I.

Anna stared at herself in the full length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, analyzing every inch of her reflection.

It wasn't just the outfit she'd chosen or the carefully arranged hair she'd put up and taken down three times before deciding to leave it in a simple bun held together with her mother's antique ivory hair pins. It wasn't just the little worry lines that had appeared around her eyes the past year, or the two grey hairs that she'd found at her temple that morning. It was her eyes that she lingered on the most. The blue that her father had passed down and the kindness in their shape from her mother. As she looked in the mirror, she fought a war with herself.

John wanted her to come to Christmas services, and if she didn't get a move on soon, she would be late. But she wondered if she should still go at all. He had trusted her enough to share a very painful part of his life to her last night, but it had left her still wondering what else he was keeping from her. She'd spent so much time building up reasons to not be attracted to him, but when faced with a very charming and very appealing John Bates at dinner, the wall she had carefully constructed crumbled into dust and every reason floated away like chaff on the wind. She'd hung on his every word as he laughed and listened and shared funny little anecdotes with the Crawley family. She saw a man who loved and was loved. And for a while, she saw a man that she thought she could love as well.

That thought doused her like a glass of cold water. Where the hell had that come from? She'd spoken to the man four times in her life, and spent perhaps half a day in his company, and all of the sudden her brain was supplying the word love to her? She shook her head of the foolish fog that had addled her brain since last night. She barely slept a wink as she replayed the evening over and over. The warmth of his smile. The softness of his hands. The faint smell of aftershave. The sparkle in his eyes that even now led her to believe there was something more to his offer of friendship. She clung to her pillow all night, pining for him like a lovesick teenage girl. She was being incredibly impetuous, she told herself.

Anna toed off her shoes and sat down on the edge of her bed heavily, deciding that she wasn't going after all. She blushed angrily at herself as her fingers began to strip the nylons from her legs. This is exactly how she had gotten herself into trouble before. She fell too hard and too fast for a nice smile and a charming wit. It had left her broken hearted twice before and each time she swore never again. Never would she lose herself so much that her heart couldn't be mended. She was still living with the shattered remains of her two serious relationships as it was. She had horrible abandonment issues as a result, and the last thing she needed was to place her heart in the hands of a man who wouldn't let her hold his in return.

Yet John was so very different from her exes. He was older, and he'd lived an incredible life already. He'd seen the world and lost so much in the process. He pushed her away even as he pulled her close. There was an inherent sadness behind the hazel shine of his eyes, something that he was keeping hidden from the world. He'd admitted as much. He was a man who had fallen and hit rock bottom and scrambled hand over hand to pull himself out of the depths. The rough feeling of his hands holding hers, not to mention the warmth of his lips when he kissed them, had led her to caressing her own skin absently. Her finger drew little ovals on the back of her hand where his lips had been only hours before.

Could she put aside her attraction to him and just be his friend? Or at the very least, a casual acquaintance? She shouldn't discount him just because he had told her he couldn't pursue anything other than a friendship with her. After all, the fact that he was practically brothers with her new employer could lead to all sorts of awkwardness if she didn't at least make the effort. They would cross paths again, that was inevitable. He'd offered his friendship to her, placed his trust in her when he told her about his injury and how he came out of it all a better man. If she ran away now, he would probably think that she was somehow disgusted by him, or that he had too much emotional baggage to contend with. The thought of hurting him like that tore at her heart. He was a good man who deserved to be given a chance.

It was Christmas, after all.

II.

The telltale squirming of children and teenagers in their pews told him that it was time to wrap up his Christmas sermon. No doubt many of them had brand new video game systems or iPhones waiting for them at home. He missed the days when children were excited about receiving a new football or even a bicycle if they were extremely lucky. Life was simpler when he was a boy, or at least that's how he remembered things.

Anna sat in the front pew with the Crawley family, between Mary and Sybil. He'd seen her sitting down toward the back of the church before the service, all alone, when Mary snagged her to come to the front with them, to Anna's half-hearted protests. She'd sat there sweetly and listening with interest, smiling and nodding along at the appropriate moments. He'd begun his sermon twenty minutes ago and made the mistake of looking to her for reassurances. Her smile made him lose track of where he was and he was forced to rely on his notes far more often than he liked, especially since he preferred to speak from the heart as his faith guided him.

After the sermon, he led the sacred Celebration of the Eucharist as the faithful lined up to receive their serving of symbolic flesh and blood. One by one they passed by him, making the sign of the cross to be blessed. He placed each tiny scrap of bread on the tongue, recited the blessing, and turned to the next person in line as Carson, as a layman of the church entitled to help with the ritual, gave them their sip of wine.

