A/N Mentions of attempted suicide.

"Mrs. Hughes!"

Andy burst through Elsie's sitting room door like he'd seen a ghost. She took one look at his terrified face and moved to make him sit. He went with her for a moment but then froze.

"Andy? What's wrong?" she asked concerned when he refused to budge from his place by the door.

"It's Mr. Barrow," he gasped. "Miss Baxter and I…"

"Yes?"

"We found him in the bathroom. He's cut his wrists. He needs a doctor right away," Andy blurted.

"Mr. Barrow?"

At Andy's nod, Elsie burst into action. She pushed past Andy and headed for the stairs. She was vaguely aware of Andy following on her heels. Anna was sat in the servant's hall.

"Anna?" Elsie called. "Can you fetch Dr. Clarkson right away. Mr. Barrow has taken ill."

"Of course," Anna answered already standing from the table.

"Hurry," Elsie threw over her shoulder as she turned back to the stairs. She hoped for Mr. Barrow's sake that the Doctor would get here in time.

They met Charles on the stairs. Elsie made to rush past him but thought better of it. She turned to him wondering what exactly she should say. He looked over her shoulder at Andy in confusion before his gaze landed on her in worry.

"Mr. Barrow has taken ill. Dr. Clarkson is on his way."

"Taken ill?"

Elsie sighed in exasperation. She saw no way around telling him everything. She only hoped he didn't blow up when he heard. She leaned close to him so no one else could hear her.

"He's cut his wrists," she whispered. She flinched back from the look of horror that crossed his face.

"Is he…?"

Elsie didn't know if Mr. Barrow was alive, had just assumed that he was. She turned back questioningly to Andy.

"He was alive when we found him," Andy supplied. Charles audibly sighed.

"We should go to him," Elsie said beginning to walk up the stairs again. She felt Charles move to follow but turned to stop him. "Someone should tell His Lordship."

"Of course," he agreed. "I'll go to him now."

They turned from each other to see to the crisis that had befallen the house now.

Elsie gathered some dry clothes from Thomas's-she couldn't think of the under butler as Mr. Barrow now-chest of drawers. She looked back to the bed where Andy and Miss Baxter were settling him on the mattress. Thomas looked like the small child he was when he first came to Downton lying there unconscious, blood leaking from the bandages Miss Baxter had wrapped around his wrists.

"Andy will need help with those," Miss Baxter nodded towards the pajamas in Elsie's hands. Elsie looked at the bundle in her hands and then back at Thomas. He seemed small enough in his bed for Elsie to grab him up in her arms to protect him from the horrors that had caused him to take such drastic actions.

"Yes," she answered instead. "I'll go get someone. You two stay here until I get back."

She didn't stay to hear their replies. She moved along the men's corridor trying to think of someone that could help. Charles would likely still be with the family serving their tea. Mr. Molesley was still at the school house. That left the hall boy but she didn't want to get him involved with this. She bit her lip in concentration.

"Has Dr. Clarkson arrived yet?"

A flustered Charles was moving swiftly along the corridor towards her. He was less pale than when she had last seen him on the staircase.

"No," she answered simply. She reached for his hand, pulling him silently back towards Thomas's room. They said not a word until she opened Thomas's door and they moved through as one. None of the occupants of the room noticed them enter.

"I've brought help," Elsie intoned. Charles glanced at her in confusion. "We need to get Thomas out of his wet things."

Charles nodded once in understanding. "Right then, Andrew. Let's see what we can do."

He moved towards the bed, motioning for Elsie to take Miss Baxter to wait outside. Elsie pulled Miss Baxter up from where she was sitting on the bed fiddling with the makeshift bandages on Thomas's wrists and lead the woman across the room and through the door. They each stood in the hallway, neither looking at the other. Elsie glanced furtively at the Lady's maid. She was almost deathly pale.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," Elsie tried to smile at Miss Baxter.

"Will he ever be alright, Mrs. Hughes?" Miss Baxter asked bleakly. Elsie was spared having to answer by the arrival of Anna and Dr. Clarkson. Elsie immediately moved to intercept them.

"Mr. Carson and Andy are with Mr. Barrow now," Elsie informed Dr. Clarkson. "They're changing him out of his wet things."

Dr. Clarkson nodded his understanding and entered Thomas's room after knocking. Anna looked from Miss Baxter to Elsie in bewilderment. Elsie didn't feel like explaining what had happened to Anna just yet.

"They'll let us know when Dr. Clarkson is finished," she declared in the sternest voice she could muster. "Let's all go get some tea."

"How is he?"

Charles was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He was in his coat and hat, waiting for her to finish seeing to Thomas before they headed home for the evening. She was beyond ready to go home with her husband. Thomas's illness had taken its toll on her today as it had everyone. All she wanted now was to sleep.

"He's sleeping now," she assured him. "Miss Baxter's to check on him in the night and then I'll look in on him again in the morning. I still can't believe it's happened."

Charles smiled at her in sympathy and held out her coat for her. "None of us can. All we can do now is help him heal."

Elsie only nodded, preceding him out of the back door. She took Charles's arm as they began the short walk to their cottage. Instead of their usual chatter about their day, they walked together in silence. Charles pulled Elsie from her thoughts when he laid his hand over her's. His brow was furrowed in worry as he stared at the ground. Elsie had known he had been upset by Thomas's attempt to end his life, but she hadn't realized just how much it had affected her husband.

"This was my fault, wasn't it?" he finally asked still looking at the ground as they walked.

Elsie stopped in the middle of the path, pulling Charles to a stop beside her. A hand on his face drew his gaze from his feet.

"What do you mean?"

Charles looked at her balefully. "Would Mr. Barrow have… done what he did if I hadn't been so hard on him to find a new job? I all but pushed him into it, didn't I? He lost hope, and that was my fault."

Elsie searched his face trying to find some words of encouragement. He looked more lost than she had ever seen him before. What could she say to him?

"Charles, no one made Mr. Barrow do anything. This was a choice he made himself. He was sad and lonely and yes," she said flatly, "you had a hand in that but so did all the rest of us."

"But I constantly belittled everything he's done for the past three months!"

"We're all to blame, Charles," she whispered. "Not just you."

Charles closed his eyes in a sigh and placed his hand over her's where it rested on his face. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss into her palm. "I suppose you're right. What would I do without you?"

Elsie merely smiled at him and pulled him along beside her towards their cottage. Charles's step was just as heavy as before as they continued down the path again in silence. Elsie knew that today's tragedy would not leave either of them soon. They would both wonder what could have been done differently, but there was no point assigning fault and blame to something so terrible. All they could do now was move forward.