A/N: Things may be getting creepier... Brace yourselves! Thanks so much for reading - would love to know your thoughts, especially after this last scene...

Chapter 5

When Anna woke up that afternoon, John was still snoring gently beside her, and it was already dark outside. They had packed his suitcase, as he would be spending the next two days in London with his lordship, and both felt they could use a nap. She stifled a yawn and put on her slippers, intending to get started on dinner. It wasn't so dark that she couldn't see where she was going, so she decided to not light up any candles, not wanting to disturb John's sleep. She quietly closed the bedroom door behind her, but before she could reach the stairs the distinct sound of heavy knocking made her jump.

It was coming from the second bedroom. But how could it be? She had checked things downstairs herself before going up, and everything had been locked. It couldn't be anyone.

Another knock. And then another.

Anna looked around. It couldn't be a person, it definitely couldn't. Perhaps it was a bird that got locked inside somehow.

Three new knocks. Anna stepped toward the door hesitantly, not wanting to let this affect her. It made no sense that this could threaten her. It was most likely a little bird – yes, that was it. She reached for the door knob.

"What's the matter?" John's voice surprised her, as did another heavy knock. Anna turned around.

"Didn't you hear it?" she asked in a whisper.

John merely scratched his head. "Hear what?"

"Something's knocking on the door," Anna said, pointing to the now silent door behind her.

Her husband frowned. "I only heard you closing our bedroom door. Do you want me to check it?"

Anna nodded silently, and John moved towards the door – she chose to stand behind him. He turned on the knob slowly and burst it open, and they were met by complete silence. Anna followed him into the room, watching as he checked behind the door. The guest bedroom only held one small cabinet and a rug, and that was it. The window had no curtains and it was closed. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Are you all right?" John asked as he turned to look at her.

"I was sure I heard knocking," Anna told him with pleading eyes. "So sure. I even saw the door shaking. Like someone had been locked inside."

"Perhaps you were dreaming," John offered as an explanation. "Did you enjoy our nap?"

"Yes… Yes, very much so," Anna told him, though her eyes still searched for something – anything – in the room. "I guess I was just dreaming."

But it really hadn't seemed like a dream.

The words were mingling together before her – so many dates and names, it was quite hard to find what she was looking for. Mrs Hughes had been kind enough to let her go through the records of the servants, which had been neatly arranged by arrival and departure, but it was hard enough even knowing Anne's full name and having worked out the year she came to work at Downton. Before long, Anna stopped at the entries for 1831 – so many servants served this house before her, and there were so many during the last, much more than the number they had now. And finally, she found it.

Anne Caroline Nichols, housemaid. Arrived in April 1832, departed in January of 1834. There was nothing else there – she had been like any other servant that walked through the same corridors and might have sat exactly where Anna was right now. She had everything worked out though – she knew who James and Anne were. Anna was quite sure John would disapprove of her curiosity, and she knew he was worried about her, but she simply couldn't resist knowing more. The story appeared before her and she couldn't do anything about it – she just had a feeling she had to know.

She took advantage of John being away and Lady Mary having a a day out to spend some time in the library, and it didn't take her long to find information about James, the current Lord Grantham's grandfather. It appeared that he was quite adventurous, travelling a lot, and he and his wife had two sons – the oldest being born in 1834, father of the present Earl, and the youngest, father of Mr James Crawley, born in 1837. She wondered if there were any repercussions at the time, but it happened over eighty years ago; it was unlikely that she could find anything about it besides those letters. Considering the fact that James Crawley, the same Earl who claimed to be in love with Anne Nichols, housemaid, apparently remained married and living with his wife until his death, Anna highly doubted the affair had a good outcome. She had read all their letters and they all stopped abruptly in 1834, before Annie had her baby, she imagined. The Earl still appeared to be in love with her and even visiting; Anna was quite sure that Annie had been moved to their cottage once she was dismissed from the household. Perhaps James had still wanted her close. But in the end, Anna didn't know much more than that. She had the nagging feeling that Annie never got to raise her child. Perhaps she died in childbirth, or perhaps the child never survived. There were many possibilities, but none was a happy one.

John was right, after all. Not everyone was as lucky as them.

She thanked Mrs Hughes for letting her check the files and walked towards the servants' hall, hoping to do some mending. She wanted to make sure she would have some free time tomorrow night, when John would be home. As it was, there was a commotion at the table, probably related to the newspaper that was now in Daisy's hands as she read the article excitedly. Something about a fortuneteller touring Yorkshire. Anna merely exchanged a playful glance with Ms Baxter and sat in her usual spot.

"Do you think she could read my hand?" Maud asked eagerly.

"I don't think she does that," Daisy said, her eyes still glued to the paper. "I think she just sees things. And the future. I don't think I would want to know mine," the kitchen maid left the paper on the table. "What do you think, Anna?"

