A/N: I realise it was probably a bit mean to leave the last chapter with an ultimatium *and* a cliffhanger...sorry about that. Accept this extra long chapter in compensation.
Disclaimer will always remain the same.
They raced inside the hospital doors, Anna trailing behind John slightly on her heels. It wasn't an option for her to be anywhere else, though they had been on autopilot somewhat since the news came through. She followed him as he turned the corner quickly, making a straight dash for the main desk.
Through rapid and shallow breaths, John enquired about the whereabouts of a patient called Robert Crawley. The thought occurred to him that he and Anna might have got to the hospital before the ambulance, being closer as they were to the centre of the town. He startled to feel a very light tug upon the arm of his jacket, head swivelling to find Anna's eyes looking reservedly upon him. She dropped her hand from him too soon for his liking when Mary came into full view in front of them.
"You're here," she uttered, seeming disbelieving and a bit shaken for a few seconds. Anna reached out to grab her hand and the eldest Crawley girl gave a small, gracious smile towards her friend, before finding John's frantic gaze. "They've taken him to one of the resuscitation units."
"My god," John gasped in near on a whisper; he hoped perhaps beyond hope that it wouldn't have been that bad.
Mary's look gave him some reassurance before she turned to lead them down to where Robert was being kept.
John and Anna paced down the narrow corridor after Mary, their breaths echoing upon the stark white walls. After a few moments he took a glance to his side, taking notice of the gaping space between them as she held herself purposely away from him. He sighed inwardly, unable to forget the way things had been left between them and the tension that lingered in the air, heavier now than it was before. At this very minute he longed for nothing more than to feel Anna's hand wrapping around his fingers, her calming touch telling him that everything would be alright. Instead all he felt was cold air in the gaps, and though Anna could never be cold he sensed that she was distancing herself, keeping a tight lid on her emotions for her own sake.
It was another thing for him to regret, perhaps just that bit more than he regretted selfishly wallowing and walking out of the party when such a fate was to await his best friend.
The rest of the family were standing outside the door to the room that must have housed Robert. Anna went over to Cora to offer her a long hug, doing the same with a red-eyed Sybil a few moments afterwards. All it seemed that John could do was watch, the words held on his tongue as his mouth opened. They all looked incredibly lost standing in their semi-circle, Anna's quiet and tender care for each of them radiating as the strongest comfort. Her eyes looked towards John briefly before she brought them to the floor again. John could tell that Mary's gaze was flitting between the two of them, but for the moment he couldn't have cared less what she might have been conjuring up in her head.
"Has there been any news?" Anna started softly, her hand remaining supportive on Cora's arm.
"It was a heart attack," Edith said almost robotically, her face showing how drained she was.
"A 'considerable' one," Mary interjected, diverting her eyes from where Cora could be seen holding a hand tight over her mouth to stop her cries from tumbling forth. Noticing the same, Anna rubbed the hand that was held against her arm. "Not as extreme to be fatal, but still bad enough."
John stood silently, trying to process the news, thinking with each second that passed that he could have done more to prevent it from happening. A better, more regular exercise routine; he'd fallen behind with those joint sessions in the last few weeks, months even. Thinking back it was all too little, too late, and not much could have absolved the uselessness he felt.
"It was my fault," Sybil choked out suddenly, causing everyone to look at her except Cora who stared straight towards the small window outside the room. "I must have given everyone such stress about the party. Papa was quite sick of it all." Her sobbing grew more as she ruminated, teething at the skin around her fingernails. "I've always given him such trouble, and I've never meant to..."
"Sybil, darling, no," Mary went over to her youngest sister's side, taking her into her arms and soothing a hand over her head. "You're the apple of Papa's eye. Nothing you could do would ever do this."
Even now, it came as quite a surprise to hear her start to sob, the noise half-stifled in her throat. Mary shuddered in surprise herself when Edith touched her shoulder. The sisters shared a gentle look, united for once by their shock and grief, and then the three of Robert's daughters enveloped in a hug. Anna remained with her arm around Cora, staying by her side, leaving John stranded upon an island of his own making. Though he felt rather deserving of it, he still looked out from the sea that surrounded him, somewhat desperate to be saved from drowning.
The specialist came to see them not long afterwards, with news that was thankfully good. Robert had managed to be stabilised, though for the minute he required a bit of additional support. It was nothing to be alarmed about, they were all assured, and it was just a matter of waiting a little while for him to be well enough to be allowed visitors. Perhaps the news could have been better but the reassurance that the worst had passed without a great deal of lasting damage was a weight from all of their minds.
While Edith took her mother to sit down and rest for a while and Mary and Sybil went outside to get some air, John and Anna found themselves back towards the main area of the hospital at a couple of seats tucked away in a quieter corner. Anna sat down on one of the plastic melded seats first, followed by John a few moments later, stopping his pacing upon the floor but keeping his head hanging low out of sight of Anna's gaze.
They had barely spoken on the way to the hospital; the feeling was foreign and deeply uncomfortable to John. Before tonight and its unfortunate turns he had always felt so at ease around Anna. He had let his demons conquer him almost completely, but he couldn't quite believe that Anna was still willing to sit next to him, silent but offering her support. She was far too good for him. Shaking his head slightly, he knew that was a thought he had to put out of his mind if he wanted to hold onto her and what they had. Her ultimatum rung round in his head, her voice clear and jabbing at him. In a strange way he had been thankful for the phone call, preventing the cut from being made across his chest.
