Fic: In the Inbetween: Weak and Small (Downton Abbey)
Title: Weak and Small
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Rating: K+ (canonical character death discussed)
Genres: gen, with sprinkles of canonical het
Summary: It's been two months since Lavinia died and Matthew is not sure whether he deserves kindness or not.
A/N: After watching the Christmas Special only a few times I found myself wondering what happened between April and December. That's eight months, after all. Thus, In the Inbetween was born and I do hope to cover a few pivotal points in the relationship between Matthew and Mary in this little series of one-shots (or at least it's planned as one...). I am kind of dreading the first time ever I'll have to write Mary's Point of View (which is supposed to be the next installment...) but... we'll see how that goes.
You will find the translation for the German lyrics (not a song fic, just introductionary) at the bottom of the page.
Weak and Small
„Nichts ist unendlich, so sieh das doch ein.
Ich weiß, du willst unendlich sein, schwach und klein.
Nichts ist von Dauer, was keiner recht will.
Auch die Trauer wird da sein, schwach und klein.“
Karussell, „Als ich fortging“
It has been two months since Lavinia died. Two months since she faded away, “Maybe it’s better this way,” on her lips. Two months since he swore off Lady Mary Crawley once and for all. Because Lavinia Swire thought it was better that she died after having seen him kissing Mary. After hearing them reconcile, hearing him tell Mary…
God, how Matthew wishes it never happened. Nothing of this. Not Lavinia dying, not falling out with Mary, not coming to Downton Abbey. He prays for it at night. He feels it grating against his skin when Mary looks at him with those eyes that seem to have seen it all when she thinks he is not noticing it. He feels it burning when Carlisle corners her after yet another dinner Sir Richard honored them with his rather superfluous presence and he wants to intervene so desperately. He…
There are a thousand reasons why he wishes it never happened and not all of them have to do with Mary. Some have to do with the way they all look at him; Mother, Robert, Cora, Edith, the servants, even Cousin Violet, for Heaven’s sake. As if they would expect him to keel over with grief at any moment or maybe show signs of grief induced lunacy.
The worst thing is: they just might be right, with either of it.
If he at least knew why that was. He had loved Lavinia, no doubt about that. He just is not a bit sure why and how much he did and he is not very keen on trying to find out how it differed from the love he feels for Mary, neither in kind nor in measure. He is still afraid of the outcome of such an examination, even after two months. The fact that he just cannot stay away from Downton does not make anything better, either.
But the thing is, Downton and its grounds, they… they are doing him good, at least when he does not stumble over Mary and her deep, deep dark eyes that stare at him as if she… knew, about Lavinia, about his grief, about himself more than he knows about himself. She still manages to unsettle him every time they meet and he knows he should just stay away from Downton and the village altogether, should… Oh?
“Isis? What are you doing here, old girl?” Wagging her tail, the dog looks as if she would like to say, “What does it look like, old chap?” He almost grins at it. It would have been the first in two months. He cannot help crouching down and rewarding such an enthusiastic greeting with scratching the bouncing dog behind her ears with both hands, though.
“She’s fond of you.” He blinks, looks up into the bright June sun, seeing it partly obstructed by Robert, Earl of Grantham. It’s a blessing, Matthew thinks, that with standing directly in the sun, he can’t see much of Robert’s face and the look of pity on it that must surely be there.
It is, however, just a little taxing squinting and craning his neck, so he turns back to Isis and it slips from his lips, “Why would she be?”
He is aware of the slight edge to it, the one that says, “I kissed another woman in front of my fiancé and it broke her heart, made her too weak to fight the Spanish flu. Stop pitying me for practically killing her.” He knows Robert is aware of it, too, without even knowing what it is about. That is, if Mary did not tell him. But whom does Mary ever tell anything?
“Because we all are, Matthew.” Well, that was… unexpected. Mostly because Matthew is not very fond of himself at the moment. And of course the unbidden thought of “Even Mary?” with every ounce of bitterness he could ever muster spears right into the small glimmer of a warm feeling at someone caring for him more than he does care for himself. He hates it.
He hates the awkward feeling that accompanied Robert’s quiet reminder, too. Standing up, he does his best to avert the other man’s eyes, fixing his gaze on Isis with her dog grin and the wagging tail when he answers a little absentmindedly, “I appreciate it. Truly, I do. I, ah…”
For a moment as it looks as if Robert is about to remind him of something - maybe the fact that he would never think Matthew did not appreciate being wanted - but then it seems as if he thinks of something else in the last moment. “Mary and Edith telegraphed. They’ll be back at Downton in two days.”
Ah, yes, Sybil’s wedding to Tom Branson. He would have liked to go, if he had not been in mourning. He rather liked the chap and he certainly likes Sybil. Lavinia would have liked that, too. He just cannot help a little mischievous smile, albeit a ghost of the former version of it. “Did they say anything about Cousin Sybil?”
Well. Robert looks a little… scandalized? Is that it? “That was a low blow, my dear chap.”
That wasn’t… it was not… “I’m sorry, Robert, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s alright.” Is it? “I’m glad you are able to joke again.” Ah, that. If he were honest, he would admit that he himself didn’t think he would ever be able to joke again. Not after what happened with Mary, and Lavinia afterwards.
Matthew would rather like to evade this topic. “What makes you so sure that I was joking?”
Robert grimaces, as if he is a little resigned. “Wishful thinking, mostly.”
He stops, for a moment. In his grief after Lavinia’s death he hadn’t really… he had not realized that life… well, it went on. Lavinia and his future died… and Sybil and Branson happened. Well. A thin, labored smile crosses his face. “It is a wonderful thing that Sybil found someone to spend the rest of her life with, Robert.” He meant it, exactly like that. It surprised him.
“I suppose so.” That… did not surprise him.
From the face Robert makes, trying hard to be unhappy and cross and disappointed, Matthew guesses he really shouldn’t push his luck. So he simply says, “Fair enough.” The dejected edge to his voice was not intended.
Nevertheless, Robert must have heard it. “You will find that someone for you, too, Matthew.”
For a moment, there is only the sounds of an English country June afternoon, and Iris, happily panting beside him. There is a thought in his head, one that pushes itself to the front, screams loud enough to drown out sorrow and guilt and leaves only regret. It says, only that someone is not going to be the one I have already found, and it is what he almost says aloud. It is not Lavinia meant here and he leaves it at, “Thank you, Robert. For everything.”
The Earl of Crawley measures him with his gaze for a moment, as if contemplating what to reply. If Robert weren’t English, Matthew would think that he showed signs of blushing, or embarrassment. Neither of it can be heard in Robert’s voice when he says, “Would you care to join me for the rest of my stroll, Matthew?” though.
Well. It is a nice afternoon and it has been a while since he strolled across the ground with Robert… anyone of the family, really. He smiles, and from the barely disguised pleasure in Robert’s face, he deducts that the smile must look genuine. Maybe it even is because he finds himself saying, “Yes. I think I’d like that.”
Robert smiles back at him, maybe a little surprised and they take off for Downton’s grounds. For a very small moment, Matthew even allows himself to anticipate Mary’s return with delight instead of dread. He is even able to endure the guilt it brings, for a split second maybe. There have been worst days in his life.
~*~
“Nothing is endless, just realize that.
I know you want to be endless, weak and small.
Nothing is permanent that no one really wants.
The grief will be there, as well, weak and small.”
Karussell, “When I Went Away”