Changes
Title: Changes
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Rating/Genre: pg-13/femslash
Characters/Pairing: Sarah O’Brien/Cora
Summary: So, Cora’s husband seems to feel really bad about having to stay at home while other men are out there fighting. But how does that make his wife feel?
Word count: 2 699
Spoilers/Warnings: Not really. Set in early season 2, I guess, because that’s as far as I’ve watched so far./No.
Notes: Haha, here it is, the femslash fic I never thought I’d write. ;) Thanks to the fangirls who convinced me to give this pairing a chance! ;)
Sarah O’Brien finds herself wondering if the world ever is going to be changed enough for her to stand by her lady’s side and not behind her, doing things like fixing her hair before dinner.
“War,” the mistress says, “does strange things to people, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Milady,” Sarah says.
“Edith is learning to drive.” Cora sighs and isn’t there a new wrinkle on her face? But it doesn’t make her any less beautiful. “And Sybil, she wants to be a nurse. I understand her. Women can’t do much in a war, but to want to help with something, even just here, at home… Yes, that is natural. But war means fighting, killing…”
“Yes,” O’Brien says and makes a mistake with the hair and has to start from the beginning, but the woman seated right in front of her doesn’t react. “I know. Thomas writes to me. The war is not heroic or beautiful; it is dirty, violent, boring, painful…”
“My husband is a kind man, isn’t he? There is nothing bad or violent in him and there never will be. But he wishes that he could be out there…”
“Out there in the madness where people die…”
She doesn’t mean to make the poor woman more worried. But it is the truth. Anyone can get killed. Even Thomas, even Matthew Crawley, even Lady Grantham’s husband, if he throws himself into it even when he doesn’t have to.
If the war can make a lady want to be a driver or a nurse, she thinks, what can it turn a maid into? Is it only death that truly makes people equal, or can the shadow of death be enough?
“He is not going.” No, of course not. Some men have to stay at home, men like Carson, Bates and even Lord Grantham. “But if… if he goes…”
O’Brien puts a hand on Cora’s shoulder. But I am not going anywhere. Cora raises her right hand and puts it over O’Brien’s. Their eyes meet in the mirror.
“You are not going anywhere, are you, O’Brien?”
Does she even know that my first name is Sarah?
“No, I’m not.”
No, Cora. I am not going to leave you.
They stay like that, quiet, motionless. Hand on hand, for a moment stepped out of their roles of mistress and servant. She knows that this is what it should have been like. What it could have been like, in a different world.
Will the word ever change that much? That is a strange question. Strange as the woman who is now - almost - holding her hand. She is so soft and warm, Sarah’s lady, and so sweet, and unlike everyone else, and so likeable; they are opposites in every way. Sarah O’Brien knows that most people don’t like her and she doesn’t mind. Being liked has never been her life’s greatest ambition.
But Cora likes her, doesn’t she? Cora needs her.
“Promise.” They are still looking into each other’s eyes through the mirror. “Promise me O’Brien, that whatever happens, whatever the war does to us, you are not going to leave me.”
She sounds so anxious, the magnificent lady of the house.
Sarah O’Brien lets go of all fear, and she bends down to put her mouth close to the other woman’s ear - because in that moment, they are both just two women - and she whispers:
“I promise, Cora. I am not going to leave you.”
What is the lady going to say to such a bold statement? How far is too far? To use Her Ladyship’s given name is definitely inappropriate, if a near peck on the cheek - on the ear - wasn’t already.
She adjusts her position, standing upright again, and she is prepared to be chastised but can’t bring herself to remove her hand.
Strangely, Her Ladyship’s eyes are closed and Sarah can’t read the expression on her face. That face is usually very… expressive, and Sarah thinks that she can read it quite well, but she is unsure now. And then:
“You are very kind…”
“No.” Sarah has to say it. “No, Milady. I am many things, but not kind.”
“Oh, but I think you are. You are kind to me.”
A strange conversation, to say the least. Because it has lasted that long and nothing bad has happened yet, Sarah proceeds:
“If I am kind to you, Milady, then it is because…”
She gulps and can’t go on. There are too many ways to end that phrase. All of them true, some more painful than others; her beautiful lady doesn’t want to hear any of the explanations.
“Because it is your job?” Her employer has opened her eyes and pulls away, just a little, but enough to make Sarah take her hand off her. “Yes, of course, O’Brien.”
