A/N: I've wanted to write an 'A/B go on a date' fic for a long time now, and I have KristenAPA to thank for persuading me to finally get round to it for April a.k.a the All Important Anna x Bates month ;) Hopefully it's been worth the wait...!

As always, I should point out that I don't own Downton Abbey, Anna Smith/Bates, John Bates or any other of the characters.

A Change of Scenery

Chapter 1

John Bates knew the realities of war all too well. He needed only to close his eyes and wait for a moment or two before everything flooded back to the forefront of his mind. The sounds of gunfire and screams of agony, some poor soul's last words reverberating as an endless echo and waking him in the dead of night. The sights too horrific for proper explanation, the smells – blood upon dust upon yet more blood, layer after layer, never to be washed away no matter how much rain would eventually come.

The promises of glory, the thrill of battle, the chance for a greater purpose – and to escape the almighty mess he had gotten himself into – all were evaporated when you came within breathing distance of the supposed enemy. Seeing nothing but the whites of their eyes, full of the same fear and confusion and stark awareness of the utter futility of it all. In the short space of silence, sharing in a desperate plea with lips barely moving to speak it, acknowledging their fast-fading humanity before the next set of rounds studded the air.

The memories remained so vivid that he did not need the accompaniment of conversation on the very same topic, but there was little else to talk about - not while this war dragged on without apparent end. With most of the young men they knew gone away the house seemed vacant, missing those that it had surrendered.

"I can't stop thinking about it. About them all."

Daisy's eyes darted around the room, taking on the appearance of an animal caught in a trap whose delayed reaction had begun to kick in. She caught John's gaze for a fraction too long and he detected the guilt laying there, the shame that she wasn't speaking solely about William.

She wiped her hands vigorously on her apron, turning her head back to her work. Mrs Patmore had excused herself as the conversation had started to turn, explaining that she needed to carry out an urgent check of the larder.

"It must be so horrible," the girl murmured, perhaps an obvious thought but one which was nothing less than heartfelt.

Thomas's harsh laugh tore a strip through the collective solemn atmosphere.

"It's alright for you. You can step outside and take a break from your thoughts anytime you like. When you're out there, up to your neck in mud and God knows what else, there's no getting away from it. It's all you have." He paused to light another cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling the smoke in an unbroken line. A small smirk curved his lips. "Death is waiting round every corner."

Poor Daisy's face went white, her colour draining past her feet. "Don't say that," she managed to stammer, looking accusingly at the footman who simply shrugged, leaning forward in his seat to stamp out the ash from the cigarette already half smoked.

John had the urge to smoke, an urge that appealed to him more frequently of late. The very distinctive aroma disgusted Anna – she had commented upon it more than once, and as he glanced down the table he could see her nose wrinkling, the sign of her silent protest as she continued to work on the silk blouse in front of her. If Thomas continued on in such a fashion then she would probably need to douse the garment to get rid of the lingering stench. His annoyance of the footman intensified considering the extra work he would provide her with when she was already so bombarded.

"Well, it's the truth," Thomas went on, his words clouded with off-white smoke. "You only know a bloke for what feels like five minutes and then he's gone. If you think the Germans have any pity or a thought to go easy and spare a few hundred lives for a day, then you'd be very much mistaken. My only regret is that I didn't last longer to show them who's boss."

He raised his hand, cradling it over the cloak of the flesh-coloured glove. Oh, he still relished playing the part of the heroic soldier, quest thwarted by the unfortunate wound gained in battle. Even though Anna had told him that Thomas was back working at the house prior to his return, John hadn't been at all surprised by the turn of events. He displayed his grace by not making the accusation aloud, but he had the strong feeling that the end of Thomas's military career had very little to do with fate's cruel hand falling by utter chance rather than being purposely twisted.

"You were very brave, Thomas," Miss O'Brien, previously happy to remain a listener, felt the need to speak up in her comrade's defence. She even went so far as to cast a proud glance in his direction. "I'd say rather too brave, to bear that injury without any complaint."

Her eyes quickly went across the table, failing to conceal any sense of sneering and contempt. John let it slide off his back, being all too used to the unsubtle digs at his character by the pair of them by now and not expecting them to let up any time soon, even while greater concerns were beleaguering the world.

"Thank you, Miss O'Brien," Thomas accepted the compliment smoothly. "But I think we ought to give Mr Bates some credit here too."

His stomach churned with sourness; he was sure that the whole of the hall – except for Anna, who continued diligently working – had turned to glare at him.

