A/N: I've had this idea for a little while now, and it's just been sitting in my A/B folder. I hope you enjoy it, please do leave me your thoughts in either a review or a message, I'd love to know what you think. I like to think Anna went and comforted him that night. Series 2 proved to be a very new area for me to write, so I hope it's done well. If not please leave suggestions. Rated T for some words. I wasn't sure if it constituted T but just to be safe.

Also, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed A Week in Paris and also the last chapter of my multi-fic. It means a lot that you all liked them.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey no matter how hard I dream for it. If I did, these two might not have been able to control themselves completely during Series 2. The lines in the first scene are taken from the show.

The First Port of Call

Anna had not expected him back so soon.

When he had told her that he would need to visit London once again to sort matters with Vera, she had anticipated that his return might bring with it joyous news for their future together. She had begun dreaming weeks – even months – ago about her life with John in the future, and the longer he was away, the more she convinced herself that matters must be moving forward. It was one of the few ways she could reassure herself. But almost as soon as he had stepped part-way into the servants' hall that evening, she knew his trip had not been successful.

"Mr Bates, how did you get here?" Mrs Hughes asked after Daisy had accidentally bumped into him after rushing out.

"I walked from the station."

"You should have said. We'd have sent someone to meet you." Mr Carson interjected.

Anna was watching him carefully as he stood in the doorway, his shoulders seemingly drooping in a manner that told her already that his trip had not been successful.

"I was glad of the walk, I was glad of the air."

Anna joined him, bringing them both out into the hallway. It was hardly the most suitable of places to speak, but she knew that the two of them would meet later and discuss the events of the day.

"I never thought you'd be back tonight. How was it?" She had expected him back tomorrow at the earliest after leaving at dawn this morning. She could only imagine that the circumstances which brought him back so early were not as good as they hoped. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later.

"Worse than you could possibly imagine."

It was now that her attention was drawn to the cut.

"What's–"

Anna brought her hand up to his cheek, her fingers seeking to probe at the cut just to the right of his eye. Her mind was running through with the worst possibilities in those few, stolen moments: had he been attacked on his walk home (not in Downton, surely…) or had this been Vera? Anna thought about the ghastly woman for one moment and suddenly had no qualms about that theory.

But almost as soon as her hand had come into contact with his cheek, it was being covered by his. It had become a familiar sensation now, ever since she had discovered of his whereabouts in Kirkbymoorside and their relationship had been reignited. Her mind flashed back briefly to the moment he had taken her hand across the small table in the Red Lion and then in the months to follow, the times she had spent her half days riding the bus to see him. He would sometimes take her hand in the village, where people did not know them, and she would appreciate every, single moment like that together for fear of not being able to in the future.

She fixed her eyes upon his face, watching for a reaction of sorts, or at least an explanation.

But he did not give it.

He took her hand and brought it back down to her side, letting go of it before walking off to remove his coat, leaving Anna stood in the hallway.

She watched him for a few moments before turning around and walking back into the servants' hall, ignoring the inquisitive stares of Miss O'Brien especially. Anna sat back down in her seat, taking a sip of her tea as the room decided to descend into an awkward silence.

"Business not going well I take it?"

Miss O'Brien chirped almost happily, and Anna shot her head up, her gaze steely. She sniped back the words she had spoken the other day.

"The trick of business is to mind your own."

Mr Carson coughed immediately, breaking up their short dispute as Anna dropped her head back down to her tea and mending. It would be of no use to start a verbal war between the old lady's maid and she had no intention of working her way into the bad books with Mr Carson. She could sense that Mrs Hughes was looking in her direction, but Anna dared not look up just yet.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

What had happened in London?