Her eyes are… a little confused? There is a question in them, is there not?
Sarah does not know what to say. She feels that somewhere during the last minute she said something wrong, she should have replied differently, but what was it, what went wrong?
“Is this good, Milady?” Sarah is nothing if not good at her job; the hair is done now, the way she knows that Cora wants it.
Cora looks down, at her hands, clasped in her lap.
“You know, about what I said, about you leaving… I didn’t mean… This is not the Middle Ages; we don’t own our servants and of course, if you ever want to go somewhere else I wouldn’t hold you back against your will…”
“No,” Sarah says, because she is beginning to understand now where it went wrong. Could it be?
“’No’ what?” The lady is annoyed now. “You’re talking so strangely tonight, you are not making any sense!”
Sarah holds her tongue. Well, maybe that’s because I don’t usually talk about these things that I’m almost telling you now!
“Well?”
Cora Crawley seems to have forgotten that she is a woman worried about the consequences of the terrible war. She is facing Sarah now. The woman who looks at Sarah is not fragile; she is a lady who demands an answer.
Sarah bites her lip, this close to blushing and confessing that she likes that look…
She likes most of the looks on Cora’s face, to be honest. She smiles, secretly, at the ‘Today is a beautiful day and I am in a good mood’ look. It melts her heart - she has one! - to see the vulnerable ‘Take care of me’ look. The ‘Men are a strange species; I don’t understand Robert at all sometimes!’ look makes her feel smug and a little too sure of herself - she has never been married but somewhere beneath all social barriers all women are allies, are they not? But most of all, she adores the ‘You shall obey me!’ look.
They would surely mock her downstairs if they knew - but they are never going to know - that O’Brien feels her whole body going soft and weak sometimes at the sight of Her Ladyship.
She cherishes these moments. And now, Cora looks at her as if she is expecting her to speak. But what can she say, if not the truth? It is a bad moment to do so - time for food very soon.
“I meant to say, Milady, that I never wish to leave you. I’ll stand by your side, always, and it will be my choice.”
Cora smiles then.
“Good. Very good.”
Is she not remarkable, this woman? Sarah thinks that she is. One moment, commanding, superior, aware of her power, and the next - such a sweet smile.
And then she looks troubled again, when she looks up at Sarah. She is still sitting there, dressed, ready to go down to her family who perhaps already is waiting by the table, but it’s as if she has forgotten. Sarah should remind her, but she doesn’t. One of the daughters can come knocking at the door any moment, but…
“I don’t know,” Cora says, “Is it these thoughts about the war? These thoughts that Robert shares with me, I don’t understand them, and it makes me feel…”
“Yes, Milady?”
Cora’s eyes that look up at her are so dark and troubled, dark because of the all-consuming intensity in them, a look Sarah is not sure if she has seen before.
“Didn’t you call me Cora just a minute ago? Or was I dreaming? I don’t mind, O’Brien. It’s not… appropriate, but… what in the world is, after all? The things we say and do, just because we are ‘supposed to’, according to some ancient social custom… But men fight. Isn’t that the most uncivilised thing people can ever do?”
“Well, yes…”
What is she talking about? Is the war making all rules go away, is that what she is saying?
“Why must men fight?” Cora keeps talking and Sarah can’t take her eyes off her face. “The war is all he can talk about, and I’m sure Bates feels the same way, although I don’t have to listen to him talking about it.”
“I don’t know, Milady… Cora…”
Cora reaches out her hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Sarah takes it.
“All people claim to love the peace,” Cora says, “but this war shows… that deep down, men aren’t trustworthy… To want to risk throwing your life away just for the sake of killing other people… Strangers…”
Sarah’s grip of her hand tightens.
“Yes, it is a terrible thing, the war…”
Cora is not at all herself, she is talking too much, but Sarah understands. She is nervous and scared and her husband is unable to see her point of view of things. What she needs is someone who can see her point of view.
“I agree,” Sarah says. “War is something foolish, mad, but don’t be afraid…”
She steps closer, and she is still holding Cora’s soft hand. Without thinking about it, she kisses it.
“Don’t be afraid; the war will be over someday soon. Until it is, I am here…”
It feels like Lord Grantham has already decided not to give a damn about what people say that he should or shouldn’t do; it feels like he has left Downton Abbey for the battlefield. He is right there, somewhere in the house, but he doesn’t want to be there, and in that moment, it feels like he’s not. Like he’s gone, forever.
