A/N: Happy Birthday, theglamourfades! Hope you have a great day, and enjoy this little marriage of two of your favourite things. :)

I've been sitting on this since January, and it feels a bit weird to be publishing modern AU for a wider audience because it's just not something I do. Hopefully it's not too painful.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Made of Starlight

1. Evening Shocks

John wiped his sweat slicken palms against his trousers, watching as the judges gave the verdict of another flawless performance. The audience was going wild for Thomas, whose snake hips and quick feet had become the thing to see on a Saturday night. And why not? Thomas was a young man in his prime, popular with the ladies despite his own aversion to them, and he was a well-loved tennis player to boot, putting Britain back on the map for a sport it had long since lost its shine in. What was he? Nothing but a sports commentator, taking the second best job when his own career had finished in tatters. He didn't even have Thomas' good looks to compete with.

Why he even cared was a mystery beyond him. But there had been a rivalry with Thomas from the very second he had entered this competition – or, more to the point, when his best friend Robert had sent in the application behind his back, never suspecting that he would actually get considered, never mind accepted. Thomas had taken an instant dislike to him, had often loudly complained about his continued presence in the show. For John, Thomas represented all that he could have had but had lost in the freak shooting that had cost him the full use of his right leg. The bitter resentment was there, and even though Thomas bested him every week in the scores, the public vote had carried John through the rounds, all the way here.

To the final.

When the screams had died down and Thomas and his dancing partner, Mary, had left the stage, he felt a hand slip into his and squeeze tightly. Automatically he turned his head to his left side, where Anna was standing. Her petite stature was enhanced by heels, putting her at a level with his shoulders. Her skin was cool against his, her fingers impossibly soft. He tried to fight down the drumroll of his heart.

"Are you ready?" she whispered.

He tried a smile for her benefit, but it came out as nothing more than a weak quirk of his lips. "I don't suppose there's any way I can get out of it?"

She giggled, pressing against his side. "I'm afraid not."

"Then there's nothing else for it."

"We've practised a thousand times, John. We'll be fine."

"Knowing my luck I'll drop you," he muttered sardonically. "Damn knee has been playing up today."

"I have every faith in you. You've not dropped me yet, have you?"

"First time for everything."

"I do love your sense of optimism," she teased, then tilted her head as the announcer's voice boomed out throughout the venue. "This is it."

Numbly, John followed as Anna tugged on his hand, leading the way. They appeared at the top of the elaborate staircase. Anna pressed closer to his side, never letting go of his hand, and grinned round at the audience as they cheered and applauded. John was blinded by the spotlight that shone on them, throwing every harsh detail of their attire into scrutiny. He trembled as Anna began to lead the way down the stairs so that they could take their starting position on the dance floor, he at one end, she at the other. She cast him one last encouraging smile and turned away from him. This was it. He was alone.

As the lights lowered once more, John took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He couldn't let Anna down, not now. He had failed many people in his life, but he couldn't fail her too. She had worked so hard with a sub-par partner, never once complaining about her lot, and this was her reward. The final. Just another silly reality dance show to her in all probabilities, nothing against the awards that she had won in her short career, but the trophy would be a reminder to her of the time they had shared.

He knew he could never forget it. Not even one moment of it. She had made the journey special, something to strive for and work out under her gentle direction.

He had never expected to fall in love on the dance floor, but he had. A love that had to be kept buried deep within the pulsing muscle of his own heart, caged within his ribs, but a love that was real all the same. How could it not be? Anna Smith was an incredible woman. Any man in the world would be lucky to have her. But he was old, lame, out of her league.

The first beat of the music brought him back down to earth with a crash, and he looked up to see Anna making her move. Confident, suave steps that he found impossibly sexy. She flashed him one of those confident, teasing smiles. It was all he could do to mirror her moves, one foot in front of the other, matching the thump of the music as they reached each other once more. Her arm came up to rest on his shoulder, searing his skin even through the layers of his clothing. Somehow, his found her waist, hugging her closer to him. Their other hands found each other, fitting together perfectly. Their fingers laced and her palm kissed his, the rub of her skin sending electricity coursing through his entire system. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze finding hers.

