Disclaimer: I still don't own Downton

Trigger warning: This chapter is the most triggering of the whole fic, the coming chapters will not be. If you find descriptions of attempted suicide disturbing, skip the second-to-last section.

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She was within sight of the Abbey when she realised it was still very early to return. Retracing her steps, she walked slowly back to the village, letting her feet carry her almost on autopilot –not realising until she was standing in front of the church that this was where she had intended to visit all along. The church had been her sanctuary during both of Mr. Bates' prolonged absences, and it felt, sounded and smelled exactly as it had during those long-ago months when it felt like her world was coming apart at the seams.

Back then, she had visited the church to pray for Mr. Bates' return... that day, as she knelt down at the back of the deserted church, she prayed to a God who now seemed vindictive, pleading with Him to forgive her for the sins she was contemplating, and to give Mr. Bates the strength to carry on without her.

Sin. Unspeakable sin. The realisation that she was about to do something against the laws of both man and God made her stomach lurch and she bolted from the church and retched in the shadows of the church parvis.

I never asked for any of this to happen. It seemed like this was all part of a chain of events which had been set in motion long ago that she had been powerless to stop. Mr. Matthew's death, Lord Gillingham's arrival at the house party organised to lift Lady Mary's spirits, with Mr. Green in tow. The concert, the attack –she could never refer to it as anything else, not even to herself –and now this parasitic being growing inside her.

It's unforgivable, but there's no other way. Hoping that sinning out of necessity rather than choice counted for something in the eyes of God, she stepped out of the darkness and began picking her way carefully through the churchyard, not wanting to risk another fall. She was so focused on the steps she was taking across the mossy stones that she almost collided with Mrs. Crawley, who was on her way in.

"Anna? What are you doing here?" Mrs. Crawley asked in surprise once they had both apologised and collected themselves.

"Sometimes I come here to think," Anna replied vaguely. "Away from all the hustle and bustle at the Abbey."

As she walked past the gravestones: William's, Miss Swire's, Lady Sybil's, Mr. Matthews, the realisation that she would soon be placed in the ground too, although not here with them, not on this hallowed ground, hit her and she had to stifle a sob, not noticing that Mrs. Crawley's eyes were still on her. Soothing as it was to think that the pain, the nightmares and memories of Mr. Green on her would soon be gone, it was painful to think that she would be leaving everything else behind her too.

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She couldn't face sitting at the table with the other servants for dinner. Just the thought of sitting next to Mr. Bates and Mrs. Hughes for the last time, knowing it would be the last time and unable to tell them, made her throat close up and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep her composure. If she cried at dinner, if she acted at all different, they might start to suspect something.

"You're back early," Mrs. Hughes observed when Anna walked back into the servants' hall, pale and exhausted after her long traipse round the village.

"I just went for a walk, thought the fresh air might help ease my headache," Anna explained. "It didn't work, though."

"You don't look very well," Mrs. Hughes agreed, reaching out to draw Anna further into the warmth of the hall. Anna looked worse than she had before she left: her eyes were red-rimmed, her face paler and she seemed unable to keep herself from shivering, although there wasn't much of a chill in the air.

"Maybe you should go and lie down," Mrs. Hughes suggested. "I could send you up a tray later on if you don't feel up to eating with the rest of us."

"No thank you," Anna politely refused the offer of a tray. "I'm sure I just need a couple of extra hours' sleep, and I'll wake up right as rain for breakfast." Mrs. Hughes was being so kind to her lately, but she wouldn't be if she knew what evil was festering inside Anna. For the first time, a pang of guilt shot through Anna as she thought of what she would be putting Mrs. Hughes through tomorrow –much as she was trying not to think about it, her imagination was giving her an all-too-vivid image of what Mrs. Hughes would find when she came into Anna's room to see why she hadn't come down for breakfast. She resolutely pushed the thought away. Sparing Mr. Bates was the priority here.

"I'll say goodnight then, Mrs. Hughes. And I'm sorry for all the trouble I've been putting you through." She didn't dare say more.

Mr. Bates entered the hall for dinner as she spoke, and his eyebrows raised at her mention of trouble. Anna ducked her head to avoid meeting his searching gaze.

"I'll be staying late tonight, Mrs. Hughes," she heard Mr. Bates say. "His Lordship won't want to be dressed for bed until well after dinner."

How she wished she could wait for him, could walk to the cottage with him, snuggle next to him and share his warmth, feel safe and protected in his arms. Instead, she was going up to a cold empty room, with plans to commit an unspeakable atrocity upon her own body.

