A/N: I know the title is lame, but hey we all have our weak spots. This randomly popped in my head and so I decided to write it down. I own nothing except for maybe the soldiers. Thanks for reading! :)
After a hard day's work, John Bates sighed as he settled into his chair in the empty servants' hall. Thomas and O'Brien had been particularly nasty today; especially O'Brien.
He glanced at the newspaper – 10 December, 1913. He was about to read it, when he saw the main title was something about some tensions between countries.
And that brought it all crashing down.
War.
The word stirred in him an anger like no other. It always had. It used to be anger towards the enemy; the instinct to kill and conquer overpowering anything else. Now it was anger at those who made war, who made the death and killing.
It made him want to punch anyone that happened to be walking by. He wanted to curse and scream out all his anger that the army didn't let you show. He needed to know another human felt his pain.
Which is exactly what drove Vera away.
Not that he minded in the least. Vera wasn't exactly someone he cared for. She was the pretty girl at the barracks who wanted an army husband. That was the only way she would give him her favors – if they were married.
So he agreed. In a foolish fit of passion, he agreed. Once their marriage night was over with, he had no regard for her whatsoever. The only thing he felt for her was that she was someone to scream at because screaming at his officers would get him fired.
Vera wasn't the perfect soundboard. She would scream right back. He hardly knew what either of them were saying; probably something to do with his drinking, her stealing, his infidelity or hers. It didn't matter. It usually ended up with Vera being thrown on the floor, him yelling out some curse word, and then walking to the bar for a drink.
Drinking made him less angry, sometimes. It usually only sent the passion in another direction and he would spend the night with a prostitute. The next day he would wake up with a splitting headache and laughing soldiers.
Soldiers drove his thoughts right back to the "Core Five" as he liked to call them. It consisted of two officers, their batmans, and one middle-class man who somehow wedged his way into the group. They had some good times, Bates smiled even now to think about the time they had tricked Lord Grantham into eating octopus and he gagged it all up when he found out.
And then three of them were killed.
Bates hit the roof then. The same blast which killed his best friends had injured him. Somehow it didn't seem fair. Bates was never the best man, surely Lord Kepple, Trotbridge, and Lewis deserved to live more than he did. He mourned the loss of his friends with drinking and prostitutes.
Worse than that, he couldn't serve anymore. Even though he hated the war, it gave him something to do. With nothing to do, he drank away all the money he and Vera had, causing Vera to steal even more.
When Vera was caught for stealing, he was the only one home. She was probably out prostituting herself for all he knew; he was dead drunk. He couldn't answer one question the police posed him, and was taken to jail for it.
While in jail, he thought a good deal. There was a good chance he was guilty of the crime; his life had become quite a blur. But according to his cell mate, there wasn't. He had seen Vera take the silver.
By the time the trial came, Bates couldn't say he blamed her. And on top of that, they hadn't been able to find her. She'd run off. All the better, Bates had supposed. He started to realize what he had done and figured it was time to pay the price.
The other soldiers weren't much of a help in this aspect. They had seen Vera take the silver, but Bates still confessed to the crime. The judge didn't really believe him, but shrugged off a few years' sentence.
And Bates wound up here.
He looked around himself, and his eye caught the paper again.
War.
The anger, the hatred, mounted on the disgust for Thomas and O'Brien, caused Bates's thoughts to cloud and his emotions to take over. He hastened to Carson's pantry, grabbed the key, and headed towards the wine cellar.
He was about to put it in the lock, when a voice in his head stopped him.
I shouldn't care what I found out about you – whatever it was, it wouldn't alter my opinion one bit.
Anna. His emotions began to die down and rational thoughts started replacing them. He looked down at the suddenly very heavy key in his hand.
But it would, it certainly would.
The very first time Bates had reached for the wine cellar at Downton, it had only been a day or two after his arrival. He had got so far as to open the door, when his conscience stopped him.
What would that nice girl Anna say if she could see you now?
To which Bates had responded: She'd leave her mouth open in shock and run to tell Mr. Carson.
With shaking hands, Bates had put the cellar key back. No wine was gone. He was not going to be that man. He promised himself that.
Anna unknowingly became his lifeline after that. The one thing keeping him away from his old lifestyle. Almost like his mother, but different. He had a different connection with Anna. It was a different sort of love, he supposed. Was it love?
Bates grasped the cellar key firmly in his hand and walked back to Carson's pantry.
What would Anna say? His mind kept plaguing him.
His reaction had changed somewhat, as he had gotten to know her. She'd shake her head at me, say "You silly beggar," take the key away, and then lead me to the table with some coat to clean. She'd sit there, mending something and talking to me, until one of the bells rang.
But only if she knew the whole story. Only if she had lived through it with him. As he hung up the key, Bates wondered why he shouldn't just tell her. Tell her everything. Sitting back at the servants' table, he rationalized it.
Because he couldn't bear to lose his job and her love. She doesn't like to see mischief running about; she'd tell Carson right away. And his lifeline would be thrown out to sea. He'd go back to the bottle again, this time with a broken heart instead of a fiery anger. He couldn't bear to see her walk away. He'd feel worthless, truly worthless.
His thoughts were suddenly disturbed by steps in the passageway. He straightened and kept his head high.
"What are you doing up?" Anna asked, smiling in spite of the fact that she had just reprimanded him.
Bates couldn't help but smile back as she sat across from him. "I just finished with His Lordship. Thought I'd read the news and get something to drink."
"What would you like?" Anna asked, standing up. "I was just about to get something myself. Lady Sybil kept having me talk and I'm quite parched."
"Water's fine, thanks." Anna disappeared into the kitchen.
Bates grinned. Without her, he would have said wine and have been out of a job by morning.
Anna brought back the water, and when he sipped it, he half expected whisky. This late at night, his body was trained for it. He put down the glass, and half expected to see some ugly barman there. But it was Anna. Even though the water tasted bad, the sight of Anna made up for it.
He smiled at her. John Bates, you are a changed man. Being a changed man allowed him to see Anna as more than just a pretty face; he saw her mind, her sense of humor, her true inner beauty…And I think she's saying something so get your head out of the clouds and listen.