A/N: This fic is based on a prompt I came across in January, and was kicking myself that I hadn't seen it a little earlier. But what do you know - Christmas comes around quickly enough...this was originally going to be a one-shot, but it ended up expanding to two chapters.

I don't own Downton Abbey, not even in its modern incarnation.

May Your Days Be

Six months had gone by, and the pain of her loss was as great as it had been in the days just after her passing.

He was not improving by any measure. In plain truth, he was a mess. Daylight hours were spent shut away for the most part, drifting from one thought to the next, the occasional memory seeping in that would make his heart lurch with the vivid nature in which he could picture them. He could not only hear her voice calling his name, scolding him gently for some error he had made, though she spoke words of love most of all. He could see her before his very eyes, smiling and laughing without care, before the agony had claimed her completely. Perhaps she had taken any strength he possessed with her when she slipped away.

He didn't bother to shave or even change out of his sweatpants when he popped to the 24-hour express shop, usually by the shadow of night when his insomnia was keeping him up. The zip-up hooded jacket had been replaced by a fleece as the weather got colder; the bitterest winter for a few years, so he had heard on the radio or television - one or the other - in a rare moment when he was able to concentrate. She wouldn't have liked him looking so scruffy, always teaching him to take pride in his appearance. He shook his deep-set gaze away from the bottles that were lined up behind the counter – lucky for him and so many teenagers who were greatly mistaken in their beliefs that they could handle the stronger stuff that they were out of reach – and instead met the cashier's eye for the briefest time as he paid for the loaf of bread and solitary carton of milk. He detected the combination of disgust and pity on her young face, but he didn't much care. It was late – probably past two in the morning – and he worried foremost, about a girl her age working in a corner shop in the middle of London at this hour.

The glare of the laptop screen made him squint as he confronted it again, following the familiar instructions. Bed was becoming a place he dreaded, but at the same time he didn't want to leave. A few sentences – paragraphs if he was lucky – and maybe he would be able to drop off to sleep for a bit.

It had been good of Robert to offer him the sabbatical, especially when there was so much work on at the company. Back then he had the decency to try and argue, but Robert Crawley was not one to take no for an answer. Neither did he do much in the way of sugar-coating.

Your mother died a week ago, of course I wouldn't expect you to be running around here. God knows I can bumble through myself for a while. Take as much time as you need.

Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at the blank page before him and rubbed his hand over his prickled jaw, his oldest friend's voice echoing his mind.

I understand how close you were. I can't imagine what you must be feeling.

I'm ever so sorry, my dear fellow.

He swallowed away most of his sorrow, slamming the lid shut without even bothering to turn the thing off completely and narrowly missing catching the tips of his fingers. He should move to the sofa; this spot had to be killing his creativity. A short laugh left him, considering the absurdity. Five months, and he hadn't written a single word. Or rather he had, but had ended up deleting them all when he read how utterly morose they sounded.

Of course, these weren't exactly the circumstances he had planned whenever he had dreamt of taking a break from his solid and dependable career to pursue a long-held wish. It wasn't her fault, he had to tell himself. She told him enough to do whatever made his heart happy, that the decisions he made would give her joy too as long as they were made in the right place. He should have listened sooner, and now she wasn't around to give him the advice he sorely needed.

Voices in the street rang out from beneath his window, and he was suddenly aware of his space in the world, even if it surprised him slightly that there were other people just as awake as he was at this point in time.

The song that was being sung was a cheery one, distant. He managed the smallest of smiles following the words as they got louder and heartier, before trailing away onto the next set of apartments to wake their occupants or otherwise slip into their dreams.

"Oh I wish it could be Christmas every daaaaay, so let the bells ring out for Christmas."

As the laughter and happy shrieks below dissipated, John rubbed his eyes, mildly confused and wondering if he'd lost all track of time. It wouldn't have been too difficult, he surmised. As far as he was concerned, each day was an exact copy of the one that had preceded it. There had been garish shimmers of gold and red inside the shop, and the young cashier had been wearing antlers on a band on her head, he had the vaguest recollection.

A sudden surge of panic rushed up within him – one that would not have existed had it not been for a phone call that happened at some point within the past week, though perhaps it had been much earlier than that. He scrambled back towards the bed, retrieving the discarded laptop from amidst the tangle of covers. His sigh of relief was audible when he took in the barely readable date in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen.

05/12/2010.

He sat at the kitchen table, picking a slice of the uneaten toast up by its corner whilst holding the phone in his other hand.

"You're not a morning person, this is quite unexpected."

"I can make the exception for my favourite person in the world, can't I?"

His heart warmed at her casual words, jumping within his chest where it had lay near-lifeless for so long. The sound of her voice had been enough to cheer him – her accent was even stronger since she had returned to her native county – but now he was as certain as he could be that today would be one of the better days, now he had such a sentiment to hold dear.

"Besides, Mary doesn't want the boutique opening until later, so I've had a bit of a lie-in."

"I thought you sounded a bit brighter than usual at this ungodly hour."

He had hoped their conversation would remain on her, that she wouldn't hear the roughness and all the hours of lost sleep. Really, he should have known her much better.

"You are taking care of yourself, aren't you? I know the last thing you need is a fusspot, but there are so many minutes in the day and I just...well, I worry about you. Being so far away, and on your own."

"Anna, London is a big place. And I was round at Robert and Cora's the other night."

"One night isn't much." He could hear her frown down the line. "You are well, though? Eating enough, going out and seeing people."

She always looked out for him, ever since the day he had started at the company and found her sitting behind the reception desk, battling with several telephone lines that were all ringing at once. Even with all of the chaos happening around her, she had given him more than a few precious moments, offering a warm smile to welcome him while he was sodden by the rain and with his cane held shyly in his hand – two years, and he still wasn't used to taking it out with him. She didn't seem to notice it – or if she had she was kind enough not to let it distract her from looking him square in the eyes. He had been glad that she was in the lunchroom when he got out of his first very long meeting that same afternoon, and it was from there that they had become firm friends, sharing stories and many things in common.

In fact, she was the closest friend he had ever had.

A few little white lies wouldn't hurt too much, and he was most thankful that she wasn't able to see them written on his face.

"I'm fine. Really."

The silence unsettled him for a moment or two, until he remembered that she always went quiet when she was taking in information that she deemed vital. He recalled too well the image of her chewing on her bottom lip, giving the smallest bobs of her head as she listened to another in a long line of calls that were so important to the Crawley family business.

He missed seeing her, even if he was happy for her having the chance to live her dream.

"I should let you get on –

"I don't want to sound out of line –

She let out a giggle at their voices overlapping.

"You go," he said.

"Well, I know it's only November, but you know what I'm like."

He laughed, only not aloud. The ache in his stomach didn't seem to want to give him the pleasure of doing so.

"I wanted to let you know that you're welcome up here for Christmas. If you've got other plans –

"I don't."

"It's only going to be me and Mum and the house will be empty, really...oh, John, I'm sorry."

"Please, don't be."

The smile returned to her tone.

"That's why I wanted to ask. That, and it's been so long since I've seen you. If I thought I was invading, I wouldn't dare, but I can't bear to think of you being on your own. Not then."

He closed his eyes tight, in an attempt to hold back his tears. Anna was the only person he had ever come across who loved Christmas as much as his mother did. Or at least, as much as she had. It was probably going to hurt like hell, but he didn't see the alternative being any better.

"Well, if you want me. I'll do my best not to inhabit Ebenezer Scrooge."

"Silly beggar, you never could. I can't wait already. Come down early, a couple of weeks before. We'll make a proper time of it."

The smile slowly inched upon his face as he listened to all of her plans, the preparations he knew too well and some he had never heard of before in his life.

Now, he had something to look forward to.

He didn't wait until morning to take his battered old holdall from the bottom of the wardrobe, and for once he was glad that the internet was a permanent presence, calling up the page to purchase his train tickets for the next day.

Five years seemed to pass in less than a blink of an eye, but it was strange to John how slow the last eighteen months had gone, since Anna had moved back to Yorkshire. She had been like a whirlwind helping Mary to get the boutique together – as well as to adjust to life away from the capital – and, as was only usual for her, worked all of the hours God had sent and more on top of those. He had been busy too, taking his mother for her appointments after his long shifts at the office, and then later on visiting her at the hospice every night.

On the train two little girls were running up and down the aisle, one older and faster than the other. The youngest must have been barely two years old, toddling after her sister on wobbly legs. He was interrupted from his cold cup of coffee and tracing the raindrops as they raced upon the window by a tug upon his arm, and he turned to take in the shining face with pigtails either side of her head and a gap-toothed grin that was aimed straight towards him.

A woman's voice called down the aisle, as apologetic as she could be.

"Annie! Leave that poor man alone and come and sit nicely. And bring your sister with you, please."

He smiled back at the little one, amused and strangely, impossibly nostalgic. He could easily imagine the girl to be very similar to Anna at the same age.

A cab was waiting for him at the station, along with Anna, well-wrapped in a red bobble hat and long matching scarf. She had bundled into his arms before he had chance to see his breath forming upon the crisp air, and he found it impossible not to hold her close, getting a whiff of the scent of her hair as it flowed past her shoulders, sticking out from underneath her hat while she clung onto him.

"Hello, stranger," she whispered, and despite the rapidly falling temperature he felt a warmth travel through him, right down to his feet.

"I'm sorry for being one," he offered, relaxing his arms around her.

She tutted, a passing incredulous expression drifting over her face as she looked properly at him. He had forgotten how blue her eyes were, and how much they were capable of smiling.

"Don't you dare worry about it. I haven't made as much effort as I should have done either."

He shook his head instinctively, his gaze falling upon the glowing pink tip of her nose. "You've had so much on."

"It's no excuse," she countered. Less than a few minutes, and it was like they had never been apart. She was the same as ever; fierce and feisty, kind and considerate, with a heart so big it was an utter wonder how it was contained in that petite frame of hers.

It had been a shock to him when she told him about her plans to join Mary as she left her father's company to make her own way in life. They had been sitting at their 'usual' table, kept free by everyone else, and he couldn't find the appetite to finish off the rest of his rather generous plate of pasta. She was beaming, at least up until the moment she gave him the news, and then she turned cautious, waiting patiently and hopefully for his reaction. He was happy for her, of course; he would never dare to even think about doing her down, but he knew that she was destined for far better things in life than being a receptionist. He just supposed he would always walk into work each morning to find her there, making his day with one of her smiles. It was selfish of him, but he couldn't imagine not talking to her for a solid hour over lunch, sharing a laugh with her in the tearoom, dropping her off at her apartment after a day that went on beyond the usual hours.

She had asked him with a laugh and a toss of her head whether he would miss her. The sensation he felt as he looked at her to give his reply was one that he had not encountered in some time, if indeed he ever had before.

She closed her hand, clad in a woollen mitten that separated her thumb from the rest of her fingers, around his arm, linking hers through the loop.

"You're here now, and that's all that matters."

Her arm stayed threaded with his through the journey to the house, Anna laughing when the bumps in the road caused them to rattle in their seats. He wasn't able to recall the last time he had spoke so much in a short space of time, and his throat felt slightly hoarse for doing so. It hadn't done him any good to be so isolated, as much as he thought it had been the best course of action to keep himself away from others. He made a vow to himself to change his ways when he got back, but it already seemed strange to him that Anna wouldn't be there to witness it. His spirits were low in comparison to hers but her nature was so instant and infectious that he could not stop himself from echoing her laughter.

Rich scents filled the air; the glow of several candles and their flickering flames caught his eye as he walked from the hallway to the living room, Anna remaining close behind him.

"Mum can't stop buying them. Sparkling Snow, Berry Trifle...she's probably looking for the last remaining one that we haven't got in the shops right now."

