A/N: Hello dear readers. It's been awhile and I have every intention of finishing up my other stories, but this is one idea that wouldn't leave me be. I wanted to start posting it for our lovely Jamesluver's birthday (I know I'm a month early), but I'm not sure I'll finish it all in time. So why not start posting now. I'm a bit rusty, but I must thank Nurs3gir1, a-lady-to-me, and drstacib for helping me out with editing this one. Hope you all enjoy and please review.

He woke early, just as he did every morning. The night was plagued by insomnia, but this was nothing new. John Bates hadn't slept properly even as a young boy and when he joined the army he thanked his lucky stars for his inability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. It allowed him to stay alert. Ultimately, it's what saved him from the enemy. And when he returned home, he was grateful that he couldn't always sleep. It meant he could avoid the nightmares of friends lost in battle. But as time marched on, the nightmares became fewer and further between. Assimilating in society as a civilian had taken some adjusting to and eventually John realized he could avoid the flashbacks with a change in career.

This change in career would be the last of big changes for him. John was a man of consistency, a creature of habit. From an outsider's perspective one could call his life boring. Uneventful. Each day he woke up at the same time, did one hundred push ups followed by one hundred sit ups, shined his shoes and pressed his clothes (a drill ingrained in him from his military days), took his shower, boiled a kettle of water for his Earl Grey, and arrived by seven o'clock on the dot to begin opening up the flower shop. He went through the same routine of putting on his green apron, opening the greenhouse roof vent windows, watering and fertilizing the plants, and began working on flower arrangements for the deliveries.

"John?" An older voice called out from behind him. He turned to find Bill Molesley standing in the doorway. "You're always here so early."

"You always seem so surprised," John responded with a playful smile.

"It's just you don't need to be in until nine. Joe can help open up the shop," Bill commented.

John knew Bill still had hopes that his son, Joe, would eventually take over the family business. But Joe had other aspirations. He had found his calling late in life and was set on becoming a teacher, he spent most of his days with his head in a book and, truth be told, Joe didn't have the same green thumb his father did.

"Joe has a full plate and I have nothing but time," John responded. "I enjoy it."

"Still, there must be someone you'd rather be spending your time with?"

"No." He'd tried and failed at love, or rather, love had failed him. John had tried to be a good husband. And he wasn't half bad at it before the war. Vera had always been a wild card, had always seemed to be reaching for more and settled for John. Their drinking had made them welcome company for one another and at other times they were one another's worst enemy. He should have known she'd given up on him long before his return. The letters had all but stopped before he'd even finished his first tour. The only time John heard from Vera was when the money ran out and she needed more. After the war, after the injury that is, she wasn't even there to greet him in the hospital. Only his mother had been there. He tried to return home but they got into some terrible rows, ones for the books. And his tongue had never been sharper or his temper more fierce than when he had started a love affair with the bottle. Vera was the one to ask for a divorce and he gladly gave it to her. They hadn't been happily married since their wedding day. He could admit that to himself now, but at the time he had never felt like a bigger failure. His mother was the only one would who would love him after that. He was damaged goods: emotionally and psychologically crippled.

John looked up and realized Bill was looking to him, expecting more of an explanation. "I'm perfectly content spending my time here."

Bill had lost his wife many years before, when Joe was just a teenager, and he knew that it was a lonely existence to be without your other half. The older man just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that John had seemed to give up on the search when he was still in good shape and on the right side of fifty. John didn't talk much, but when he did it was easy conversation and he had a kind nature, of that much Bill was sure.

His hands moved with precision, his fingers gentle as they brushed against each delicate petal. John was careful not to damage any of the blossoms as he pruned the stems and bound the bouquets. It was a far cry from the work his hands were used to. John supposed he'd never really forget how to clean, load, and hold a gun. Gardening and arranging flowers was a stark contrast; it provided him a chance to meditate and clear his thoughts. More importantly, his hands were now tools for healing. John was able to create life and make the world more beautiful.

"If you're going to come in so early, you should at least leave early," Bill urged as he added a few sprigs to the arrangement John had been working on.

"Bill, we've had this discussion before. If it is pay you are worried about, I don't mind. It's not as if I have many expenses anyhow." It was the truth. John's evenings were about as eventful as his mornings. He helped close up the shop, even when he didn't have to. John would either stop in a pub for some grub or make himself a meal in his tiny flat. Most nights he was content to listen to the radio and sketch, or read a book into the wee hours of the night.

"I'm not worried about pay, I'm worried about you. If you aren't spending your time with a lady at least go off and find some friends."

"I'm really not one for social interaction," John mused as he lifted a bag of potting soil and set it out on the potting bench. He then grabbed a bag of mulch and set it beside the potting soil. "I'm no good to anyone."