Anna stayed in her pew as the Crawleys came forward for their Communion. John glanced in her direction whenever it wasn't obvious, finally catching her eye. She shook her head at his silent query. He gave her an imperceptible smile and nod. If she hadn't been confirmed in the church or just wasn't comfortable with the ritual or her faith in general, he understood and would not push her. Faith was a private thing, and while he celebrated his openly and was firm in his beliefs, he knew that Anna was struggling with hers.

After the Eucharist, he said one last prayer to close out the services and thanked the congregation for their attendance. He didn't pursue Anna after he finished this time, rather he chatted with the few parishioners who approached him and waited to see what she would do. He was just finishing with old Mr. Turnage when he felt a gentle tug at the sleeve of his robe.

He turned to see Anna standing there sort of awkwardly, bouncing on her toes and looking around as if she had no idea what to do. He eased her discomfort by reaching for her hand and clasping it warmly, just as a priest would for one of the faithful, a gesture that should not be misinterpreted by anyone there.

"This is a nice change," he said quietly, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, "you finding me in the crowd this time."

Anna's face lit up as she clapped her other hand over their joined ones, lingering for perhaps a touch longer than necessary before they separated. "Well, I'm glad your first Christmas service was such a success," she said. "You've settled into the church nicely."

"Thank you," John said gratefully. "I'd like to think I have a handle on things now." He looked over the tops of the departing heads and noticed the Crawleys leaving the church. "I see you've taken to Mary and the rest of the family rather well."

Her smile broadened. "I have," she agreed. "It was so nice of them to invite me to dinner. And I'm so glad they did. Else I may have had to stalk that cafe to try to run into you again."

John blushed slightly as he twiddled his clasped fingers in front of him. "They do have that excellent chicken salad. But you always know where you can find me," he said, looking toward the lofty ceiling of the church. "And now that we're friends, you can always look me up whenever you'd like. Here or elsewhere."

Anna opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly cheeky by the way her eyes twinkled when Elsie Hughes caught his attention from a few feet away. "Oh, Reverend Bates," she called, waving her hand. The older woman shuffled over, clutching her book of sheet music to her chest. "The school called and said the gymnasium is set up and ready to go and that the cafeteria's kitchen is open." The older woman smiled warmly at him as she looked over to Anna. "Good morning, young lady. I hope I wasn't interrupting."

"Not at all," Anna said as she extended her hand. "Anna Smith."

After Elsie shook her hand and introduced herself, John motioned toward Anna. "Mrs. Hughes, Anna is a dear friend of mine. I invited her for Christmas services this morning."

Elsie gave them both an approving smile as she nodded toward Anna. "I'm so glad that the Reverend has friends after all," she quipped good naturedly. "I was beginning to think he was a hermit, the way he sits in the pastor's cottage all by himself. It would do him well to get out and enjoy himself occasionally."

"I have fun," John protested indignantly, secretly amused that Elsie had picked up on his lack of a social life so quickly.

"Sure you do," Anna mocked him with rolling eyes, bumping him with her elbow.

"Thank you for telling me about the school, Mrs. Hughes," John said to steer the conversation elsewhere, before Elsie caught on that they perhaps liked each other more than was proper. She tended to notice everything, and her speculative glances back and forth between them were beginning to worry John. "I'll head over there just as soon as I've changed out of my robes."

After Elsie disappeared into the crowd, Anna turned back to him. "What's this?" she asked in interest, a smile playing on her lips.

John tugged at his ear. "Downton's having a Christmas dinner for the needy at the secondary school down the road," he explained. "I'll be serving along with the church staff and a few members."

"Would you like some more help?" Anna offered graciously. "I don't mind lending a hand."

John fought a smile. "Only if you truly want to. I wouldn't want it to interfere with any other plans you have today."

"Nonsense," Anna dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "It's the sort of thing my mother would have done herself. She believed in helping the less fortunate at Christmas." She paused and smiled at the memory of her mother, realizing that it was the first time since she died that she'd had a memory worth smiling about. "Besides, all I have to go home to is Moe, and he's not very jolly, even at Christmas."

"Seems a shame," John mused as he could no longer help the pull at his lips.

"How's that?"

"That you'd volunteer to be stuck with me for the whole holiday. First last night, then the services, and now the needy."

"I don't mind at all. I like spending time with you." Anna giggled a tiny little trill and brushed her fingers against his forearm. John withdrew his arm slightly, which in turn made her frown. "I'm sorry?" she apologized, clearly confused by his reaction.

John closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "No, you're alright," he tried to assure her. "I just…" He paused and looked around, making sure they were out of earshot. "I don't want anyone to get any notions, that's all."

"So what if they get notions?" Anna scoffed indignantly. "You can't be friends with a woman in a church?"