Everything else fell away in that moment.

Going through the motions after that was easy. Holding her close, every inch of their bodies pressed together. Twirling her out, pulling her back in, until both of her arms were around his neck. One hand sliding cheekily down his chest, before she bounced out. His hands catching her waist, adjusting his stance for his knee, lifting her up to screams from the audience. Her body sliding against his as he lowered her back to the floor and brought her close again. Her eyes never left his as the song slowed for a minute, leaving them waltzing around the floor as if they'd been doing it all their lives. Two bodies becoming one. Their souls almost straining to be together. Losing themselves in every side step and dip. John forgot that the audience was there, was oblivious to the fact that they weren't the only two people in the world. It was these moments that he lived for now, with Anna Smith in his arms, the experience always too fleeting. She was his drug, the one thing he craved when he didn't have her.

The final notes of the song ended on a crescendo, and John panted for breath as Anna planted her hands against his chest, her eyes gleaming, her own chest heaving. They held the pose for a few moments before the cheers erupted and the lights went back up. The commentator's voice boomed over the system and Anna threw her arms around his neck, rising up on her tiptoes to bring him closer.

"You did it!" she breathed in his ear, her words almost drowned out by the noise around them. "I knew you could!"

Her belief in him was staggering. He hugged her closer, burying his head in the side of her neck, breathing in the exquisite scent of her skin. Sweat, perfume. An intoxicating combination.

She pulled away from him. Time slowed.

Her lips met his cheek.

Time stopped.

Every inch of his body sprang to attention as her mouth pressed against that one patch of skin. He felt his scalp prickling at the sensation, heat spreading. She was everywhere, invading his every sense. It took every ounce of self-restraint that he had not to turn his head and kiss her properly.

And then the moment was shattered by the echoing voice of Sybil Crawley, TV presenter and host. Flustered, John pulled away from her, and Anna sank back onto her heels. Sybil gestured for them to join her side. Anna slipped her hand back into his. Together, they moved towards the young woman. John's legs felt like jelly, like they would collapse at any given moment. He was gladder than he could say when they came to a stop. Known for being kind and affectionate, Sybil moved to throw her arms around each of their necks in turn, congratulating them on a job well done. John patted her back awkwardly. His eyes wandered to the crowd.

There she was, standing tall, clapping wildly. His mother. Beside her his best friend, Robert Crawley, whooped, looking equally chuffed. John felt tears in his eyes unbidden, and hastily blinked them away. God, what was wrong with him?

Sybil was passing them over to the judges. He forced his mind back to the present moment. Anna was squeezing his hand so tight that her nails bit into his skin, but he relished that pain.

The panel sat there as if they were really judging someone on trial. Charles Carson's hands were clasped in front of him, his fearsome brows drawn together. Violet Crawley, dancing extraordinaire in her day, pursed those imperious lips. He could never tell if that was a good sign or not. Martha Levinson, another fierce competitor in her heyday tapped her forefinger against her chin in a typically theatrical reaction. But Elsie Hughes was smiling a little. Surely that had to be a positive?

As was customary, they passed to Charles Carson first. John couldn't even bring himself to care about what they were saying. All that was rushing through his head was the overwhelming fact that he'd done it. He'd completed the first dance of the final, and he hadn't made too much of a bloody fool of himself. He stood there in a daze, not even registering any of the words which passed from the judges' lips. The cheers seemed to point towards good things, but it was just white noise in his ears. The feel of Anna's small fingers around his own eclipsed everything else.

Sybil asked them to move on at that, off the stage and back into the safety of the pod where the others were watching. Once more, Anna led the way, and he managed to keep step with her. The cheers of the other contestants invited back to watch the final were loud, and Gwen Dawson, Sybil's partner in crime, beamed at them.

"Great job, you guys!" she said cheerfully. "How did it feel to be out there?"