"I can't believe it," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I knew he wasn't a hundred per cent right, but I never thought about this happening."
Her voice was a sweet relief when he heard it, a barrier gladly broken.
"My uncle had one a few years back. It always seems to happen so quickly, and unexpectedly." She paused for a moment, her eyes glazing over rather wistfully. "It sounds like he will pull through, though. Thankfully."
John glanced down and noticed that her hand that was nearest to him was gripped upon the edge of the chair, a lump rising in his throat. For a moment she seemed just as stranded as he was, and somehow even further to reach.
"I behaved dreadfully tonight." Her gaze went towards him immediately, taking in the apologetic and soft-edged expression upon his face. "I shouldn't have acted like that, taking it out on you. I'm sorry."
Anna waited for a few moments before returning, though her eyes remained pinned upon him. John felt like he was spiralling, worried for a while that her patience might have finally worn thin.
"So you should be," she replied quite firmly, though the smallest traces of a smile had begun to edge at her lips. Though he was thoroughly and rightly admonished John was beyond glad to see it and to know by its appearance and the slight tone of sass in her voice that the situation wasn't as critical as before, if still fragile. Something had to give, despite his attempts to disguise, and he knew the time was coming soon. Anna turned her knees so they were facing him, her forgiveness felt though she was still keeping her distance. "You had me worried sick for a good while."
He couldn't help but feel the deepest shame and guilt, being reminded of the depths he had previously plumbed to. This time he wasn't oblivious to the hurt he had caused, and looking into her eyes the realisation came to him that he couldn't push her away like he had done with everyone else. Even his feeble attempts to do so had threatened to tear him to pieces.
It was something in those eyes, as searing and as blue as the widest skies, that implored him to want to confess things he had always intended to keep hidden under lock and key. Here probably wasn't the best place, but he felt compelled.
"I wish I could say that I didn't understand why, but I do." Her hand was resting on her knee now, so close for him to reach out and touch. Instead he reached up to thread his own hand into the hair at the back of his head. "It sounds ridiculous even to me, but I can't shake it. Anna, I..."
"Not now." She gave her reply coolly, but not with harshness. Her gaze was warm as she looked at him fully again, holding promise deep within. "Let's just get through this first."
John nodded, a smile reluctantly raising the corners of his mouth. Her understanding seemed to know no bounds, even if she was more subdued than usual. He couldn't have blamed her for it. He felt shattered himself, the anxiety of several days and the shock that was only just starting to wane making his body feel like it had been laboured from a block of lead. Glancing blearily at the clock on the opposite wall, he wasn't sure whether he was surprised or not to see that it was past 1am.
"I can take you home if you want," he offered to her without a second thought. "It's late."
"I'd rather stay," Anna answered, though John could tell that she was stifling a yawn. He knew better than to argue with her, and anyway, he could tell she was being genuine.
She shifted a little against her seat, not the most comfortable of apparatus, and John had to smile at her efforts to make herself more at ease.
"If this is going to be camp for the night, let me see if I can find anything to make it better."
John sent a gentle look, soft-eyed with concern for her. It was when she stopped him from standing up by sliding her palm carefully to rest upon his knee that his gaze melted further.
Linking their fingers together with more of her permission than from anything else, he did believe that the worst of it was over, for all of them all round.
Shaking with adrenaline and a rapidly charging sense of fear, John forced his eyes up from the floor of the assembly hall to examine his hands. He knew by the warmth and the sticky sensation that coated his knuckles that it was there already. Seeing the deep red shade of blood fresh upon his fingers produced a different kind of swirling in the pit of his stomach. He wondered for a moment whether he should scramble over to the corner of the room to retch, but the urge passed as quickly as it had arrived. There was a pain in his head, not the usual type that came from drinking too much. It pounded relentlessly against his temples, skewed his vision dangerously, but at the same time it was addictive. It made him want to fall upon his knees, jump up to the ceiling with power surging through the length of his body.
Blood was smeared into his hair as he struggled to think straight, raised his head to determine what had happened. It was as though another force had occupied his body for however long it had taken. Who had made the first punch, he had no clue. All he knew was that he was on his feet, as heavy and unsteady as they had turned.
A little way away from his feet, the body was slumped, breathing in a laboured fashion. Hair the colour of jet flopped over the forehead that already bore several forming scars. The same blood that was on his hands came trickling from the nose, which may have been broken, while the hands clutched listlessly at the stomach.
Voices grew louder in the corridor outside, footsteps getting increasingly close to the door.
This is what it had come to. John was shell-shocked and ashamed, but what was worse, he didn't know that he was entirely sorry.
John washed his hands thoroughly and then splashed some water from the tap over his face in the cramped bathroom. It was getting on to be nearly 2.30pm and they were still waiting for more news. Time was becoming a jumble in his mind but he reckoned he had got no more than three hours of sleep, off and on. He remembered waking with a jolt in the early hours, an unexpected nightmare having shaken him. He might have even let out a scream. Looking to the side of him when he had regained his senses he saw that Anna had continued to sleep on peacefully in her seat, and he used her soft breathing to regulate his own, calming considerably as he watched her slumber.
He straightened down his shirt, feeling slightly grubby as he took a last look in the mirror. Stubble had seemed to grow alarmingly fast upon his face and he sighed as he raked a palm over his bristled jaw.
