balance.

"Alright then."

She could see the colour drain from his face, the nervous tic of his eyes that betrayed his forced smile and calm words. Anna wrung her hands together and took a deep breath (ten, nine, eight) then released (seven, six, five, four).

"You've been honest with me," she said slowly, "about your wife and your situation and all. I owe you the same."

John swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down. He blinked one, two, three times, then set the bouquet of red roses with blackened tips (oh god, he brought her flowers, why was he so terrific?) down on the television console, along with a tall paper bag that made a thud distinctly like a bottle of wine.

"Should I sit down?" he asked, one cheek pulling upward nervously.

"If you want. Probably. Yes."

The other cheek joined its mirror twin as he smiled and he sat down on the end of the bed, as far away from her as he could on the expansive mattress. Anna unfolded her legs and swung them out over the edge until she had her feet on the floor, and there they sat, side by side, for several seconds before she began.

"That first night with you," she recalled. "It was wonderful. And it's been wonderful ever since. Part of me thinks it's been so wonderful because you were new and it was exciting to be with someone else."

"But I'm not new and exciting anymore, am I?" John asked, more than a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"No, no, it's not that." Anna shook her head and reached out to touch his shoulder just for a moment. "What I mean to say, is that I...was in a serious relationship until just before we met."

John's eyebrows shot up and he let out an explosive breath. Then he began laughing. "I thought you were going to tell me that you were married as well, and he was going to burst through the door any moment."

She fell silent, her mouth slightly open and tears threatening to spill over.

All traces of humour left John's expression, replaced by something she couldn't quite suss out. (regret? pride? possessiveness? compassion?) "Anna?" he asked, taking her hand in his. "What's this about?"

"I was with someone," she whispered. "We'd decided to take a break to clear our heads. And then I met you."

(somehow the exact phrase 'you fucked him out of my system' didn't seem appropriate, but the sentiment was there.)

"Michael and I had been together since uni," Anna began after extricating her hand from his and closing her eyes. "It was good. We were good. He's a few years older, so he took a job as a shift doctor in the A&E at St. Mary's while I finished my schooling (they were so young and full of ambition and dreams or three beautiful blonde children and a house in the countryside with big bedrooms and an old stone fireplace). You know how insane the A&E work can be. Gone all hours of the day and night, and when you're home, you can be called away in an instant. In fact, his second week there, 7/7 happened. He treated some of the wounded."

"Christ," John muttered. "I'm sorry he had to go through that."

Anna grimaced (the memory of frantic phone calls and lack of communication haunted her still, having seen on the news that the train he normally took to work was one of the targets). "Anyway, he had his work at St. Mary's, and a couple years later, when I got my doctorate, I landed a research position at Grantham. He swore he would seek a transfer into neurology, which was his specialty, but he never did it. He loved the thrill of A&E. And I was always waiting at home for him, when he occasionally came home. He spent a lot of time off shift at the hospital, sleeping in the staff bunks. Or he'd go crash at a friend's flat nearby, so he could be close to the hospital."

"Then Mr. Crawley offered me the liaison position. It meant traveling all over the world and meeting people and learning all about new treatments and breakthroughs first hand from the researchers who had discovered them. I took the position without much thought and flew out almost immediately to Paris." She smiled at the memory of seeing the Eiffel Tower far, far in the distance if she stood on her toes and craned her neck from her small hotel room. "I'm from a small town in Yorkshire. London was as far as I'd ever been."

"Must have been exciting for you," John said with a gentle smile.

"It was. For the first time, I was excited about my career. I was thrilled. Michael far less so." She shrugged and played with a loose string on the bedspread. "I wasn't there as much as he'd become accustomed to. No matter how chaotic work was, he had me at home to ground him. Initially, he was supportive, but we saw far less of each other than we used to. Not seeing him for a day or two when he was on a long rota became a week or more. We decided to get married, as if a piece of paper could fix things."

The kind smile in John's eyes flickered in confusion as he searched her face for answers to questions that he must have had. "Go on," he whispered.

