Anna;

John turned away from the paper he was writing on, not even two words into the letter and he was already crying. But he had to write this letter, if only to get a response from Anna. He hated this silence, what had he done? He would do anything to fix it, if only he knew.

I love you more then anything in the world. I hope you know that, I would do anything for you.

That seemed to break a dam inside him and he wrote, recalling memories of when they had just met. He wrote about when he'd realized he'd loved her We were talking about Lady Edith and Mr. Patrick, and you said that it was sad when the person you love didn't love you back, no matter who you are. At first I thought that you knew that I loved you and thought it sad that no one loved me back. He wiped a tear and kept a sharp eye out for Craig. He didn't want to deal with his cell mate's remarks.

He finally told her of the limp correcter he'd tried to use to make himself better for Anna, how Mrs. Hughes had made him throw it away. It was then that I knew I'd never be good enough for you. Not because of my limp, I know you don't care about it, but because I was reminded once again that I was imperfect, a married man and had no right to be attracted to you.

When I took you up the tray when you were ill, I put the flowers on the tray as a poor attempt to woo you. Although I was a married man I had such desires for you, Anna.

He then wrote about their walk to the flower show when she'd told him her feelings for him. How his heart had both been crushed and lifted when she'd spoken those words. How he had dreamt that night of her, some quite inappropriate dreams. The memory made him blush even though they were now married.

He wrote about how he'd felt when he had found out about her meeting her mother and saving his job, how if it had been anyone else he would have shown off the razor sharp tongue his mother had told Anna about.

He wrote about how Molesley had asked if anyone was keen on her, and how he'd managed to stamp down the big green jealous monster that had suddenly reared up at the thought of someone courting Anna. John had taken that as his que to tell Anna how he felt and they had begun a quiet, if not entirely proper courtship.

He spoke of their first kiss, how devastated he'd been at the thought of bringing ruin down on Anna because surely it would happen, wouldn't it? Surely even though they hadn't told anyone about them, someone would be able to tell that they had kissed and would tell everyone and Anna's reputation would be ruined, all because of him. But at the same time, his heart had lifted up in quiet joy at the realization that Anna loved him.

He wrote how, after Vera had come back for him, he had lain awake at nights thinking of Anna, working himself into a state at the entirely inappropriate thoughts he, a married man was having of an unmarried woman.

He wrote of what had finally happened that made him leave Vera and file for divorce. He wrote how he told the owner of the pub he'd worked at about Anna and how even the owner had asked why he'd married Vera in the first place and how John had responded "If I had known about Anna, or the possible life that awaited us, I wouldn't have."

He spoke of the day Anna had first come in to confront him and how he had loved seeing her again, no matter how mad she was at him. He wrote about how he had looked forward to her weekly visit.

When he'd gotten back to Downton, he had fallen even more in love with her, how her face light up whenever he walked into the room, how his whole soul was lifted up just by being near her. He'd loved how her soft body had fit against his, how he'd only been home in his arms.

He spoke how he wanted nothing more then to take Anna away from Downton, to America so they could live together and not worry about Vera.

Then Vera had committed suicide (he purposely used these words now, he was innocent of anything regarding her death.) And he had finally been able to court Anna properly, although it was still quite improper to do more then hold hands in the village. He remembered how they had allowed themselves more then before. How they had spent half days together, and had learned of each others bodies, even with the layers of clothing that seperated them. He stopped writing for a moment, a memory running through his mind.

He and Anna had been given the same half day, (something he was sure that Mrs. Hughes had orchestrated). They had gone into Ripon, to the tea shop and then the book shop. He had spoiled her as it was her birthday. On the way back, they'd gone off the path and had gotten lost in a series of kisses that had made John's feelings for Anna quite obvious, even through the layers of clothing. Anna had been understanding of his need to wait sometime before walking back to Downton. They had talked then, of everything and nothing. It was only after they'd gotten back to Downton that John realized that they'd held hands for most of the day, ever since they'd left the bookshop.

When the sickness had struck the house, he had been worried that Anna would get the Influenza, but she hadn't and they'd been married instead of either one getting sick.

Then he wrote of their wedding night, he didn't hold back, not caring anymore if the guards read it. He wrote how Anna's touch had been magic on his body, and how he had struggled to remain in control so that Anna would have a memorable wedding night.

He wrote of his hopes and dreams of their future, not only their hotel, and children (one boy, Nathan and one girl, Margaret) but just of waking up in the morning and being able to hold her. Finally, he came to the last bit of his letter, although he'd been writing for nearly an hour, he'd been gathering courage to write this part. He could feel hot tears welling up and he fought to keep from crying. He did not want to cry on the letter. He would finish this letter, then curl up on his bed. He no longer cared if Craig came in, he'd deal with his cell mate later.

I love you more then anything in the world Anna, I would do anything for you. But I've done enough guessing as to what you want from me. Every time I do that I seem to hurt you so now I'm going to ask you: what do you want me to do? Tell me what you want Anna, anything, divorce included, I'll agree to anything. Please, stop the silence, tell me what you want me to do, I'll do anything.

Yours forever, John.


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