rightly | open post.

They were beautiful, admittedly. Steve was never much the kind to love flowers, but right now they held an exquisite kind of appeal, if only because he got the chance to take in even these smallest and finest details, the beauty of a filled and perfectly kept garden.

"No," he answered plainly, hesitating for a moment before he went on to add with a little smile. "i... honestly, I don't have a 'back home' to begin with."

"You don't?" Mary asked, a bit surprised to hear both of those things. "What about Illinois?"

That had been where he said he was from, right? He had nothing there? As someone who had lived all her life in a home that was very important to her, it was hard for her to imagine that.

"That's just where I grew up," he shrugged, not particularly broken up about it. "Told you, haven't been there in years. I don't even think I have any family left, back there."

Some aunt or a few distant cousins, at best, but no one he'd move back to Illinois for. Not that it mattered either way, as he didn't really expect to live for that.

Mary furrowed her brow, wanting to ask what happened to his family, but also not wanting to open old wounds for him. How sad to be without a family. And she loved her home. She would be devastated to never see Downton again.

"Was that where you were living right before you joined up?"

There were no wounds to speak of. His father was dead, his mother gone to who knows where. Steve had learned to live alone a long time ago, though. Got used to being on his own more often than not.

"I was in New York City, actually," he said, turning towards her. "Washington, before then. Montréal for a while. Just... other places. A little bit all over."

"You wandered a lot?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Meanwhile, I have only lived here. I don't think I would want to live anywhere else."

Mary knew that she must move after she married Richard. The house went to the heir, who was male. She knew she would cry the day she had to leave.

They stood in the garden for a moment, Mary looking up at the blue sky and trees. To her, this was paradise.

"I suppose that is why you had no sweetheart either. Too much moving around."

"Can't blame you for that," he mumbled as he looked around the garden, the white roses in bloom. "If I lived here... I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, either."

But places like this weren't made for men like him, so. He might wander a lot, but he didn't let his mind do the same.

He chuckled a little at that, shaking his head and shrugging, pursing his lips. "Don't think I would, even if I didn't. Just... never met someone like that. Someone special."

She smiled at him, wishing that he could stay, even if it wouldn't make much sense. He didn't have that option and they would have to find a job for him to do on the estate in order to support himself.

"Why not?" She asked, her tone a bit teasing. "You're a handsome man, if you don't mind me saying, and very kind. I'm sure a beautiful, wonderful woman will want to marry you after the war."

That woman was lucky, she thought.

Not that he was a stranger to hard work, but to settle here was unthinkable to him, especially right now with a war being fought. He didn't indulge, either. He knew going back to the front would be all that much more difficult if he spent too much time daydreaming and holding onto 'what ifs'.

"I've met wonderful and beautiful women, trust me. But that's not enough for me," he shook his head, adding in an oddly light tone. "Besides, that's... another life. I'm not sure I'll be here after the war."

"Steve..." Her face was etched with concern. "How can you think that? I know that this war is brutal, but you should not resign yourself to such a fate."

Mary hated to hear him talk like that, as if his life didn't matter at all. Even though Mary didn't know him very well, he seemed like a person who contributed good things to the world. They needed people like him.

"No, you don't, Mary," he cut her off a little abruptly, but hopefully not too rudely. He sighed, shaking his head at her. "You don't know. And thank God for that. Thank God for all the people who will never... never see the things we have. It's for those people's futures I fight. For your future— for you."

Coming to terms with the fact that he would likely die was just easier. Easier than think and hope he would make it. Because that could make him a coward, someone who would pull from a fight or a confrontation, who would hide away in fear because he had dreamt and hoped too much for a life after all that Hell to be so willing to give it up.

"It's... alright. It's alright. I've come to terms with it. I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself, anyway."

She took a step back from him and put her hand on her chest. Of course he was right about her not knowing what the war was really like. She never would, and she didn't want to. It didn't mean that she had to agree with him throwing his life away though.

"It's not alright," Mary said with a shake of her head. "You are... you seem like too good of a person to lose. Saving the world for the rest of us doesn't mean that you should sacrifice yourself for it."

She only took her hand away from his arm, but still it felt like a chasm had cracked open wide between them. His eyes were downcast, but he said nothing to that, drawing in on himself as he let that distance settle between them.

"I don't think... we shouldn't be talking about this," he said, hoping to lighten the mood again. "I'm not going out there with the intent of killing myself, not if I can help it. But I am glad to— to take good memories with me."

Mary looked at the sadness on his face, and it cut her deeply. She never would have guessed that he looked so sad simply because she had taken her hand off of his arm.

Perhaps they should talk of more pleasant and vapid things, but Mary only changes the topic slightly. "You said you have known many beautiful and wonderful women but that it isn't enough for you. Why not?" What exactly was he looking for that he hadn't found yet?

