Okay, I was thinking about leaving it there. But then I decided not to, and this happened. It will probably go on another three or four chapters now. And it may be a bit crap because my brain is dead lately. :L

Chapter 2

By Anna's still form he could tell that she hadn't heard a word. If she had, she might have run straight to him – he half wished she would, although he wanted her to take it all in at her own pace. Or she might have broken down sobbing in her seat, friends nearby to dry her tears and hold her hands until she was ready for him. But this lying still? It meant she hadn't heard a word.

He sought out her eyes, though he wanted to hide from them. He couldn't bear to be the one to tell her, but the thought of somebody else doing it for him was horrible. She had to hear it from him, and so he searched her face until he managed to connect to her eyes.

My darling, I am so sorry.

She stared at him, then drew back a little, shaking her head slowly, until her back was pressed against the wall and she was paling at a frightening rate. How he wanted to go to her, but he couldn't; it would—

What was he thinking? His trial was done with, no action of his would influence his conviction. Ignoring the guards trying to stop him, he made his way down the courtroom towards her. He didn't drop his eyes for a moment, and there was a strength in his step he hadn't felt for some time.

As he reached the pew, Lady Mary and Mrs Hughes moved a little out of the way, and he moved to kneel in front of Anna, taking one of her hands in his and using the other hand to cup her face.

"It's alright," he said, and she moved at once into his arms, crying softly. And he tried to comfort her however he could, but one thought began to take him over. He was going to die.

He was going to leave Anna behind, and soon. His involvement in her life had brought her little happiness and too much grief, and now it would force upon her the title of murderer's widow. If only he had stayed away…

It would have done no good, he reprimanded himself sharply. If he had stayed away from Anna he probably would have killed Vera, if she'd been at him like this. He would be a vicious man, reverted to his old ways, and she… He couldn't speak for certain about Anna, but he knew that she would choose this path every time.

He wept with her.

~o~

"Was it something I did wrong?" he asked his lawyer later, when he had for the moment got the pain out of his system, when Anna had friends looking after her and he had been ordered back to his cell.

"No, I don't think so," Mr Waters said, considering the matter over, his eyes shifting like cogs turning in his mind, in that strange way of his. "You gave your statement very well. The late Mrs Bates just laid her trap too cleverly."

John flinched to hear Vera called that, as he always did. Mrs Bates, in his mind, was always Anna; the late Mrs Bates, his mother. Vera was only Vera.

"So what happens now?"

Waters hesitated. "I'll keep my eyes open for new evidence," he said, "and place an appeal if there is reason for it. Otherwise, I'm sorry to say, there's nothing that can be done."

John had expected this. He nodded. "But what about my wife?"

"She will inherit whatever worldly goods you may have. The money, and the house, of course; she will be well looked after with that. I daresay she will now continue working at Downton, although you would do well to ask her."

"Yes, of course, but if I want to… spend some time with her, before…"

"Well, of course she will be able to take all her usual visits."

"Yes," John said, and the faintest trace of a smile flitted across his features. "But it would put both our minds a great deal at ease if we were able to spend a few nights together."

Waters shook his head. "I'll do what I can, Bates, but be aware that it's a long shot, won't you? Don't tell that poor woman anything when it almost certainly won't come to pass."

Of course he wouldn't do that.

In another ten minutes Mr Waters was gone, and John left once more to himself. He pushed back onto the bed and lay silently for a while, closing his eyes and picturing himself at home, in his bed at Downton. It didn't work. He knew too well that he was going to die.

He picked up the book that had been occupying him when nothing else did, and started to read again, but the words were all a blur. He sighed heavily and put it down, rolling over to lie face-down on the bed. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to be without Anna, nor leave her alone. He couldn't. And yet they were going to kill him, he had no choice.

He allowed himself to cry a little. More than anything, he hated that this pain would engulf Anna, too.