Who is going to take care of the grieving widow? Sarah O’Brien is the one who is going to take care of her…
“You know I can,” she says. “You know I want to…”
Did she speak aloud? Yes, she did.
“I…”, Cora says, and then: “Yes, I know.”
But what does she know? Does she understand what Sarah is saying to her? Maybe, because she gives her the other hand, too, and she stands up, and that turns her into someone powerful and magnificent again; maybe she is the one who is going to take care of her shaken, trembling maid?
Just a moment ago, Sarah had wanted to kiss her but now when they are standing so close she doesn’t dare. She is holding Cora’s hands clutched to her chest; they are too close to each other to be unaware of each other’s heartbeats.
Then there is a knock on the door and they both take a leap back. Sarah can see that Cora composes herself in a second and she does not want to be worse; doesn’t she have a good poker face after all?
“Mama, are you coming?”
Lady Mary sticks her head in through the door and Cora replies, so calmly, that she is coming, in just a moment.
Before she goes, she gives Sarah a look. Sarah is not used to be given such a look from Her Ladyship, but this look seems to say that something has happened and this something is not going to be ignored.
Sarah feels a little bit feverish. Or something. It’s not fever. It’s something else entirely, and she knows it. It is possible that when dinner is over, Cora will be over whatever state of crisis she is in, but Sarah doesn’t think so. Cora’s worries go deep; her need for comfort is deep.
Sarah O’Brien doesn’t believe that the end of the world is near; she thinks that a new word is ready to shine and take over as soon as the last bullet has been fired away. Cora, on the other hand, thinks that the world is ending and that her husband is going to take part in the destruction.
Cora needs someone to hold her through the dark fear. That’s what people do when they think the end is near, they look for a warm body to hold on to; a princess can fall into a beggar’s arms because the world is too busy being doomed to care.
At least, that is Sarah’s theory.
The theory, she finds out when Cora comes back to her room, is valid. When Cora comes back to be undressed, like every night, something is different. The way her breathing is a little too quick is different. The way she tilts her head, the way she sighs and, finally, the way she turns around and looks at Sarah.
What is in her thoughts that moment? I look at my husband and I see a potential ghost; I look at him and I see someone who longs to be making ghosts. But you are warm; you are full of life, you are caring and kind - not quite true, but perhaps Sarah’s lady is thinking something along those lines?
Cora doesn’t speak and neither does Sarah. To ask Her Ladyship of her thoughts would be - even in that moment, or perhaps because of the moment - too unwise.
Instead, she moves closer. She wraps her arms around Cora and this time, it is a real embrace. The closeness, Cora’s arms around her, makes her brave and she kisses the lady.
Cora then tugs at the dress as if she wants to undress her maid but that’s something she is not very good at. Sarah, on the other hand, feels that her clothes are very simple and it is very easy to get out of them in no time. The way Cora’s hands are strong but shaking and the way her mouth is slightly open tells Sarah that her dress might be ripped off her any moment.
She has to admit that she kind of likes that scenario but on the other hand, it wouldn’t be smart…
“Please,” she says, “I’ve got this…”
She doesn’t push Cora away, not exactly, but Cora understands and steps back. She looks at Sarah the whole time as she takes everything off and she is not used to that, being looked at… If she had thought about it before - if she had ever gone that far in her thoughts - she might have thought she’d be embarrassed about it because her body is far from Cora’s perfection. Now she understands that that’s not the point, not at all.
Cora reaches her hands out with something like a smile on her face. Not exactly a sweet ‘Come to me, my darling!’ kind of smile, but a hungry mien that seems to say ‘I want you.’
Sarah takes her hands and thinks about pulling to make Cora fall into her arms… But Cora seems to go quicker from thought to action and her thought is the same; it is Sarah who is being pulled into the other woman’s arms.
They kiss, and then Cora leads them to the bed, where they keep on kissing.
Yes, this war changes things, Sarah thinks, and then she is not thinking about anything anymore, not even about holding her lady through the dark fear, because Cora seemed to be anything but fearful when it came to making love. Nothing of the ‘Oh, I don’t know; it feels so strange that we’re both women!’ that Sarah almost would have expected - if she had ever gone that far in her thoughts… No, it is as if they both have been waiting for this moment, for this reason the war gives them to finally change everything.