Coming out of the bathroom, he was barrelled by the blur of long dark hair and arms that threw themselves around him instantly.
"Woah there," he stuttered as Sybil proceeded to hug him tightly.
"Uncle John, it's Papa!" she explained happily, releasing the tight grip on his arms. "He's awake and sitting up and talking and doing almost everything just as before!" Her joy was absolutely unstoppable and totally palpable. "Mama is with him now, and we saw him but I thought one of us should let you know. Oh, he looks so well, it's so wonderful!"
John smiled easily at the youngest Crawley girl, her energy infectious. "That's fantastic news, Sybs."
"Isn't it? It's the best birthday present I got, even if it is a little bit late."
He opened his arms for another hug, breathing a sigh of relief against her mass of ringlets.
Walking back to his previous location, he smiled as he saw Anna standing, a smile on her face too.
"Mary told me," she said, taking his hand as he came closer. "You must be so relieved."
"That's one word for it."
He couldn't tear his eyes away from hers; she had got him through the night, and much more besides. She still wore that beautiful dress and it only occurred to him then the strangeness of the past few hours. However she looked she was always the most outstanding, the brightest light imaginable, and with the added good news hanging in the air, she shone even more against the drab corridor.
John leant down, lightly brushing his lips against Anna's cheek and burying his nose into her hair. Her small sigh lifted his heart higher, her arm coming round his to hold him closer for the briefest moment.
After a while Cora emerged from the room in front of them, the grin upon her face the widest John had ever seen. She extended her arms to hug him, still trembling a little from the tumult of emotions.
"Is it alright to go in?" John asked tentatively. "I wouldn't want to think it was too much, too soon."
"The doctor says it's absolutely fine," she replied, still beaming. "He wants to see you."
John turned to look over his shoulder at Anna, unable to hide his anxious expression from her. She let out a small laugh only audible to his ears, shrugging off his worries with her shoulders.
"Well, I couldn't possibly go against the patient's wishes," he smiled, meeting Cora's eyes again. "You do realise that he is going to milk this for months to come."
Cora laughed, shaking her head. "I can put up with it, as long as I know that he's still going to be around, getting under my feet."
She took in a sharp breath, the bleak force in the background not totally dissolved as yet. Before he could move to comfort her, Cora swiped her hand against John's arm.
"Take the week off," she exclaimed. "Put your feet up, relax, have some time to breath."
John's eyes widened at the suggestion. "But someone's got to keep things ticking over. You've got enough on your plate without thinking of that place, and I honestly wouldn't mind."
"It won't do much harm to close it for a few days," she countered; it seemed as though the decision had already been made. Her palm pressed a bit firmer upon his forearm and she looked at him squarely. "We can't have you getting burned out as well."
He managed a small smile, wondering just how obvious his moods had been. Plainly, it appeared.
"Thanks, Cora," he accepted without further argument. "I really do appreciate it."
Anna welcomed Cora over to her with a warm embrace, and while the two women started to talk effortlessly, John headed towards the door of the room, bracing himself with a deep inhale to see what state his best friend was really in.
Robert greeted him as soon as he walked in. "Bates! My good man."
His smile was hearty though his voice sounded hoarse. John tried not to notice the monitors that were stuck in various places over his arms and chest, though one or two couldn't escape his eyes.
"Don't stand there all day, you're making me nervous." Robert patted the sheets at his side, signalling the chair that was next to the bed.
John made his way over, doing his best to keep the smile on his face while feeling quite dazed. Thankfully he hadn't had much experience with hospitals in his lifetime, but that just served to make things more uncomfortable given that such an extreme situation was hitting so close to home.
"What the bloody hell were you playing at, pulling that?" he exclaimed after a few moments, only partially joking.
"Things were getting a bit flat," Robert chuckled barely. "I thought I'd liven the party up. Everyone likes a bit of drama."
John shook his head, leaning his elbows on his knees. "You're a stubborn bastard, you know that? You should have gone to the doctors' months ago. Instead you wait and leave it to the bloody worst-case scenario."
"Not quite the worst," Robert pointed out, causing John to frown. "I'm fine. They're running tests to find out if it's anything more, and if so I've been told it's nothing that can't be controlled. I'll be up and running again in no time. Well, maybe not at the speed you go. A few casual laps, wouldn't want to give the ticker any more trouble." He gave a gentle pat against his chest for good measure.
Feeling restless, John got out of his seat and started to pace the small length of the room. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, don't think you'll get away that easily. No more extra spoonfuls of sugar or double frothy coffees." He turned sharply on his heels to punctuate his point. "And definitely no more sneaky fry-ups."
"Yes sir," Robert gave a mini-salute towards John's figure.
He knew he was being fussy, but John couldn't help it. Perhaps it was down to the way he had been feeling lately too in part, but he wasn't willing to be oblivious any longer. Too wrapped up in his own problems for too long he'd done a shabby job of being what his friends and family needed, and this proved that not only did he need to be more watchful but also that he could never run the risk of taking them for granted.
"And anyway, where did you get to?" The sudden question came from the bed. "Terrible etiquette to leave a party that's being held for you. Be thankful that my mother wasn't there, she would have had a few choice words to say."
"You know I wasn't really up for it," John dithered. "I just needed a bit of space on my own to contemplate turning another year older. Entirely understandable, I think."
Sitting down again he stretched out his legs in front of him as far as he could, tuning out the low bleeps of the machines that served as background noise.
