Summary: Bates writes to Anna and then visits her in jail. Spoilers for S5E8, speculation for S5CS

Disclaimer: This may come as a shock, but I do not own Downton Abbey...

A/N: Here's another post episode 8 reaction/pre-CS speculation fic while we wait for the Christmas special to resolve things. Figured I'd share. Reviews are awesome so if you get a chance to drop some feedback.

The envelope in her hands showed her husband's name. Anna ripped it open without ceremony, needing the missive it contained like she might air or water. The wardens at the jail had already informed her that she would not be able to see visitors for several more days, and since her arrest the only familiar face she had seen was Mister Murray. Her hand shook as they withdrew the papers within, and she drunk in the words as her eyes moved across the first page.

Dear Anna,

Distantly, she pictured him sitting at the desk in their sitting room as he wrote this letter to her. His bold and sturdy penmanship stood out on the familiar stationary she'd bought months earlier in Ripon. She could almost hear his low, rough voice speaking to her aloud, whispering quietly in her ear.

I have thought of nothing but you since they came for you in London. I am so sorry I could not stop them.

Understanding his misery all too well, Anna hoped that he did not blame himself for what had happened. He'd done nothing wrong, nothing that could have changed the course of events which led to her arrest. If anything, she was responsible for making herself look guilty, for going to Piccadilly and lying to the police when she believed they suspected her husband in Green's death. And despite the terrifying place she now found herself, Anna knew she'd do it again - to save him, she'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

I will come to visit you as soon as they let me, but on the chance this letter reaches you sooner, there is something I would beg of you.

Anna swallowed dryly as a cold chill went down her back.

Tell them it was me...

Wiping a tear from her eye, she re-read the next line of the letter from her beloved husband.

Tell them it was me, and I will confess to the crime. There is nothing the police can do if I confess. A jury will never convict you of murder, not if I take responsibility.

Shaking her head as she continued to read his words, Anna forced herself to stop for a moment in order to compose herself. What he proposed was madness - a desperate attempt to protect her at the expense of his own life. How could he ever believe she would go along with such a thing? Even if she was cowardly enough to let him trade places with her in prison, her husband was a convicted killer. He would be executed.

I don't care what they do to me, but you don't belong there, Anna. Please tell the police it was me, that I asked you to lie and cover for me. In fact, tell them I threatened you...

The tears made it impossible for her to see for a moment, so she swiped at them with the drab gray sleeve of her prison issued uniform. The coarse wool made her skin itch but she paid it no mind as the words on the page came back into focus.

In fact, tell them I threatened you if you told the truth. If they ask you why I killed Green, you can say he and I had words. Just don't tell them anything they can use against you.

She understood his unwritten meaning - don't tell the police about what Green had done to her. Admitting to the assault would not only utterly destroy her reputation, but it would confirm a motive for her pushing the wretched valet into the street in Piccadilly.

I know you will argue with me about this-

"Of course I will," Anna said aloud, a ragged whisper in the isolation of her cell.

-but every moment you are locked up in that place, I die a little more inside. You do not deserve to be there. You do not deserve any of this horror you've been put through...

She shook her head. "And you do?" she asked as though he were standing in front of her.

I should have protected you from the start. I have failed you, again and again, and I cannot fail you once more. We both know you are innocent, but I cannot risk you being found guilty, not with your life at stake.

Her heart beat faster at what he was suggesting, at the thought of him taking the blame for a crime he was completely innocent of committing, just to ensure she was not found guilty. "What of you?" Anna whispered.

Your life is far more precious than mine, my darling. It always has been and will continue to be. I don't say this just out of love. You are young and vibrant woman. You still have a future and a full life ahead of you.

She refused to believe the picture he was painting, of herself surviving without him. It did not matter that he was older, that his body carried the ravages of war as readily as his soul. He was precious to her, and without him, she could conceive of no way through the darkness. The tears were flowing more freely now, and one fell on the page, marring his desperate handwriting. "Not without you," she said, shuddering as she took in a breath.

I have already had my second chance and with it, I found you. You are everything to me. But without you, there is nothing for me. I am nothing, and the loss of my life means nothing compared to yours. Anna, I know you love me, and your love is the most precious gift I have ever had the honor to receive. But I cannot help but realize that this love has brought you unending pain and sorrow in the years since we met. I'm sure you do not agree-

"Of course I don't agree," she gasped, not bothering to moderate her tone. A woman in the next cell muttered something about her piping down, which Anna ignored as she continued reading.

