AN:

This is a plot point that was all but ignored on the series, but has been bugging me for some time. I've taken a stab at what the healing process for Anna and John might have been like. I'm posting in chapters, but the work is complete...at least for the moment. This the the first installment. All mistakes are mine. The characters don't belong to me...blah, blah, blah. Any comments/concrit are welcome. This contains adult subject matter and deals with the aftermath of Anna's rape.

Ch 1:

Everyone has one. Some have more than others, but everyone has at least one. What it takes to get there, what pushes one over the edge can simply be a single incident or a confluence of small, unrelated events intersecting to create the perfect storm. For John Bates, it was the latter. Sitting on the repaired settee they had inadvertently broken upon their first inspection of the cottage, John was at his breaking point.

He had spells like this before where his body would cry out for her, but never this intensely. It was always at night, when there were no distractions from the desire stirring within him from things that Anna would do or say during the day. It was always unintentional on her part now, but he has spent so many hours observing and admiring her in the simplest of actions for so very long before they were married that the smallest, most innocent things would stoke the fires of his mind and heart. Sleep was always a problem for him, but had become less of one as he and Anna acclimated to life in their cottage. Since that awful night, his nightmares and insomnia had returned with a vengeance. It had been months since they had been intimate. In the immediate aftermath, his ardor had been dampened by her suffering. His sleepless nights were spent comforting her through nightmares and hovering near the edge of the bed to give her space since her compassion wouldn't allow for him sleeping on the floor and her fear wouldn't allow for him sleeping in another room. Gradually, he was able to chase away her demons and relax enough to return to a more normal sleeping position.

Unfortunately, he was haunted by demons of his own and as Anna became more herself, his guilt and passion for his wife had resurfaced in equal measure. More often than not, John left their bed once he was sure she was in a deep sleep and spent his time downstairs. With guilt and anger nipping at his heels, he paced the room and tortured himself over all the suffering he had put her through since they met. Closing himself off from her. Secretly courting her while he was married. Leaving her to be with Vera. Prison. Green. It was all too much. He was a selfish, foolish man to encourage her the way he did, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Other nights it was his sexual desire for her that drove him from their room, but that would usually subside as he dwelled upon their current status and his part in it. Despite all that happened, even in the midst of their latest torment, he was still so much better off now with their life together than with Vera and he vowed to be everything Anna needed him to be.

Tonight, it was raw desire that kept him from slumber. Anna had turned in her sleep and inadvertently brushed his genitals, triggering a swift response from his body that startled him. Not wanting to wake her, lest she be fearful or feel pressured by his obvious desire for her, he slipped out and hurried downstairs. This wasn't the first time he had to deal with his body's desire for her, but it was the first time he was unable to calm himself. Unwilling to take his own pleasure while his wife could not, he employed various methods to control his urges. Nothing had worked tonight and after two long hours here he sat with his shirt discarded on the back of the couch, skin flushed, sweat dripping from his brow and an erection straining against his pajama bottoms. He finally had to push his pants down to his thighs to stop the friction that was making the situation worse. John scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration as his erection stood before him in blatant defiance of his mind. He balled his fists, closed his eyes and willed his hardness to dissipate.

For months on end, he had been diligently trying to repair his marriage. The incident, he refused to voice the word indicative of his precious Anna's violation, had driven a huge wedge between them in all respects: professionally, physically and especially their intimacy. In the early years, whilst their fondness for each other wasn't a well-kept secret, their professionalism and integrity with regard to one another had never been questioned. The events leading up to and the incident itself had changed that. The tension between them brought on by that man played out in full view of the downstairs staff leading up to the day of the concert. His jealousy, her suffering, his failures, his inadequacies, and her shunning him was on full display for the gossipers and trouble makers for weeks on end. The night of the concert, his concern should have been for Anna's well-being, not the warbling woman screeching in a language he didn't care to learn. Because of this and other bad judgements on his part, their lives were torn asunder once again and he didn't know if they would ever emerge from this shadows of isolation, pain and fear.

His eyes strayed over to the table where they sat together for the first time since it happened. Physically, she mostly healed, although she was still a little underweight even now, months later. He could still picture her diminutive form, scared and fragile, trembling as he tried to reassure her that he still loved her in spite of what had happened. That memory had slowly faded to the background as they shared meals and other tasks comfortably together at the table. In so many ways, it was as if he had to start over with her. He vowed that he would have endless patience with her and took the first steps of repairing their intimacy by courting her as he would have so long ago were he unmarried when they met. Although it wasn't easy for either of them, it was slow and steady progress toward their goal. He chalked up each successful outing, even the ones where she couldn't bear to touch him, as a victory.