"You're good to me."

The old man had a way of warming his heart. John had come to look up to him as a pseudo-father figure. In many ways Bill had picked up where his mother left off. "I appreciate that, but you're my boss. If I was no good I'm certain I wouldn't be working for you anymore."

"You know what I mean. A man needs company aside from his aging employer."

"Don't say that. Besides, I have my mate, Rob."

"Whom you hardly ever see."

"Have you been spying on me, Bill?" John asked in a half-teasing manner.

"It's not hard to do when you are hanging around here all day," Bill pointed out.

"Point well taken. I'll see if my social calendar has any openings," John joked. "For now I have to prepare for the deliveries with Alfred and William."

"Don't work too hard. Wouldn't want you hurting your knee anymore than it already is."

"I keep telling you, Mr. Molesley. I can manage."

Somewhere on the other side of town, nestled in her office on the top floor, Anna Smith was polishing off her second cup of coffee for the morning and contemplating a third. No. The excess caffeine would make her jittery, and her stomach was already doing flips in anticipation of the outcome in court today. She'd hardly slept. If today went well there was a good chance they'd offer her a partnership at the firm. Of course she'd already made a name for herself within the building, and at such a young age. Her parents would be so proud if they could see her now.

Anna reached for the phone on her desk. "Ivy, could you please bring in a cup of tea and some biscuits?"

"Certainly."

"And something to calm my stomach if you can round it up?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

Once Anna heard the click on the other line she began rummaging through her desk drawer for a fresh top, comb, and toothbrush. She proceeded to the attached, private bathroom and began to change. Sleeping on the couch in her office had hardly been ideal, but there was no way she'd finish all the preparations she needed if she had driven home the night before and fought the morning traffic today. Anna spritzed some of her perfume on the blouse and into her hair, applied some deodorant, and brushed her teeth. As she wet her hair to pull it back into a bun, her mobile phone rang.

Immediately recognizing the number, she swiped the button to answer the call and greeted her friend. "Good morning, Gwen."

"I just got your text."

Anna rolled her eyes. It was usually Gwen who was first to wake and prompt Anna to get out of bed when she heard Anna hit the snooze button one too many times on her alarm. Go figure, the one time she tried to warn her friend that she wouldn't be coming home, Gwen didn't check her messages.

"You didn't come home last night again. Does this mean you slept over at Mark's?"

"Absolutely not," Anna responded sounding almost offended that her roommate would even insinuate such a thing. Mark Powell worked a floor below her firm and had run into Anna a few times in the lift or while trying to hail a taxi. Lately he'd made it a point of stopping by to ask her to lunch and dinner. She'd obliged once, just to be nice, but she couldn't see it going any further than that. Truth be told, she couldn't even see him as much of a friend, more like a good shag if that's what she was after. Which she wasn't.

"He fancies you," Gwen pointed out.

"I know," Anna said slightly irritated.

"And he's good looking."

"I don't deny that. But if I'm going to spend my time with someone, I'm going to need more than a pretty face to keep my attention," Anna answered back.

"Alright, I won't press it anymore, I just thought maybe he deserved a second chance. Not everyone makes a great impression their first time out the gate."

"I can't see him changing tactics any time soon. Beside, I have a lot on my plate with work right now. I can't allow myself to get distracted. At least not until after this partnership is in the bag."

"What about Thomas?" Gwen inquired.

"Barrow?" Anna responded with a smile.

"Yes, you've mentioned you get on well enough with him."

"He's a bit too snarky for my liking, besides, I think he's more likely to date Mark than I am."

Both girls erupted into peals of laughter. "I didn't realize. So if you weren't at Mark's, did you not shower then?"

"Of course I did. I swung by the gym and used the locker room showers."

"You managed to fit in a workout this morning?"

"No," Anna laughed with a snort.

"Honestly, Anna. You may as well live in your office. It's got a view, a bathroom, and you hardly leave there."

Anna shook her head, but she knew Gwen was right.

"I feel bad taking your half of the rent when you are never here, and you pay for a gym membership to boot just so you can shower."

"Oh Gwen, my life isn't all doom and gloom. Today is another step in the right direction," Anna said as she looked herself over in the mirror.

"Don't misunderstand me, Anna. I only speak up because you're my friend. I think of you like a sister." Anna was touched by Gwen's words. "It's just you keep talking of this great life you are building for yourself and I have to wonder when you're going to start living it? You keep your nose in a pile of case paperwork for the rest of your life and one day you are going to look up and realized it all passed you by. You need to start making time to get outside and smell the roses."

"Yes, I know. Let me clear this last hurdle and I promise I'll make more time for you and going out."

"Brilliant. Can't wait. Call or text when your hearing is over and let me know how it goes."

