A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fic, so be gentle.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything when it comes to DA.


Chapter I

His bag was nearly packed when she came into the room. His back stiffened at her presence but he didn't turn to face her. He knew what he'd see if he looked at her; a small glimmer of love over powered by despair and anger. He was familiar enough with it. She watched his back for a moment, so broad but his shoulders seemed smaller, defeated almost; they were usually so squared and strong. A sudden ache came on tightening her chest. The sight of him in their bedroom shouldn't be so foreign to her, but it was all the same. She wanted to go to him throw her arms around him and reassure him that her love for him was still there, despite all appearances that had now become their daily lives. But she couldn't bring herself to. She felt she no longer had the right.

"I'm almost done here. Then I'll be out of your way." He spoke softly, still not facing her. She saw his strong arms reach out for a shirt lying on the bed, and she was envious of that shirt. It had been at least a week since she had felt his gentle strength. She sighed.

"You're not in my way…it's your room too," she said weakly and not at all convincing. He lifted his head at the statement before harshly tossing a brush and a tin of pomade into the valise.

"Is it?" He snorted. He regretted it immediately and more so when he heard her sharp intake of breath at the comment. His shoulders slumped as tears gathered in her eyes. He grabbed his bag from the bed and steeled himself to see her. When he turned he couldn't help but to notice how small she seemed, scrunched up in the doorway holding onto the frame for balance. Every part of him ached to hold her, to offer her comfort and tell her that everything was going to be alright. But that wasn't who they were anymore. He made his way to the door, stopping at her side so they were arm to arm. She didn't look up at him and he didn't lower his gaze to her.

"I'm not sure how long we'll be. A week at least, maybe longer. A welcome break, I think. For the both of us." His tone reflected doubt and all he wanted to hear was her rebuttal of such a statement; that she could never want a break from him. Silence was all she offered, he wasn't surprised.

"I love you." His voice was barely a whisper and he didn't wait for her to respond before he headed down the stairs and out of the cottage. She stood in the doorway holding on until the sobs became too much and she slumped to the floor.

It had been fifteen months since the night of the house party; the night that had stolen the Anna May Bates that everyone, including herself, had known. And nearly a year had passed since she moved back into the cottage that had once been her dream come true. They made progress every day, together. The nightmares subsided and her smile emerged more and more. Genuine smiles, mostly for him, but randomly as well. Eventually, days at a time would pass before the darkness of that night would encompass them. But then they would rear their tortuous heads. These shadows would creep up as a flashback or a nightmare. Sometimes even a touch memory would raise the alarm, as in one instance when she was brushing her hair and the brush caught unexpectedly on a tangle. The force of the brush jerked her head and suddenly she could feel his grip on her scalp dragging her towards the boot room. She choked on her sobs and sat there shaking until her lovely husband talked her down. His voice and words had always been the most soothing thing in the world to her. So gentle and soft coming from such a mountain of a man. He would come to her side just using his words until she calmed enough to crawl into his arms. Before, when she was upset or even in the wake of intense love making, he would run his hands through her long golden locks and the action would always soothe her into a blissful state. It was an action greatly missed by both of them. A house party casualty.

But these instances were becoming fewer and fewer as time went on. As afraid as she had been to tell him what had happened she was amazed by the support she found in him and the comfort of being back in their home. They worked out a new routine, one that she was comfortable with. She couldn't get dressed or undressed in front of him, not yet. At first she didn't want him to see the extent of the bruising but even after the marks faded she realized it was her own insecurities about what he would think or see when he looked at her body. She didn't recognize her own body now, how could he? When she was in the bedroom changing, John keeping himself busy downstairs until she called for him, she would study her naked form in the full size mirror that stood in the corner. It had taken weeks before she could face a mirror but now she sometimes felt it hard to stop scrutinizing herself. She saw his hands here and there, everywhere on her. Surely, John could see them too if he looked at her properly. He would be disgusted and reject her. So she kept her body to herself, wearing only her most modest night dresses and making her way to the bed pulling the blankets up around her neck before calling for John.

He would always smile at her when he came in before gathering his things and going to change in the bathroom. Then he would join her very slowly in their bed, keeping himself to himself. No more did they fall asleep completely entwined in each other's bodies. He breathing in the scent of her hair as she nuzzled into his chest, their legs tangled and their most sensitive areas brushing each other causing mischievous smiles to appear on both their faces. Of all things, he missed that the most. Nothing needed to come of it, just being that close to her, feeling all of her and hearing her contented sighs, knowing that she felt as happy in his arms as he felt holding her was…well, there simply was nothing better in this world. She missed sleeping in his arms more than anything as well. Although this commonality was not known to them as neither dared to speak of it.

One night she had awoken when it was still dark, the moonlight spilling from the window and landing on her husband who was sleeping peacefully and soundly on his side, facing her. She took this time to study him and couldn't help but to smile and without even thinking she had brushed her hand across his forehead and pushed that same lock of hair that had a mind of its own out of his eye. She startled a bit when she realized that this had been one of the first times she had touched him like this since that night. A slight twinge of panic started in her, but his skin was so soft and he felt so good under her fingertips that the good memories that flooded her brain kept the panic at bay. She couldn't help but to trace the rest of his face with feather-light touches concluding with his soft lips. She missed those as well, terribly. Unconsciously, she brought her fingertips to her own lips and closed her eyes. Flooded with images of every kiss they had ever shared she became short of breath and her eyes shot open in surprise of the intense longing she was feeling. She noticed then the great divide between them on the mattress and she frowned at the sight of it. A foot, perhaps two of empty mattress space between them, another divide that had been introduced because of that night. Slowly and ever so slightly she began to close the gap. At that moment she there was nowhere she wanted to be more than in his arms. She placed her head on his chest and slid an arm around his waist and fell asleep almost instantly.

Then the nightmare had come. When she woke up and saw a man so close to her, feeling him against her, she panicked and had shoved John as hard as she could succeeding in throwing him out of the bed. He'd landed hard on his bad leg and had trouble getting around for days afterward. The whole thing had been a grave set back, even through all of his assurances that it was fine and he felt no ill will towards her from it. But with every wince of pain she saw in his eyes, she felt them in her heart and despaired over thinking that she would never again know the peace and serenity that came with sleeping in her husband's arms. She had been too scared since to try again. Another house party casualty.

But despite the setbacks, they were managing and little victories were being won every day; a touch, a smile, a holding of hands or linking of arms and eventually soft chaste brushes of lips. It seemed that they were truly on their way back to themselves. Things were never quite going to be as they once were, they knew that. What happened that night and the aftermath of distrust and dishonesty was always going to be present in some form. It was just up to them and time to make sure its presence was kept back and not given the liberty to take up precious space in their life together. Days at a time began to pass without so much as a glimpse of the shadow. They began living each day for that day only, not taking the time to dwell on the failures of yesterday or the fears of tomorrow. In the present is where they stayed and as they looked into each other's eyes they needn't worry about anything else.

That is until the day of the church bazaar when Lady Mary had delivered the news that Green was dead and her world, that was already standing on just pillars of sand, came crashing down all over again.