Her phone rings just when she is finishing with the dining room before lunch. Mary's name is on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Anna," she speaks briskly. "Could we meet today?"

Her heart starts beating madly. "What is it?"

"Nothing dramatic," Mary hastens to say. "We have some new evidence, but nothing conclusive. Still, I'd like you to come. Does six work for you?"

"Yes. Six is fine... is something the matter?"

"Not more than usual. I'll see you later." And the line was dead.

It feels strange to go to the lawyer's office on her own. Since John had several meetings with suppliers and they didn't see each other during the day, he doesn't even know she's going. A part of her is glad. She appreciates his help but this is the sort of thing she feels she has to do on her own.

"I was right." Mary says without preamble. "There are others. Two of them even denounced the bastard, but there wasn't enough evidence, so they let him go?"

"Why aren't they suspects as well?" Anna is enraged.

"Alibis and the fact that they did denounce him. Since you didn't, it struck them as suspicious."

Anna groans.

"Why didn't you, by the way?" Mary asks, in her usual brisk manner. "You said he hit you. You had proof right there!"

She has to think for a moment before answering. Now, with all those months between that night and the present, it feels rather foolish. She knows better, though.

"You'd say I was stupid."

"I couldn't judge."

"Well… I was expecting Michael to help me… you know, my fiancée." At this, Mary nods. "And afterwards he was such a bastard-" without being able to control it, her voice breaks and Anna has to take a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "I don't know. He made me feel… he made it look as if it was my fault. He even accused me, almost as if I had cheated on him." She hears Mary mutter something that sounds a lot like 'thatfuckingsoddingbastard', but goes on. "I guess I felt that if he wouldn't understand, why would an unknown police officer."

Mary sighs, and grabs her notebook.

"You know the irony of it…" Anna continues. "Back then I was terrified of going to a police station. "I don't know what I would've done then if somebody would tell me I was going to be in jail in weeks' time!"

"Well," