A/N: This prompt was fun to tackle.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Nightmares and Reality

The nightmares in prison had been almost unbearable. They had happened most nights of the week, the kind of dreams that had John waking in a cold sweat, shivering and panting hard for breath. Sometimes, he was sure that he'd cried out, his screams the things that had woken him. Craig had occasionally taunted him about them – you dreaming about that wife of yours opening her pretty little legs for some other man? – but for the most part he had kept silent, especially when he had noted the dangerous look in John's eyes.

Sometimes he had dreamt about that, had seen Anna in the throes of passion with other men, her dainty limbs curled around an able body. But, seeing Anna on visiting day always quelled those kinds of fears. The absolute devotion in her eyes was so honest and true, that he just knew that she loved him unconditionally, and would never be tempted by anyone else. He had had that terrible, black period of six weeks when he hadn't been receiving his mail, and in his darkest moments truly had believed that she'd decided that leaving him to rot was the best course of action, but in the end the truth had won out.

The rest of the time, the nightmares had been about anything. His time in the Boer War. Reliving the battle that had resulted in his injury. Being beaten in prison – the brawls that he had sometimes gotten into had certainly helped to spur on his fear. Whatever the subject matter was, it had never failed to leave him as panicked as a wild animal.

He had been reluctant to tell Anna about the dreams, not wanting to trouble her. And, when he had gone three whole weeks in their cottage without a single one, he'd begun to hope that perhaps they'd passed, that it had just been the setting of the prison that had fed the darker part of his mind. Now that he had Anna with him, things were returning to normal.

That illusion was shattered halfway through the fourth week, when Anna was jolted awake with a start by a terrible howling sound. Terrified, she shot up in the darkness, wondering where the awful noise could possibly be coming from…before she realised that the sounds were coming from her husband. She felt even more panic then, reaching out a hand to touch his bare back. Sweat drenched his shoulder blades, and she felt herself beginning to tremble. She didn't know how much time had passed since they had finished making love, but there was no way that the sweat on his body could be a product of that. Harshly, she began to shake him, calling his name fearfully, terrified that he was having some sort of seizure –

John's eyes flew open at once. He was disorientated, confused, and when he felt the hand against his back, he snapped, shooting upright with his teeth bared, ready to round on Craig and snarl at him not to touch him –

And he came face to face with Anna's pale, terrified features. The realisation of what he'd been about to do had him scrambling back at once, feeling sick. Anna clearly didn't understand, for she was tentatively moving closer to him, and he flinched when she gently pressed her hand against his forehead.

"What happened?" she asked him softly, looking scared.

He was shaking. He couldn't even remember what the nightmare had been about. He just remembered figures, broken bits of venom that poisoned his mind. He hadn't even realised that he'd started to cry until Anna brushed her fingers tentatively over his cheeks. Shame burned him, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, reaching up to take him in her arms. He was stiff at first, but she forced his head down against her bare collar, and he eventually yielded, wrapping his own arms tentatively around her back. She stayed silent for a few minutes, allowing him to gather himself a little, before she pressed her lips against his hair.

He sighed, breathing in the musk of her skin, such a comfort to him.

"What happened?" she asked him again.

He took a shuddery breath. He thought about brushing it off as nothing, but then he remembered the time when she had told him that she hated being lied to, and he knew he couldn't do it. Taking a deep breath, he buried his face further into her neck and began to speak.

"It was a nightmare," he told her. "I don't remember the details of it, but it was terrible."

She bit her lip and pressed her nose against his hair. "Does…does it happen often?"

He took another deep breath, pulling away from her slightly. "It used to happen a lot when I was in prison. But this is the first time since. I thought I was getting over it. I'm so sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to scare you."

"None of that," she told him firmly. "None of this is your fault. Don't feel like it is. Now come here."

Reluctantly, he allowed her to pull him back beneath the warmth of their bed sheets. She wrapped her arms around him and pushed herself against him.

"It's over," she told him gently. "It was just a nightmare. Nothing can hurt you here. Not now. It's just me, and you know I'd never hurt you."

"I know," he breathed, moving to kiss her swiftly.

She stroked soothing fingers against his face. "Go back to sleep, John. We don't have to get up yet."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to," he told her honestly. "In prison, I never could."

"Just try," she encouraged him gently. "You're not in prison now. You have me to keep you warm."

He chuckled despite himself. "It's certainly a vast improvement. All right, I'll try. Just for you."

She smiled at him, bringing his head forward to rest against her shoulder. He brought his hands up to rest around her back. Gradually, the fear of the nightmare began to leave him, chased away by the shifting of Anna's skin. Her breathing deepened before his, and it blew slowly against his hair. He closed his eyes and tried to match his breathing to hers. Eventually, he slipped back under the blanket of sleep too.

The nightmare didn't visit him again that evening.