He stands there for what feels like ages. The fleeting thought of running after her is immediately dismissed. But he can't just leave it like this. Her running away like that-

She said she liked him, and he believes it. He knows, he has seen it in her eyes, even if not frequently. And he has noticed that she has a smile that is only for him.

Bates imagines her now, sitting in the tube, with that blank, empty look he knows so well. Scared, maybe? Annoyed? Hurt? Feeling trapped by the fact that she can't quit the job and thus, she'll be forced to be near him, regardless? The last thing he wants is for her to think that. Any of that.

Mechanically, he puts on his jacket. She has left hers there, in her hurry to go away. Now he can see her walking out the tube station, shivering, her arms around her frame, trying to keep the heat. He takes her jacket with him. It's a very sorry excuse, but he knows she'll need it; just as he knows he needs to see her.

He takes the tube as well; he's impatient at the many stops, and angry at a commuter that stopped the doors from closing. He could have taken a taxi, but then he might have arrived before her. Not until he steps outside the station it dawns on him that maybe she didn't come here. He doesn't know what alternatives there are, so this will have to do.

He sighs in relief when he sees light in her window, shining on the dark buildings against the dusk. Just as that time he came, bringing Chinese food and a lot of questions, the door downstairs is unlocked. Bates hates the thought of her being so exposed.

Last time, he dawdled; slowly climbing up the stairs, thinking thoroughly what he wanted to say and how did he wanted it said. Now he takes the steps at a run, two at a time, and when he stops at her door he is almost panting. And he has no idea what to say.

Not giving himself much time to think about it, he knocks. Inside there is a soft thud, and then silence.

He waits for what feels like an eternity, but nothing happens. Maybe he should knock again. Maybe he should just go home, forget it all and hope she would show up to work tomorrow. He is trying to make up his mind either way when the door finally opens.

"You had to come, hadn't you?" she says wearily, a shadow of a tight lipped smile. He feels slightly encouraged.

"You left your jacket," he hands it to her.

"I noticed," she takes it, and hangs it on the back of the lonely chair.

"Can I… can I come in?" Anna shrugs, and steps back. He enters and closes the door behind him, trying hard to think about anything to say.

She is standing in the middle of the room, and it strikes him how very little she looks, even in this smallest of places.

"I'm sorry," he starts.

"Whatever for?" she is looking at him, and it is as if those large eyes were trying to read his every thought.

"I shouldn't have pushed you-"

"You didn't. Don't you see?" she gives a dry laugh. "You did everything right. Conversations, coffee, lifts home, outings together… there was nothing pushy in any of it. I just… I was too stupid, or maybe just enjoying it too much, and it prevented me to see what was about to come. I would've tried to stop you otherwise."

"I might have been right for some people," he says, taking aback by her honesty. "But it wasn't right for you."

She looks down and sighs. "No, it wasn't."

He takes a step forward, slowly.

"What was it?"

"What?"

"What happened, that scared you this much?"

She looks at him again. She's pulling at her fingers, and shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Don't ask me that," she pleads.

He sighs. "I think I need to know."

Anna doesn't say a thing for a long moment and he racks his brain, looking for something else to say that would break that thick armour of hers.

"You don't understand." She finally whispers.

"No. It's you who doesn't understand." He tries to keep his voice calm, but he's failing at it, suddenly impatient at her stubbornness. "I trust you. I've trusted you even after I learned about you being on bail. Even when you refused to tell me what is that about." She is still looking at him, without even blinking or flinching at his raising voice. "You asked me to trust you! Right here! In this very room! And I did," he's clenching his teeth now, and has to take a deep breath to calm down. "Why can't you pay me the same courtesy?"

She is hunched. Defeated.

He gives another tentative step towards her.

"There are too many things about me you don't know," she says.

"I don't care."

"You should."

"Then tell me."

He's much closer now. Slowly he reaches out and she flinches as he cups her face, but this time she doesn't recoil. "Tell me, Anna," he whispers.

His lips are hovering over hers and he has the feeling she has lost the ability to move.

"I..." she starts. He draws even closer, and feels the tip of her nose on his cheek, her warm breath on his. Suddenly, she has turned around. He hears a sob escaping her lips.

"Anna?" He asks softly. "Please."

She's crying now, her shoulders trembling. He puts a hand on her back, as gently as possible, silently praying she won't shrug him off this time. She doesn't even flinch. Encouraged, he walks closer again, and the next thing he knows is that he's hugging her, his large frame wrapped around her small one. Her cries are muffled against his jumper.