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Rating/Genre: pg-13/femslash
Characters/Pairing: Sarah O’Brien/Cora
Summary: So, Cora’s husband seems to feel really bad about having to stay at home while other men are out there fighting. But how does that make his wife feel?
Word count: 2 699
Spoilers/Warnings: Not really. Set in early season 2, I guess, because that’s as far as I’ve watched so far./No.
Notes: Haha, here it is, the femslash fic I never thought I’d write. ;) Thanks to the fangirls who convinced me to give this pairing a chance! ;)
Sarah O’Brien finds herself wondering if the world ever is going to be changed enough for her to stand by her lady’s side and not behind her, doing things like fixing her hair before dinner.
“War,” the mistress says, “does strange things to people, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Milady,” Sarah says.
“Edith is learning to drive.” Cora sighs and isn’t there a new wrinkle on her face? But it doesn’t make her any less beautiful. “And Sybil, she wants to be a nurse. I understand her. Women can’t do much in a war, but to want to help with something, even just here, at home… Yes, that is natural. But war means fighting, killing…”
“Yes,” O’Brien says and makes a mistake with the hair and has to start from the beginning, but the woman seated right in front of her doesn’t react. “I know. Thomas writes to me. The war is not heroic or beautiful; it is dirty, violent, boring, painful…”
“My husband is a kind man, isn’t he? There is nothing bad or violent in him and there never will be. But he wishes that he could be out there…”
“Out there in the madness where people die…”
She doesn’t mean to make the poor woman more worried. But it is the truth. Anyone can get killed. Even Thomas, even Matthew Crawley, even Lady Grantham’s husband, if he throws himself into it even when he doesn’t have to.
If the war can make a lady want to be a driver or a nurse, she thinks, what can it turn a maid into? Is it only death that truly makes people equal, or can the shadow of death be enough?
“He is not going.” No, of course not. Some men have to stay at home, men like Carson, Bates and even Lord Grantham. “But if… if he goes…”
O’Brien puts a hand on Cora’s shoulder. But I am not going anywhere. Cora raises her right hand and puts it over O’Brien’s. Their eyes meet in the mirror.
“You are not going anywhere, are you, O’Brien?”
Does she even know that my first name is Sarah?
“No, I’m not.”
No, Cora. I am not going to leave you.
They stay like that, quiet, motionless. Hand on hand, for a moment stepped out of their roles of mistress and servant. She knows that this is what it should have been like. What it could have been like, in a different world.
Will the word ever change that much? That is a strange question. Strange as the woman who is now - almost - holding her hand. She is so soft and warm, Sarah’s lady, and so sweet, and unlike everyone else, and so likeable; they are opposites in every way. Sarah O’Brien knows that most people don’t like her and she doesn’t mind. Being liked has never been her life’s greatest ambition.
But Cora likes her, doesn’t she? Cora needs her.
“Promise.” They are still looking into each other’s eyes through the mirror. “Promise me O’Brien, that whatever happens, whatever the war does to us, you are not going to leave me.”
She sounds so anxious, the magnificent lady of the house.
Sarah O’Brien lets go of all fear, and she bends down to put her mouth close to the other woman’s ear - because in that moment, they are both just two women - and she whispers:
“I promise, Cora. I am not going to leave you.”
What is the lady going to say to such a bold statement? How far is too far? To use Her Ladyship’s given name is definitely inappropriate, if a near peck on the cheek - on the ear - wasn’t already.
She adjusts her position, standing upright again, and she is prepared to be chastised but can’t bring herself to remove her hand.
Strangely, Her Ladyship’s eyes are closed and Sarah can’t read the expression on her face. That face is usually very… expressive, and Sarah thinks that she can read it quite well, but she is unsure now. And then:
“You are very kind…”
“No.” Sarah has to say it. “No, Milady. I am many things, but not kind.”
“Oh, but I think you are. You are kind to me.”
A strange conversation, to say the least. Because it has lasted that long and nothing bad has happened yet, Sarah proceeds:
“If I am kind to you, Milady, then it is because…”
She gulps and can’t go on. There are too many ways to end that phrase. All of them true, some more painful than others; her beautiful lady doesn’t want to hear any of the explanations.
“Because it is your job?” Her employer has opened her eyes and pulls away, just a little, but enough to make Sarah take her hand off her. “Yes, of course, O’Brien.”