She knew already that she would go and find him later. They needed to talk about whatever had happened. It was hardly out of the ordinary for them to stay behind after everyone had gone to bed, or for them to share some stolen moments outside in the courtyard. It had become their refuge of sorts. His proposal had happened there, they had shared many kisses outside hidden behind the crates, their discussions about Vera and the divorce were often taken outside, away from the prying ears of the other servants, and once he had returned from Kirkbymoorside, their relationship had been rebuilt there, slowly but surely.

Anna was lost in her thoughts, ignoring the occasional snipe from O'Brien and the stern words from Mrs Hughes until Lady Edith rang her bell. It would be the first of many times Anna would be required this evening, and she was almost thankful for the distraction after the way Mr Bates had returned earlier.

She got up to leave, hoping that when she returned she could talk to him properly.

Anna appeared downstairs after dressing Lady Mary for bed. She had not seen Mr Bates since his arrival earlier. Anna frowned worriedly, although reminded herself that he must have dressed His Lordship otherwise Mr Carson would not have been sat in the hall, but would likely be upstairs.

"I take it his trip to London wasn't successful?" Mrs Hughes asked in a kind tone as the two women stood in the corridor outside her sitting room. Anna knew that whilst Mrs Hughes wanted to know of their progress, she was not asking in any form of malice or spite. Her main priorities would be their welfare, both Anna's reputation and their relationship as a whole.

"I'm not entirely sure myself. Mr Bates and I haven't spoken about it yet. I only know that he thinks it could not have gone worse." Anna spoke those last words with a hint of sadness in her tone as she realised with full severity what this meant for their relationship. The Decree Nisi had failed, which meant he was no longer a divorced man. And any repeal was not likely to work now. Maybe they would have to live in sin, as she had offered him more than twice now. The thought had crossed her mind once when she had been in the middle of dressing Lady Edith.

It was almost as though Mrs Hughes was reading her thoughts, because suddenly Anna felt a familiar hand on her upper arm and a familiar voice pull her from her reverie, "Just be careful, the both of you. Don't make any bold decisions you might come to regret."

Anna bit her lip nervously, but looked up and smiled weakly at Mrs Hughes, who had become a mother figure to her in the absence of her own over the past years.

"You know my room is always open for you, Anna," Mrs Hughes continued. "If you ever need to talk."

Anna nodded her head weakly, managing a little bit of a wider smile.

"Now," Mrs Hughes asserted. "I'm sure I saw Mr Bates go outside earlier when he finished dressing His Lordship." The housekeeper could not help but notice as Anna's eyes brightened at the mention.

"I'm going to assume he has done nothing to treat that nasty cut above his eye?" Anna questioned, although in reality she already knew her answer.

Mrs Hughes smirked. "Maybe he'll let you. You know where the first aid box is. Just don't be too long."

With that, Mrs Hughes gave Anna's arm one last reassuring rub before she turned and entered the servants' hall to rush everyone else to bed for the night.

It took Anna less than twenty seconds to rush into the kitchen, grab the first aid kit in her arms and leave through the back door. Mrs Patmore had still been in the kitchen, and had given her a curious look before the old cook seemed to understand and had shaken her head with a roll of her eyes and an exasperated smile.

Anna found him outside, sat on a crate out of view of the back door. His shoulders were hunched and his head was down. Anna sighed shakily, and wanted nothing more than to make everything better for him. All of their hopes over the last months had been crushed with one telephone call, and now it seemed like a trip to London had crushed his spirits too.

If you fall eight times, you'll just have to pick yourself up nine.

The voice of her mother, ever the wise one with her sayings came to Anna's mind as she looked at the man she loved seemingly so defeated. She felt her heart clench as she watched him, and wanted nothing more than to bring him some good news today. There was so much to be cheerful about, the news of the war ending the first to come to mind. The dark cloud that had brought the country so much heartbreak and fear for the past four years was finally beginning to lift and more to that she had the man she loved here with her and safe unlike so many others – unlike Daisy, unlike Jane – but somehow their happiness was still being shadowed.

But Anna would do her best to ease his strains now, the emotional and the physical, just as he had done for her before.