"Shh," he whispers. "It's going to be fine."

"It's not," she sobs. "It won't be." Anna takes a deep breath. "He left when I told him."

"Who?"

"Michael. My… my fiancée... he yelled at me. Disgusted. And then he took off." She keeps on sobbing and he rubs circles on her back. "I just- I don't think I could bear seeing that look on your face. Not you."

He sighs over her head. What could possibly be so horrible?

"Try me," he finally says. "Please, Anna, trust me."

She looks up at him, eyes red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears. Slowly, without releasing his hold on her, he cleans them with his thumb.

"Trust me."

Finally, she nods. He sighs in relief. Taking her hands, he pulls gently until both are sitting on the bed.

She sighs, looking at their entwined fingers.

"Why are you so good to me?"

He does not answer, but starts tracing circles on the back of her hands. After a moment her breath steadies, and she sits straighter.

"Green was a client of Michael's insurance company," she says, after taking a deep breath. "He came over to dinner a couple of times. He was friendly. Flirty even. I... I thought he was all right. One night Michael is out. Green shows up out of the blue, says he'll wait for him. I let him in. Why wouldn't I?"

Suddenly it hits Bates. He realises he does not want to hear anymore. He doesn't need to.

Tears start running down Anna's cheeks again, but he does not want to let go of her hands.

"He hit me," her voice is flat and shows no emotion. Almost as if she was describing something foreign. Unimportant. "Because I didn't want to do it he hit me, and pushed me around, and then he..."

She breaks in sobs again.

"I know," Bates mutters, pulling her into his arms again.

"He raped me." She says anyway; he can barely understand her words between sobs. He feels his blood boil and he's shaking too. "And since I tried to resist, he hit me again. And afterwards he left me there, on the floor."

Anna keeps on sobbing, but she does not talk anymore. He caresses her hair, and draws circles on her back again. He wishes he could say something, but all words are suddenly meaningless.

xxxx

The smell of chocolate lingers in his jumper, and there is something else. A musky scent she knows it's his. She has stopped crying now, but he is still tracing slow circles on her back; his warm palm and the beat of his heart are soothing. She can't remember ever feeling so empty and at the same time so safe.

He hasn't said anything. No accusations, no questions. She needs to know, though, if it is really possible for her not to be despised this one time. Slowly, so that he won't think she doesn't want him there, Anna looks up.

His eyes are bright, and so full with concern and care. "I'm so very sorry," he whispers, and she feels it's going to be all right. He is not going to go away.

Slowly he draws closer and kisses her forehead, barely brushing it. She gives a shaky sigh, and buries her head on his shoulder again.

He shuffles his back against the wall and she snuggles even closer. It is so terribly strange to be so close to him, to feel his jumper wet from her own tears, but she doesn't want to move, and apparently neither does he.

She doesn't know how, but at some point she dozes off, soothed by his steady breathing and his hands holding her.

Anna wakes up with a start. Mr Bates is still there, arms firmly wrapped around her.

"What is it?" He mutters.

"I'm sorry; I think I fell asleep..."

"S'ok."

"You must be numb," she moves and he stretches his arms.

"Maybe a little," he's smiling though.

She is suddenly self-conscious. "I shouldn't have..." What? Cry my eyes off like that? Fell asleep?

"It's ok. Really." His eyes are soft on her, and she misses his warmth already. "Come here," he asks, as if he had read her mind.

She snuggles closer, her head on his shoulder, and he hugs her with one arm.

"I never thought I'd tell you all this," she says.

"I'm grateful you did."

She sighs against his chest. "You are a very silly man, Mr Bates."

He chuckles. "You know you can call me John?"

She looks up at him. He's asking her to break a boundary, and it feels terribly intimate, and yet there they are, in her bed, hugging. Nothing makes sense anymore.

"Why am I silly?" He asks after a while.

"You should have run for the door ages ago."

"Well, I won't. If that makes me silly, so be it." His voice is kind, and he's smiling with his eyes. "There's just this one thing..."

"What?"

"Please, if you don't want to answer, just tell me to bugger off and I will."

"I've already told you the worse."

He sighs. "Why were you in prison?"

She is silent for a long moment. "Murder," she states simply, and the word seems to reverberate against the naked walls. Maybe she wants him to leave. Maybe she's using the word as proof that he shouldn't be there. Whatever the reason, it feels like a test of sorts.