-because you're too good of a person, but your life would be so much better today if not for me. While you have brought me incredible joy and light, happiness which I could never hope to deserve, I have brought you shame and anguish. I made you the wife of a divorcee, a cripple, and a convicted felon. A better man would have at least kept you safe, but when you have needed my protection most of all, I failed you.

She shook her head with each new sentence, refusing to concede a single point he made. She sobbed, one hand over her mouth as she thought of his mindset in writing such a letter. Were these really his beliefs? Did he really continue to carry this notion that he had failed her even after so long?

Let me in this final hour do what I promised to do those years ago when you consented to be my wife. Let me perform one proper act as your husband and do what is necessary to ensure your freedom and your safety. My life already ended the moment they took you away, and it will not begin again until you are home, even if I am not here to greet you.

The breath had been leeched from her body, and for several moments she could not make her lungs pull in more. Her body was frozen, the tears seizing her chest and physically choking her with emotion.

Your suffering is worse than any punishment they could inflict. Please, Anna, I beg of you. Tell them that I killed Green.

The ink of her husband's letter had grown steadily more sloppy throughout. The last words on the page were nearly indecipherable.

Please, let me free you. Let me free us both.

John

Anna let out a painful, desperate sob as she finally pulled in a breath of air. It hurt to breath. Everything hurt. His words scalded her with their intensity, the emotions burning through the paper like fire. She'd always known he was a good man, the type to sacrifice himself for her sake. But Anna had never thought he would need to demonstrate his devotion.

She still remembered his words to her all those years ago when he'd gone away with Vera to London. I am nothing, he'd said, with equal conviction. His letter now betrayed the exact same sentiment - he held himself at no value, his life as forfeit.

For so long, Anna had worried for her husband's life knowing that his criminal history would mark him for death if he was convicted of murder a second time. Her vision was blinded by fear and the thought of losing him. Nightmares overtook her sleep, filling her dreams with memories of his face when the judge ordered his execution, of the way he'd called out to her that day, of the desperation she'd felt when she knew - knew - thatshe would lose him.

In the wake of her desperation and trauma following Green's attack, Anna had bargained with God. Keep him safe and she would give anything. She would give up her marriage and any chance at future happiness. Even if it hurt her husband to keep him at arm's length, she would do it if it meant his life, if it meant shielding him from the taint she felt she carried. Better a broken heart than a broken neck, as she'd told Mrs. Hughes. If she truly had broken her promise to God in reuniting with Mr. Bates, Anna felt glad that she was the one to be punished, not him. She could never live with his blood on her hands, not if she was responsible for shattering his life once again. Any fate was preferable, including her own imprisonment.

But now he wanted to take the blame for her. He was begging her to say it was him, to condemn him even though she knew his innocence. It was the exactly opposite of what she'd been fighting against their entire ordeal and the most unconscionably selfish act she could conceive of committing. Anna knew that she may as well put the noose around his neck herself if she did as he'd bid her in the letter.

The choice was an easy one, all things considered, so much so that she did not even consider it a real choice. She would rather die than see him harmed. It likely would not even come to that, if Murray's beliefs were correct that they could have her sentence reduced to life in prison as her husband's had been. And all of that even assumed she would be convicted. But as Anna considered the alternative, she cast aside all thoughts of self preservation and focused only on him.

Her husband would be devastated and heartbroken. He would torture himself with blame until he was eaten up with it, until it consumed his very soul. But he would be alive.

Two days later, they permitted her to see a visitor.

"Did you get my letter?" Bates asked softly, gently, as though he was not sure whether to treat her like finely blown glass or a co-conspirator in crime.

Anna simply nodded her head, looking down at her hands rather than at him. She felt strange, her head and hands bare without covering. All the times she had visited her husband in prison, she'd always been properly attired in a hat and gloves, and now she felt naked and vulnerable.

"Will you do it?"

The hope in his voice scratched at her spirit, and she could feel it leaving ugly red welts as well as a sharp stinging sensation which manifested behind her eyes.

"You're asking me to end your life," Anna stated, her voice staying miraculously steady.

Bates shook his head. "I'm asking you to save yourself."

"At your expense."

