A/N: Back to Series 1, or more specifically the gap between 1 and 2. Back when it was all about stolen snuff boxes and being a silly beggar. Sigh.
Nothing More, Nothing Less, Only Love
4, Dark
It was dark when she came back downstairs that night. She would not have come down at all had it not been for the look he had given her earlier. The look that said they needed to talk.
Earlier that morning she had received a letter from the War Office. Her brother, Daniel, had been killed at the front. She had fled from the breakfast table and into the courtyard before any one could bear witness to her tears and the uncomfortable retching sounds that had escaped her mouth before the shock had really settled. Anna had hidden behind the crates, praying that no one would come and search for her just yet.
Well, anyone but him. When he came, she found herself not minding quite so much.
She had fallen into his arms, comforting herself in his sturdy embrace.
Their moment had not lasted as long as she had hoped. Mrs Hughes had come looking for them both - they were needed upstairs. But he had made her promise to talk to him later.
And now here they were, sat on some of the crates in the courtyard, their knees occasionally brushing against each other.
Anna had begun by talking about Daniel – their childhood together and particularly fond memories they could share.
"We were always close," Anna admitted through her own tears. "We fought, like you do with siblings, but I could always tell him anything."
John rubbed her back soothingly.
"I got on with him better than my sisters."
He watched her carefully as she shuddered, whether from the cold March night or the ferocity of her emotions.
"Will you go and visit your family?" John eventually asked.
"Probably, for the funeral. It's not far."
He didn't want to ask if there would be a body to have a funeral. It would only upset her more, and he knew he would do anything in his power to shield her from pain. Any kind of pain. The harshness of war struck him, as it had on so many occasions over the last months, although any thoughts of his about his experiences of war were firmly pushed out of his mind. His full attention should be on Anna, and she deserved that. He would often dwell on Africa during his nights alone when sleep eluded him. Well, Africa or Anna. He knew which he preferred.
"If you needed me to come with you..." He offered and she looked up at him, her eyes wide, holding this kind of vulnerability he had never really seen in her before. "... I would."
Anna drew herself closer to him, snuggling against the warmth of his chest, albeit from the awkward angle by his side. "Thank you." She sighed softly.
They remained silent for quite some time after that. John would have thought she had fallen asleep had it not been for her irregular breathing; breathing that was beginning to shake once more. And suddenly she was crying again, and after he had pulled her closer to him, he drew away and cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumbs.
This only caused more tears to fall, his loving and tentative movements shaking her to the core.
She lifted her eyes once more, and once she had nothing could stop John running his thumb over her lips, his heart lurching as they wobbled.
Anna responded shakily, almost pleading with him, "John..."
The next thing either of them knew, their lips were joined together, moving with a familiarity of years and years of practice. Their first kiss, cementing their emotions and their connection. It was not tentative, but passionate, even clumsy at times. Anna had lifted her hand to stroke some of the hair at the side of his head, and he was still cradling her face.
And here, in the darkness of the courtyard, John finally succumbed. Finally succumbed to Anna, and to his own heart.
A/N (2): I don't know, this is always how I imagined their first kiss, as a result of the war in some way. I think in that kind of situation they'd have finally succumbed. Again, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it makes my day to see your comments.