John raised his eyebrows, stepping inside to find a fire crackling in the small hearth and lights twinkling from almost every eave. There were other festive decorations dotted around the place along with a poinsettia centrepiece in the middle of the coffee table. He'd gone from feeling very much like the Grinch who stole Christmas to finding himself in the midst of a winter wonderland, all perfectly replicated in a front room in Yorkshire.

Anna wore a sheepish expression as he turned back to her, the rosy glimmer of the cold outside still high on the apples of her cheeks.

"I know, we've gone a little overboard."

"Not at all," he smiled, causing her to thaw out. "It all looks lovely. It...well, it makes me feel at home."

His mother spoiled him at Christmas, even in the years when times were hard and she could barely afford to keep the house running, digging out the decorations that were nearly crumbling down from the loft. They weren't a very large tribe, and looking back he supposed that it was because she wanted to do everything she could to make the holiday special for him, her only child. Growing up he had taken all the fuss for granted, believing it was the same for everyone.

Her eyes were wide, brighter still in the glow of the reflected lights. Though they stood apart he felt the ghost of her hand resting upon him, and held a half-breath before she spoke again.

"I'm glad," she answered, so softly.

He watched her cast her gaze downward briefly, noticing how she flustered with her hands, pulling the sleeves of her jumper past where they rested.

"I've done all of the shopping I need to," she went on. "Only the essentials now, but they'll just have to wait."

"Don't tell me," he uttered, still taking everything about the scene in. "You started in September."

She giggled, shaking her head. "Not quite that early, but not too far off either."

"It's a good thing to be organised. You always have been, and I'm still not, even as Robert's assistant."

"You're better than you give yourself credit for, Mr Bates."

A distinct shiver ran down his spine at the way she pronounced his name, so familiar after the period of absence. The feeling that was still tingling seconds later wasn't as known to him, and he found himself going rather hazy, speechless but for the imprint of the smile that remained on his face.

He walked around the room with small steps, taking the time to regain himself. Tiredness was setting in; he had been up and out since nine that morning, and had barely got two hours sleep the night before. The array of lights made him drowsier still, with their soft fading in and out. He turned on his heels, half-expecting to fall backwards for a moment or two, and was struck by the empty space in the corner of the room.

His finger pointed to the vacancy in the absence of speech, Anna smirking at his look towards her.

"I wondered when you might notice there was something missing."

She bit down on her bottom lip, travelling back in time.

"That's quite a big something, if you don't mind me saying."

Her laugh filled the room once more. "We were going to go last week, but I noticed that you'd be coming down and I thought it might be something fun to do, to get you into the Christmas spirit."

He couldn't help but smile at her gentle words, knowing she wanted to coax him out of his shell but at the same time never pushing him.

"Plus, it would be good for a strong man to help us bring a tree back to the house, on a purely practical level."

He took on a stern expression, though it was not enough to fool her – if anything, her smile was bigger than it had been since he had got there.

"Do I have reason to believe that your motives for my visit weren't entirely plain, Miss Smith?"

A pair of small hands were upon his shoulders before he had time to think.

"I couldn't possibly say," she replied cheekily, her sincerity and goodness of heart shining through into her eyes. "Tomorrow, though. The weary traveller needs to get some rest first."

Baubles glistened from every branch of the tree, and each day brought the holiday closer. John did what he could to help out, even though Anna had most things well under control. He took her and her mother to the shops as often as was required for them to get everything they needed – his opinion being highly regarded when it came to picking out the best-looking turkey – and was on hand with bows and rolls of tape as the gift-wrapping assistant. He wouldn't have trusted himself not to rip the beautiful paper, and it helped the process along that he could have a mug of hot chocolate and a mince pie or two, watching as Anna folded each edge into perfect points.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning when she sat back after another present had been finished, looking rightly pleased with her work.

