A/N: I wrote this last night in about 40 minutes during a little spur of inspiration, so I thought I might as well post it here. It's short and simple, really, and ideally this is what I'd love to see in the CS. Granted, my wishes probably won't come true, but still... you never know! It's not really speculation of any kind, really. Hope everyone enjoys it! Let me know your thoughts. Thanks Terrie for the quick edit!

Disclaimer: Do you really think Anna and Bates would have gone through so much misery if I owned Downton Abbey? Pff...

Hero by fuzzydream

Anna sniffed quietly, her eyes trained on the man in front of her, though quite a few feet away. Lord Grantham's kind, albeit slightly emotional words, were indeed true, despite what her husband might say. The most honourable man, according to her employer as he referred to her husband – the man who saved her more than just one way, more than just once. He did not only save Lord Grantham's life in the African war – he changed his own for the best, and he entered hers, and then he saved her again and again when she needed him to.

John's humble eyes did not believe one word their employer had said, she knew, but he smiled politely, visibly shaken by the outburst, and now that everyone had toasted he was free to mingle once more. She clutched at her stomach, trying to control herself a little, as everyone else could look at her right now and it wouldn't do well for her to be seen in such a state. She had been feeling overwhelmed for the past few days, with everything going on – the revelations, the secrets, her release from that horrid place. She could already see the worry in John's eyes as he approached her, and she rubbed her eye slowly, taking a small tear away. She didn't want him worried, even if she was feeling completely happy.

"That was quite the speech," she spoke first, before he could say anything.

John shook his head, still flustered. "A little exaggerated, if you ask me, but we all know Lord Grantham has drank a little more than usual tonight."

She laughed then – how easy it was for her to do such a thing these days. Coming back home brought her such a sense of peace and serenity that she hadn't felt in such a long, long time. In a way, it was as if a proper new start. Perhaps it was because her fate had never been in such indifferent hands, and she had never been as uncertain of her future as she had been in the weeks she spent in York. They couldn't know of the future now – she very much knew they couldn't take anything for certain – but for the first time in years she felt content in her place, living the life she lived. To dream without any shadows lurking around, to plan for a future she could actually believe that would happen.

It was all there, still; all the dreams and all the plans. And they were working on making them come true. At any rate, she didn't want too many things in life – living a happy, uneventful life with her husband was enough to grant her happy, fulfilling days.

"Are you all right?" he finally asked. His voice was quiet, and despite the room being quite crowded she doubted anyone else would be listening to their conversation.

She nodded. "I'm perfectly fine," she gave him a watery smile. "Just proud of my husband."

Her hand touched his tentatively, in a gesture they weren't used to trying in such a public place. Still, they weren't working at the moment, and she didn't want to worry about any kind of rule society might have. They had spent too much time apart from each other, and only recently she came back home to her husband's arms. She was entitled to live a little, certainly.

He shook his head slightly, but a smile graced his features. "I don't deserve such praise."

"But of course you do," she laced her fingers through his and sighed. "You don't suppose we could excuse ourselves just yet, do you? I do feel rather tired after all the festivities."

"Anna May Bates, tired?" he teased her. "I don't believe I have heard these words before."

"You silly beggar," she shook her head at him, her eyes dancing with mirth. Her words had been completely honest, though; dinner had been served to the servants hours ago, and she wasn't particularly fond of the cocktails or the wine. Mainly because of her habit of drinking water with John, she hadn't felt particularly hungry and she didn't drink much besides two glasses of water. She did feel tired, as their day still started very early, and she was keen on spending the rest of the night with her husband in their home, as their employers had freed them for the Christmas party, and that would mean an early night compared to what they were used to.

"I'm sure we can go home now," he told her at last. "I do admit it, I am looking forward to spending the rest of Christmas Day with you, my darling."

"Well, then," her smile was bright after he spoke those words, "what are we waiting for?"

The cottage was warm and dark when they arrived, except for the slow fire going on in the parlour. Anna let out a deep, relaxed breath as John helped her out of her coat, and she stretched slightly before following him up the stairs. A quick talk on the way home decided that they could skip tea tonight, both too tired and too happy to have an early night together. Their little Christmas tree stood alone beside the settee, and Anna took a moment to admire it – small and simple, much like their cottage. The colourful orbs and angels gave it some life and Anna would never choose the grand tree at Downton over their little one.