The microphone was thrust under his nose. John blinked stupidly. How did it feel? Bloody incredible to have a woman like Anna Smith in his arms. But he couldn't say that, and he fumbled for his words like a toddler learning how to speak.

"Great," he managed at last, and winced. What a charismatic answer. Where was his wit, his charm?

Gwen laughed, patting his shoulder. "Bit overwhelmed, are you?"

That was one word for it. He was always overwhelmed when Anna was this close to him. She was completely at ease though, smiling broadly at her friend.

"He was brilliant!" Anna shouted over the cheers. Her eyes as she looked up at him gleamed with pride, and he swallowed hard, trying to smile and failing.

"Well, let's see if the judges agree with you," said Gwen, "because the scores are in."

Silence fell at once, the suspense rising. Anna's hand trembled in his. Sybil ran through the judges, each of them displaying their marks on the LED scree in front of them. An eight from Violet. No surprise, she was known for being the harshest judge, the best dancer of her day. A nine from Martha. Another nine from Charles. And…

"A ten!" Anna squealed. "A ten!"

A ten from Elsie. The older woman grinned, though of course she couldn't see them. She had always been softer with them than she had on any of the others. He suspected it had more to do with Anna than him – Anna often spoke of the days when Elsie had helped her find her feet – but it boosted his confidence nevertheless. And it was made even better with Anna throwing herself enthusiastically into his arms, wrapping around him tightly. On instinct he wrapped her up too, burying his head into the crook of her neck.

It wasn't the best score of the night. Thomas was ahead of them there, and Jimmy was still to dance. But they had never received a ten before, and the feeling was oddly exalting. Seeing the way that Anna lit up like the sun only made it better.

"You've got to be happy with a score like that!" said Gwen, her voice breaking through the moment. John released Anna at once, and she took one step away from him to put a little distance between them.

"Er – yes," he said.

Anna elaborated, "It's amazing to finally see John getting that kind of recognition. I see him every day in training, and no one works harder than he does. He spends hours and hours rehearsing because he's never satisfied with what he's producing." Beaming, she turned to face him again. "But you know I'm so very proud of you, whatever happens."

He couldn't formulate a response past the lump in his throat. God, he couldn't embarrass himself by welling up in front of all these people. But she was so utterly wonderful.

Thankfully this time, Gwen once again piped up. "Anna and John, everyone!" she announced, and on cue the studio audience began to scream and clap. When the music started, the two of them waved at the camera and moved off. The first dance was over, but there were still two more to prepare for. Back to their dressing rooms they were to go, to change for the next performance – and to fret over it.

They walked in silence out of the back of the stage, towards their dressing rooms. Before they reached there, however, Anna stopped him with a touch to the arm. He braced himself for the inevitable lurch of longing in his heart as he looked at her, so beautiful and determined.

"I meant what I said," she said. "I am so proud of you. Winning doesn't matter. Whatever happens later, you'll be the winner in my eyes."

From anyone else, it would have sounded soppy and sentimental. From Anna, it meant the world.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm not sure I'm deserving of such comments, but I treasure them all the same."

"You are deserving, Mr. Bates," she said. Was it just him, or was she drawing closer? His breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't find it again. Her small hand slipped up the sleeve of his jacket, settling in the crook of his elbow. Even through the layers of clothing, he could feel it burning. She was definitely leaning closer. His tie felt too tight around his neck. He could smell her again now, that teasing mix of sweat and perfume. What would she do if he leaned in to kiss her? Would she pull away, disgusted?

Or, worse, would she let him…?

From behind them came the slam of a door. Anna leapt away as if he'd burned her. Daisy from the hair and makeup department eyed them curiously as she peered out into the hallway. Anna cleared her throat, smoothing her hair down. Her face was bright red, John saw, but her tone was steady as she spoke.

"Yes, Daisy, what is it?" she asked briskly.

Daisy shook her head as if she was coming out of a stupor. "Um, nothing. I was just wondering where you'd got to, that's all."

"Well, here I am. I'll be with you in a moment."