"I will. Now I really must go or I'll be late."

"Off with you then."

"John, it's been ages since you've stopped by," Cora greeted warmly as she pressed a quick peck on his cheek. "Come in. Come in," she insisted.

John wiped his feet on the doormat to make sure he didn't bring in any dirt. It wasn't his first time in the Crawley home. They always declared he was like family and should make himself comfortable. But he always felt out of his element in the big, sprawling mansion. He'd never own a home as glorious as this, not if he worked a hundred years.

"You know you didn't even have to ring the doorbell, you could have helped yourself," Cora reminded.

"It's been awhile. I didn't want to intrude," he responded.

"Robert is probably just tinkering around in the office upstairs. Is he expecting you?" she asked.

"No, I don't believe so. If he's busy I can leave."

"Nonsense. I'll go get him. We just ordered some chinese food to be delivered. It's probably too much for the two of us. You're more than welcome to join us."

"Oh...sure," John answered, "that would be lovely." Old Bill's words were echoing in his head. He needed to get out more and spend more time interacting with others.

"Can I help you to a drink first?"

"No alcohol, but a water would be nice."

"Of course." As Cora fished a glass from the cupboard and began to fill it with water she noticed John eyeing one of the plants by the windowsill. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong with that one," she moaned. "I've tried watering it and even moved it to the window to get more sunlight. It appears I'm the grim reaper when it comes to houseplants."

John chuckled softly and smiled.

"What's so funny?"

"It's an African Violet. They are one of the easiest plants to maintain and somehow you've managed to nearly kill it."

Cora's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

John picked up the pot it was sitting in and returned it to a place on the counter top. "You've over watered it and it doesn't need direct sunlight. The soil should stay moist, but don't water it again until the roots have dried out."

"I'll keep that in mind. How did you manage to develop such a green thumb?"

"The talent sort of found me. I had to adapt after I came back. I couldn't continue the way I had before."

"You're very good at it. Sure I can't entice you to oversee our gardens?"

"I'm not a fan of landscaping. Not that it isn't good work. It's just...you don't get to experience the appreciation and joy on someone's face the same way you do when a delivery of flowers is made." John shook his head, he must sound like such a fool. "I know that probably doesn't make sense, but…"

"No. It does. And it's a beautiful sentiment." Cora didn't know John as well as her husband did, but Robert had always held him in high regard and John had been a devoted Godfather to their youngest daughter, Sybil. The man had his fair share of bad luck and she was pleased as punch to see him getting his life back on track. "I'll just go fetch, Robert."

Anna emerged from her meeting with the partners at her firm feeling a sense of accomplishment. The case had gone better than predicted. They never even set foot in a courtroom. The moment Anna presented her case, the other side took a moment to talk amongst themselves and eventually decided to settle. She knew the odds were in her favor, but Anna hadn't expected it to go that swimmingly. Almost immediately after, the partners had requested she hang around while they spoke behind closed doors. A few minutes and a round of drinks later, they were toasting Anna on the offer of a partnership.

"Wow!" Gwen exclaimed. "So how long before they add your name to the sign on the building?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure they will," Anna replied.

"Of course they will. You can't make partner and have your name excluded. I mean unless they lump you in with Mrs. Hughes and just write 'Carson and Associates', but that doesn't sound nearly as appealing as 'Carson, Hughes, and Smith.' Don't you agree?'

"Goodness, Gwen you sound more excited than me."

"Well aren't you happy? I thought this is what you wanted," Gwen commented a little deflated.

"I am, it's just…" she couldn't put it into words. Somehow, despite all her efforts and years of law school, what should have been a milestone in her career has not brought her the level of joy that she had expected. Perhaps it was because deep down she knew what it had cost her. She'd spent so much time focused on her career that she has missed her chance to share her achievement with a special someone. But she couldn't tell Gwen that. It would seem ungrateful and Anna was not one for pity parties. Her best friend was happy for her, and she should have mirrored her excitement.

"Just...what?"

"Nothing. I'll probably be home late, we can celebrate sometime this weekend."

"I'll hold you to that," Gwen replied.

Shortly after hanging up the phone a knock came on her office door. "Yes, come in."

"Anna, you got a phone call while you were out."

"Thank you, Daisy. You can just leave it on my desk. I'll return the call later."

"Actually…I thought you should hear it in person. In case…"

"In case what?" Anna asked, suddenly curious. The girl standing across from her seemed to have lost all ability to speak. "For goodness sake, Daisy. Has someone died?"

"Yes," the young girl managed to reply.