"Does it have anything to do with Anna?" Robert's observation made his eyes shoot up. "I can tell something's up, and I know that it's got everything to do with you."
John sighed in defeat. "You've got that right, at least. She's incapable of fault." Me, on the other hand...
Robert laughed a little louder this time. "And you call me stubborn? It takes one to know one. Don't tell me you haven't told her yet."
Running a hand through his hair, John sat forward. "I don't know, Rob. It's not that I think she'd take it badly necessarily, but you can never be sure." He paused for a breath, the thought of Anna walking out on him too much to consider. "I've ruined things before, and doing it again...she's not a fool, she won't put up with it."
John noticed a small smile coming onto his friend's face, the sight a bit baffling but reassuring too. "Look, maybe all this is getting to my head. But you've got to take the chance and bite the bullet. We'll end up swapping places if this goes on much longer."
Somehow that didn't bring the smile so easily to John's face.
"Seriously, you've got a good thing here, and they don't come along too easily. I took too long coming round after that affair business, all for the sake of some stupid bloody male pride." He sighed heavily; though it had happened years ago, John knew it still affected Robert deeply. "I could have lost Cora because of my stubbornness and being shit scared. Don't let the same happen to you."
John nodded slowly, the long due advice that he needed to hear sinking in.
"Seems we've both been handed second chances, my fellow," Robert smiled up at him.
"A few more than that," John responded, still not comprehending how he had been quite so lucky.
The two shared some more lighter conversation and a few too-raucous laughs before the nurse popped her head around the door somewhat apologetically, telling Robert that the extended visiting time was over and that he needed to get some rest. Surprisingly he complied without much complaint, and John shook his friend's hand before leaving, so thankful that fate had been favourable.
"Bates," Robert shouted as much as he was able before John left, "Do me a favour, will you. Tell Cora to hurry up and find me some rabbit food or something. I'm starving."
Steam clouded his vision as he opened his eyes and it filtered against his skin too, remaining when he had wiped the last droplets of water away from his forearms. The feeling was good though. Hearing the stream of water still trickling against the porcelain, John stretched out to shut it off, allowing the heat to increase in the room for a few moments first. He felt considerably better after showering, the dirt of the past couple of days washed away and his muscles beginning to relax somewhat, though a dull ache remained stretched across his shoulder blades.
As he battled into the fresh t-shirt, overshirt and jeans, he discerned the subtle movements emerging from below. Listening intently, so much so that he almost forgot to breathe, it took him a few minutes to get accustomed. He was used to his own sounds, so much that they had become muffled within the walls. Having those of another there to accompany them was a bit strange, especially when it had been so unexpected, but he was unable to prevent the slow smile on his face upon thinking that just perhaps he could become used to this in time, soon.
Padding down the stairs in his bare feet, he took the time to observe her as he lingered at the kitchen door. It was mesmerising to see her so engrossed in what she was doing, without the distraction of knowing that he was there, and the huge pan she was poring over emphasised how petite she really was. The small start of a chuckle from him caught her attention, and she met his eyes with a smile.
"It's only carbonara," she said, keeping her gaze upon him while adjusting the dials on the stove. "One of approximately three dishes I can make properly."
"Carbonara is great," John replied with a smile of his own.
He moved into the room fully, the tiles cool against his soles. He longed to touch her on the shoulder, to tuck the wave of hair that kept falling against her cheek back into place. Instead he let her carry on concentrated in her task, sitting down at the table and stretching his legs out in front of him. Anna looked towards him every now and then as she prepared, sharing glances that were slightly bashful on her behalf. One became a bit too long, and with hands that flailed a little she managed to save the dish from overcooking, shooting him a look that was lightly reproving as she brought the food to the table.
"Only eat what you want," she heaped a modest amount onto his plate, balancing it against her own portion. "I promise I won't be offended."
John smiled at her concern, evident not only in the meal she had prepared.
"You didn't need to do this, you know."
She looked up at him, finding his gaze soft and rueful underneath it all. He didn't want her to think for a second that she had any obligation or worse that she should be the one to compensate, not given how everything had unfolded and how appalling he had been. When they came out of the hospital she had been insistent that he shouldn't be alone, and with Robert's voice ringing in his ears but his own conscience speaking in tune with it and his heart louder than both of them combined he knew he could do nothing but oblige. After getting back and finding that there was barely anything than a few tins in the cupboard, Anna plucked his car keys from the table and touched his hand briefly, running them to the supermarket. The anxiety would have got the better of him if she hadn't been by his side, picking out items with his nodded approval. It had just started to go dark when they got to the cottage once more, and against all of his better wishes he had begun to doubt whether it was the right moment, after everything. He felt that she had sensed his apprehensions, with regret stabbing at his soul. Anna placed one of her palms against the door that had been shut and the other to cup his cheek, replacing her delicate fingertips with her lips that were even softer. As ever, she fought back his fears and saved him from falling without hardly knowing why.
Anna replied with a smile and a touch of her hand to his as she sat down opposite, in more casual clothes since she had popped home briefly to get changed. It was still a bit difficult for him to wrap his head around the fact that she was there with him, the first time she had been in his home. He could have spent hours agonising over the invitation he was going to extend, eventually, but the way it had come to be removed all of that. And he liked having her here, most of all. More than that, it seemed to be what he needed, right at the very moment, but perhaps for longer than he cared to fully admit.