Her eyes are… a little confused? There is a question in them, is there not?
Sarah does not know what to say. She feels that somewhere during the last minute she said something wrong, she should have replied differently, but what was it, what went wrong?
“Is this good, Milady?” Sarah is nothing if not good at her job; the hair is done now, the way she knows that Cora wants it.
Cora looks down, at her hands, clasped in her lap.
“You know, about what I said, about you leaving… I didn’t mean… This is not the Middle Ages; we don’t own our servants and of course, if you ever want to go somewhere else I wouldn’t hold you back against your will…”
“No,” Sarah says, because she is beginning to understand now where it went wrong. Could it be?
“’No’ what?” The lady is annoyed now. “You’re talking so strangely tonight, you are not making any sense!”
Sarah holds her tongue. Well, maybe that’s because I don’t usually talk about these things that I’m almost telling you now!
“Well?”
Cora Crawley seems to have forgotten that she is a woman worried about the consequences of the terrible war. She is facing Sarah now. The woman who looks at Sarah is not fragile; she is a lady who demands an answer.
Sarah bites her lip, this close to blushing and confessing that she likes that look…
She likes most of the looks on Cora’s face, to be honest. She smiles, secretly, at the ‘Today is a beautiful day and I am in a good mood’ look. It melts her heart - she has one! - to see the vulnerable ‘Take care of me’ look. The ‘Men are a strange species; I don’t understand Robert at all sometimes!’ look makes her feel smug and a little too sure of herself - she has never been married but somewhere beneath all social barriers all women are allies, are they not? But most of all, she adores the ‘You shall obey me!’ look.
They would surely mock her downstairs if they knew - but they are never going to know - that O’Brien feels her whole body going soft and weak sometimes at the sight of Her Ladyship.
She cherishes these moments. And now, Cora looks at her as if she is expecting her to speak. But what can she say, if not the truth? It is a bad moment to do so - time for food very soon.
“I meant to say, Milady, that I never wish to leave you. I’ll stand by your side, always, and it will be my choice.”
Cora smiles then.
“Good. Very good.”
Is she not remarkable, this woman? Sarah thinks that she is. One moment, commanding, superior, aware of her power, and the next - such a sweet smile.
And then she looks troubled again, when she looks up at Sarah. She is still sitting there, dressed, ready to go down to her family who perhaps already is waiting by the table, but it’s as if she has forgotten. Sarah should remind her, but she doesn’t. One of the daughters can come knocking at the door any moment, but…
“I don’t know,” Cora says, “Is it these thoughts about the war? These thoughts that Robert shares with me, I don’t understand them, and it makes me feel…”
“Yes, Milady?”
Cora’s eyes that look up at her are so dark and troubled, dark because of the all-consuming intensity in them, a look Sarah is not sure if she has seen before.
“Didn’t you call me Cora just a minute ago? Or was I dreaming? I don’t mind, O’Brien. It’s not… appropriate, but… what in the world is, after all? The things we say and do, just because we are ‘supposed to’, according to some ancient social custom… But men fight. Isn’t that the most uncivilised thing people can ever do?”
“Well, yes…”
What is she talking about? Is the war making all rules go away, is that what she is saying?
“Why must men fight?” Cora keeps talking and Sarah can’t take her eyes off her face. “The war is all he can talk about, and I’m sure Bates feels the same way, although I don’t have to listen to him talking about it.”
“I don’t know, Milady… Cora…”
Cora reaches out her hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Sarah takes it.
“All people claim to love the peace,” Cora says, “but this war shows… that deep down, men aren’t trustworthy… To want to risk throwing your life away just for the sake of killing other people… Strangers…”
Sarah’s grip of her hand tightens.
“Yes, it is a terrible thing, the war…”
Cora is not at all herself, she is talking too much, but Sarah understands. She is nervous and scared and her husband is unable to see her point of view of things. What she needs is someone who can see her point of view.
“I agree,” Sarah says. “War is something foolish, mad, but don’t be afraid…”
She steps closer, and she is still holding Cora’s soft hand. Without thinking about it, she kisses it.
“Don’t be afraid; the war will be over someday soon. Until it is, I am here…”
It feels like Lord Grantham has already decided not to give a damn about what people say that he should or shouldn’t do; it feels like he has left Downton Abbey for the battlefield. He is right there, somewhere in the house, but he doesn’t want to be there, and in that moment, it feels like he’s not. Like he’s gone, forever.