Thomas certainly was, dark irises glowing a strange shade while his mouth had curled into what appeared to being an empathetic and understanding smile.

"Really?" John uttered, half-pretending that he had misheard.

"We both know what it's like, to want to do more but having the bad luck to be stopped, only by doing our best of course." He continued to grin, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. "Blimey, I never thought I'd see the day where we'd have something in common, Mr Bates."

He decided the best plan of action was to remain quiet and civil, not rising to the bait that Thomas so clearly wanted to hook him with.

"Neither did I, Thomas."

An uneasy feeling remained with him whilst the comparison stayed, permeating the silence that he had brought on by not choosing to say anything more. Thomas had been quite the pleasant company in his presence recently, in so much that he hadn't gone out of his way to be obnoxious. The thought had briefly crossed his mind that perhaps experiencing war had changed the younger man but that was gone before he had the opportunity to seriously contemplate it. He and Miss O'Brien still had their secretive chats, and John had stumbled upon them more than once whispering and swiftly ceasing, going back to the work they had neglected when they became aware of his presence.

He looked up from his book, past hoping that his Lordship might take the unusual step of ringing for something in the middle of the afternoon, to see Daisy with her head bowed, her eyes holding the same sorrows as he had glimpsed some minutes previous.

"I say a prayer every night," she admitted candidly, her hands clasped in front of her even now, though the end of the day was some hours away yet.

"We all do."

He felt guilt himself that his heart should leap at the sound of Anna's voice – so sweet and soft, with a weight beneath the intonation, which he hoped had only to do with the sympathy she felt for Daisy's plight and the kindness she possessed for every living creature rather than any hardship and similar heartbreak she had herself experienced.

Then he thought of the agony he had put her through by walking away from her with his feeble excuses, turning those beautiful sounds that came from her mouth into anguished sobs that followed him on the journey he had had no wish to make. They had lived in his mind, became the thing that woke him in turmoil from nightmares of never seeing her again for as long as whoever was responsible granted him the continued grace to live. Worse were the nightmares in which he returned and she told him she wanted nothing more to do with him, that her love was too precious to be wasted on a despicable excuse for a man that he was.

Her eyes looked up for the first time since she had set to work on the blouse, and as they met with his he knew that all of his hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares were lost, unknown to him any longer. Everything he had was surrendered to her, and he felt there was no greater purpose he could give himself over to.

"A fat lot of good praying will do." Miss O'Brien had saw fit to speak again, perhaps because she thought she had some right in being a higher rank than both Anna and Daisy, more than a singular note of mocking in her tone.

He had already had his fill, and if that sour puss went any further he wasn't sure he would be responsible for his actions. He rose from his seat without fuss, throwing a small glance and smile towards Anna as he went past, heading for the door into the courtyard.

It was a relief to get fresh air into his lungs; the smell of cigarette smoke that once had been commonplace, sometimes even appealing, had become just as repellent to him. He had felt increasingly stifled as the afternoon had worn on, starting to resent the hall – he had got so used to his own company again – and in turn feeling wretched for doing so, when he had long dreamt of returning to the Abbey; a dream that he had believed was all but impossible given all the shame he had caused, apparently so easily forgiven.

And yet still, with the peaceful and distant calls of birds for his current company, Thomas's claims continued to echo. He hated that he could so much as be aligned with that coward, for there was little doubt in his mind that was what Thomas was; it was regular enough amongst the battalions in Africa, those who bragged the loudest about their victories were the very same ones who would scarper sharply away, cowering at the first fledgling of an unexpected attack. The longer he brooded upon the thought, the more he considered – with deep regret – that there was more truth in the utterance than he cared to admit. After all, when was the last time he had been truly fearless? It seemed almost impossible for him to recall.

The worry was always in the back of his mind; he was as good as a prisoner, on the run from his jailer. The regret was heavy in his chest; Anna deserved so much more than what he could offer. She was the one full of faith and hope, and though he didn't feel less of a man for admitting that she was his source of strength – it made him prouder and more whole than he had been in years to confess that truth to himself – he wished that he could be better, for her.

There was nothing to be done about the past and so far he couldn't promise a great deal of the future. It didn't seem a right way to live, especially not when he had resolved to do more following his return. Perhaps he just had to face up to the fact that this was how he was. Anna often talked about how she wouldn't change anything about him, and he trusted her judgment far more than his own.

He had expected her to follow him out after a while, and heard her gentle footsteps skim the cobbles, but a jolt of surprise ran through him when he felt her hand upon his arm.