Daisy nodded and withdrew. John expected Anna to turn back to him, but she didn't. Instead, without a backwards glance, she walked away, leaving him standing there alone with a heart that had just started to fracture, leaving his life's blood to bubble to the surface and ooze fatally from the wound.

When the lights went back up for the second time, John knew he had blown it. What an absolute idiot he was. He couldn't even bring himself to look Anna in the face as a gobsmacked Sybil waved them over. Anna still had her hand in his, but it felt different this time. She was upset with him, he knew it without even seeing her expression. He had failed her. He'd promised her he wouldn't, and he had.

Disappointment was etched onto each judge's face. While Sybil made some bland, vague comments about the way he had completely fucked up, he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block it all out. He couldn't face this.

But he had to.

"John, what do you think went wrong?" asked Sybil.

What the hell had gone wrong? It had gone wrong the second they had walked off stage last time, with Anna's perfume seducing him closer, only for her to run without a backwards glance. His stupid self-doubts, his self-loathing, all of it had got in the way.

"Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't that," said Charles Carson, kicking off the judge's comments. "You were stiff as a board, John. The tango is a dance that requires flair and passion, and you didn't give us any of that."

"You and Anna were just completely out of sync," Elsie added. "Your chemistry with Anna has always been the most reliable out of everyone's here, but something's gone wrong. There was no passion, nothing to make the audience feel. I felt as if I was watching two exes who hate each other."

"That was the level of performance I might expect from someone drunk at a wedding," said Violet acidly. "A performance of that quality in the final is a joke."

He felt Anna flinch at their words. God, how could he humiliate her in this way? She was one of the most renowned British dancers, and he was subjecting her to this.

The judge's comments came to an end. Sybil made a couple of comments reflecting on what had been said. He tried to think of something to say, but it was as if he'd been struck dumb. All he could do was shake his head. Anna said something about accepting that these things sometimes happened, and the comments were fair. There was little time to reflect on it going forward, but they hoped to prove that they could bounce back for the third and final dance.

He felt sick at the thought of facing the others, seeing their shocked, disbelieving faces, listening to Gwen try to console them. He wanted to crawl away and hide.

But that was not protocol. With feet that felt like lead, he dragged himself after Anna. She wasn't holding his hand this time. Because he had failed her. He let his head hang low for a brief second before he pulled himself together to face the cameras.

As expected, there was shock and horror on every face clustered into the small room. The sadistic part of himself couldn't stop from scanning each one, and it made him retract his earlier thought. Almost every face portrayed horror and shock. There was one that was practically gleeful at the mess he had made, and he wasn't even trying to hide it.

Thomas Barrow. He should have known.

Seeing that glee made him even angrier than he already was. The smug bastard. Just because he was a successful tennis player where he himself had failed in his own career, just because he had the use of both of his legs, just because he had no interest in women…

Stop it right now, Bates, he told himself firmly, a little sickened by the jealousy in his train of thoughts. As much as he disliked Thomas for the way he niggled and pushed at him, it was not the other man's fault that he had failed so spectacularly. He hated that dark, angry part of himself. He'd been doing better at controlling it, but it reared its head at the most unexpected of times whenever he was annoyed at himself.

"I don't know what to say," Gwen said tentatively, breaking through his inner turmoil. "Everything was going so well earlier…"

He couldn't allow Anna to take the lead on this one. He couldn't look to her to pick him up every time. She had to be as disappointed as him, had proven it in the way she could barely stand to look at him. He deserved it, and this time he would shield her.

"I don't know what happened," he sighed, his words coming out with more than just a little bitterness around the edges. "The comments were fair. I messed up and there's no excusing that."

"But why did you mess up?" Gwen asked urgently.

Because I want Anna so much. Because I'm scared about how much I want her. Because she moved away earlier, out there in the passage. He cleared his throat. "I don't know. I'm sorry, but I just can't answer it."

"One of life's great mysteries," Thomas chipped in breezily. "Don't worry, Bates, at least it was comedy gold. You'll be able to laugh about this in years to come."