She really seemed intent on digging deep into every little nook and corner of him, even the ones that rarely saw the light of day. He found himself wishing to go back to when he still had a broken arm, and their conversation was light and teasing, and her glances at him were as inappropriate as they were indiscrete. When she wasn't engaged to anyone, and maybe then it wasn't highly improper of him to smile, tease back or stand just a little too close to her.

"Because I didn't love any of them," he said simply. "Why else would I want to marry someone?"

That was such a simple answer that it almost took her aback for a moment. "Well, there are lots of reasons," Mary found herself saying. "Security could be one, or the fact that it is a match that makes sense and is advantageous to both parties."

People who were not members of the upper class did not need to deal with such things. Maybe they could afford to marry for love. After what had happened with Pamuk, Mary's reputation was hanging on by a thread. Richard would help restore it and make sure that none of the papers printed anything about her.

"That's when you're signing a business contract. Think you're getting the two a little mixed up, Lady Mary," he hummed, unable to stop himself from teasing a little. He knew what she meant, though. Knew there were plenty of people who didn't marry for love, but out of necessity. Out of some need to keep the good family name or a reputation, or to simply not be alone. Steve found all those reasons frankly archaic and ridiculous.

He'd never marry for anything other than love, period. He could die in shame and penury for all he cared.

"Do you not love your fiancé?" It was a bit of a personal question, he knew that. But she had asked him some so far, so he figured there was no harm in trying, at least.

"Marriage can be a business contract," she replied quickly. It seemed that was what it was for most members of her society.

His question left her momentarily speechless though. Mary could protest it being too personal, but she didn't have much ground to stand on after the questions she had asked him. "I..." She fumbled for an acceptable answer. "He's a good man. Very sharp. Runs a newspaper business. Our personalities seem well matched. If it is not love now, in time it will be."

That was probably as good as she could hope for.

It was the answer he expected, to some degree. After her talk of marriage like it was only a logical agreement, a contract more than a declaration of love, he had a feeling that Mary's feelings didn't run very deep for Richard. But he didn't say anything. He had no right to, after all, as it was her life and her choice to make, and he had no bearing on that decision. He would be gone in four days and they would never see each other again.

He did lift his eyebrows a little, as he turned his head away and nodded quietly. "Alright."

"What?" she asked, probably pushing the topic. "You don't think there is value in accepting a marriage for anything less than love?" Mary was a practical sort, and while she did believe in love, there were more factors to a marriage than that. She couldn't run off and marry just anyone. She had her reputation and family name to think of. A woman like her was never bound to marry purely for love.

Mary glanced over at one of the rose bushes beside them. "I wish I had that option," she said quietly.

"I don't think there's value in trapping yourself in a miserable and unhappy marriage, not for any reason," he stated plainly, being honest since honesty was what she asked for. "But I am no Lord. I don't have to worry about the same things you do. So what do I know?"

He did mean that. Their lives were drastically different, and he couldn't begin to imagine the pressure Mary was under. He also couldn't say, had he been born under the same circumstances and raised the same way as her, if he wouldn't share in those opinions.

He'd like to think that he would have stayed the same, that he would have stuck to his same beliefs and principles nonetheless.

"I do hope you're happy with him, Mary. I hope you're right— that you do end up loving him."

It was much easier for him to say, not having to deal with the things that she did. And, she felt, being a man. Nobody cared if a man had sex before marriage, but it was ruinous to a woman, especially one of her class. Mary had made unwise decisions, and she hoped that she might be able to scrounge some happiness out of the consequences.

"I want you to be happy too, Steve. If memories of Downton make you happy, then I want you to keep them."

It was more than just a little hypocritical that people even cared about that when it came to women. Because if women couldn't have sex before marriage but men could, then... what was the solution, here? That men only have sex with each other before they marry? Granted, Steve had nothing against that. It just didn't quite suit his tastes.

Society made absolutely no sense when it came to things like that, sometimes. When it came to a lot of things, actually.

"They do," he nodded, looking back to her. "Can I ask... for one other memory to take with me?"

Mary looked back at him, brown eyes meeting his blue ones. She had always thought that men with blue eyes were exceptionally handsome. Maybe it was because her own father had blue eyes.

"Of course," she replied.

Slowing down to a halt, Steve turned to face her, hesitating for a moment before he finally took the couple of steps separating them. He took his hands out of his pockets but it took him a moment to get himself to settle them on her arm, a light touch she could easily pull away from.

Actually she could easily pull away from anything he did right then, as it wasn't his intention to force himself on her. He still hoped she wouldn't, though, especially as he tipped his head down and closed his eyes just in time to press his lips to the corner of her mouth in a soft kiss.

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