"Penny for them?"

Her eyes were bright, the smile settled in the shining apples of her cheeks, and despite himself he couldn't help from smiling too.

"Oh, they're not worth half that much."

She tipped her head to the side, the late-afternoon light catching her hair strikingly.

"Now, I know that's not true."

He waited for a Mr Bates to round off her sentence but it didn't come and he felt a little bereft, even though he had told her she needn't be so formal with him. They were engaged, after all. Aside from the odd barely distinguishable strand, her bun remained intact from the morning, and he found himself fascinated by thoughts of the architecture. Occasionally he'd catch her rubbing her hand at the back of her head when nobody else was looking and he imagined that the pins must be painful. Too often he thought of her shaking her hair loose, mesmerised by imagined visions of golden waves cascading far down past her shoulders as she wore her nightgown absent of a shawl.

Hold yourself together, Bates. He thought back to his military training, the source of so much of his resolve.

Anna expelled a small sigh, looking up to the sky arching over the both of them. "I'm glad of the lighter nights being here again. Things feel so much more hopeful, somehow."

He had an idea of what she meant, not feeling that it was only wishful thinking on both their behalf.

"And the weather's been so lovely too."

A sweet smell lingered in the air, the familiar scent of rain after an otherwise fine day. So far the month hadn't brought too many of its lauded showers, and he took it as a good omen as well as a somewhat selfish blessing. She happened to look beautiful at any time of year but her fair complexion meant that the sunshine suited her especially well.

"Hopefully it will stay just as fine for our next half day."

She smiled at his remark; they had joked about them sharing the same time off since discovering it to be the case, wondering idly if it had been something other than coincidence.

There was something in her smile that gave him the confidence to go through with his thoughts, as well as his desire to go back to the resolution he had made since returning. He took a deep breath before he filled the small space between them with the notion of what he had toyed with for so long.

"I was thinking that, perhaps, we might go somewhere." His head started to whirl, his mouth suddenly quite dry. "Thirsk or Ripon. A change of scenery."

She stayed staring at him for a while, fighting the urge to laugh. Eventually she broke the silence that had descended, just as he was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Are you suggesting that we go on a date, Mr Bates?"

He noticed the teasing in her tone, it sparked a warmth within the centre of his chest. He would have responded with if that's what you want to call it, but the phrase made him wince slightly, given the last time he had used it. That was something else he could make up for, he considered, though he had a rather long list.

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, losing none of their glow when he reasoned that they would need to do something during the daytime; a trip to the pictures would have been preferable, but it wasn't possible given their respective duties. A spot of tea might do, or luncheon at a small hotel. Something to affirm and celebrate their status to one another, to make the most of their time with each other away from their place of work.

It was the very least that she deserved, and he only wished that he could do more – do what they both so desperately longed for. But for now it was the best that was available. In time she would have everything of him; she already owned his heart and he eagerly awaited the day when she would have ownership of his name too.

"What do you think?" he found himself saying, nerves jangling and heart hammering in his chest.

She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes, her fingers gliding across the arm of his jacket.

"I suppose it's fine," she answered, attempting to keep her lips straight. "Though I'd have to hope I didn't get into trouble with Mrs Hughes."

John broke into a grin, relieved that it wasn't anything else that made her hesitate.

"Well, I could go and ask her permission now if you like. I wouldn't want her to think anyone was taking liberties with her charges."

Her hand moved swiftly to his chest and he caught his breath as she pushed at him lightly.

"I don't expect she'll mind really. If anybody can be trusted to be the perfect gentleman, Mr Bates, then it's you." He watched her eyes lighting as she curved herself closer to him, catching just one more moment. "On the other hand, you might need to keep an eye out for me."

A pair of curious birds were the only witnesses as they shared a kiss in the cover of the sun's falling shade.

He woke that day feeling more nervous than he ever had before in his life, chest tight and a nagging burning sensation deep in the pit of his stomach. He was excited, too, and told his body and mind to be reasonable and allow him to enjoy what he had painstakingly planned. Something far worse would need to befall him before he would cancel. That option was unthinkable – Anna had had more than enough disappointment already. This was significant; aside from that one unexpected afternoon in Kirkbymoorside, entirely down to her and her wonderful courage, they had not done anything together, alone. Whatever nerves he had, he would battle them until they were overcome.

