A/N: Series four speculation which turned into series four spoilers in some places. I would have given anything to be wrong about Anna's rape, but I wasn't. :'( This story has been revamped in places from the version which was originally posted.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

The Shadow Proves the Sunshine

1. Lover's Eyes

It promises to be a big day up at Downton Abbey: for the first time since Mr. Matthew's death, the house is hosting guests. It is something that Lady Mary has confessed to Anna that she has been dreading, but she's put on a steel mask for everyone else; only her lady's maid has been privy to the turmoil and the agony that she is feeling about such an occasion.

"I don't want to move on just yet," she'd said just the other night, looking so young as she'd hunched over in her nightgown, a rare vulnerability tearing down her defences entirely. "I'm not ready."

Anna's heart had gone out to her mistress, and she'd put a comforting arm around her shoulder. Lady Mary had leant against her, something that she'd never done before.

Anna understands exactly how she feels. If John's death sentence hadn't been commuted, then she doesn't know how she would have coped. Despite his begging, she knows that she would never have moved on from him. She can only imagine the torture that Lady Mary is going through, and little Master George will grow up never meeting the fine young man who would have been a wonderful father.

But the visit has been arranged by Lady Grantham, evidently thinking that it will help bring some colour to her daughter's pallid cheeks, and Lady Mary has not fought against the decision, clearly exhausted from pushing people away for so long.

Now, in dawn's first light, Anna fidgets in the bed that she shares with her husband, grumbling groggily as she feels his hand pass up and down her front, stopping just shy of her breasts in a most teasing fashion.

"John," she warns grumpily, "you'd better have a very good reason for waking me."

Behind her, John laughs throatily, burying his nose in her messy hair. "I'm sorry, love. I couldn't resist. You look beautiful."

"Oh yes, I'm sure I do," she gripes, pressing her back more firmly against his chest, feeling the hairs tickling her.

"You do," he reiterates, moving his mouth to shower her shoulders and neck with kisses. "Even if your hair looks like it got caught in a bush."

"And who's responsible for that?" she shoots back, wriggling out of his arms and rolling onto her side to face him.

He smiles at her easily, his eyes crinkling. His own hair is mussed from her eager hands. Those strands that she loves fall over his right eye, and she pushes them away tenderly, only for them to fall stubbornly back into place. They make him look boyish, and it sets her heart racing. She leans forward to kiss him, and his hands span against her hips as he responds. Eventually she pulls away from him, placing one last kiss against his top lip before sighing.

"Come on, then," she says. "We might as well start our day."

"I thought we were about to," he replies huskily, pawing at her waist pointedly.

She fixes him with a look, a shadow of a smile playing about the corners of her mouth. "Mr. Bates, behave yourself."

"You make it very difficult to," he says, leaning forward to kiss her again. She keeps him at bay with her hands on his shoulders.

"John," she warns reprovingly, "we can't afford to be late today. Mr. Carson will have us lynched."

He huffs boyishly, an expression that does absolutely nothing to abate her desire to simply let him have his way with her, but she keeps her resolve strong and slips out of bed. John shuffles into an upright position, letting the sheets pool around his waist, exposing his broad, hairy chest to the morning cold of the room. Anna tries not to glance at him too often as she moves around to collect her clothes, purposefully taking her time. She smirks to herself when she feels his heated gaze all over her naked body.

"Later, then?" he asks, his voice low and scratchy with desire.

She turns around, taking him in in all of his natural glory. The sight of him like that will never fail to affect her.

"Oh, most definitely," she says thickly, before physically shaking her head to relieve herself of the pleasant buzzing that has manifested itself there.

John slides out of bed, running a hand through his hair as he pads around the room to gather his own clothes together. He slips on his shorts while she fastens her corset, then offers to help her. She lets him despite her reservations, and he nuzzles himself against her neck when he's finished, breathing in the scent of her skin.

"I love you, you know," he murmurs.

"Yes, I know," she smiles, leaning back into his touch and shivering internally at the tickle of his hairy chest.

"And now look at us," he says. "It's eighteen months since I was released from prison."

"Don't," she sighs. "I'd rather not think about that time." She's done her best to block out the memories of the endless nights and the endless tears that she'd cried under the cover of darkness, the only time that it felt right to let down her guard and collapse under the pressure of it all. Their life now is all that she wants to focus on.

"I'm sorry," he says, then kisses her cheek, squeezing his arms around her waist.

"There's no need to apologise. Let's just keep looking forward. I've never been as happy as I am now."

"And things can only get better from here," he declares confidently, and she turns to kiss him properly then, fingers smoothing through his hair.

His words should have been the first warning sign.