A/N: This story came together when I was talking about Downton Abbey with my mom and then while reading an interview with Brendan Coyle where he talked about Mr. Bates maybe having actually done the deed. It was originally going to be just one whole chapter, but I decided to split it up. Please read and review (particularly dialogue).
A/N II: I know only the basics of tuberculosis and probably got something wrong. Sorry.
Disclaimer: Try as I might, I still don't own DA.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The ticking of the clock felt like the striking of a hammer to her. The noise of the street below sounded dull in comparison. It had been five minutes since he had left the room. Surely, he should have returned by now.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The door creaked open. "Ah, Mrs. Bates, I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you," the doctor gruffly said.
"Yes," Vera asked slowly, worried that her breath would hitch.
"I've gone over your test results, more than once mind you, and there's no mistake. You have tuberculosis. Unfortunately, there isn't much that can be done for you, but there are some who have been helped by trips to sanitariums. Would it be possible for you to go to one?""
"Not likely, I don't have the money," she replied bitterly. If only Johnny hadn't left her, again, or she hadn't questioned the divorce decree.
"Then the best that I can offer is to get lots of fresh air," he said briskly, "thank you for your visit Mrs. Bates."
Vera left the office in a daze and soon found herself on the street. She was a fine lady. How could she have this disease? It was only for poor people. She stood still for a moment until a random man ran into her.
"Watch where you're going you bloody simpleton," the man growled.
Vera burst into genuine tears, for the first time since she was five and learned that tears could win her anything.
The man softened. "I'm sorry, love. I wasn't looking where I was going."
Vera continued to shake with sobs and a crowd was gathering around the pair.
"Alright love, why don't you come along with me. I'll get you a cup of tea."
He led her across the street to the Mawbey Arms. A few minutes later, he had a pint of ale in front of him and she had a cup of tea. After Vera took a few sips, he asked, "feeling better?"
"Not quite yet, but I shall be soon enough," she said wanly.
"Again, I'm sorry that I ran into you. I must've had my head in the clouds."
"I wasn't paying much attention either."
"Would you like another cup of tea?"
"No, but I wouldn't mind some whiskey," she replied, reading his reaction carefully.
Several rounds later, Vera had told the man almost everything, excepting her newly diagnosed illness and her very much alive husband. He had been far less effusive with his details. His name was Alfred. He worked as a mason and was being kept from the front due to his flat feet. She didn't need to know anything else.
"I've got to get to my bed," he said.
"Need help finding it," she asked archly. She was rarely this forward, but she couldn't quite care about breach of propriety, not tonight, not with her news.
"By a fine lady such as yourself, sure," he slurred. He settled their account and beckoned her to follow. 'Another night, another man,' she mused ruefully.