He fairly stumbled through the morning, making small mistakes but so many of them that his Lordship enquired whether he was quite well, a question that took on another bent when he noted the lack of colour in his valet's countenance. Even in the pleasant open air he seemed unable to stop himself from sweating profusely – blasted collar was too tight – and almost refrained from offering his hand to Anna when the bus to Thirsk stopped to let them on board and alight. His sense of honour won out in the end, and it was lucky for him that she was wearing gloves.

Of course he still worried, though he did what he could to chase the thoughts away. Having Anna sit so close to him, her side almost pressed against his in the small space of the bus, helped him. It was all out of his hands. There had been no word as yet from Vera or her solicitor, but perhaps that was a good sign. He had never been able to second guess what she might do and an easy cooperation was the last thing on his mind, even now. As they passed into the main thoroughfare he had the terrible idea that she would be sitting there, waiting for them as they arrived at the hotel, the decree nisi shredded to pieces and scattering from her hands.

Thankfully the image did not materialise, but he was almost similarly shocked as they were ushered through into the dining area. The room was larger and much grander than he had imagined, ornate decorations adorning the walls and each of the tables. Looking about them there were a number of guests who were so fine in their appearance that they would not have looked out of place at one of the Granthams' many dinner parties, and there was a large crystal chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling. As it transpired the quaint property he had enquired into a week or so ago was connected to a bigger, more exclusive hotel and the same restaurant served them both.

His face must have been crimson with embarrassment as he turned from the maitre-d to Anna, but before he could whisper any apologies to her she met his gaze with a wide smile, beaming from beneath the brim of her hat.

The maitre-d was so well turned out that he could have passed for another footman, more than matching up to Mr Carson's standards. He gave them both a polite but warm smile, looking up from the list in front of him.

"The reservation for Mr and Mrs...?" he asked with a well-rehearsed nature.

"Downton," John replied, rocking forward slightly from his heels. He felt Anna's eyes going up towards him, where seconds before she had been gazing round at the scene she found herself a part of, doing so with the utmost discretion as she was well-versed in.

She quieted her laugh to nearly no sound at all, only enough that he was aware of her obvious amusement, it twinkling in her irises.

"I panicked while I was on the telephone," he answered her gleeful expression. "It was the first thing that came to mind."

"Silly beggar," she whispered, briefly squeezing her still gloved hand in his before the maitre-d seated them at a table near one of the corners of the room beside a beautiful arrangement of flowers. For its size it was surprisingly intimate, as well as being light and airy and having the most wonderful mixture of scents, no doubt because of the array of cakes and confectionaries that were being served with pleasant smiles.

John passed a menu to Anna, feeling easier now that they were comfortable. He watched her with the same sense of wonder as he always felt thinking how out of everyone living in the world she had chosen to fall in love with him. Of course for him there had been no say in the matter; he had been lost and found from the very first day he had arrived at the Abbey, his hand slipping into hers and their tentative smiles meeting, though he could never have dared to imagine they would get to where they were now. After some perusing she said that she would just have a tea for now, and he ordered similarly. They had quite enough time yet and he intended to make the most of it, willing the seconds and minutes to pass as slowly as they were able without stilling completely.

She smiled all the while as they talked, and John was utterly captivated, more than happy to be the silent party whilst she delighted him with everything he could ever want to know. Eventually his eyes moved from her beautiful face down to her hands, resting one over the other upon the bright white tablecloth. The glint of the emerald jewel set upon the gold band caught his eye and he grinned, observing her turning bashful for the briefest of moments until all of that alluring confidence was back in its rightful place.

"I thought I had better come prepared," she explained, stroking the third finger of her left hand absent-mindedly and smiling with such hope in her eyes that it might have broke his heart if it were any other day.

It seemed somewhat presumptuous, and sorrow had struck him for a while pondering the matter once he was off the phone, reservation in place. The sweetest mistruth he could ever tell, to refer to Anna as his wife, even to a perfect stranger. He would preserve her reputation to the end and it took him by the most pleasant surprise that he hadn't given it second thought whilst he was conversing. The only thing she didn't possess at the moment was his name and the blessing of the law.

His heart skipped the longer he looked at the ring, appearing to fit her so well.

"That's my mother's engagement ring," he uttered, rather obviously. He had passed it to her on the evening of their own engagement, as they sat in a precious moment alone in the unusually quiet servants' hall, before they dreamed of their shared hopes for an idyllic future.

She nodded, her gaze somewhat hazy as she met it with his own again.

"I keep it round my neck, underneath my uniform," she went on, letting him in on what felt like an incredibly momentous secret. With the fingers of her other hand she toyed with the ring, twirling it about a couple of times before settling her finger over the modest jewel in its middle. "I'll take it off the chain at night, and wear it where it should be when I go to bed."