All of her little routines were charming to him, and made him appreciate the time of year that he had been dreading. The thought and effort she put into everything was incomparable and he loved the way her face lit up whenever a new card came through the letterbox or when she heard a carol being sung by an assembled choir of children who turned up on the doorstep. She would clap with unbridled enthusiasm every single time, handing out chocolate coins in their shiny foil wrapping to the delighted little ones, sending them on their way with even more joy than which they had came with.

She had no idea about the joy she brought within the four walls, either.

He ran a hand through his hair as he plodded down the stairs, still feeling a little sleepy. Months of insomnia had caught up with him, and most afternoons he retreated upstairs to take advantage of the change of scenery and the fact it was so much more peaceful up here. He would end up napping for at least an hour, sometimes two. Whenever he woke, a touch bleary-eyed but considerably rested, he felt guilty for not keeping Anna company. She told him that it was nothing to worry about; she didn't mind if he slept for twenty three hours of the day so long as it made him feel better.

The enticing aroma that was emanating from the kitchen dictated his steps, as well as the tuneful melody that brought an instant smile drifting to his lips.

Anna had the run of the karaoke at the Christmas party, held at Robert's sprawling residence at the edge of the city. She had already took everybody by storm with two numbers, and was rounding off a near-perfect rendition of Sleigh Ride with Gwen, Daisy and Sybil, Robert and Cora's youngest daughter who had not long started an internship in one of the other departments.

The bells that adorned her festive jumper jingled lightly as she walked over to where he sat, her cheeks flushed. There was a curious look in her eyes as she glanced towards him, and as she produced a sheet of paper from behind her back he began to shake his head, even if he was smiling.

"Oh, no. Don't even think about it, Miss Smith."

"I'm not letting another year go by without hearing your gorgeous voice. It's very selfish to hide such a talent, you know."

He wrinkled his nose at her while she continued to stare him out, eyelashes fluttering.

"As much as I like Mr Molesley, I don't think singing is quite his forte."

Indeed, Joseph was making quite a unique job of When A Child Is Born, intense facial expressions to accompany his crooning. They both stifled a laugh before turning to each other with accusing eyes, going solemn for a few moments.

"Look, there's loads to choose from," a glittery fingernail cascaded down the song-list that was held in her hand. "Why don't we do a duet?"

"I don't know, Anna..."

"Ooh, look. Fairytale of New York. That's a classic, and nobody has done it yet."

"Erm, I'm not sure I know the words."

She gave a dramatic shrug of her shoulders. "John, they do put them on the screen..."

As the awkward and slightly pained expression remained on his face, she suddenly twigged.

"Oh no, I suppose that's not very appropriate."

He gave her a soft smile to ease her embarrassment, leaning in closer to her and bumping against her shoulder. She rubbed her hand casually and without thought against the sleeve of his shirt.

"I suspect Robert might steal the honour before we get the chance," he told her, pointing to another two-hander on the list. "I don't mind Little Drummer Boy, but he always gets to be Bowie. Even when we flip a coin for it."

Anna laughed, patting his arm with her palm.

"One year, you'll get to take over. I mean, Bing is quite a legend."

"Well, I can't deny that."

She smiled brightly at him, the lights bouncing from the silver snowflakes that dangled from her ears. He reached to tuck a stray strand of hair back under one, and didn't think he saw her shoulders shudder lightly.

"I've got it," she uttered, cherry-red lips parted. It took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away and look back at the sheet balanced on both of their laps.

He nodded approvingly at her choice.

"White Christmas," he said aloud. "You know how to pick them. I suppose we'd be letting the side down if we didn't."

"Indeed we would," a wide grin overtook her as she pulled him to his feet, returning his shoulder bump with just a touch more force. "And you still get to be Bing."

"May your days be merry and bright," she sang to herself, sounding as peerless as if the record had been playing. "And may all your Christmases be white."

"Bravo."

"Oh," she stumbled slightly as she turned to face him, smiling as she found him standing in the doorway.

John noticed that she was blushing faintly – he wasn't sure whether it was due to his surprising her, or the fact he had overheard her impromptu performance.