"Do you know what my mum would say if she saw you now?" Anna announced her arrival.

John instantly looked up, a familiar spark visible in his eyes although not to the extent they usually would be.

"Something tells me I will be struck once again by the wisdom of Mrs Smith."

Anna felt her heart skip at the cheekiness in his tone, the teasing which she had come to love from him. He was a very private man, very stoic and not very revealing of his feelings, but Anna had learnt throughout the years that he had slowly come into being around her. He had opened up to her.

Anna slapped his arm light-heartedly, "Cheeky beggar."

John smiled now, a true smile that reached his eyes, a tell-tale sign. He instantly reached out for her hand, stroking his thumb across the back of it and he noticed her shifting the first aid box into one arm.

"Now, what would your mother say?"

John had yet to meet this infamous woman, but when he did he was sure he would take well to her. He already felt as though he knew her from the times Anna had described her. Whether Mrs Smith would like him, an older married man seeking a divorce to marry her daughter was another matter indeed.

"She would tell you to pick yourself up. That you might have fallen eight times, but a sign of your strength is standing up nine."

I'd do more than stand for you.

John smiled, and then as if to prove to Anna that she was his own pillar of strength, he reached out for her arm, gripping it tightly but not enough to hurt her, and slowly got to his feet. He had left his cane on the edge of the crate for a reason.

"There. Better now?"

Anna smiled and clicked her tongue, but regardless she nodded and replied, "Better."

And as if to prove that, she reached up and found his lips in a slow, but hungry, kiss.

John reciprocated fully, still keeping one hand around her arm but moving the other to her shoulder, up to her hair which was now uncovered by the cap she wore throughout the day. She must have taken it off before she came outside, he thought. His tongue stroked her bottom lip, and Anna instantly obliged as he began to deepen the kiss, taking advantage of their time alone and also reaffirming his love for her in light of recent, shattering events. He needed this as much as she did, to feel close to him but without breaking the trust of Mrs Hughes, who had been especially considerate of their situation, but had still warned them regardless.

He could sense a familiar feeling stir in his stomach, and John pulled back and away from the kiss before it developed any further. His emotions were, as Anna would sometimes say, all over the place at the moment. He had been angry after coming home from London with nothing to show and he wanted nothing more than to show his love for Anna.

Anna sighed as their kiss ended and watched with adoration as John levered himself back onto the crate, flexing his right leg out to stretch his knee.

John then motioned towards the kit in her arms, and Anna suddenly realised that she was still holding it. She let out a surprised chuckle when she realised she could quite easily have dropped it after that.

"I see you came to play matron."

"Well, Mr Bates," Anna began teasingly, deciding to play along and lighten the mood between them, even if for now. "If you will insist on walking around bleeding then I will have to."

"I pressed a damp cloth to it earlier," he argued back. "It's fine."

Anna raised her eyebrow and replied sternly, "You will let me clean it and that's that."

He knew better than to argue with her. She could be quite the force of nature when she wanted to be. In another life she would have made the perfect housekeeper. Although John stopped his line of thinking suddenly, and thought that should they not be able to marry, there was every chance she might never have to leave service, and that she would take the place of Mrs Hughes.

Anna seemed to notice his expression suddenly turn solemn, but she decided not to raise the issue. Sometimes things were better left unsaid, at least for the moment. She opened the first aid kit and gathered some antiseptic and a clean cloth.

"How did you get this?" Anna asked softly, by ways of beginning their conversation but also to warn him about the unpleasant stinging that would be soon to follow.

It made little difference to his reaction as he hissed and jerked slightly. Anna placed her spare hand on his other cheek to steady him as she began to clean the small wound.

"A flying teacup?" John joked light-heartedly, although he could tell that she was worried.

"Was it really that bad?"

His silence was all the answer she needed.