The confession affected him so, a great warmth spreading from the centre of his chest, that he could not resist brushing his fingers over hers. She sighed when he traced the curve of her palm, life and heart lines – his mother always paid such attention to those – and giggled softly as he placed a kiss just below where the ring rested.

By God, if it was the last thing he did, he would obtain this divorce from Vera's unwilling hands and marry Anna the very next day, the next minute if it were possible. She didn't deserve to be kept waiting any longer.

"Gwen asks after you."

He smiled at the mention of their former colleague, Anna's good friend. He was glad they were still in touch.

"How is she?"

"Very well, in the scheme of things. She doesn't write as often as she did when she first left, but we're all so busy." Her expression turned slightly wistful, but soon brightened as she straightened her back against the chair. "She's in local government now. It sounds like there's been a bit of upheaval, of course, what with most of the men being away. She's doing a lot for families, seeing that they have the right provisions, and helping to support the women who have started to work in absence of their husbands."

"Lady Sybil would be proud."

And he could see quite clearly that she was too. She always took such delight in the achievements of those dear to her, and it made him glow with pride in turn.

The sunshine of her smile clouded over a little. "She has a beau, he was called up at the end of last year. He's stationed in Belgium. She sounds cheery enough but I can read it, in little phrases here and there."

There was little in the way of comfort to offer. It was the reality of the situation, true for so many but made all the worse when it hit close to home.

"Perhaps it's selfish of me, but when I pray for everyone out there I also thank God that he spared me all of that worry. I would be so sick with it, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

She fiddled with the ring at once so unfamiliar and which brought back a flood of memories for him, the clashing of the distinct times and thoughts of what might have been if he had been whole and able making him shiver.

The sorrow that he traced in her eyes – the sorrow that made him despise himself for all the mistakes and misdemeanours he had made before life's path brought him to her, his saviour and redemption – was receding, replaced by the love he was now able to accept deserved to be given to him.

"For all of our troubles, I wouldn't trade places with anyone else. I'm not afraid of her," her tone was resolute, which gave him more heart than the promise of any solicitor's agreements, "I know that whatever you say that she'll get worn down in the end. But if you were away, and I couldn't be sure from one minute to the next whether you were safe, then I would go to pieces." Her hand reached over the table to his once more, covering it with softness before clinging on tight. "The thought of being without you makes me more frightened than anything."

He felt the weight of her fear, the phantom of it pressing down upon him and making it hard for him to breathe for a moment or two. Fifteen months they had spent apart and he would do all he could to endeavour that such a time should never come to pass again.

Her smile was rather sheepish. "I suppose I shouldn't be so glad of your injury."

"It has its advantages," he replied cheekily, placing his free hand between the thigh and knee. "It's one of the few times that I've been supremely glad of it."

He had been glad that it had driven Vera away, the idea that she might need to tend to him for the rest of his life enough to repulse her. It was funny, he supposed; he had gone to fight the Boers so that he could get away from Vera and what was a curse had turned into his best blessing, even if it had taken some years to come to fruition.

Talk of war stoked appetite, strangely. They ate their sandwiches with conversation shared in between, John feeling comfortable enough to make remark on their surroundings and suggesting that they may hope for something rather more modest for their own future. Smart enough that the Crawleys – most likely Lady Mary – could pay a visit, though what the Dowager would make of that nobody could possibly say, but most importantly cosy and accommodating to feel like home for some good time. It wasn't only the selection of elegantly-crafted cakes that made Anna beam so beautifully, her sweet-tooth being so well satisfied that she let him have all that she was unable to finish.

It was with a little regret that he fished his pocket-watch out and they came to the mutual conclusion that it was best that they were on their way, if they were ever to get back to the Abbey with adequate time to spare before dinner. No doubt the dastardly duo would have something to say about them both being away, even if it was just through pointed glances across the hall, but Anna shrugged and said they could 'stick it up their jumpers' – and he could think of no better course of action.

They walked hand-in-hand through the smaller hotel's lobby, John quietly bursting with happiness that they were able to do so. Once they were outside they would need to put the facade back into place, though they still had the bus ride back into Downton to revel in closeness.

As they were about to depart they noticed a young woman looking rather flustered, bags at her feet and an infant wriggling in her arms. She looked about her, assessing her situation helplessly, and despite time being tight both of them felt it was their obligation to do something to help, no matter how small.

"Do you need a hand?" John asked softly, approaching the woman with care.