"You should have done that as a solo, you know. My background vocals weren't needed in the slightest."

She giggled while she shook her head. "On the contrary. You were a wonderful partner."

The fond memories of them sharing a microphone lingered in his mind. He never would have thought he'd be confident enough to sing on a stage in front of everyone – even if they were his work colleagues and it was just a Christmas party – yet Anna had a way of boosting his confidence and making him explore the possibilities.

He was next to her at the counter, and looked down to where flour was dusted and an array of utensils were scattered, albeit quite neatly.

"Christmas cookies," she explained before he could enquire. "We used to bake them for our Grandma. I wanted to get some off to my sister before it was too late."

They both gazed at the three trays worth of golden biscuits that were cooling on top of the hob.

"I think I might have gone overboard, though." She laughed to herself as she scooped up a bowl, placing it in the crook of her arm. "I can never judge."

"Always better to have too many than not enough," he responded, watching as she whisked the glossy white mixture.

"That's true," she smiled back. "They won't go to waste, at any road."

Her sly smirk said it all, and he chuckled. Between her and the meals that her mother insisted on preparing every night, they were feeding him up very well.

"If they taste as good as they smell, you'll have a job keeping me away."

"That'll be the cinnamon. It's funny, I only seem to like it at Christmas. Mum says they broke the mould when it came to me."

She adjusted the ties on her apron, setting the bowl back down onto the surface.

"You can help with the icing, if you'd like."

Her suggestion sounded more like a gentle plea, the lashes that framed her blue eyes fluttering ever-so slightly.

"Don't have a steady hand," he replied. "I wouldn't want to damage your reputation."

"I'm not sure the kids would mind all that much," she countered. "They don't last too long until there's only crumbs left, if they're anything like me and Ellie."

He perched himself on the stool at her side, following her movements draping the icing with the wooden spoon onto the treats shaped like stars and miniature trees. The tip of her tongue poked from the side of her mouth while she focused intently, and the ends of her hair ended up dipping into the bowl as she leant a bit too far forward.

"Oh, sugar," she exclaimed, angling her head awkwardly to get out of the way. "I should have tied it up."

"Here," John jumped down from his seat, his broad frame taking position behind her. "I can come in useful after all."

With no hair-grip to hand, he took her flowing locks into both of his hands instead, holding it back for her whilst she finished her handiwork. He heard her laughing lightly and mumbling a thank you, and he did his very best to keep still, cradling her hair within his palms as though it was as precious as spun gold.

"It's alright now," she said after a few minutes, straightening her back. "Your arms must be aching."

"It was no problem," he answered, somewhat reluctant to let go of her soft tresses. Still, he raked his fingers through them lightly before they fell with a delicate swoop. His thumb brushed the back of her neck and tingles ran in circles around his stomach.

When she turned around he was still standing rather too close to her, and he caught the way her breath hitched and she didn't know quite where to look, if just for a second or so.

He was sure he didn't know how magic could be defined, but that one moment certainly felt like it.

She exhaled another breath, glancing down to his feet either side of hers before finding his eyes again.

Like second nature.

"Um, they'll be ready to eat soon enough," she said, sounding a touch flustered.

It was nothing to the way his heart was hammering against his chest.

"I'll sort out the scruffy ones, and we can keep those for ourselves."

He nodded his head slowly, his eyes locked with hers and his hand somehow upon her hip.

He let go, slower than he should have.

"I might go for a walk," he uttered, the words nearly stopped in his throat. "Before it gets too dark."

She nodded, wiping her hands upon her apron. They remained frozen for another minute, before she whirled, bringing across one of the trays with a small clatter onto the counter.

"They'll definitely be ready when you get back."

He smiled at her while she moved about the kitchen, the twinkling from the lights of the tree inside catching the corner of his eye as he took his coat and boots into the hall.

In truth he didn't need the sharpness of the wind and the cool open air to clear his mind, for he knew it already.

He was in love with Anna.