A/N- MAJOR SERIES 6 SPOILERS

She sat staring at the wall ahead, not trusting herself to look anywhere else. If she did she wouldn't be able to remain calm. If she looked up and saw the hospital waiting room she wouldn't be able to hold it together, so instead she sat, wringing her hands, with unshed tears staining her vision. Edith was beside her, holding onto her arm for support, either for herself or her mother, either way it was a comfort. But she could feel herself falling apart, the realisation of what had happened dawning on her once more.

She knew the memory of Robert's blood would forever be in her mind. His shirt, the table cloth, drenched in crimson and her husband crippling over in pain were images that she would never forget. It had taken her a few seconds to comprehend what was happening, it wasn't until she felt his blood on her that she jumped from the table, rushing past Mary and the others, trying to get to his side as fast as she could. "His ulcer has burst." Oh god, she'd thought, pushing past Isobel to reach him.

She had dropped to her knees, grasping the cloth the doctor had given her. He had given her a cautious look, but she didn't care how much blood there would be, how distressing it may be, her husband needed her, and she needed to be there for him. Her arm was already stained red as she held the cloth to his mouth. Her heart was beating in her chest, with worry, fear and dread. But she couldn't focus on her; she had to let him know she was there. "I'm here darling, don't worry."

Robert rolled in her arms, searching for her eyes. Amongst the blood and the pain, he had needed her. "If this is it, just know I have loved you very, very much." His eyes searched for hers, trying to gain some assurance that she knew, that she knew he loved her, that she loved him. Amongst all the pain, he had needed her to know. And she did, she always knew. But this couldn't be it. It couldn't be- she wouldn't let it.

"This isn't it darling." She'd whispered, pressing the cloth to his mouth. "W-we won't let this be it." She'd stammered, trying to assure herself as well as her husband. She couldn't even begin to comprehend it being it. And she wanted to believe that everything would be ok, she had to believe it so she could stay strong, for both of them.

When the ambulance was almost there Dr. Clarkson had tried to usher her out, told her to get herself cleaned up, but she couldn't. The girls had gone first, she'd told them to go, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him, fearing what would happen when she came back. But she'd had to go to get her coat, to retain some form of composure so she could return to his side and be strong. She'd kissed him, urgently on the temple, and he'd murmured something in response, just as another bought of blood escaped his lips. And stifling a cry she left, wiping her eyes with her wrists so she wouldn't be smeared with his blood.

Carson or one of the footmen had given her a cloth; she was too flustered to notice which. She wiped the blood of her hands till they were at least dry, and after pulling on her gloves she'd gone to the ambulance. She knew she'd spoke to Mr. Chamberlain, and then Mama, but it was all a blur. She couldn't remember any of it. It had been a blur since she'd seen Robert coming from the dining room on a stretcher, drowned in his own blood.

He'd gone into surgery the minute they'd brought him in, but she had seen him once more, fresh blood around his mouth. She couldn't be sure but she thought she'd seen him look at her as he was carried down the corridor, and she'd smiled, the most reassuring smile she could give, a smile of faith and hope. But the minute he'd turned around the corner, her body had shook with tears, her shaking hands catching them as they fell. If Mary hadn't caught her she would have crippled over, collapsed on the hospital floor.

And she could feel herself breaking apart again. A nurse had guided them into the waiting room, and she'd felt like she'd waited for hours, no news, no good news. But no bad news she reminded herself. As she wrung her hands once more she felt the dry blood clinging to her fingers and her nails. She should have washed them, she should have scrubbed until they were raw, but she couldn't leave the waiting room, not in case there was news. And she couldn't bring herself to wash it off, it was him, and a part of her couldn't get rid of that, in case it was her last part of him.

"Lady Grantham?" A voice spoke, breaking her haunted thoughts that had filled her silence.

"Yes." She jumped, forgetting Edith who had to pull her hand away abruptly.

"Lord Grantham is out of surgery." Dr Clarkson announced, wiping his hand across his forehead, it had been an unexpectedly long night. "It was a success, he's resting now." Success. She felt a sigh escape her body. Success, it was good news, and he was the best possible place now.

"And his chances?" Edith whispered.

"I cannot give a definitive answer, but because we did the operation as soon as we were able, his chances look good." She heard her daughters exhale of breathe and a pressure on her wrist, she hadn't realised that Mary had grasped hold of her.

"Thank you." Edith said, moving to stand beside Cora, who was wiping stray tears from her eyes. Tears of pain, and still fear, but also of relief. Her Robert would be alright. They would have more time together, precious time.

As the doctor took his leave she turned to her daughters, taking each of their hands. "You should go home, ring your grandmother, and get some rest." She sniffed, midway through the tears, but a weight had lifted from her chest, and she'd never been more thankful.

"Are you coming too?" Edith asked.

"No, I'm going to stay here. I don't want your father to be alone."

"We'll come back in the morning." She nodded in reply, and she kissed them goodbye as they moved to get their coats and went out to the car.

She felt like a cloud had cleared, a cloud of unknowing and fear had been filled with hope. It had scared her, had terrified every part of her. As she'd waited in the hospital rooms every part of her had remembered his presence; the last touch he had given her, the last place he had kissed her. And she'd tried to focus her thoughts on the last good moments they'd shared, in case they had been the last. But they weren't going to be. And she made a silent vow that she would never feel such fear again.

"Lady Grantham?" Looking up she saw a nurse, who had a look of her Sybil, and strangely she felt as if it were a sign her Sybil was looking down on them and wanted to give her support. It was silly she knew. "Lord Grantham is resting in a private room, would you like to sit in with him?"

"Yes." She answered, standing, before the nurse had chance to finish. "Yes please."

The nurse smiled, and after Cora had collected her coat she guided her to a room at the far end of the corridor. The door was ajar open for her, and from where she stood she could see his bed. All she wanted was to go to him. To comfort him. She knew she looked a mess, looking down her dress was dishevelled, and stained red. Her hands were still bloodied, and her hair was falling apart. And she knew without looking she looked tired and drained. But she didn't care, and neither would he. But as she came to the doorway, she paused. A sudden fear of reluctance coming over her, she knew if she saw him, exhausted and pale it would emphasise the extent to how ill he had grown. Her husband, normally so strong and define, looking frail it would fully bring home what had happened; that it wasn't s bloody episode to be forgotten. But as she edged forwards she knew she had to be strong. Moments ago she had promised she'd never feel such fear, and again she made a vow that she wouldn't allow her husband to grow so ill again. She would take care of him, she would change, and she would make him rest. And no matter what she saw when she walked through the door, she vowed that she wouldn't see it again.