Declining Mrs. Hughes' suggestion of a powder for her headache, and assuring everyone that all she needed was an undisturbed night of sleep, she bade everyone goodnight, wishing she could say a proper goodbye to Mr. Bates, rather than a hurried "goodnight."

Refusing to consider any other actions: she couldn't trick Mr. Bates, and she couldn't tell him the truth and risk him hanging, she tried to walk up the staircase normally: no lingering looks, no parting squeeze of the hand. No other choice, she reminded herself. Once he knew the truth, Mr. Bates would be able to carry on living without her, but she wasn't strong enough to live without him, or live a lie with him. It was ironic that Mr. Bates had referred to her as his rock during his imprisonment. She felt like anything but a rock, more like a wobbly-legged jellyfish lately.

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She wanted to barricade her door, but was afraid that would be too suspicious if anyone thought to check up on her. As long as they opened her door and saw her lying on the bed, supposedly asleep, in the dark, their minds would be put at rest and she would be safe from discovery till dawn.

The guilt over leaving Mr. Bates was still very strong, and she began to rummage through her drawers for the writing things she knew were stuffed in there somewhere, unused since his return. It was suddenly very important for her to leave him an explanation –not a love-token, but a plea for forgiveness. Her normally elegant handwriting turned spidery as she scrawled memories, explanations and finally, an apology, choking back a sob as she signed Yours forever, Anna, for the last time, and propped the sealed letter next to her candlestick, where Mrs. Hughes was sure to see it and, she hoped, pass it on to him. Not that she would blame Mrs. Hughes if she burned it, either.

Her tears were flowing freely now and she didn't bother to try and stop them. No one would see her now, so what did it matter? Sitting down on her bed with one of her clothes hangers, she tried to untwist the ends with trembling fingers. Time and again, her hands slipped and the metal scratched her fingers, until she held it, one pointed end sticking up, in her bleeding hands.

She changed quickly into a nightgown, leaving her underthings off, and lay down on the bed, rolling the nightgown up to her hips so she could easily pull it back down and tug the covers over herself.

It's okay, it'll be over soon, she whispered to herself as she positioned the sharp end of the coat hanger low down at the entrance to her body –she hadn't expected it would take such an act of contortionism. She buried her face in her pillow to muffle the scared little whimpers that were escaping from her throat and decided that she would have to do this by feel alone –she simply could not watch herself go through with this.

Completely unbidden, a memory of Mr. Bates' voice from their first night together floated into her consciousness. "Anna, you need to relax. It's going to be alright, trust me." Trying to make herself go limp, she took a deep breath, mentally steeled herself and pushed the spike, then did it twice more, biting down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood in her attempt to stifle cries of pain as she felt flesh tear.

As she felt the first slow trickle of blood run down her legs, she curled herself into a ball and gave in to tears of pain, sorrow and terror.

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"Mrs. Hughes, may I ask a favour of you?" Mr. Bates asked as he waited in the servants' hall for Lord Grantham to ring for him. Mrs. Crawley had come over to the Abbey for dinner, and although he had known His Lordship would be late, this dinner seemed to be dragging on exaggeratedly late.

"You may," Mrs. Hughes conceded –she was sure she knew what he would be asking.

"Could you check on Anna –she looked so ill when she went upstairs," he explained.

"I was intending to," Mrs. Hughes admitted. "She's probably asleep by now, but I'll look in quietly just to be sure."

"I'll sleep much better if I know she's comfortably asleep," Mr. Bates admitted, almost embarrassed at exposing this vulnerable side of him, even to the kindly housekeeper.

Leaving Mr. Bates sitting despondently at the table, Mrs. Hughes climbed the stairs to the maids' quarters and listened at Anna's door, expecting to hear quiet, regular breathing. Instead, she heard what sounded like gasping sobs and pushed open the door, expecting to find Anna sitting up in bed crying, or at worst, in the grip of a nightmare.

"Anna!" Mrs. Hughes cried as she took in the scene, illuminated by a flickering candlelight which made the sight even more eerie. Anna was curled in bed, trying to muffle her sobs with a pillow, and her eyes, which immediately met Mrs. Hughes' communicated in equal parts fear, pain and, as soon as they registered her entrance, shock.

"No," Anna gasped in horror when she realised that she had been found, but Mrs. Hughes barely heard her. All her attention was focused on the puddle of blood Anna was lying in, colouring the hem of her nightgown scarlet and forming a dark, viscous pool on the white sheet beneath her.

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As always, all reviews greatly appreciated

This was both painful and depressing to write, but once the idea was in my head I couldn't get it out except by writing it. I have most of the rest of this fic planned out, so while this is a bit of a cliffhanger ending, I won't be ending it on this note.