She was smiling to herself as she changed to her nightclothes, and she was shivering by the time she put her robe on, sitting at her vanity to braid her hair. John stepped into the bedroom a moment later, from the washroom, and met her eye through the mirror as he walked over to their bed.

"You'll need to warm me up in a second," she told him, and his eyes were smiling.

"That will be no problem," were his words.

It was never a problem for him, it seemed, as long as the result was happiness and comfort for her. Perhaps years ago, before they were married, his chivalrous manners and his gallantry had annoyed her – he had always been far too worried about her and the effect he might have on her life, in a way that sometimes refrained her from actually making her own decisions for herself. This changed after they were married, however; he would often surprise her with small, thoughtful gifts and notes, frequently telling her how much he loved her and how his heart beat only for her. When they were apart for those terrible months when she lived at Downton once more, no pillow could replace his warmth, and no poetry could be better than his honest words.

When she was taken away to York, his visits were the highlight of her day, rays of sunshine into a now gloomy existence, and his words were hopes she clang to. Because she, more than anyone, had always had faith in him, had always believed in all the great things he was capable of. And never, not once, not for one second, did her love for him stop growing.

She climbed onto bed beside him, and he teasingly complained of her cold feet and her cold hands when she reached for him. She giggled at his words – how she marvelled at his warmth, at his solid frame against her, at the lovely scent that was only his. His soft lips kissed her forehead once, twice, and she sighed, closing her eyes as Lord Grantham's words rang inside her head, she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of love for this man, a love that she felt that it could burst at any moment, because it was entirely too big to fit within her.

It was only when his lips left her skin that she opened her eyes to find his own, his hands carefully stroking her hair and a frown could be seen on his forehead. He wiped one tear away from one cheek, and then the other. She realised she was crying.

"What is it, Anna?" John whispered slowly.

Anna shook her head. "It's nothing, I'm just… I love you so much. I love you so much that sometimes I wonder how I can carry this around quietly, without telling the world of it."

She had said these words to him before, she was sure of it, or perhaps it had been him, all those years ago, when they had to keep their relationship a secret? She couldn't remember exactly, but it was still a constant in her life. Now, his hands were incredibly soft against her skin, and she saw tears in his eyes before he closed the distance between them to capture her lips in a slow kiss.

"That's because you have the biggest heart in the world, darling," he said once they parted. His hands travelled down to her waist, bringing her closer to him. "I'm quite sure you've done enough to show the entire world that you love me, though."

He meant it as a joke, but she knew him enough to know that it was in fact gratitude. He was so grateful for her, all the time, that he couldn't see how grateful she was for him as well. What a pair they made, really.

"As have you," she smiled, kissing his lips once more. "My husband. My love," she said the words slowly, drawing them out as he often would too. "Thank you."

His hands caressed her sides through the material of her nightgown. "What for?"

"For another Christmas together," she started, "and for a new start. For being my husband and my hero."

He pursed his lips. "You might be reading too many novels, Mrs Bates."

She shook her head. "No. You truly are my hero, you know," she said teasingly, fluttering her eyes at him. He grinned. "You've made me your wife and you've rescued me from the injustice we've been through. And you've pampered me quite a lot with presents this Christmas."

They laughed in unison, him shaking his head in denial, but his eyes showing so much joy that she would move the stars and the moon if she could keep this joy there for the rest of their days.

"And you've given me your future," she continued, resting her hand on top of his as he travelled them to the front of her body, on her lower belly. "As I have given you mine."

She rested her head against him, nuzzling against his neck as he sniffed rather loudly – her darling, dear husband. She knew he had been trying to keep quiet and enjoy the day normally but it was quite difficult to do so when just a few weeks ago they weren't sure if she would be home this year.

"Happy Christmas, my love," he told her at last, and she let go of his hand to hug his frame properly.

"Happy Christmas, Mr Bates," she said, smiling. "I'm quite sure we can expect many happy, different Christmases in the future."

"As long as you're here I'll be looking forward to them all," he said before he kissed her again, and she felt the air leave her lungs as she melted into his kiss.

He was her husband and the love of her life, and she would be certain to tell their child how their father was a hero in more ways than just one, even if she would have to handle his constant protests that she was wrong.

But she wouldn't have it any other way.