Uncomfortable silence followed in the wake of Thomas' comments. The other former contestants averted their eyes, obviously unsure of what to say in response to that. John clenched his fist so hard that his nails dug into his palm. He wouldn't rise to it. That was what Thomas wanted.

"There's no need to be nasty, Thomas," Joseph Molesley, spoke up.

Thomas was like a snake, his forked tongue scenting the air and tasting his victim. He lunged in for the kill. "Why are you defending him, Molesley? Worried that your own comedy performances will be overshadowed by this?"

Molesley blushed a deep shade of red, his eyes dropping in shame. He hadn't been the greatest dancer in the world, but his enthusiasm and personality and slow improvement had endeared him to the public, carrying him forward in the competition. John liked him. He was a good man, willing to help anyone out. The only thing that had ruffled his feathers was the fact that Molesley had taken a blatant fancy to Anna, something that had been splashed across the front of the gossip magazines everywhere he turned. Anna hadn't seemed fazed by it at all. Before tonight, John had never considered that she might feel the same way. She had never shown any remote interest in the bumbling news reporter, but perhaps John had misconstrued the entire situation. Perhaps she did like him that way. Perhaps what John had thought of as flirting when they perfected their dance routines wasn't really flirting at all. Perhaps he had seen the chemistry that sizzled between them because he had wanted to. Perhaps Anna was oblivious to all of it. Perhaps she just had some incredible ability to make men fall at her feet – looking at her, knowing her, it wasn't hard to see why so many men would fancy her.

"Thomas, stop being such an arsehole," she spoke up now. Her eyes were ice blue flames, her cheeks red with indignation. "Leave him alone."

"Why should I? He was trying to defend you, and that performance can't be defended. You shouldn't even be here."

John tensed, ready to snap his own reply – or snap the arrogant prick's arm, he wasn't quite sure which – but with a hurried mutter, Gwen diverted the attention back to the dance floor, where the final couple, Jimmy and Rose, were waiting. Now that they were off air, she rounded on Thomas like a Rottweiler.

"What the hell was that all about?" she said. "It was uncalled for and totally unacceptable. Now go and wait for the final performance."

Thomas unfolded lean limbs easily, shooting a contemptuous, arcing look at everyone. "Fine by me. With any luck this joke will be over soon and then we can concentrate on the real talent."

Mary rose to follow him, looking uncomfortable by the sudden sour turn of events. It wasn't her fault. John had known Robert's eldest daughter all her life – it was through her that he had been introduced to Anna, before any of this dancing nonsense. She was moody and aloof and changed her mind more than she changed her dresses, but he was very fond of her. He gave her an encouraging smile to let her know that he bore no ill feeling towards her, which she returned tentatively before disappearing.

"You should go too, get your heads round it all," Gwen told them as they continued to stand there like attractions at a museum. "Take a breather and move on. You've still got the opportunity to claw something back."

"Have we?" said John bitterly. "It's all over at this point, we might as well face the facts now."

"I know it's hard," said Molesley cautiously. "But you've picked yourself up before when things have been tough. You can do it again."

John flushed internally at the implication. After the shooting – a freak incident in London on a night out with Robert, involving a gang of youths after drug money – he had been a mess. A career that was just beginning to glitter, over in the blink of an eye. He would never play football again. In the early stages after the attack, the doctors had been doubtful that he would ever walk again with his own leg, his knee cap shattered by the bullet. It had been a dark period. The rehabilitation had been long and painful. The media coverage, dogging his every step, had made it impossible to forget everything that he had lost. So instead he had turned to drink, spent most days in a hazy stupor. His relationship with his wife Vera had soured. She'd blamed him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her heart had been set on the glamourous WAG life, and the loss of that in a single moment in time had been a shock to take in. The sex had been the only thing keeping them together in the first place, and with the loss of that – either because the pain was too great or he was too drunk to perform – came the loss of everything else. She'd moved on from him now, was the WAG that she'd always wanted to be on the arm of some handsome man who was whole in every way, but life had been difficult for a long time afterwards for him.