Slower to return was their ability to communicate with each other, both in words and actions. They both had begun to hide from one another, each evasion of their true feelings putting yet another stone in the walls they were building. He was crippled by the guilt he felt in not being there to protect her and she was crippled by the shame she felt at the violation of her body at the hands of another man. Of course there were many other emotions at play, but the long and short of it was, in some ways, he had lost the best friend he had ever had. He tried in so many ways to reassure her of his love, but as long as he tried to protect her from his darker thoughts they wouldn't heal completely. He so wanted to break down that wall, but he feared that she wasn't yet ready to handle that yet. He took joy in the progress they had made and he would adjust to the situation and help her in any way he could.

The most painful loss, for him, was their intimacy. Not only their sexual intimacy, although that was certainly a part of it, but just the quiet moments they would share in the privacy of their home. The times she would lean against the counter next to him as he scraped the night's stubble from his face, sharing a bit of gossip from the Abbey or her opinion on the latest book she was reading. The times he would wrap his arms around her as she stood at the sink, staring out the window at the modest garden she had cultivated. The smell of her hair as he took the pins out and brushed it for her before she plaited it for the night. The twinkle in her eye as they brushed by one another in the hallway or brushed legs as they sat together passing time. Those small moments which were denied to them for nearly two years while he was locked away in prison. Now they are being denied once more as she is locked in a prison of sorts and he has yet to find the key that will release them both from torment.

John was no stranger to denial of intimacy of any sort. The women he was with before he married were more of an exploration, so he had no problem closing himself off to them. Shortly after he married Vera, it was clear that they would be sexually intimate, but never emotionally so. Soon she denied him sexually as well, and although he wouldn't cheat on her as he suspected she was doing, he would seek release on his own when he was sure she wouldn't appear. This continued during his time in Africa, after his recovery, and through his first imprisonment. He had a vivid imagination and would rather take care of his own needs than to open himself to being vulnerable to another woman. He had nothing to offer at the time and thought nothing more on the subject, until he met Anna.

Initially, he struggled with himself over his attraction to her and the way his body reacted. In some ways he was like a young man again, feeling desire at the most inopportune times. He would deny himself the release his body craved, not wanting to sully her by his imaginings, yet unable to think of anyone or anything else as his desire built day by day. After a most embarrassing episode in which he nearly was caught out with tented trousers in the servant's hall, he finally decided he had to get some form of release so that he could function without causing embarrassment to himself, to Anna or anyone else.

Fortunately, John had a single room at Downton. Whether by providence or just because no one else wanted to room with the cripple, it allowed him a small bit of freedom and privacy. When he suffered a nightmare, no one was the wiser for it. When his leg played up and had him writhing in pain, he could suffer in silence alone without bothering anyone or drawing undue attention to himself. When he finally succumbed to his body's need for release, he was alone with his thoughts and under no scrutiny.

In prison, John only indulged his baser needs when absolutely necessary and had learned how to hide what he was doing from his first tenure behind bars. The fact that they only shared the one night together did not hinder him from finding a climax. He thought that they would fare better together than he and Vera did, but worried upon his release from prison that actually living together might reveal incompatibilities that weren't visible under such restrained conditions of their jobs and living environment. His worries turned out to be unfounded, as their love for each other and struggle to be together smoothed out annoyances and quirks that would become points of contention in other relationships.

She was a virgin when they married, but they had shared some intimacies during their long and unorthodox courtship. Summers were their weakest times, allowing them little relief from the heat of the season or the heat of their desires. They spent a few summer evenings nestled away in a sheltered wood, free from their many layers of propriety due to their more casual dress after hours, exploring one another without haste. While he would never compromise her honor by consummating their relationship before marriage, he whispered to her words of devotion while he felt the curves of her body and tasted the salt from her skin. Things took a more intimate turn after he returned to Downton from Kirkbymoorside because she needed reassurance from him that words could not provide. He would never forget the sight of the first orgasm he drew from her or the feeling of her trembling in his arms as he quietly explained away her confusion. Once they were married and he was finally free to embark upon married life with her, he found that she blossomed in her sexuality. She overcame her shyness with him and they had many frank discussions about sex at her request. Ever eager to learn new things, they had tried many things and discovered one another's likes, dislikes, desires, and fantasies. All that had changed now and he wondered if they would ever gain any form of sexual intimacy back.

His mind wandered back to his current situation and the relentless tension coiled in his body. His cock was hard. His body was trembling. Tension rippled over his strained muscles and shame began to wash over him as his body continued to betray his will. Tears fell unnoticed from his eyes as he clenched his fists, hunched forward with his head hung in defeat.