"Anna-"

She silenced him with a look, not of anger or betrayal, but of pleading. With her gaze, she begged him to give up his ridiculous request and go on as thought the letter had never existed. But he persisted with growing desperation, "I have to protect you." He sounded more certain she knew he felt, but his expectation remained the same. "I can't fail you again."

Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments, Anna looked back at him. "You haven't failed me."

He continued on undeterred, "And if you cannot say it was me, then do not say anything, Anna. I'll talk to the police, try to convince them. I must find a way to free you."

Slowly, she shook her head. "I don't want you to free me, not in this way. I'd rather sit in here for a hundred years than watch them hang you. It isn't worth it to me."

Bates sat still and silent for a moment, his face a mask of pain as he grimaced with obvious disagreement. After a period of time had passed, he said simply, "You don't deserve this."

Blinking back a flood of tears which threatened to drown everything out, she responded, "And you don't deserve to die."

"I'd rather die than leave you in here, Anna." He focused his gaze on hers, neither of their eyes dry. "I am a stone weighing you down, and we have to cut the line between us before that happens. Please," he begged.

The force of his emotions stunned her. But Anna shook her head stubbornly. "You aren't weighing me down," she told him. "You're keeping me from floating away. If I do as you say, I will be lost, not saved."

She watched as he fought against his tears, her strong and beautiful husband, a man who carried such pain in his heart every day. Bates rarely displayed his emotions for the world to see, but in this instance, he was powerless to stop them. Wishing she could reach across the table to offer him comfort, Anna tried to convey her feelings through a look of tenderness and longing.

"I'm so sorry it has come to this," she told him.

He was innocent of Green's death. He was innocent of so many things, and yet the world continued to punish him. But she refused to be a part of that.

"You have no reason to be sorry."

She heard the resignation in his voice, the utter helplessness and his contempt for such weakness. She worried for a moment what he might do with her gone, locked up for murder. Looking down, away from him, Anna paused before stating, "I need to know you're waiting for me, at the end of all this. Because if you're not..."

She did not need to complete the sentiment. He understood her completely.

"Nothing feels right without you there," he admitted. "I'm so lost, Anna."

"I know. I remember that feeling."

She glanced at him, and his eyes caught hers, pulling them in despite the way she fought to keep them unfixed. The way he looked at her, she wondered if he could see directly into her soul. The moment he recognized her fear for what it was, Anna saw the flash of understanding reflected in his eyes. Anna was afraid - oh so afraid - but not of what her fate held. She feared for him and his fragile spirit. She worried he would do himself a harm or let himself wither away in guilt when she needed him to be strong and reassuring. Giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Bates took in a steadying breath before speaking.

"I will be there when this is over," he assured her softly, his voice like velvet in the dark, firm but pliant, warm in every conscious way. He was not happy about this course of events, and seeing her in across the table from him, in a position where he never thought he'd see her, was killing him. "And it will be over, Anna. I won't rest until you are free. I promise you."

His words deliberately echoed her own from when he was in prison, and she smiled at the conviction in his tone. He would not give up, would not give in to the temptation to sacrifice himself to free her, at least not yet.

Carefully, she ventured, "You were wrong in your letter."

Blinking at her with tired, baleful eyes, he asked, "Wrong about what?"

"About failing me. About your love bringing me pain. About you being nothing."

"Anna..."

"None of that is true. You have never failed me. And you bring me so much joy; I never thought it possible to feel such happiness as I have found with you. You are everything to me."

She spoke the last words slowly, emphasizing each one with care as she stared into his eyes. Her hands itched to reach out and take his, but they both knew of the rules against touching. Unfortunately, they were both far too experienced at this type of communication, these moments of breathless longing in the face of an uncertain future. But this time, with the tables turned, they would have to cope with what fate had dealt them.

He let out a breath as he took in her words. For the first time during their visit, he allowed a small smile, as though he really believed her. And in his belief was a flicker of hope. The flame was tiny, almost doused by the tears glimmering in his eyes, but it was there and Anna took heart from it. It stirred the ember of hope within her own heart, helping to warm her from within.

Their visit was ended by the guard soon after, but Anna looked over her shoulder at her husband as they began to lead her back to her cell. He stood up from the table as he watched her go, tall in his hat and gloves as he leaning only slightly on his cane. His eyes stayed on her retreating form, that reassuring smile following her like a loyal dog. While Anna could not help but worry, for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine that everything would be all right. They would prevail in the end and she would be safe at home with her husband once more. She had to believe it.

fin