"About what, Daisy?" Anna asked, looking up from the dress she'd begun mending.

"This Mrs Florence Chapman," Daisy replied. "Everybody says she sees spirits and things. And that she can foretell the future. Would you want to see her?"

Anna fought the urge to grin and shook her head. "I like to think my future is in God's hands, or my own, if I can help it."

"But what about spirits?"

"Maybe she could come here and take a look," Thomas groaned impatiently, clearly done with the subject. "I've seen a lady in a white dress walk into the maid's corridor enough times since I arrived here. A house like this must have its good share of ghosts."

Daisy's eyes widened, and the maids stopped laughing. Anna simply shook her head. "Don't listen to him, Daisy."

Thomas laughed, and Daisy was sent scurrying back to the kitchen the next moment when Mrs Patmore called for her. John would have had fun fighting Thomas about ghosts, Anna thought. Why, she had been in Downton for much longer than Thomas and she never saw anything out of ordinary.

Her hand stopped stitching for a moment as she remembered the woman she had seen while in the attics just a few days ago.

But that couldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, she was sure.

The cottage always felt too cold when John wasn't around, and tonight was no exception to the rule. The sheets were too cold against her skin, and the bed was far too big for her alone. Anna sighed, and thought about reading a bit before bed, but she really was ever so tired. Stifling a yawn, she decided against it, and smiled at the photograph on John's bedside table – a recent photo of them, taken just a few weeks ago. Making herself comfortable and reaching for John's pillow, she lay her head down, wondering if her husband was already in bed, hoping that he was resting and not still on his feet after a long day.

She knew how much he dreaded going away with his Lordship these days – while it was always something they were used to, it seemed to grow trying with each new year, and it was growing harder to be apart from him. Her eyes grew heavy as her thoughts filled with plans for the next day and the next week; she needed to go to Ripon soon, as she had been delaying it for a few days, and perhaps she could invite John to come along. There was a cricket chirping outside the window, but it didn't annoy Anna; it was faint and slow and she didn't mind. Summer was right around the corner.

She was walking down the gallery. She felt his hand on the small of her back and smiled inwardly. He was speaking, his soft voice making him extremely hard to resist. And then she was running. As fast as she could – she had to stop them from taking him. The staircase felt like it would crumble under her feet, her legs carrying her as far as they could. She absolutely had to stop them, they couldn't take her baby from her…

Her eyes opened, and it took her but one second to realise that she was in bed, inside her home. Her breathing was rapid and Anna struggled to control it for a moment. Her face was hot and sweaty and she felt an anguish within her that she hadn't felt in a long time. Desperation – she didn't like that feeling. She hadn't missed it at all.

But thankfully it had been just a bad dream.

"I trust that everything was fine while I was away?" John asked as they reached home and he untangled their fingers so he could unlock the front door, eager to leave work behind and enjoy some much needed time off.

Anna nodded, entering the cottage after John unlocked the door. She started to take her coat off. "It was fine, yes. Mostly uneventful."

"Mostly?" he repeated, slipping his arms around her waist after they had both shrugged off their hats and coats. Anna closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth behind her. He kissed her ear. "What did I miss?"

"I didn't sleep very well," she confessed, and he stopped to look at her worriedly. "And I keep hearing some noises here and there. It's like there's someone else in the cottage."

John frowned, stepping away to properly look at her. She sighed.

"Someone else? Are you feeling all right, my darling?" his palm caressed her cheek.

Anna felt herself blush and shook her head; she knew what he would think. She wanted to tell him, about the dreams and the noises and the woman she kept seeing but never really seeing at the same time. But she knew what he would say. He would say that she was still adjusting after spending those weeks in prison, or that the attack she suffered was still making everything difficult for her. But it wasn't like that, she knew it wasn't. She felt stronger now. She felt better within herself and she loved the life they were living at the moment. And she felt absolutely fine; a little tired after a few difficult nights of sleep, but other than that she felt wonderful. Still, she couldn't help but think that the dreams and the noises were somehow related - perhaps she was indeed seeing things, or hearing things that weren't there. And that was what scared her.

What if this is a reflex of the traumas she had been going through, some delayed reaction to it?

No, it couldn't be. She hoped it wasn't, anyway. So she smiled, because her husband was home and because she had missed him, so much. They should be able to enjoy a lovely night together without any prying thoughts.

"I'm fine. All the better now that you are here," she said truthfully, deciding to drop the subject for now.

It wasn't important anyway.

She giggled as his fingertips nudged at her ribs softly, and she couldn't keep herself from laughing and falling from her position on top of him. His chuckle caused the vibrations from his chest to pass into hers, a gentle, intimate touch that she had been missing so much. She loved moments like this, where they could simply forget the world around them and she could feel the warmth of his skin against her own. She was tired, she couldn't deny that, but she didn't want to waste time sleeping tonight.