Still, eventually he had pulled himself together when a lifeline had been thrown his way, in the shape of his best friend offering him a job at his television station as a punter. He had stayed clear of drink and women since, determined never to let himself feel like that ever again.

Until now. Until Anna had snuck between the iron bars of his heart to waltz in time to its beats.

"Come on," she said now. "We have to get dressed."

Numbly, he nodded, following her from the room. He could feel every gaze burning, flaying the flesh from his bones. The embarrassment was almost too much. But the show had to go on.

In the corridor leading to their dressing rooms, Anna slowed them to a stop. She turned to face him. He looked into those blue eyes, swimming with sympathy. She opened her mouth to speak. And he found he couldn't do it, couldn't listen to her hollow promises that things were okay, couldn't deal with disappointing her any further.

"I'd better get going," he muttered before she could say a word. "I won't be ready in time otherwise."

This time, he felt her watching him as he walked away. A soul-wrenching parallel he'd never wanted in the first place.

This was it. The final performance. The final chance to prove something to everyone. John took a deep breath as the lights went down. He had mere seconds to compose himself, to switch his mind off to everything but the routine. He knew the moves. Had practised them with Anna over and over and over until he had dreamt about them, her tucked tight in his arms, her body so close to his that they had almost been one.

He tried his best to banish the memories of what had followed, slick naked skin and sweet, aching pressure.

The first notes of the music played out. He relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes. He had nothing to lose now. He could do this. Their pipe dream would be over by the end of the evening anyway.

He focused his gaze on Anna as she came towards him, steps dainty, hips swaying. He met her halfway. His arms came around her hips and pulled her closer. Her hands braced on his shoulders. This dance was slower, sexier. He swallowed hard and concentrated on dipping her backwards, exposing her beautiful pale throat and the thrust of her breasts. A split-second, a heartbeat. Then she was back up again and he was swaying with her as they moved around the dance floor. Trapped in a bubble, that was how he felt. Walls pressing in from every side, pushing them closer. God help him, he never wanted to be anywhere else. She was bending her legs. His hands braced against her waist. Lifted. Dimly, he was aware of the cheers and claps of the audience as he lifted Anna high above her head, splayed like some flying angel, and he spun them on the spot, praying that his knee wouldn't give out on him as he felt it twinge. It would certainly mark the end to a disastrous night. But, miraculously, it held, and he slowly lowered Anna back down until her knees hugged his sides. Sensual, passionate. His palms were sweaty. Her feet touched the floor. They kept close as they rounded the floor one last time. The grand finale. One leg up around his waist. Foreheads pressed together. His sweaty hand on the back of her bare, bare thigh. A lover's parting. He trembled as they held that pose, the final notes of the music dying out. Was she trembling too? Or were his shakes so violent that they were spreading to her?

The lights went back up. Suddenly conscious of where they were, he moved his hand as if her skin had scalded him. She lowered herself back to the floor and leaned herself against him, clutching at fistfuls of his shirt. Her forehead pressed against the middle of his chest as she gathered herself, caught in the circle of his arms. It took several seconds, but she pushed herself away from him, moving to slip her hand into his. They moved together towards the judges' table, ready to hear the feedback.

It can't be any worse than before, he tried to encourage himself. Nothing could be more humiliating than that. He hadn't dropped her.

The comments were more positive. Charles commented on their flow. Violet wanted to know why they hadn't been able to pull a performance like this out earlier in the show. Elsie rejoiced that the chemistry between them had returned, describing it as sensual and sexy. His heart felt as if it was being hoisted up too, and Anna turned her head to beam up at him with the brightest smile yet. He squeezed her hand, not trusting himself not to give away his heart in his eyes.

"That sounds more like it!" said Sybil cheerfully as she welcomed them back. "What do you say to that?"

"Better than going out on a low, I suppose," he said sardonically. A few of the audience tittered. He didn't dare look into the crowd, didn't want to meet his mother's eye. Sybil read out their voting number and sent them backstage.