Her eyes, and that of the child's, looked towards them both, relief and gratitude visible in the woman's demeanour.

"I've left one of my suitcases upstairs in the room. I should hope it's not too late, I've already checked out and we need to be on our way to catch a bus in the next half hour."

"I can't see that they'd get rid of anything," Anna interjected, "although it might take a while to find if they've put it in lost luggage."

"It's my own silly fault," the woman sighed, "I swear I don't know whether I'm coming or going most of the time these days."

The child did not share its mother's tension, all gummy smiles and brandishing a small toy in its chubby-fisted grasp. To be so carefree was a true pleasure, and the little one revelled in it.

"I can go up and retrieve it, if you give me the number."

"Oh, that would –" Her gaze was drawn downwards, taking in the sight of the cane in his hand. "That's very kind of you, but I couldn't ask it."

John smiled as he accepted the decision that had been made. He realised that the stranger wasn't being unkind – if anything she believed that she was doing him a service in graciously not asking a man of his reduced ability to exert himself.

The child squealed in its mother's arms, launching the soft toy into the air.

"Bobby!" the woman called, her tone lightly admonishing. "Be careful. You nearly hit the poor lady."

"No harm done," Anna smiled, reaching down to pick up what was now recognisable as a small rabbit, which had landed square at her feet.

She waved the toy in her hand, smiling as little Bobby giggled and held both arms out, trying to take it back but not being able to reach quite far enough.

"You wouldn't mind..." the woman began, her attention turned toward Anna, "could I leave him with you while I go upstairs? It won't take me a minute."

"Of course – "

Anna barely had time to reply before the child was passed into her arms, his legs anchoring around her waist and his smile wide as he gazed up curiously at her.

"Well, you're a happy one, aren't you?" Anna cooed, breaking into a laugh as the boy hoisted himself up further. They had both assumed that he was reaching for his bunny, which was still in Anna's hand, but instead he took fascination with the flower pinned at the side of her hat and attempted to pull the brim down for closer inspection.

Anna proceeded to play a game of peek-a-boo with the child, both of them laughing gleefully and almost unaware of the world around them. The amusement would have provided joy to anyone who happened to be passing, but John felt something deeper as he watched, the sight seeming so real that it pulled fiercely at the strings of his heart.

It was all too easy for him to get lost for some minutes, a glimpse of the future that they had both talked about revealing itself to his eyes. He hoped he had not been hasty in his promises; it was not even the next step on the road. But on this afternoon he found that he had little dispensation for fretting and fussing. Perhaps it was the change of scenery, providing him in turn with a changed perspective. There was some distance to go, he did not deny that, but this was a significant marker – one which he was now able to envisage without only dreaming of the picture. It was in their future, and for that reason he was able to look forward, when so much of his life thus far had been spent in gazing back.

They were at the bus stop with a few minutes to spare, reassured by their doing a good deed and wondering what excuses they could give when they would both have to refuse a hefty slice of Mrs Patmore's Victoria sponge later on. The angle of the late afternoon sun caused Anna to squint, despite the cover of her hat.

"It's been a lovely afternoon. We should go back there again."

"The chocolate cake is certainly worth travelling for," he agreed.

She smiled up at him, more than in acquiescence at the quality of the food at the hotel. He had not imagined the 'date' to be quite so momentous when he had suggested it, and though neither spoke of it they both felt the importance and change in feeling. It certainly put a spring in his step when they descended from their carriage, and a happy warmth in his heart which he carried with him to his quarters that night.

Before he went to sleep, in the peaceful silence that accompanied the dark, he recalled the words they had agreed upon before they had arrived back as Anna Smith and John Bates respectively.

"I do hope that there will be other dates, Mr Bates." She slipped back into her everyday persona with absolute ease, though the smile that she had worn in their time away remained firm upon her face. "If I may say, it's been a long time in coming."

He laughed, his eyes lowering as her hand lifted, and he placed another kiss upon it.

"Well then, there are quite a few owed to you," he left the imprint of a smile against her skin, "so I don't imagine that should be a problem."

A/N: Ah, I always love returning to S2. I was trying to work out when Gwen would have got together with her John Harding, given the information in 6.4, and I don't think it's too unreasonable to imagine that they would have started courting during the war (if we imagine that Gwen moved from being a secretary at the telephone company fairly quickly) and that he also would have been posted away.

I have termed this 'Chapter 1' as I would like to write more for this in future... I'm a bit reluctant to put a time stamp on any updates because of my ongoing WIPs, but watch this space.