"You killed that fiancée of yours, then?" It takes him a second, and he almost succeeds in sounding nonchalant. "Good thinking."

She chuckles. "You're not silly. You're just plain crazy! I just said I've been in prison for killing a fellow human being and there you are, cool as a cucumber!"

"You told me you're innocent."

"What if I lied? Why aren't you scared? Or disgusted? Or plain indifferent?"

He sighs deeply. "I'd be a hypocrite if I was." He sits up straighter and looks into her eyes. She sees he's weighing his words before speaking. "You see, I've served time, too."

Of all the things he could have said, Anna would have ever expected this.

"What? Why?"

"Theft. Two years. It was ages ago."

"Two years...?" She is frowning slightly. "But... you can't have been guilty, you're not a thief."

"How do you know?"

She thinks for a moment. How, indeed?

"I... I just know you're not. There must be something else."

He smiles. "You're a very silly woman."

She chuckles.

"See?" He speaks again. "I just know you're not a murderer."

None of them says a thing for a moment.

"So, was it the fiancée, then?" He asks, and she is sure he's trying to lift the mood. She appreciates it.

"No. It was Green."

His hand, which had been tracing slow circles on her palm, stops. He has not seen this coming.

"The man who-?"

She nods. "It happened shortly after. Somebody pushed him off the pavement to the road and a bus hit him."

"And you are the main suspect," he says, comprehension finally dawning on him.

"I am the only suspect. I had reason and no alibi."

He sighs.

xxxx

She falls asleep again, after a while, and he wonders how much she needed to take the burden off her chest, and how tiresome it must have been to carry it around for so long. Anna looks peaceful now, not a wrinkle on her face, and it's so very endearing he does not seem able to look away.

He considers going home, and he manages to settle her on the mattress without waking her up. Something stops him, though. He hand is still clutching his jumper, and somehow laying like this with her feels so right, despite how strange the situation is, he really doesn't want to leave her. Doesn't want to go on his own.

So he settles next to her, and she burrows her head in the crook of his arm, with a content sigh. It takes him no time at all to fall asleep too.

After what feels like a moment, he opens his eyes again. Anna is still clutching her jumper and she doesn't seem to have moved at all. Deep blue light filters through the curtains.

She moves, and grunts, and he sees in her expression the exact moment when she realises what's going on.

"You stayed," she mumbles.

"I didn't want to leave you."

She takes a deep breath and, slowly, she opens the hand that had been holding to his jumper all night. With her palm she tries to erase the creases and he revels in the soft caress.

"You must have been uncomfortable."

"Why do you always have to expect the worse?" he asks, good-natured, unable to stop himself.

"Experience?" she offers with a chuckle.

"I can't remember the last time I'd slept as good as tonight," he says truthfully.

"Me neither," she smiles. "Thank you… for… everything."

He looks at her, at those eyes, puffy and red-brimmed, and at her pale cheeks, and wishes nothing but cup her face and kiss those lips.

He doesn't, though. The moment is fragile; now he knows it'll take some time to get there, and it would not do to rush what, he hopes, will happen eventually.

Without realising it, he closes his eyes again. Sudden movement beside him makes him startle.

"What-?" She sits up, and a gush of coldness replaces her place next to his body. "What time is it?"

He grunts, and looks at his wristwatch. "Half past six."

"Oh bollocks," she stands up, and without further ado she enters the bathroom. It's very late, and he knows William will arrive at the restaurant soon, to find it closed and his boss nowhere around.

He could very well get going, make a head start, but he doesn't want to even suggest leaving her. He doesn't want it to feel like a dream. He doesn't want her to have second thoughts and go back to her usual isolated self.

"Anna?" he asks tentatively to the closed door.

"Just give me a minute," she says, and he's relieved to hear it.

When she comes out, she looks much more alert than him.

"I'll call us a taxi, ok?" he says. She nods, and re-enters the bathroom carrying a bundle of clothes.

Less than two minutes later they are sharing the backseat of a car, zigzagging through early morning traffic. He just let William know he will be late.

She is looking through the window, and has barely spoken a word since they left. He feels it's a bad sign, but he doesn't know what to do. They are almost there, when he finally makes up his mind.

"Anna?" she turns around, as if coming out a reverie. "Are you- that is- is everything all right?"

She smiles. "It is, Mr Bates. We're fine."

He can't fail to notice she hasn't called him John yet. But he believes her, nonetheless.


AN: Aaand he finally knows.

Thank you all for your generosity and patience!