"Given that I'm 31 years old, I think my curfew has passed," she quipped, her fingers still curled over his hand upon the table. He should start eating at some point, before what was in front of him went cold, but he couldn't bear to relinquish her touch quite yet. With his gaze pinned upon her, he caught the thoughtfulness in her eyes. "I've been thinking, I should look for a proper place here. I shouldn't be intruding on mum and dad, and it makes sense if I'm going to be spending more time..."
Her words trailed off, and John could see that, after all, she was seeking his reassurance. The guilt remained entrenched in him that she should have to do so. He moved his fingers to cover hers, squeezing her hand softly.
She inhaled a breath, smiling at the response that came from him.
"I'll make a start on looking at what's on offer," she said with a soft vow, a smile shared between them before they both moved to tuck in, pangs of hunger suddenly too strong to contend with.
Dinner was ate in a fulfilled kind of silence, John realising that he was far more ravenous than he had expected to be before he had sat down. He still left a little on his plate while Anna continued along with hers. Every now and then she looked at him from beneath her lashes, arching her eyebrows in frustration; spaghetti wasn't the most delicate food to eat, and it kept falling from her fork before she could angle it to her mouth. John smiled at the sight, feeling a touch of heat rise into his face when her foot brushed at his ankle beneath the table just as she proved victorious with the last forkful.
He gathered up their plates and cutlery, rising from his seat before Anna could do the same.
"I'll do the washing up," he said, contending with the half disapproving look set deep in her eyes.
"You've had a long day," she fought back, kicking her heels lightly against the wooden chair. "I don't mind."
"And so have you," he insisted. A smile was pulling at the corners of his lips, growing when he saw her relenting in the sloping of her shoulders, as well as the light that illuminated her features. Before she could dare to argue he was making his way to the sink, rolling up the sleeves of his plaid shirt. He didn't fail to notice the way Anna was staring at him, feeling a bit self-conscious but flattered most of all by her melting gaze. "Fair's fair," he rounded off without a trace of expectation.
She closed her eyes for a second or two, expressing her assent with a little sigh before honouring him with her sapphire stare again.
"I'll go inside then, now there's one less job to do."
John smiled. "You do that."
The lightness of her tone made him feel at ease and while he stood, probably taking longer than he really needed to, rinsing each item not once or twice but three times, it struck him again that he wasn't perturbed but instead soothed by the situation. Knowing that Anna was in the next room, being patient and kind and beyond all loveliness by simply being herself, stopped the weight of everything from crushing down upon him.
With a final, heavy sigh that expelled all that had been pent up from the weeks of waiting and worrying, John set everything to dry on the draining board, catching sight of the pale moonlight captured through the gap in the window blinds. It wasn't lost on him – a little light shining through the darkness, almost like a saviour – and he smiled to himself, feeling as though he was finally edging his way to freedom after long years spent in the depths tunnelled away.
He found her standing by the fireplace when he came into the sitting room, a picture in a frame held in her hands. Knowing which one it was, he smiled warmly.
She turned round to face him, the sheepish look soon fading when she took in his expression.
"Your mum doesn't look how I expected," she commented, her fingers edging at the gilt of the frame.
"She'd like you for saying that. She still wants to let on that her hair is dark crimson, and not grey."
Anna shook her head with a smile. "She's beautiful. You can see the life in her eyes." Her gaze was intent upon the picture, rapt in fascination in trying to work out the woman behind the frame held still, and John had never felt so completely enamoured with her in turn. When she looked to him again the force of his feelings for her nearly knocked him from his feet. "You take after her so much."
He smiled fondly, pride filling him along with the adoration he had in his heart. "I'm glad for that."
She placed the photograph back gently in its place, John following her footsteps as she went in little circles around the room, her arms held close to her chest. Her eyes went up to the low ceiling and back again, surveying every item and feature of the room, though he hadn't cluttered it with trinkets or anything that he didn't need, keeping things simple.
"It's so homely," she trilled, casting another wide gaze around. John saw that she was almost hugging herself, her hands gripped to the tops of her arms. "You did this all yourself?"
"From the inside, anyway," he affirmed. "Although it did feel like I was building it with my bare hands for half of the time. Knocked through walls, lost count of the amount of repairs that had to be done. Part of me is convinced that Robert knew exactly what a state it was in and thought he'd get his amusement from seeing me trying to make it liveable for the best part of two years."
She paused at the edge of the small settee and John smiled, giving her the permission she didn't need to sit down.
"It won't win any prizes for Home of the Year," he mused, smirking to himself, "but I'm proud of it all the same."
"I would be too. I can barely hammer a nail in straight, so I think you should feel very proud of yourself indeed, Mr Bates."
He took such heart in her comments, seeing how much she truly meant what she said in her eyes. Her arm reached out and her fingers sought out his in a matter of moments, and with the lightest tug upon his hand he found himself squeezed next to her. Though it had two seats he never imagined that the settee was big enough to hold two people at the same time, and for an unbearably long moment or two he was convinced that it was going to buckle beneath them, his fault as Anna was only very slight. The little piece of furniture was sturdier than he had given it credit for and enabled Anna to come shifting closer to him, angling herself until she was quite comfortable, and he had to confess that so was he.
