A/N: I am not entirely sure that this turned out well. Apparently I couldn't quite imagine something truly terrible. I also wanted to take a moment to thank my friend who reads every story and gives me suggestions. It's especially wonderful because she's not even a fan of DA.

Disclaimer: Nope, I haven't received a royalty check from ITV or PBS this month.


Looking at the mirror, she pinched her cheeks. She had been looking pale and drawn of late and that would never do. She liked looking hale and hearty whenever he was there. She could tell that he thought that she would outlive him and even Anna. Deciding that pinched cheeks weren't going to be enough, she pricked her finger and dabbed the resulting blood lightly on her cheeks. She had just pinned her hair when the bell rang.

Several minutes later, she set the tea service on the table between their two chairs. 'What a homey air this gives,' she thought sardonically. Silence reigned for a few minutes.

"I hope your journey from Yorkshire was pleasant," she said.

"Not particularly," he replied curtly.

"I'm not sure what you hoped to accomplish by coming here. Nothing has changed and nothing will."

"Vera, why do you hold on? You have the money that Carlisle gave you and you have had my money, if you'd just let it happen."

"Well, I know you won't believe me if I said it was because I cared for you."

He sniggered.

"But," she continued, "honestly, I don't like the pitying looks. All of London thinks that I am a spinster and I'm not, not really."

"Pitying looks? You've put me through hell because of pitying looks?"

"In the beginning, yes, and then I came to Downton and saw your Miss Smith. I'm in London getting pitying looks and there you were with a girl who could be your daughter."

"Vera…"

"No doubt her youth blinded you to the fact that she's clearly no innocent. I'd wager that she's bedded every other male servant in the house. She'll be off like a shot the moment that she's had you, that is if you can follow through on that promise. As I recall, you were rather deficient in that area."

"Vera," he hissed.

"Perhaps I should have let the divorce decree happen. Seeing you stuck with that little whore for life might have been worth it."

She watched as his face turned red and his fists clenched and unclenched. She knew what was coming and she wished that Anna could be there to see the truth of John Bates.

"Vera, I have tried living with you, not living with you, drinking myself into a stupor, not drinking, talking, yelling, begging, ignoring, pleading with you," he said is a calm tone that surprised her, "there's nothing left to say and all that's left to do is hope that I survive you."

Something snapped inside of her. Why should Anna get this man? She stood up and walked over to the china cabinet. Without thinking, she picked up a tea cup and hurled it at him him, hitting him on the temple. "John Bates, you will never rid of me. Even if you do survive me, I will haunt your every step," she seethed.

Holding a handkerchief to his wound, he got up and without another glance walked out the door.

'Oh Batesy, you're done with me by a long shot, ' she thought. She took out a piece of paper and began writing a letter to her dear friend, Amelia Thatcher, each stroke of her pen consigning him to a bleak life.