Summary: S4 AU. After overhearing the conversation in the hallway between Mrs. Hughes and Anna, Bates decides that he does not need to find out Anna's secret. At least not right away.

Disclaimer: Despite pulling some dialogue from the show, I do not own Downton Abbey or these characters. Apply usual boilerplate.

A/N: So I seem to be obsessed with re-writing the season 4 storyline. I think a lot of people have expressed displeasure in not only the storyline for Anna and Bates in season/series 4 but also in where the focus went. So this is another AU version picking up around the time of the conversation Bates overhears in the hallway between Anna and Mrs. Hughes.

Reviews are appreciated.

His mother had always told him not to eavesdrop. Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, she'd said. In this instance, his mother was right.

Whatever the secret Anna was keeping from him - the one which drove her so far away from him that she moved out of the cottage and could barely stand to be in the same room with him - she believed he could not handle knowing it.

"I know him. I know what he'd do," John heard her tell Mrs. Hughes. She added emotionally, "I can't risk his future."

Her statement implied violence on his part. Violence against Anna? How could she ever think...

John took a shuddering breath as he struggled to conceive of an explanation for Anna's words as well as her strange behavior. She shied away from him at every opportunity. In fact, she barely spoke to anyone anymore, always throwing herself into her work.

Even when Mrs. Hughes suggested that Anna lie to him, to tell him something, she'd refused, saying instead that he would know if she lied.

He can read me like a book.

To echo Mrs. Hughes response, if only he could read her, if only he could figure out the root of this terrible secret which had stolen her away from him. It was precisely that secret that kept them separated.

And she feared him.

He could see it so clearly now.

Anna thought he would hurt her. She thought he would physically hurt her. He had trouble breathing as he processed this foreign concept.

She feared him, feared that he would commit violence against her when he found out her secret. The knowledge pierced his heart more effectively than a sharp knife and the pain of it made him want to cry out. How could she think he'd ever do such a thing? He could not bear to even see her in pain, let alone be the cause of it.

She had to know he would never do such a thing, no matter what. Not Anna. Not his Anna, whom he'd pledged to love and protect and provide for all his life. She had to understand...

Finding Anna in the boot room later, John decided that, having nothing else to lose, he needed to try one last desperate tactic. He approached her slowly, although her quick glance in his direction alerted her to his presence. She continued with her work, not bothering to acknowledge him.

"You don't have to tell me," he said softly.

"Tell you what?" Anna asked, confused.

"What's bothering you. I won't ask you about it anymore, I promise. You don't have to tell me unless you want to."

She met his declaration with silence.

Pressing on, John said, "But I need you know that I would never hurt you. Never, Anna. No matter what the secret is, no matter what you ever say or do, please know that under no circumstances would I ever harm you."

His mother had always warned him to never say never, but this was one time when he felt he could safely challenge that adage.

"You don't have to be close to me, not like we were," he continued, forcing the words out through the pain. "But you don't have to be afraid of me."

When she finally spoke, her voice sounded small and hollow. "I'm not afraid of you."

John could not suppress a smile at her statement. "Good," he told her. "At least that's a start."

She retreated then with a comment about having to run an errand for Lady Mary in Ripon. As she left, she told him, "I'll be back before the gong."

"Then maybe I can see you later," he responded, letting the words hang as either a question or a statement.

Anna only looked at him for a second before making a tight motion with her neck which might have been a nod.

She let him sit across from her at dinner. Determined not to abuse the privilege and spook her, John looked at her as little as possible during the meal. The few times he risked sneaking a glance, she seemed more relaxed than she'd been at breakfast, and he could only hope it had something to do with their conversation.

The highlight of the dinner came close to the end, when he allowed himself a quick look across at Anna and chanced upon her looking back at him. John expected her to turn away, perhaps even to leave the room entirely. But instead, she gave him a small, shy smile.

Later that evening, after the family and all the other servants had gone to bed, he found her in the boot room again, polishing shoes that already gleamed bright and clean.

"Are you ever going to finish that?" he asked her gently. "It's nearly midnight."

"Someone has to do it," she returned tartly.

"But it doesn't always have to be you," John told her. To emphasize his point, he held out his hand.

She paused in her work to look at the offered palm and then up at him. "Let me help," he said, gesturing to the shoe.

As if caught in a trance, Anna slowly handed over the heel and brush. He rewarded her with a smile as he took the items and began polishing in earnest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her watch him for a moment, perhaps making certain that he would not do anything else, before turning her attention to the other shoe.

They worked like that side-by-side for about twenty minutes before John could honestly say that the shoe he was brushing had not ever been cleaner or better polished, not even when it was brand new. He set it down in front of Anna along with the brush. And he waited patiently for her to finish the heel in her hands.

For several minutes, she ignored him completely. But after a while, she finally set her own heel next to its mate. "Thank you," she told him softly.

"Any time," he answered. He stayed in place as she stowed the shoes away in a cubby for Lady Mary's use the next time she wanted them. When she turned back in his direction, he asked softly, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Obviously still tense, Anna just shook her head. "It's late," she said. "We should probably both be in bed."

He wanted to ask her to come home to the cottage with him, to their home and their bed. But he knew that doing so would only destroy the tiny bit of progress he'd made with her.

"Then I'll say goodnight."

The next day followed much the same routine. John met her at the stairs, but only for a quick good morning. He tried to converse with her, but not as the married couple they used to be. Rather, he treated this fragile, timid Anna like he might an injured animal, encouraging but not pushing her. He delighted in their small conversations and felt his heart nearly burst with happiness with the first few smiles she offered.

He helped her with what work he could, but John soon found that like the mirror-polished shoes, most of the tasks that kept her away from others or up until all hours of the night were mostly made up busy-work. She mended dresses which were barely torn and polished jewelry which was already clean. But he did not challenge her on the work, not once. Any excuse to be near her, he accepted gratefully and without question.

After a week, she made a request, one of her first unsolicited conversations with him since all this trouble had begun.

"I need to get something from the cottage, something I forgot. Do you mind if I pop down there after dinner tonight?" Anna asked carefully.

"Not at all," he answered, resisting the urge to remind her it was still her home - their home. "Is it something I can get for you and bring tomorrow, so you don't have to walk so far?"

She shook her head. "No, I can get it."

Ignoring the desire for an opportunity to finally have a moment alone with his wife, John studiously stayed away from the cottage during the time he knew she'd be there. If she really was overcoming some sort of fear of him, then cornering her in the tiny space would not help matters. But when he did return to their home that night, his curiosity got the best of him as he searched the cottage for whatever item she retrieved.

After a half hour of looking through each room, he finally figured out what she must have come for, or at least one thing she had taken back with her.

A small framed photo of them together, the one she kept on the night stand on her side of the bed, was missing.

TBC