There was only one lamp lighting the room and John looked down to find that her figure was almost a silhouette against him, her back leaning upon his chest. The silkiness of her hair between his fingers and the warmth of her pressed to him made everything real though. Her breathing seemed to be synchronised with the beat of his heart, a little slower and more even perhaps as the effect of having her so near caused the rhythm to fall out of time. He rested his chin against the top of her head, trying to consider another time when he had been so content in his whole life. It was something to be cherished as much it was to be merely lived in.
"Do you want to watch something?" she murmured as she wriggled slightly, turning herself to face him while her side was still at his.
Entwining their fingers for a few moments, John exhaled a sigh. Anna scrambled to sit up, looking full into his eyes, a hint of trepidation coming into her own as she recognised what was held there and seemed as though it refused to go away.
She brought his hand up to her knees with both of hers, caressing his skin with the pads of her thumbs.
"You don't have to now," she said softly, honesty in her gaze. "Tomorrow is a good a day as any."
John raised the hand she wasn't holding to his head, rubbing against his temples. "You've waited long enough while I've kept it to myself."
He couldn't escape her, and he knew that he couldn't delay it any longer, whatever the outcome was to be. After the afternoon and evening they had shared, he had a little more assurance that it would all be fine, at least when it came to Anna's acceptance. She had already told him that she loved him no matter what, and given everything he knew about her – which was so much more than what she really knew of him, the ache of guilt felt heavy in his chest – there was absolutely no reason for him to believe that she could lie.
Raising himself up, he leaned forward to kiss the hands that held his with feather-light presses. Anna felt their promises all the same, and smiled with recognition.
God, I really don't deserve her, the voice echoed in his head while his eyes beheld her.
"I told you that I'd wait forever if you needed it," she said. "I mean it, still."
"You don't know how much I thank you for it," John responded, managing a small smile that told her of the depth of his gratitude. "But I have to tell you now." The solemn look he had fought away for a while crept back into his eyes. "God knows I don't want to risk what happened yesterday happening again somewhere down the line."
Her face contorted with sadness and a slight shock of the truth, painful for them both but waking them up from a dream too.
John placed both of his feet to the floor, almost filling the settee completely. Anna remained at his side, her hand placed lightly upon his arm like a firm promise of her own. He wondered briefly how long it would take while he spoke for her to gently pull it away.
Where on earth would he begin?
"The drinking..." he paused for a moment, bringing a hand to scratch along his jaw. It was best to start from the beginning, lay everything out on the line. "It got worse after I was let go. Then it seemed like the only thing I had left that was tangible, that I could hold onto when everything else had disappeared."
She had started to sweep her fingers up and down in small strokes, the compassion in her touch overwhelming.
"It started before then, Anna." He felt the need to say her name, as though it would keep her connected to him always. Already he was struggling, fearing the disappointment he would find in her eyes if he looked up towards her. "I was drinking in school. When...while you were there."
He was a weak man; his addiction had proved that, but it had been weakness that had led him there in the first place. As memories coursed through his mind, forcing him to relive all of his shame fragment by fragment, he had never felt quite so feeble. Her fingers had stopped their movements and he waited for his heart to grind to a halt, but instead it beat stronger as he registered Anna's hand closing more firmly around the muscles in his arm.
He found the strength to raise his eyes to her own, and realised instantly that the courage he had discovered within himself had been derived only from her.
Anna nodded while she remained silent. He supposed she had known that, she certainly wasn't naive and she hadn't been back then either. There was no question that he admired her, but part of him had to wonder why she had shown such loyalty – and love – for a man some years older than herself in such a pathetic situation of his own making, while she had been so young and free of any trouble. He wasn't going to brood over it; he was quite sure that he wouldn't have made it to where he was now without her love, even if for most of the time it had remained as a mere shadow in the recesses of his memory.
"I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help it. It was a couple of sips here and there at first, just to get through a bad day. Then that wasn't enough. I could go through a bottle in the space of about two days, sneaking between lessons. I wasn't proud of myself, Anna."
"No," she replied simply.
"People knew. Joe...Mr Molesley asked all the time if something was wrong, but he never came out with it directly. I was grateful then that he was soft enough not to accuse me, but I could have done with the shock." Not for the first time, he considered how differently things might have turned out if he had been hauled over the coals before the fire had got out of all control. "There were a couple of close calls when Mr Carson could have caught me in the act. But the risk seemed to make it all the more compelling. I wanted to push myself, see how far I could go before I stopped myself from falling over the edge."
His fingers had knotted themselves together, his knuckles near to turning pure white. Inside, the turmoil was surging, curdling within his guts and setting him aflame. The feeling never truly subsided, that shaking and desperate yearning for a hit to temporarily banish the agony.
"I didn't drink at home," he explained, knowing it must have sounded deeply illogical. "Vera drank enough for the both of us there, and she would have let me go to oblivion if I started on a single drop."
It all raced through him once more; the sneering and cackling that reverberated in his head, the way she would buy bottles especially and wave them in front of his face before she took a swig herself, hurling abuse at him inbetween for what a useless husband he was. It was a good job she had the drink, she would say, at least that was one thing that could fulfil her. Well, she would draw out the scrape of the bottle-top against the rim and then trace her hand against the hem of her too-tightly fitting dress, not the only thing – and every single one of them were better at it than you ever were.
"I asked her...no, I begged her for a divorce. I lost count of the times I did so, short of getting down on my knees. Oh, she would have loved that."