"We were going to elope first and have a big ceremony later. We didn't tell anyone that we were going to do it. I wasn't even going to invite my mother. Just me and him and the clerk at city hall. But we realized it wouldn't have worked, getting married. We started to resent each other. The separation. The long hours. We didn't have a relationship anymore. We didn't even have a life together. Even though we'd started talking about having children, I stayed on the pill to make sure we didn't make a mistake that we couldn't take back (not that they hadn't had days at a time when she was late and they wondered, but the tests stayed negative). Both of us started considering other options in life." She smiled wryly. She wasn't so sure he hadn't been more than considering his options. "We mutually agreed that it was over, but we weren't opposed to still seeing each other on the side for a while."

"So you see," Anna pushed on quickly, her voice quavering. "I've been a bit of a hypocrite when it came to learning about you and Vera (saying her name brought humanity to a woman she had no right to hate, despite what had happened). It brought out a lot of feelings I wasn't prepared to deal with. Michael had just moved out right before I met you. In fact, the entire time we were...you and I...were together that night, he was trying to get ahold of me. We were probably going to try to work things out. In fact, we'd have been married by now if I hadn't met you. I'm not one to act rashly or impulsively, except when it came to you. One night stands, blowing off work commitments, that's not me. Except that now it is, because of you."

"Anna, I…"

She interrupted him. "Please, let me finish, Mr. Bates," she rasped (if she stopped now, she would never be able to say it). Her eyes began burning as she fought back tears. "My changing isn't a bad thing. I rather like what's been happening. I'm a different person these past few months. I like her. She has fire and wants and needs and her own life, and right now, I want and need you in my life, even if we can only see each other like this. I certainly hadn't expected all of this to come out of that first night together, but I have to tell you that night (that wonderful, passionate night), changed me. But I used you. To forget him. To move on."

John closed his eyes and breathed outward slowly. He didn't look at her, didn't offer her the comfort she so desperately craved right now. (hold me, that's all I want right now). She began to tremble.

"I ruined your future with him," he whispered.

Anna shook her head. "We were already too far gone," she tried to assure him. (there was no saving what was already shattered.) "And I made very a conscious decision to sleep with you. That was my choice."

John sat completely still and deadly silent, not a muscle twitching or a hair stirring on his head as he stared at the far wall. Anna's heart sank low in her (falling and shrinking and failing) and twin tears broke away and coursed down her cheeks as she focused on the sadly wilted bouquet of flowers (which were so grossly appropriate).

"You used me," he finally whispered.

Her head dipped low.

"You...used me...for sex." (his emphasis changed)

"Yes."

He suddenly burst out laughing, so loud and so quickly that she startled. He turned red rimmed eyes to her, his cheeks tight and teeth bared in mirth.

It was the last thing she expected him to do (yell, be silent, storm out, throw something, but not laugh). He laughed so hard that she felt herself quaking with the beginning of her own laughter and the giggles poured out of her.

"I've never been so happy to have been used," he said between laughs. "I think that's pride I'm feeling right now. I hope to continue to be your most humble servant."

Anna smacked him on the shoulder and he carefully raised one hand, palm outstretched. She took his invitation and laced her fingers with his, the heat of his skin searing hers as their palms pressed together. The air felt cleaner now with the weight of her own secret off her shoulders.

"You changed me as well," John whispered, his face softening. "You made me realize that there's more to what life I had before." He brushed the hair back from her temple and she leaned into his touch. "I wish we could have more time together, but this is what we have to work with. So, Doctor Smith, do we continue as we have been, having clandestine shags in hotel rooms for convenience, or do we become something more?"

"I'm hoping for more," Anna breathed. "So much more." (and suddenly the little happy blonde children she'd always imagined became brunette and brooding but no less beautiful)

"Me too."

The kiss they shared was one of acceptance, of passion, of promise. They fell to the bed together, but instead of the frantic undressing and coupling they'd originally intended, they simply held each other until they fell asleep, fully clothed, but for the first time completely bared to the other.

(it was the first of many nights when all they gave and all they took was each other's company. the gaudy box, the warm champagne, and the pitiful roses could wait another night)