John pursed his lips and looked above her head. A group of women were standing a few pews away, casting speculative glances in their direction. By their body language, they weren't overly pleased that he was spending so much time with Anna. Two of them had already been asking after him before, and he kindly put them off, not that it had stopped them anyway. "Not right now," he gently reminded Anna. "Outside of church is one thing, inside…"

"Robe, collar, and Bible, got it," Anna said quickly, her tone disappointed but understanding.

"I'm not pushing you away."

She wouldn't look at him, instead taking a half step back and shaking her head. "I know, Reverend," she replied pointedly. She pulled her phone from her coat pocket and glanced at it quickly. "Anyway, what time will you be needing my help with the dinner? I'd like to go home and change, if I have the time."

"You don't have to," John said. "Help with the dinner, I mean." He'd gone and mucked things up again and he didn't want her to feel as if she was obligated.

"I want to."

"Alright then," John nodded and checked his watch. "It's half eleven now. We'll start serving at one."

Anna smiled with tightly pressed lips. "I'll be back well before then," she said as she turned on her heel to leave. "Well then, Reverend Bates, like I said before, it was a lovely service," she tossed back over her shoulder. Her tone had gone from friendly and warm to almost flat in the span of less than a minute.

"Thank you, Miss Smith," John replied, his heart heavy again. How had he let both of their hearts get so involved that a simple gesture could lead to such anguish?

III.

She had gone to Kettering School as promised, having gone home to change into a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She intentionally dressed as dowdy and shapeless as possible, as to not make anyone think she was a temptress trying to seduce a priest. God forbid she show an ounce of friendliness toward John for fear of a pack of uppity women would think her a wanton woman. As it was, she drew quite a few appraising looks as she walked into the gymnasium and put on an apron.

For the most part, the people who had come to dinner were single mothers with children, and the elderly. There were a few solitary men amongst the gathered, and for the most part, they kept to themselves. A few tried to flirt with her as she slapped a heap of potato onto their plate. One toothless old man asked her for her phone number. Another fellow called her an angel from heaven every time she walked past, earning himself an eye roll and a wagging finger. She talked with them all politely and even sat down with a few of the children after John distributed donated toys to them.

She never paused and never let up, and John had noticed. "You're going to wear out those trainers of yours if you keep on like that," he said as she dashed past him.

Anna only gave him a quick smile before continuing on. It seemed that every time she tried to talk to him, one of the volunteers ended up moving closer, trying to seem inconspicuous. They watched her like a hawk. Every time she opened her mouth, they fell silent, ears turned to listen. She made it a point to not stand too close to John, even when he came to stand beside her. Whenever he appeared next to her she would immediately find a reason to move away, whether to serve from another food station, or check on someone sitting down at dinner, or to clear away garbage from a table. He seemed to get the message after a while, though his sad and resigned glances in her direction pulled at her heart.

She made polite small talk with Elsie and Phyllis, who had been the woman to greet her the first time she went to Downton's Sunday services. She learned that the man who had been painting the sign was named Joe, and his father Bill worked at the church with him. Elsie kept close to a tall grandfatherly man named Charles, and Anna had been surprised to learn that they were not a couple as she assumed early on. Everyone who actually worked at the church had been very welcoming and warm, and she was very happy to spend time with them, even if Joe tended to stand a little closer to her and laughed a little louder at her jokes than she would have preferred. She spent almost as much time dodging him as she did John.

Three hours after arriving, Anna peeled off her apron and put on her coat without so much as a glance in John's direction. She said her goodbyes to Elsie and Phyllis and slipped out the door before he noticed she had gone.

IV.

As predicted, Barrow and O'Brien had dismissed Anna, Matthew, and Gwen as soon as they turned in their two week notices just before Christmas. Robert had been more than happy to make sure they were all paid for the gap between jobs, even at their new salary. That left Anna with several days of free time before she would start at the Crawley Law Firm after the new year. It left her far too much time to think about John as well.

Anna took a sip of her tea as she flipped through a random fashion magazine that she had found lying around her apartment without really looking at it. She went through the motions, skimmed the photos and imagined herself in several of the outfits or exotic locations, but she just didn't absorb anything in front of her. It was as if she were viewing life through a vaselined lens, not able to focus. John Bates had confounded and infuriated her, all while ingraining himself dearly.

A knock at the door brought her out of her reverie and she unfolded her legs from under her, nearly kicking Moe as he slept at the end of the couch. He opened one yellow eye to glare at her before giving her a mewling warning and stretching his paws toward her for attention. What was it about the males in her life that they all pushed her away while pulling her closer?