He let out a bitter laugh, recoiling at the way he sounded – the dark side still buried within him making an appearance he hadn't been able to stop, inevitable he supposed as he was in the thick of it all. He was quick to pull himself back, tighten the bars upon the cage, blinding fear seizing him when he considered the angel by his side. She was still there, thank God; if anything, she seemed even closer to him now.
"I told her again and again, what was the point of keeping ourselves in misery when we both still had the time to make a clean break, start our lives again far away from each other." He cast a glance down at the third finger of his left hand, freed for a good while now but still feeling the spectre of the shackle that had kept him chained to a loveless, hollow marriage. "But Vera was nothing if not tenacious; she'd been like that for as long as I'd known her. She'd fight to the death to keep what she had, even if it poisoned the both of us slowly. I think it was the thought of that that kept her going."
He was expecting Anna to resolve the mysteries that were within him, but how could he ask that of her when he couldn't even try to begin to unravel them himself? He must have loved Vera, or loved something in her, at some stage. Surely it hadn't all been darkness and destruction. Had he really wanted to cause such damage to himself by signing his life to her, marking his own downfall?
Yet it hadn't been her fault. She had pushed him along inch by inch, but the key to his ruin had always been held within his own hands. Even now he could see vividly the blood streaked across the palms, the reminder always with him and never able to be completely washed away.
Anna's eyes were as soothing and strong as her touch, and though he wanted nothing more than to collapse into her arms, halt the journey in the middle of the road, he knew there was no ceasing or going back. Not when he had traversed this far.
"There was a lad who I taught, he came into the class the year after you left." One hand was balled into a fist against the palm of his other, and he quickly flexed out his fingers, the tremors visible. "Thomas Barrow."
It took a few moments, but when he saw the recognition come into her face he swore that he was going to die then and there. Downton was such a small place, he couldn't have expected anything less.
"I know him," she affirmed, causing John to breathe in sharply. "Or I did, at least. He used to bully Gwen, and a few others too."
That certainly didn't surprise him, but at the same time it didn't do enough to give him pardon.
"I'd had students who played up or caused trouble, but nothing like him. From the second he walked in and saw me, he took against me and I didn't have the faintest clue why. A personality clash, that's what I put it down to. Nothing that I couldn't get past, or at least that a dram of whisky wouldn't help me with."
He remembered the presence of it, hot in his throat while the figure paced closer in the room that was caving in around him, lips curled and dark eyes daring.
Is this supposed to frighten me, Mr Bates? Because, if it is, it isn't working. I'm sorry, but it's just not working.
John's throat went dry, anticipating the words he was about to say and trying to stop him from getting them out.
"He smart-mouthed and goaded, every single time, never giving in an inch..." his irises flashed darker as he brought up the horror from the depths of his memory. "It was one lunchtime, he stormed in pissed off that I hadn't given him a grade that he needed - or so he used it as an excuse. I knew it wasn't worth explaining that it was his own fault for not working hard enough. He was getting aggravated, so I pushed him back by the shoulder, just firm enough so that he'd know to back down. I don't know why I thought he wouldn't push back."
His eyes pinned themselves to the floor, his leg bobbing up and down rapidly.
"All I can put it down to is something snapping in me, something that had been hanging by a thread, I don't know." After years of telling it to himself, the excuse was thinner than ever. "The first punch missed, but the second one landed him square on the nose."
The dark red blood pouring on the instant he'd made the blow, the flow seeming to be endless.
John forced himself to look up, his heart sinking when he saw Anna's cheeks pale and her eyes widened.
"Once it started, I couldn't stop. I could hear myself saying, what the hell are you doing? Stop, for Christ's sake, stop. But I couldn't, there was no brake, it was gone. He was lying on the floor, and I kept on..."
His voice wavered and cracked, feeling the blood surge in his veins as it had done that very day, fuelling him.
He felt Anna's fingers prising his hand open, slowly slipping her own between them. Her other hand stroked against his knee, small circles that ran on and brought the calm crashing upon the storm that composed him. She matched the deep breath he took in, unable to take his gaze away from hers which held them in this moment in time.
"There could have been a worse scene, none of the other kids were there. I went to Mrs Hughes afterwards and she cleaned him up. She said she had to inform Mr Carson, and I didn't object. I knew I'd only be digging my own grave afterwards if I tried to cover it up. I'd never felt so sober in all my life, all that had happened in those few minutes started to sink in." The aftershock left its mark, rippling through him with its echoes. "I expected that there would be consequences, obviously. But, god, I just wasn't prepared..."
A short sob choked his throat, unbidden. Straight away he registered her touch upon his cheek, comforting him with her caresses. It wasn't pity that he felt for himself; that had all gone a long time ago. Rather, it was the fact that the chaos remained to have such far-reaching effects. He'd happily sacrifice himself to its clutches but there was no knowing that it wouldn't stop there, and that was what clawed at him after all these years.
"Tell me what happened." Her voice was calm and measured, bringing him from the brink.
He exhaled slowly through his lips, focusing on the clarity of her pure blue eyes.
"I was suspended with immediate effect, three months. I wasn't going to argue; at the time I even thought it was lenient, but as I hadn't any previous incidents or marks against my character I was told it was just." He moved his hand through his hair now that both of Anna's were holding onto his other. "I was willing to go quietly, but Thomas's father didn't take kindly to that. While I was gone, he was calling for me to be sacked, going round the staffroom with a petition. The day before I was due to come back I got a call from Mr Carson telling me that there had been 'developments'. Someone – I still don't know who – had told him about my drinking. I couldn't very well tell lies about it."
