The Quickening

Summary: It was almost nothing at first, too easily dismissed as a quirk of digestion. Anna could not pinpoint it to a single hour or day. All she knew was that there was a time before she could feel it and then there was the time after.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey. More's the pity.

A/N: I don't usually write much fluff, but this is just a short little mess of a drabble which occurred to me out of the blue. Set mid S6. Reviews are lovely.

The first few months were a haze of worry. All Anna could think about, when she allowed herself a moment to think during her busy days, was what if she lost it? She could all too easily picture the heartbreak of that moment, conjuring the devastation which would slash through her like a hot knife. Thinking back to the times before, Anna remembered in vivid detail her disappointment and guilt, the waves of regret for something which would not be.

But then she chastised herself for being pessimistic. This time would be different. This time, she had been to the doctor, a well respected London specialist, and all would be well. Lady Mary Had utter confidence in the man, and Anna allowed herself to trust her employer's judgment.

Her optimism was probably forced, Anna recognized, but even forced optimism gave her courage and a sliver of freedom to hope. And hope had always seen her through even the worst of times. Hope had accompanied her husband out of prison, had seen her through dark days following that terrible attack, and whispered in her ear the night she and Mr. Bates were reunited. Hope the sunrise peeking over the trees on the morning walk to Downton beside her husband and the same sun setting on the opposite horizon in the evenings. It was a friend, sometimes mute and repressed when darkness clouded her world, but never far from her side.

By the time her condition had gone on longer than any of the others before it, Anna had taken to holding that hope in her belly, making her sick with desperation long past the weeks when she was wracked by the familiar sickness of being with child. She did not really mind feeling ill, not any more, as it confirmed for her that a baby was indeed growing within her. In fact, she almost mourned the end of the sickness as it had at least gave her physical confirmation that she was still of a delicate state. Nothing had happened to make her believe otherwise, but Anna could take heart from the illness until it faded, replaced with nothing but that nervous feeling of anticipation.

She clutched at a sliver of hope the way she might an egg fresh from the chicken coup, fragile and warm between her fingers. Focusing on worry did no good, but she had little else to hold her attention when her mind wandered during so many restless hours. Anna attempted to picture good tidings, a tiny baby with chubby cheeks and ten fingers and ten toes. But she also wondered if such images would only bring her grief if the worst should happen.

The first time she actually felt something in her belly besides the ever-present stir of anxiety, Anna started with concern that something was wrong. But there was no pain, no rush of anxiety. It was simply something different, something out of place. In fact, it was almost nothing at first, too easily dismissed. But she had felt it, and deep within her, hope began to shine a little brighter.

"It may just be something you ate," her husband suggested, his smirk confiding a private hope that he was wrong. He knew all too well about her hopes and fears, and he always ventured carefully when speaking on such matters.

"Probably," Anna agreed, not bothering to hide her return smile. She failed to share that her stomach rarely grumbled with quite so much gusto or in such a strange manner. But it was still too early to give voice to a burgeoning hope that this time, things may actually go right.

As a fortnight passed, the sensation continued. Sometimes entire days went by that she felt nothing at all, and other times it seemed to tickle her insides at odd intervals for a full hour. The feeling was so slight and ephemeral that it could be entirely imaginary, a hopeful wish mistaking digestion for something more. But gradually, over time, she came to know what was her own body and what was something entirely different.

"I think it was a movement. A kick, perhaps," she finally announced one evening, a particularly strong stirring catching her off guard as she put a hand to the slight swell of her belly.

Her husband looked up from his book, his face awash with wonder. "Are you certain?"

"As certain as I can be. I can't really describe it, but it feels different."

She had heard it termed the quickening, the first time the baby moved, although Anna could not pinpoint it to a single hour or day. All she knew was that there was a time before she could feel it and then there was the time after. The time after brought such a feeling of relief that she finally realized how tense with unrestrained worry she had been before.

Her condition was suddenly becoming a reality. The child inside her was actually in existence, not a figment of her imagination or a conjuration from years of dashed dreams. Her husband likely noticed the change in her, a relaxed manner reflected back from him as though she were looking in a mirror.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked gently, perhaps unnecessarily.

Looking down at her hand draped low on her midsection, Anna answered, "I feel as though I can rest a little easier."

She had often seen Lady Mary touch her belly while she was with child, although always in private. Now Anna understood why she did so. She could feel the movements more easily in that manner, to confirm the reality of those dull flutterings within her.

Stealing moments throughout her day became a new pasttime as Anna paused at the occasional sensations. Sometimes she would place both hands over her lower belly and just wait, as though listening for a whisper in the darkness. Sometimes she was rewarded with some tiny, foreign feeling, but more often than not her questing was met with silence. However, the times she did feel movement left her among the clouds, elated with joy and so full of hope.

In the mean while, Mr. Bates just watched her in wonder whenever she went through the exercise at the cottage.

"Do you feel something?" he would ask, pausing in whatever activity he was engaged. On this evening, he was shining a pair of shoes as he sat in his chair before the fire.

"I think so..."

Nothing would happen as they both fell silent, her with a hand pressed to her belly and him looking on expectantly. Long moments produced no more stirrings until...

"There it is," Anna pronounced with a grin of delight as she looked up at her husband. "That definitely felt like something."

As though in response to her statement, it happened again, stronger this time, and she indicated that he should sit beside her on the settee. He did so carefully, as though concerned she might break if he in any way jostled her. When he hesitated too long, Anna reached for his hand and placed it across her abdomen where hers had just been.

For a long while, there was that familiar silence. And then-

"Was that...?" he began, but cut off as it happened once more. The feeling was barely a hint of anything, and had she not been so keen to discover it, Anna might have overlooked it entirely. But she knew from his expression that her husband had sensed the tiny movement.

With a delighted smile, she confirmed, "Did you feel it?"

He gave a distracted nod, still too focus on the distant sensations beneath his hand to afford the question much attention. But Anna could tell from the looks of delight which crossed his face that he could indeed feel the flutterings which she had been sensing.

After moments passed and everything went quiet again, Mr. Bates softly pulled his hand away and raised his eyes to meet his wife's gaze.

"That was..."

Amazing. Incredible. Breathtaking.

"Real."

His description was perfect. It was real. For all of Anna's worrying and her husband's silent and supportive nature keeping her grounded, for the first time everything finally felt... real. The child was actually there inside her, growing bigger and stronger until he or she was ready to meet the world.

Tears formed in her eyes as Anna nodded in agreement. "Yes. Very real."

He took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips, his dark eyes closing tightly for a moment. He did not pray, but to Anna, it seemed like a moment worthy of prayer. The relief in him flowed out and into her, and Anna finally felt like she could breath. Before, the air seemed to stagnate in her chest as she waited for the worst, for that inevitable end which would herald the fall of all her hopes and dreams once more. But in this moment, Anna not only dared to hope for a better outcome, but she basked in that hope. She found as much comfort in it as she did the familiar pressure of her husband's hands on hers.

She could picture the babe without that omnipresent curtain of worry weighing her down. It was not gone completely and perhaps never would be, but she finally believed that it was going to happen. They were really going to have a child.

At long last.

fin