She stood on her toes to look through the peephole and grinned when she saw Gwen's shock of red hair through the fisheye lens. Anna opened the door and enveloped her in a bear hug, rubbing her shoulders furiously. "Oh, I missed you," Anna gushed.

Gwen's brow arched curiously. "Me too, but what brought that on? I just saw you three days ago?"

"I know, but it's nice to have a friend whose motives I never have to question. I take that for granted sometimes."

Gwen snorted as they made their way to the living room. Anna took her coat and laid it across the back of a chair. "You want a cuppa?" she asked, thumbing toward the kitchen. "I just made some for myself. Water's hot."

Gwen nodded as she settled into her favorite chair by the fireplace. "I'd love some, thanks. Mind if I turn the fire on?" she called as Anna went into the kitchen.

Anna huffed as she took a cup and saucer from the cabinet. "I swear, you're fascinated with that thing," she said. "But yes, if it makes you happy, you can turn on the fireplace." One of the draws of this flat had been the small fireplace insert that ran on natural gas. It turned on with the flip of a switch, with none of the labor and soot of a real woodburning one. The novelty had long worn off on her, but Gwen delighted in it this time of the year.

She returned to the living room, cup and saucer in hand, passing it over to Gwen before sitting down. Gwen rummaged through the tin tea box Anna kept on her table until she found the blend she liked. "So," Gwen said cautiously. "How was dinner at the castle?"

"Lovely," Anna said truthfully. "And castle is a fairly accurate description. The place is gorgeous. And the family was very welcoming."

"That's terrific," Gwen replied in relief. "I'd hate to think you went and were miserable. Did you spend a lot of time with Matthew and Mary?"

Anna hesitated as she looked down at her nails and fiddled with them. "Not really," she said.

Gwen noticed her tone and body language. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing happened."

"Liar."

Anna's mouth opened and closed twice before she shook her head. "That priest I told you about...John. He was there."

"Oh my God," Gwen gasped. "Did you smack him for not telling you he was a priest?"

"No, no, at least not really," Anna explained, lacing her fingers together and squeezing them tightly. "We did talk about it. He actually apologized before I could say anything. It was all just a misunderstanding. He's really quite a wonderful man. And...we sort of ended up alone together in this gorgeous room…"

"And you threw him against the wall and made him scream the Lord's name in vain?"

"No!" Anna furiously yelped at Gwen and threw her arms in the air. "You are the worst!"

Gwen grinned lasciviously around her teacup. "I know," she giggled. "So, what happened? And why was he there?"

"Turns out he's Robert's best friend, and they've sort of adopted him into the family. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he answered the door."

"Did he make a big to do about the meaning of Christmas and the blessing and all?" Gwen asked.

"Not really?" Anna said after thinking on it. "He gave a quick blessing so we could get right to dinner. And after that, there was no more talk of God or church or any of that. He was absolutely adamant about the line between Father Bates and John Bates."

Gwen's narrowed shrewdly. "You're doing that thing," she said, her tongue pushing against the inside of her cheek as her lips quirked upward slightly.

"What thing?"

"That thing when you're excited about something or someone and you almost sing their name."

"I do that?" Anna said in disbelief. She tried to think about how she said his name, then remembered that he himself had said almost the same thing long ago.

"You do," Gwen giggled almost triumphantly. "So if you're saying Baaaaaates like that, you like him."

Anna shook her head quickly. "It's not so simple as that." She could see out of the corner of her eye that Gwen was waiting for an explanation and wouldn't give up until she was satisfied. She chewed on her bottom lip. "I do like him," she admitted finally. "He's terrific. I got to know him as a person and stopped thinking of him as a priest. The priest thing, it's just a job. It's not all he is. And he essentially told me that he was interested in me as well, but he had something that was keeping him from seeing where things could go. He wouldn't say what."

"That's suspicious," Gwen mused.

Anna shrugged as she tucked her legs up, curling her arms around her calves and leaning her chin on her knee. "I wouldn't say suspicious, but there's definitely some things he's not keen about letting on. He did tell me about how he ended up becoming a priest, and that was a very personal story that he said he didn't really tell anyone. He trusted me with that." She decided not to tell Gwen about his disability, knowing that he himself had been hesitant about sharing it with Anna. It felt like a violation to mention it without his knowing. She bit her lip and looked out the window onto the street two stories below. "All of that being said between us, we decided to give friendship a go."

Gwen winced, her face screwing tightly. "That almost sounds like he's letting you down gently."

Anna thought about it as she played with a loose string on the hem of her sweater. "I think we're both letting ourselves down gently." She felt her face growing hotter, whether it be from disappointment or shame, she wasn't quite sure. She kept her face turned away from Gwen as she blinked back tears.