They were met with a standing ovation, everyone cheering and whistling for them. Everyone but Thomas, who sat with his arms crossed and the sourest expression John had ever seen on his face. John ignored him, accepting the cheers with a tight smile. Anna's smile was much more natural, laughing and accepting hi-fives from the other competitors.

"Brilliant!" Gwen shrieked. "Brilliant! I knew you could do it!"

Yes, they'd done it. They'd come together again to put in a worthy performance. But the damage was already done.

"I bet it's a real weight off your shoulders?" the red haired woman pressed. "To know that you've overcome the challenges and done even better than before? From here that looked like your strongest performance to date."

"I suppose only the judges can tell us that," said Anna. "But John did a superb job in every respect. I am so proud of him."

She hadn't been proud of him after the last disaster. At least he had restored that somewhat.

"We'll soon find out if it was your best performance," said Gwen. "The judges' scores are in."

They stood there in suspended trepidation again as the scores were announced between heartbeats. Two nines.

Two tens.

It did bring it to their highest total to date. Anna flung herself into his arms again, laughing freely. Dazed, he hugged her tight.

"Please," muttered Thomas in the background, "what a joke. Are the judges going soft in the head?"

Anna pulled away, her eyes sparking again. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," he shot back. "It's pathetic, thinking you're so hotshot when it's taken you all this time to get a bloody ten."

"I couldn't care less about your opinion," she said.

"Oh, please, there's no need to baby him, Anna. You should be more gutted than anyone, getting stuck with a useless cripple as a partner when you're as good as you are."

John felt his hackles rising at being talked about as if he wasn't even in the room, and such derogatory things at that, but as ever Anna was quick to jump to his defence, drawing herself up to her full height, which still barely reached his shoulders. And then she spoke, her voice ringing out in the deadly silence of the studio.

"John is twice the man you are, Thomas. And I couldn't have wished for a better partner."

"Partner, eh?" he sneered. "What kind of partner is that, then? The kind you'll lay on your back and open –"

"That's enough!" shouted Gwen, the colour high in her cheeks and clashing admirably with her red hair.

John clenched his fists and took a step forward. It wasn't enough. Thomas had implied that the ties that bound them went beyond the professional, and that wasn't acceptable in any capacity. He might have wretched feelings for her, but he would not allow a slime ball like Thomas to drag her reputation through the mud on a false accusation on live TV watched by God knew how many millions of people. His temper, still simmering dangerously and only enhanced by the highly charged emotional rollercoaster that he had been on since the evening began, flared higher.

But Anna's hot hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. Vaguely, he was aware of the musical cue that had started up, the camera diverted back to the dance floor.

"We're going to go and get changed," she said, her voice quiet but ringing with authority. "The lines close in an hour for the first vote off, and we need to get ready. We'll be back for then and not before."

"Why?" jeered Thomas. "Going for a quick shag?"

Molesley had risen to his feet. He was shaking, but the venom in his words couldn't be denied. "Shut up, Thomas. No one wants to hear your disgusting opinions."

Thomas snorted, tipping his head back to contemplate the ceiling as if the words weren't even worth acknowledging. Molesley stepped down from his seat and walked with Anna and John towards the exit, keeping close at John's back. Was Molesley hoping to restrain him if his temper got the better of him? John couldn't help a small smile at the thought. Molesley was a few inches shorter and several stone lighter than he was. John would bowl him over in an instant. Still, the gesture was somewhat gallant, and he couldn't help but warm to the hapless newsreader.

"I hope you don't think we all share Thomas' opinion," he said quietly once they had reached the door. "Because it isn't true. We think you're both wonderful."

"Thank you, Joseph," said Anna softly. She reached out and squeezed his arm. John looked away.

Molesley cleared his throat. "I'd better get back. They're giving us refreshments in the production area. Will you be joining us?"

"Probably not," said Anna. "I'll be waiting until the party tonight."

"Okay then. I'll see you before the show starts again. And good luck." Molesley dipped his head awkwardly and retreated.

"You can go along to the refreshments if you'd like," said John when he was gone. "There's no need to hold back on my behalf." He knew she was, even if she wouldn't admit to it. In the time that they had been dancing together, he had learned the way that her mind worked.