She gave him a kiss on his neck and sighed against his skin. His hands ran against her thighs - her knees positioned on either side of his, their very naked skin meeting in places that were already making her melt again.

"I missed you," John sighed, settling his hands on her hips. He squeezed her softly. "I'm sick of going away. Even for one or two days. And I hate it when you have to go. It feels wrong to be here without you."

Anna nodded, remembering all too well the terrible weeks that she spent home without him, without knowing that he was all right in Ireland. "I know. I hate it too."

"Perhaps," he started, hesitating. Anna slowly sat up to look at him. A thrill ran up her spine as he stared at her body, and she felt the hairs on her arms stand up, but it wasn't from the cold, no - the sweat from their previous exertions had dried already and the bedroom was much too warm to let any coldness creep in. John's right hand moved, his fingers tracing her belly button. She let out a deep breath, and he smiled. "Perhaps we should consider moving from here. Work on our future."

Her fingers played with the hairs on his belly, a slight smirk crossing her features. "I thought we were already doing that here."

He chuckled again. "I mean we could start looking, see if the newspapers give us any opportunity. For a hotel. Or a house that could be turned into a hotel."

"How very adventurous of you, Mr Bates," she teased him, his dark eyes boring into hers. "I like the idea. I think it's a good time for us to do that."

"I'll always love Downton," he continued, his hand moving up to cup her breast. "And I'll stay here if you want to. But I think our future is somewhere else. I think you would thrive somewhere else."

His words echoed his concern for her, but she decided to let it go for now.

"We've spent so much time here," she agreed, closing her eyes as his other hand moved down. "Good and bad. But a change would do us good, I think," she felt him twitch under her thighs and bit back a moan. His fingers moved slowly, tantalizingly upon her. "Mr Bates," she called him, her voice low. His gaze shifted from her body to her face. "You naughty boy."

He smiled at her, and she was so happy that they could be like this, right now. "I learned from you, my dear."

She wanted to be able to remember his face, like this, forever. So she kissed him, hard and slow, making sure he knew that teasing wasn't necessary, that she only wanted him, raw and pure, right now. They gasped and kissed like only old lovers would, his hands leaving her to draw her even closer and joining them a moment later. She pulled away to move, to enjoy the feeling of him slipping in and out of her, to savour the sensations he caused inside and out.

"I missed you so much," she gasped after a moment, moaning loudly when she pulled away from him and changed their angle a little. "Try to stay home for a little longer now."

They exchanged a smile, both knowing it wasn't exactly his choice. But he assured her anyway. "I shall try."

And then words were forgotten for quite some time.

Anna walked up the stairs slowly, singing to herself. It was quite nice when she was able to slip home for a bit in the afternoon; today wasn't her half day off, but her workload was quite light and she had forgotten her buttonbox somewhere around here yesterday. She was sure she had left it downstairs, in the parlour, but it wasn't there, at least that she had seen. Perhaps she had left it in their bedroom. She hoped John would be able to sneak off to have tea in the cottage like he said he would try and they could steal a few moments together away from the others.

A quick search in their bedroom led to nowhere, and she could already hear the teapot whistling from the kitchen. There was only one other room to look in, and she knew John more than often misplaced an object or two while trying to help her tidy their home. Shaking her head to herself, she walked into the second bedroom. It was sunny outside and there were no curtains in this room giving it a warm atmosphere. Mr Chirk's dog was barking. She opened the first drawer of the cabinet there and smiled when she saw her buttonbox, certainly misplaced by her husband.

She closed the drawer, and a much louder noise echoed in the cottage - the room's door was closed, somehow. Anna's eyes widened, gripping her buttonbox - perhaps some air had burst in and caused the door to close. She reached for the doorknob.

It was locked.

She tried again. And once more.

"Oh, please," she said, not sure if to herself or someone else. The room felt smaller each passing second. She knocked on the door. "John, are you there? John!"

She knocked harder, and tried to turn the doorknob again, several times. Tears pricked at her eyes. The banging from the door echoed throughout the cottage, and she could still hear the distant sound of the kettle. She pounded on the door again, she couldn't stop - somebody had to hear her. It was as if someone else was knocking with her, and her hands tingled in pain with every rap. Breathing was becoming hard and she pounded more and more until she finally stopped; the tears fell from her cheeks and she took a deep breath, trembling - John would be home soon, and he would find a way to unlock the door, he had to. Oh, he had to.

And then, from the silence, she heard it, but this time she was very much awake. Screaming from somewhere within the house. A baby crying. Her breath caught in her throat; she felt as if she would be sick.

The sounds grew closer and the door shook, as if someone had been trying to force it. She sat huddled on the floor, the sounds loud against her ears, making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything else. It was maddening, it was terrifying. She thought she might have screamed.

She was going mad.