"She threw it at me as I left. I still hate to think of her in that house…"

He looked at Anna, and she looked at him. Their silence brought with it an understanding. They had always been able to connect silently; to read each other's minds.

Anna continued to clean the wound, although it did not take long, and whilst she did this she stroked his cheek with her left hand, her thumb tracing his skin as he subconsciously leant into her touch.

It felt like such a domestic setting, Anna almost wanted to cry. Whilst their situation now would likely tell anyone who did not know them that they were married, the reality was far from it. She had waited her entire life to love a man properly – to have feelings for someone that was more than just a fancy – and now that she had, he was married to a woman who was never likely to give him a divorce.

Anna finished tending to his small wound and ensured the first aid kit was properly closed before she used her hands to lift herself onto the crate beside him. As she was wont to do on nights like these, Anna shuffled further into his side, enveloping herself in the warmth of his body which had become the best sort of comfort to her.

After a few moments of comfortable silence where John had taken her hand between both of his and had caressed her ring finger, Anna spoke up.

"Tell me what happened."

Her tone was nothing like the demanding, authoritive tone that Vera would have taken with him – or that she had during his time in London – John thought dryly. Well, Anna was giving him no option but to tell her everything that had transpired, but she was insisting in her gentle, loving tone that would never fail to warm his heart. His heart that had only learned to love again upon her insistence.

"We… we argued," John admitted, his eyes trained on the ground. He had never wanted to show her, or even indicate the relationship he had with his former wife, or the way it had been conducted. He was not proud of the way their relationship had deteriorated, and he would happily take the blame for it. But Anna, his sweet, kind, caring Anna would never see this side to him, he vowed. The side his mother talked about – the tongue like a razor – the insults that could pour out of his mouth; the insults that would fall from Vera's – the truth.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel Anna's hand on his thigh. The pad of her thumb was stroking through the fabric in nothing short of a comforting, soothing gesture. He scrunched his eyes closed and sighed heavily.

"She refused outright." John continued. "She was angry, the gag must have riled her even more." It had been like tempting a snake, and now they had been bitten. The actions taken to silence Vera might have helped Lady Mary, but for John Bates it would likely mean she would never grant him a divorce. And after they had come so close. He had almost been able to taste victory when he had walked Anna to the church that morning. He had been able to visualise the wedding properly. Not a proper wedding, not a wedding Anna deserved in any way, shape or form, but a wedding. A wedding he would be able to invite their colleagues and employers to. And now that dream, along with others he was starting to imagine as truth, had crumbled before his eyes.

John let out another ragged breath.

"I tried to offer her money," John continued. Money neither of us have now. "Not that it would make the slightest bit of difference now."

Anna noticed that his tone was almost vicious now. She had heard him this angry before, when Vera had been here and rattled him and also on the phone to his lawyer the other day, but it was still a new phenomenon to her that it plagued her.

"She said that if I had wanted a divorce so much, I should not have bribed her to do it. Her face was just…" Laughing, mocking… "She knew how to play it."

He sighed once more.

"She taunted me, she called you names…" Pretty, little mistress, bitch… John closed his eyes, aware that his anger would subside more easily if he did if he recalled the rest of them.

He vaguely felt Anna as she rubbed his arm.

So many times now he wished that he had never married her. His mother had been against it from the start. He should have listened. She had always known best. It had been youthful lust and the awe of a feisty, young brunette that had led him astray. If only he had known the petite blonde that was awaiting him in his later years.

He swallowed.

"She gloated, told me that we would never get the divorce. That she has money now, and that no amount would change her mind. She likes having a husband. Even in name. It makes her feel more secure." He spoke bitterly, almost spitting out the words that he was repeating from earlier that day.

Anna hoped that her words to him the other day still rang true in his mind. The words that had declared her intentions, her promise that she would run away with him, across the country or to another country altogether if it came to that. She knew it would be a bold move – and a consequential one in terms of her relationships here at Downton – but it was a move she would be willing to make for him.