She shook her head, her jaw set in that stubborn way of hers. "No, I'll have a glass of water in my dressing room. I need some time to calm down after that, I think."

He nodded in understanding. The altercation with Thomas had left every nerve in his body quivering as if it had been run through by an electric shock. Her expression softened.

"You really were fantastic out there, you know," she said gently. "I couldn't have wished you to do better."

He shrugged. "You know I couldn't have done it without you."

"Always so modest," she said with a quirk of her lips.

"Well, I'd better go," he said. "I won't be ready otherwise."

The smile slid from her face. "Of course. I'll see you in a little while. Please don't let Thomas' comments get to you."

"I won't," he said, but hearing them replaying in his head over and over made his words a lie.

They gathered on the open dancefloor, the three finalists and their partners. The men were in their best suits. The women wore beautiful gowns. A party was scheduled directly afterwards – celebrations for the final two finalists, commiserations for the party who came so close but didn't catch the falling star. It was no contest this time. John would be there drowning his sorrows. Figuratively, at least. If only he could still drink. A whiskey would go down a treat after the dramas of the evening.

Anna looked sensational in her dress in her knee length dress. He had no doubt that she would not be a single woman by the end of the evening. The men would be falling over themselves to buy her a drink and shower her with compliments.

But for now, they waited. The tension was thick, almost robbing the air of oxygen. John felt as if he couldn't get enough of it to filter into his lungs. Christ, he hoped he didn't embarrass himself again by passing out. This waiting was almost unbearable. Even without wanting to, his gaze found his mother and Robert in the crowds. Robert stood with his arms folded across his chest, as calm and collected as usual. His mother had her hands clasped together as if in prayer, hiding her mouth from view. John hoped she wouldn't be too disappointed with the outcome tonight. She had been telling everyone for weeks that her son would lift the trophy, the delusional pride of a mother who had not had much to celebrate when it came to her son in recent years.

"And now, for the results," said Sybil.

The lights went down, all except for the three lights which threw each of the contestants into sharp focus. Blinded by the sharp contrast of light and darkness, John stared into nothing, waiting for the moment that he would need to employ his disappointed but gracious face for the benefit of the cameras.

"In no particular order," Sybil continued, "the first act through to the final two is…"

Five heartbeats.

"Jimmy and Rose!"

The crowd erupted into screams as Jimmy let out an undignified whoop and punched the air, turning to hoist Rose into his arms. She laughed along with him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Well done to Jimmy and Rose!" said Gwen cheerfully as the two stopped their celebrations enough to exit the floor, waving wildly at the gathered fans. "We'll be joining them before the end of the show to hear their reaction to this result."

"But there's still one more place up for grabs," said Sybil. The crowd went silent again, as if muted. "The second and final place in tomorrow night's final is for…"

Anna squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin. He nudged against her in silent acknowledgement, trying to prepare some haphazard commiserations speech in his head about the fantastic journey that he had been on over the course of the twelve weeks. The silence seemed to stretch on and on. John counted ten heartbeats this time. Or was that because his heart rate had increased twofold?

"John and Anna!"

For a moment, the stunned silence swept through the entire venue. And then the thunderous applause and cheering began, so loud that John thought his eardrums would explode from the pressure inflicted on them. Anna was screaming, bouncing in those dangerous heels of hers. Before he could gather his scattered and shot nerves, she turned herself around and launched herself into his arms, jumping and wrapping her legs around his waist again. He stumbled, caught himself, held her tight. Over her shoulder, he could see the look of fury and horror on Thomas' face at this turn of events – and the smile on his own face became much realer then.

"We did it!" Anna squealed in his ear. "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

She screamed the words over and over like she had forgotten any other vocabulary existed. All he could focus on was how amazing this felt. How overwhelming.

They had just become the centre of the biggest upset in the dance competition's history.

A/N: I've not had much time to write this recently, and with uni I probably won't have time until I finish. So warning in advance: updates will be slow (but nothing new there).