They continued to pick their way through dinner, sharing laughter and good conversation. Sybil had stopped by unexpectedly from med school to do some laundry and stock up on food. Mary soon followed, although, she was more of a tornado when compared with Sybil who always seemed like a breath of fresh air. Then there was Edith. She made an impromptu visit on her way back from dinner with her new beau, Bertie. John couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something rather morose about the girl. Mary seemed to pick on her mercilessly, though Edith was known to give it back as good as she got it. Tonight they seemed to be on their best behavior in his presence. Still it was clear to see that all the girls loved their father dearly and they were the apple of Robert's eyes. It was an interesting change to be sitting around a table with friends rather than in his tiny flat all by himself with something that required less than three ingredients to make or three minutes to microwave. It may have been take away, but the company made the food taste so much more rich. And when he saw Cora lean in to give Robert a kiss, for the first time in ages, John found himself wishing he had someone to love that loved him back.

Robert had screwed up pretty badly in the past, and yet somehow he ended up with a wonderful woman like Cora. Now, John would readily admit he was no saint, but still he had to question whatever gods existed how Robert had managed to find and keep his other half, while he still lived a life of solitude. He supposed it was partially his fault. He hadn't been one for company when he returned from war, and in the years since he had mingled a bit more, but only at the urging of Robert and Mr. Molesley. Maybe he just hadn't found the right person to socialize with.

John helped clean up when they finished their meal and chatted for a bit with Robert. "This was nice," he commented. "I didn't realize how much I missed it until now."

"You should make it a habit to come over more often. We're always happy for the company. Don't let tonight fool you, the girls aren't here as often anymore."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Shall I start making up the guest room for you?" Robert inquired.

"No, that won't be necessary."

"Well, I'll get the keys to give you a ride home then."

"Actually, I think I'd prefer a walk."

"That's a hell of a walk," Robert noted.

"I know, but sleep doesn't come easy for me."

"Still?" Robert asked with a tinge of guilt.

John nodded in silent agreement.

"I'm sorry, old boy." Robert apologized for what must have been the millionth time. Both men had served their time in the military and fought side by side in the same regiment. John was nothing, if not a loyal soldier. And his devotion not only lay with Queen and country, but with his best mate, Robert. The older of the two (though only by a few months), ranked higher than John. But the two never forgot their roots or their time in the academy. John was all too happy to follow his friend into battle, the difference in rank mattered little. The same held true when one night, their regiment was held down under heavy fire. John could have escaped unscathed, but when he heard Robert's cry for help there was no doubt. The two were either leaving together or not at all. John hadn't even noticed the shrapnel lodged in his knee until he was certain that they were in the clear. Multiple surgeries were done by the military to minimize the damage and prevent a prominent limp, but it was never restored to it's former glory. It was a hard lesson for a soldier to come to terms with until it was too late. Not all scars were visible, some were etched in your memory for all eternity. "What about your knee?"

John's lips formed a thin line and his eyes met the floor as his hands sunk into his pockets.

Robert hadn't meant to say it, but he knew immediately he crossed a line. His friend hated to be reminded of his injury, and even more so he hated to be reminded of his limitations.

"I can manage," John stated.

"Right. Well, be sure to call us when you get home, else Cora will worry."

"Cora?" John repeated back with mix of confusion and curiosity.

"Christ. Don't make me confess my feelings aloud. It's very unbecoming for an Englishman."

John chuckled, taking his meaning. "Of course. I'll call to ease Cora's mind."

"You'd better."

"I will," John said before shaking hands with Robert.

Anna had returned to the flat she shared with Gwen. When Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes found out about what happened they insisted she leave to go home immediately and take as much time as she needed. Mrs. Hughes had asked if there was anyone she could call to give Anna a ride, the older woman had taken a shine to her new partner. But Anna couldn't think of anyone to call, truth be told, even if there had been, she wouldn't have wanted to call them. She needed to sort her thoughts. And so, for the past two hours, Anna had found herself aimlessly walking the streets of Downton, looking for something she couldn't define but was desperately in need of. She felt empty and alone, though that had been the case for years. It was now echoing in her soul more than ever.

Gwen must have gone out with the new man in her life. Harding, was it? She'd been so busy with work she couldn't even remember the name of her roommate's boyfriend. Now she felt worse.

Anna turned the lights on as she made her way to her bedroom. She wanted nothing more than to take off her clothes and sink into a warm tub. As she removed her coat and set her purse down on the chair beside her bed, she suddenly felt exhausted and the bath lost its appeal. The photo on the night stand grabbed her attention and she found herself staring at it. The edges were frayed and the color had faded, but the memory of her and her parents was still captured for that one brief second. How happy they were. It was the last photo they had taken together before her father passed. She was just five when it happened and could scarcely recall her father now. Her mother would follow soon after, but not before marrying her step father. Anna shuddered and suddenly, after hours of fighting it, the tears fell freely.