John hesitated as he reached for the doorknob of his bedroom door, a deep sigh escaping him as he knew that what he was going to see the moment he opened the door would not be his wife's smiling face. It would be his wife, sitting in the corner of the room, her knees brought up to her chest as she had tear-stains on her cheeks and her once bright midnight blue eyes would be stormy and empty. Ever since Anna had agreed to come home to the cottage after her attack she'd had good days and bad days. On the good days she would be laughing and participating in discussions in the Servants Hall, before gladly crawling into her husband's arms for a snuggle, and, if he was especially lucky, a quick kiss or two as they settled together on the settee after a long day of work. However, on her bad days she would be secluded and distant, flinching at the slightest brush of an arm against her own. This was one of her bad days. John had known, from the moment his wife had woken that morning, that it would be a hard day for the both of them. He'd noticed that Anna had tried to appear cheerful when they had been getting dressed for work earlier that morning, and she had even managed to laugh with him when the two of them had been holding hands as they walked to Downton. Yet, it appeared that something within her had snapped the moment she stepped foot through the back door. She'd turned silent.

If Anna had suddenly gone silent before the evening of the house party then John wouldn't have given a second thought to it, but whenever she suddenly fell quiet nowadays, it meant that she was remembering. She was suffering. She was hurting. If there was one thing that John disliked most about the beautiful woman that he was blessed enough to have for a wife, it was her tendency to suffer in silence. She would be screaming at the top of her lungs inside, but forcing herself to remain composed on the outside so that no one would know about the storm raging within her. No one, that was, except for John. She had meant it when she had told Mrs. Hughes that he could read her like a book. He'd been able to do so since 1915, when her eldest brother had been killed in action on the front. She had been sitting out in their spot in the courtyard, her hands trembling as she had been clutching the small piece of paper and the tears had been clear in her eyes. When John had questioned her about what had made her so clearly distressed, her reply'd been a simple shake of the head before she'd tried to change the subject. He'd pressed her, however, concerned about the woman that he'd loved so wrongly and yet so deeply at the time, and she had eventually given up and broken down in his arms as he'd stroked her hair. She'd promised to tell him about anything that distressed her from then on.

That'd all gone out of the window after her attack.

John released another deep sigh as his hand remained immobile upon the doorknob, his eyes closing as he forced himself to turn it and the door opened with a gentle creak. His steps were light and slow as he made his way into the dimly lit bedroom, his heart pounding within his chest as he knew that one wrong move could prompt his beautiful wife to enter panic mode. John had known that Anna would be in a state when he entered his bedroom, but he hadn't expected to see her looking so broken; so helpless whilst she was sat on their bedroom floor. Her cheeks were damp from tears as she trembled in the corner of their bedroom, fresh tears still slowly trickling over the curves of her cheeks while her bottom lip trembled gently and she wrung her hands together in her lap. He saw her lips move and knew instantly what it was that she was doing. She was counting. John'd told her, when she had first come home with him after their reconciliation in the Boot Room, that if she ever went into panic mode and he wasn't there to soothe away her fears for any reason, then she was to count to ten over and over again until she calmed down. It usually worked like a dream, yet John could tell that it hadn't worked too well in this instance, considering she was sobbing the numbers as she said them and he could see her violent trembling. 'Anna...' He whispered softly as he began to walk towards his wife.

Her eyes looked so empty as she turned to look at him that he almost wept.

'I lost count again.' The tears choked her voice as she turned her hands over and looked down at her fingers, a fresh set of tears falling as she once again began to slowly wring her hands in her lap and she started to count softly, not paying attention to John as he continued to make his way over to her. 'Two...three...four...' She counted through tears.

'Sweetheart.' He whispered as he slid slowly down the wall beside her, not touching her as he came to sit by her side.

'Five...six...seven...' She continued as he could feel her trembling next to her, the tears continuing to stain her already dampened cheeks.

'Anna, stop.' He spoke gently as he covered her hands with his own and she fell silent as she gazed down at his large hands covering her much smaller ones. 'I'm here, darling.'

She turned her head towards him but refused to meet his gaze as she focused her eyes upon his chest, John remaining still as she slowly began to manoeuvre her shaking body into his lap. When she lay her head down upon his shoulder he finally allowed himself to wrap his arms around her middle, only loosely, mind, as he brushed his lips against her crown and she buried her face into the side of his neck. 'I'm sorry.' She sobbed as she gripped his shirt tightly in her fist and he felt her let herself go. 'I'm so, so sorry, John.' A deep sigh escaped him as he shushed soothingly into her hair and he began to rock back and forth with her against his chest, her sobs loud and harsh against his skin while she allowed him to comfort her. 'You don't deserve all of the burdens that I'm putting on you, John, you don't deserve any of it, but I'm just not strong enough!' John's heart broke, a tearful scoff escaping him as he brought her away from his chest and cupped her face warmly in his hands, her deep blue eyes filled with tears as she met his love-filled gaze.

'Never say that to me again.' He scolded lovingly as he swept his thumbs across her cheeks and more of her tears continued to fall. 'I forbid it, Anna Bates, do you understand?'

'But I-' Her voice broke as he caressed her face.

'I forbid it.' He growled gently as he pressed his forehead to her own and she leaned into him with a trembling sigh, her hands coming to settle upon his shoulders. 'I love you.'

'I love you too.' She whispered through tears before sniffing softly and pressing her lips to his own in a slow kiss. 'I love you too.' She echoed as reassurance for both of them.

It was the early hours of the next morning when the two of them were finally laying side-by-side beneath the covers of their bed, Anna's head cushioned upon John's chest with her arm draped loosely around his waist as she anchored herself to him; his arms protectively around her slim waist as their legs were tangled beneath the quilt and he nuzzled his nose into her hair as he continued to hum a soothing tune to her. 'I wouldn't have gotten this far if I didn't have you.' Her voice was gentle and soft as she broke the silence a few moments later and she trailed the tips of her fingers along the curve of his side, her foot running gently against his lower calve as she tilted her head back upon his chest. 'You give me something to fight for; something worth living for.' She admitted as she reached up to caress his cheek slowly with the back of her hand. 'I'm not giving in, John.'

'Because you're a fighter.' He tucked a strand of soft golden hair back behind her ear, kissing the tip of her nose softly. 'You can beat this, Anna, it's just going to take a while.'

'I'm willing to be patient.' She reassured him as she snuggled further into his arms. 'If you'll be patient with me.'

'I'll be patient for as long as it takes.' He sighed deeply into her hair as they finally settled down together for the night.

And he stayed true to his word.

Author's Note: Please review! x