Back to series 1, episode 1...

Bates was crushed as he left Lord Grantham's room. He had put all his hopes in this job. It was his last hope, actually, and he had thought it was going well enough. Thomas was clearly out to get him—no doubt he had been hoping for the job—and O'Brien was clearly his fellow henchman, Mr. Carson seemed ambivalent, but his other coworkers seemed to have warmed to him. The maids and hall boys didn't snicker when he limped by, or if they did, they were polite enough that they did it out of his hearing. He considered that something of a victory. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore accepted him now, William was helpful, Gwen was friendly, if still slightly intimidated by him, and Anna was, well, whatever she was. His partisan, perhaps. He didn't know what to do with her. She was a lovely person and a better friend than he ever expected to find here. None of that mattered now though. He was leaving. Lord Grantham had been gracious just giving him a chance, but even his lordship had to make prudent choices sometimes, regardless of his personal feelings. So, here he was without a job, incapable of getting a job, nowhere to go, no money and utterly without hope.

He made his way down to Mr. Carson's office. As he entered, Mr. Carson looked up from his bookkeeping, "I understand you will be leaving us, Mr. Bates."

"Yes," Bates said simply.

"Very well," Carson said heavily, after a moment's pause, "I wish you luck in your future endeavors." He picked up his pen to return to his books, dismissing Bates.

Mr. Bates gave a small sigh as he looked down at his bad leg. "If you don't mind Mr. Carson, I'll not be down for dinner, I'm not feeling well."

Carson nodded in understanding. "Very well," he said again.

Mr. Bates turned and left. He climbed slowly up to his room. Thomas and O'Brien had won. The world had won. Its vendetta against him had reached its zenith. He had nowhere left to go, he was unemployed and unemployable. He had no home, no job, no family, no friends. His despair was made that much worse because he'd allowed himself to hope over the last couple weeks that he might find those things at Downton.

When he got to his room, he pulled out his valise and began packing. He didn't want to think about his life, so he concentrated all his mental energy on placing his things in his bag. When that was finished he sat on his bed. He had no idea how long he sat there heedless and unmoving, but some time later he snapped out of his semi-conscious state. Self-pity and hopelessness overwhelmed him and he found himself crying, sobbing even. He stifled the sound, but the tears wouldn't stop.

He was appalled when he heard Anna calling him from the hallway. What was she doing in the men's corridor? Everyone should be down eating by now. He looked up quickly and wiped his eyes. It would be impossible to hide that he had been crying, but it hardly mattered what she thought of him now.

He levered himself up off the bed and went over to the partially opened door. He didn't remember leaving it open, but then, in his misery, he hadn't been paying attention to anything. Anna was there with a tray of food, looking concerned and a little upset.

He knew he was an emotional wreck at that moment, but he was deeply moved by the tray and what it represented. Caring. It said something about his life that he was surprised that anyone cared enough to bring him dinner when they should be eating their own, but he hadn't had anyone care about him in a very long time.

"I brought something up," she said as he opened the door, "in case you were hungry."

Actually, the crying had made him sick to his stomach and right now the thought of eating made him nauseous, but that was beside the point. Anna looked like she was worried he might reject her offering and there was no way he would hurt her like that.

"That's very kind," he said as he took the tray, setting it on the side-table.

He was heartily embarrassed by the entire situation. He gave the door a glance, thinking maybe he could politely close it and get out of this embarrassing situation as quickly as possible, but Anna hadn't moved off and he couldn't just shut her out.

"I'm ever so sorry you're going," she said surprisingly earnestly. Bates believed her. Anna was a kind person and she had been his only friend so far. If anyone in this house would miss him, it would be her.

"I'll be alright," he lied. He had to look down as he said it, though. He wasn't quite a good enough liar to do it looking her in the eye.

Anna played along and gave him a smile.

"Of course you will—" she agreed. She had exhibited this strange confidence in him since practically the hour they met. He liked it, even as it disconcerted him. His getting fired hadn't seemed to dampen it. "—there's always a place for a man like you."

Awkward. This whole conversation was damned awkward. Yes, men like him did have a place; at his majesty's pleasure. Not in a fine house working for an earl with a good-natured girl wanting to be his friend.

"Oh yes," he said ironically, "something will turn up." Again he couldn't meet her eye as he mouthed the right words, but Anna didn't deserve him dragging her down into his misery, so he stuck with the lies. And indeed, he was sure something would turn up, but he doubted it would be anything good. His life didn't seem to run towards good things happening.

It's not that Bates didn't appreciate that she cared enough to check up on him, but right now it felt like he was being dragged backwards through a thresher. He'd think it might be better if no one cared about him at all except that he'd spent quite a bit of time like that and, for all his current embarrassment, this was preferable.

He watched as she made some sort of internal decision and said, "Tell us, when you're fixed. Just...drop us a line. Else I'll worry." Again with the caring. He didn't doubt her sincerity, but he could not understand why she was so kind to him. He appreciated it all the same.

"Well, we can't have that," he said. That wasn't a lie. He could tell because he looked her straight in the eye when he said it. He didn't want to hurt Anna in any way. Perhaps he would even write to her. It would be nice to have one person on earth—besides his mother—that cared if he lived or died. He felt like he was on the verge of saying something stupid so he gave her a ragged bit of a smile as he reached over and closed the door.