She had that soft look in her eyes, the one that always showed itself to be proud of his sense of honour.
"I was ready to resign over the phone about that, but I was told I couldn't." He couldn't prevent his voice from shaking as he recalled. "It wasn't just his father that had come forward. Thomas had spoken up too, saying that it wasn't a one-off. That I'd been violent towards him for months, and he'd been too afraid to say anything."
John noticed the fire rising up within her, bubbling towards the surface.
"What a vindictive..." she exclaimed in a horrified whisper. He caught her hand in his, covering it softly.
"There wasn't much I could say, given that I'd covered up the drinking – even if it was absurd, who were they to believe what I had said without question?" He heaved a sigh. "Nobody could ignore an accusation of abuse. All I could do was lie low, get myself a lawyer and prepare for the proceedings."
She listened patiently as he told her about the court case and how messy it had got, the wild allegations that were flung against him by the family and a couple of members of staff, including Sarah O'Brien who testified as a witness. Mrs Hughes had been called too, and the way that the prosecution had tore into her ruthlessly still haunted him.
In the end the Barrows had done themselves no favours by inflating the charges that had been brought. The evidence of prolonged violence was non-existent to bring forth a verdict against him. He was found guilty of the one incident that had occurred and was handed a sentence of community service, including treatment for anger and misuse of alcohol. The judge advised that it would be in everyone's best interests if his post at the school was terminated, knowing that the matter was unlikely to be left alone even with the ruling otherwise. His career as a teacher was over when he walked free from the courtroom that day – 20th February 2003.
"Not long after, Vera woke up one morning and told me that she wanted a divorce," he added, the resignation leaving his voice with the final flourish of the story. "It seems that the shame of a court case and a conviction was just too much for her to bear."
The flush in her cheeks showed that her incredulity had reached fever-pitch. "And she had done nothing for you to be ashamed of, of course. All that spite and the affairs behind your back."
He pursed his lips, not feeling necessarily proud about her outrage on his behalf, but unable to refrain from loving her wholly with his entire soul.
"I honestly didn't care at that point," he confessed, still holding her fingers in his. "The case didn't leave me with much, not after I'd paid out damages and all the fees. I was a poor man, but I still gave her most of what I had left to possess. The material things didn't matter to me, I just wanted to be able to walk away and try for a fresh start." He paused for breath, attempting to quell the crushing disappointment that still resided within. "I'm not sure how well that went, given that it's taken me so long to be truthful with you."
She shook her head, traces of tears evident in her eyes. John seemed to know that they weren't there to condemn him, though reason should have made it so.
He raised her hand to his mouth, placing a few small kisses along the little plain of her skin, feeling so deeply that they could never match up everything she had shown to him.
"You see, don't you, why I felt I needed to let you go," he said in a wrought near-whisper, the mere thought devastating him still. "I've brought pain to so many lives, and I've sworn to myself I won't do it again. And Anna, if anything I've done in the past ever hurt you in any way..." He tried valiantly not to break down, though tears that matched hers gathered in his eyes. "I couldn't do that to you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
"When we were in the yard, that day when I gave the talk in the school, do you remember what I said to you?"
He stared into her eyes that held fast with his, sensing the hand that was reaching up to stroke his hair before she did so. In absence of speech, his head gave a small nod.
It wasn't enough for her.
His mouth opened slowly to repeat the words that were lodged in his mind.
"I will take you however you are."
Her smile widened while tears still sparkled in her eyes. "I believe I said a little more than that," she said, a little coyly.
She had moved so close to him that he could swear he felt her heart beat so strong that it was residing right next to his own.
"The past is the past, and none of us can change it. And I'm quite certain that nobody can say that they've never made a wrong step in their life."
He looked down into his lap ruefully, taking her words on board. Her thumb touched beneath his chin and slowly, she tipped his head up to bring him back to her completely.
"All I've ever wanted is you," she affirmed, her palm slipping to the back of his head, soothing against his hair. "I knew from when I met you that you were a kind, honest, caring man." He watched her perfect lips as she spoke, her eyes roaming the contours of his face. "A good man, who faced all that life brought with integrity. I probably shouldn't have done so, but I fell for you. I've never stopped falling for you."
She paused while she came close enough to brush his lips softly with hers. He felt astounded, heart and soul.
The smile on her face as she pulled back from him slightly brought him peace before unknown.
"And I never will," she added with finality. Wrapping his hand in hers, she brought him standing to his feet. "Know it for a fact. Nothing will change what I think of you." Her smile lit a spark that had burned out in his heart. "And what I think is you are the best man I've ever known."
She seemed so small before him, but the love within her made her the highest he had come across and made him whole, for the first time that he truly felt in years.
"Thank you, love," he leant down to whisper in her ear, his hands cupped at her back.
Feeling her grin against his cheek was divine, though it didn't stop the fatigue from bearing down upon him.
Pulling upon his hand she sensed it defeating him, the lack of sleep making itself known to her too.
"You're exhausted," she said softly, seeing him nod instinctively to her observation. "Let's go and lie down."
Her eyes were innocent, and he knew that nothing else was at stake that night, relieved and free from any expectations except to be close and comforting to one another.
Assured and unburdened after what had been an eternity, kept safe in her promises of unchanging love for him, he led where she followed.