for such a crime."

"No, I will not. Not when I walked in on him hurting you. Do you think this is the first fistfight I've ever been in? The first 'man saves woman from another man' situation the police will have ever encountered?"

Valid point; she just hoped the authorities wouldn't suspect him of a crime. Besides, it wasn't so much of a fight as a massacre. And it certainly did seem like he knew how to deal considerable damage with just a throw of his hand.

"Believe me, going to the authorities looks better for me, because I am being honest. And I have you and Mrs. Patmore to be my character alibis or whatever it's called."

He would have Anna and Bates as well if she could convince Anna to tell her story to the authorities. More evidence would mean a lengthier and harsher punishment. It would mean that they would all be against this man together – it wouldn't just be Mr. Bates risking himself for his wife. Plus, it would provide that much more protection for Mr. Carson.

"Where did you learn that term?"

"The newspapers. Mr. Bates' trial. I do have interests other than being a butler, you know."

She smiled into his shirt, "Sometimes I forget that."

He made an agreeable sound. She waited a moment.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. For… coming in. Doing what you did."

"I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. No one is allowed to upset my housekeeper. And most importantly, no one is allowed to touch her."

She buried her face into his shirt to prevent him from seeing her grin. He said 'my housekeeper'! "But, what about you?"

"What about me? … Oh! Well, I meant touching you in a… negative or hurtful way."

"You tend to upset me quite frequently as well." She was having a hell of a time containing her laughter.

He huffed. "You know, if you don't want me to hold you, that's fine. I don't think it's very appro– "

"Stop it. It's been a while since anyone's held me like this. I forgot how pleasant it feels."

She felt his Adam's apple bob against the top of her head as she heard him swallow. She risked a glance to his face only to see that his mind was a million miles elsewhere.

"Mr. Carson?"

He grunted, still lost in his own world. She sighed into his chest. Let his mind wander. He deserves that. Her mind was beginning to wander to a very wonderful place when there was a knock at her door and she tensed up.

"Mr. Carson? Mrs. Hughes?"

She tore herself from him. Always maintain a professional distance, no matter the circumstances. They could be whoever they wished alone, and it appeared that they were becoming less of a butler and housekeeper during those times; but it would never do in front of others. Even if the others were Mrs. Patmore – who had apparently witnessed this horrible situation and would understand the level of comfort they both needed at this time.

Mrs. Patmore gasped as she entered the room, heading straight towards Mrs. Hughes. She put her hands on her shoulders. "Oh my God! Are you alright? I've never had such a fright!"

She gave her a shaky nod in reply. "Do you think we should… clean up a bit?"

Mr. Carson's voice was back to its commanding tone. "No. They'll be here any moment and they'll want to see everything. Your broken shelf, your wrist, the wall, Mr. Gillingham, everything."

There was a knock at the back door. Mrs. Patmore turned to Mr. Carson, "Shall I make some tea?"

"Yes, and put some biscuits out. It doesn't hurt to look compassionate, especially at this hour."

As Mrs. Patmore left the sitting room, Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath and looked to Mr. Carson. He gave her a tight smile and held out his hand. He had the house on his side. His charges. Her charges.

But most importantly, he had her. And just like everything else they've encountered, they would get through this.

Together.

My first time ever writing violence! Kind of rough! Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! I'd love to hear what you think about it :)