Hoping to assuage some of his anger and fears, Anna gently rubbed his shoulder through his jacket, lowering her lips to his shoulder and gently kissing the fabric there. She then remained in that position, her lips melded onto the fabric, unmoving. Anna closed her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent and luxuriating in the feel of his strong, broad shoulders beneath her.

She could feel the tension slowly starting to leave his muscles. She was reminding him that he was here. He was not in London with her. He was here, at Downton where many people cared about him. But there was no doubt the tension was still there. It was not unfamiliar to have tense muscles working in service – Lord knows she had plenty after a tough, gruelling few days or week – but nevertheless her nimble fingers slowly began to knead at the knots forming, eliciting a low grumble.

Anna worked on them for another few minutes, like he had done once for her out here in the summer months, hidden away from any unsuspecting visitor. He sighed and groaned, and when he arched his back his muscles clicked loudly.

"How are you feeling?" Anna asked sympathetically.

Both of them knew the question was not about his back. She was yet to ask him how he felt about going down to London and achieving nothing. She had comforted him so far with touches and kisses. Not that those would not have helped, but Anna knew that their relationship had founded its strength on talking. The small touches and gestures were there, but it was the words – both spoken and unspoken – that had slowly started to pull them together when they had needed to most.

"Tired. Tired of this waiting game, tired of playing cat and mouse."

He sighed and his shoulders fell once more.

"Well, maybe this will make you feel better."

She kissed him. It is a soft kiss to begin with, one of the few that they have shared, but slowly as her hands started to wander across his shoulders and then his cheeks, then to his hair, it became one of those passionate kisses that Anna knew would never fail to send her over the edge.

When she pulled back, she saw that his lips had curved into a sly smile.

It sent a thrill through her body to know that she had such an affect on him. That she had made the frown disappear. So many times he had comforted her, either through midnight talks in the servants' hall during his first couple of years in service at Downton Abbey or during the times he would be outside with her and would kiss her to ease away her worries. She was glad she could do the same now. She was glad if it was working, even if their troubles would still be there when they rose with the sun tomorrow.

"Reassure me again."

She would have laughed at his insistence had it not been for the overwhelming urge to kiss him again. So she did, letting her hand drag across his thigh this time. She felt him shudder beneath her touch. Then she felt his hand upon hers, pulling it away.

He broke off their kiss, his breath uneven and ragged.

"Anna…"

"I know," she panted breathlessly.

"We can't." John protested weakly, taking her hands within his own. They both knew it. "As much as I want to, especially after today…"

He wanted nothing more than to prove his love for Anna in every sense. The way he could as her husband. To confirm that he loved her unconditionally, even considering all of these trials that were surrounding them; ready to trip them up at any given moment.

"I know." She agreed with him. "But for now, we can at least act like we're not living in sin."

John almost laughed out loud as he noticed the glimmer in her eye. He wanted nothing more than to pretend she was his wife, even if the reality would sting the fresh, open wound. He knew their relations would not press further than passionate kisses out here in the courtyard, although their wandering hands were beginning to stir dangerous feelings within them that soon, he feared, would be hard to ignore. Years of pent up frustration, being unable to act upon his feelings, were starting to send him mad. Mad with love.

Mad with his younger self who had decided to marry a feisty brunette in his army days.

"Although I do hope you won't be so unwilling like this when we're married." Anna teased him, tilting her head to the side and flashing him one of her racy smiles. Her hand was rubbing his thigh. Her eyes were twinkling – a devilish twinkle that left him reeling.

Bates narrowed his eyes in answer, his desire plain to see. As if to prove her otherwise, he let his hand drift across to rest upon her hip, rubbing slow circles through the thick fabric of her dress.

"When we're married," he reiterated, his tone quite surprised at her usage of the words.

Anna was quite happy to reassure him.

"When."

THE END

A/N: Edited to fix tenses.