Who is going to take care of the grieving widow? Sarah O’Brien is the one who is going to take care of her…
“You know I can,” she says. “You know I want to…”
Did she speak aloud? Yes, she did.
“I…”, Cora says, and then: “Yes, I know.”
But what does she know? Does she understand what Sarah is saying to her? Maybe, because she gives her the other hand, too, and she stands up, and that turns her into someone powerful and magnificent again; maybe she is the one who is going to take care of her shaken, trembling maid?
Just a moment ago, Sarah had wanted to kiss her but now when they are standing so close she doesn’t dare. She is holding Cora’s hands clutched to her chest; they are too close to each other to be unaware of each other’s heartbeats.
Then there is a knock on the door and they both take a leap back. Sarah can see that Cora composes herself in a second and she does not want to be worse; doesn’t she have a good poker face after all?
“Mama, are you coming?”
Lady Mary sticks her head in through the door and Cora replies, so calmly, that she is coming, in just a moment.
Before she goes, she gives Sarah a look. Sarah is not used to be given such a look from Her Ladyship, but this look seems to say that something has happened and this something is not going to be ignored.
Sarah feels a little bit feverish. Or something. It’s not fever. It’s something else entirely, and she knows it. It is possible that when dinner is over, Cora will be over whatever state of crisis she is in, but Sarah doesn’t think so. Cora’s worries go deep; her need for comfort is deep.
Sarah O’Brien doesn’t believe that the end of the world is near; she thinks that a new word is ready to shine and take over as soon as the last bullet has been fired away. Cora, on the other hand, thinks that the world is ending and that her husband is going to take part in the destruction.
Cora needs someone to hold her through the dark fear. That’s what people do when they think the end is near, they look for a warm body to hold on to; a princess can fall into a beggar’s arms because the world is too busy being doomed to care.
At least, that is Sarah’s theory.
The theory, she finds out when Cora comes back to her room, is valid. When Cora comes back to be undressed, like every night, something is different. The way her breathing is a little too quick is different. The way she tilts her head, the way she sighs and, finally, the way she turns around and looks at Sarah.
What is in her thoughts that moment? I look at my husband and I see a potential ghost; I look at him and I see someone who longs to be making ghosts. But you are warm; you are full of life, you are caring and kind - not quite true, but perhaps Sarah’s lady is thinking something along those lines?
Cora doesn’t speak and neither does Sarah. To ask Her Ladyship of her thoughts would be - even in that moment, or perhaps because of the moment - too unwise.
Instead, she moves closer. She wraps her arms around Cora and this time, it is a real embrace. The closeness, Cora’s arms around her, makes her brave and she kisses the lady.
Cora then tugs at the dress as if she wants to undress her maid but that’s something she is not very good at. Sarah, on the other hand, feels that her clothes are very simple and it is very easy to get out of them in no time. The way Cora’s hands are strong but shaking and the way her mouth is slightly open tells Sarah that her dress might be ripped off her any moment.
She has to admit that she kind of likes that scenario but on the other hand, it wouldn’t be smart…
“Please,” she says, “I’ve got this…”
She doesn’t push Cora away, not exactly, but Cora understands and steps back. She looks at Sarah the whole time as she takes everything off and she is not used to that, being looked at… If she had thought about it before - if she had ever gone that far in her thoughts - she might have thought she’d be embarrassed about it because her body is far from Cora’s perfection. Now she understands that that’s not the point, not at all.
Cora reaches her hands out with something like a smile on her face. Not exactly a sweet ‘Come to me, my darling!’ kind of smile, but a hungry mien that seems to say ‘I want you.’
Sarah takes her hands and thinks about pulling to make Cora fall into her arms… But Cora seems to go quicker from thought to action and her thought is the same; it is Sarah who is being pulled into the other woman’s arms.
They kiss, and then Cora leads them to the bed, where they keep on kissing.
Yes, this war changes things, Sarah thinks, and then she is not thinking about anything anymore, not even about holding her lady through the dark fear, because Cora seemed to be anything but fearful when it came to making love. Nothing of the ‘Oh, I don’t know; it feels so strange that we’re both women!’ that Sarah almost would have expected - if she had ever gone that far in her thoughts… No, it is as if they both have been waiting for this moment, for this reason the war gives them to finally change everything.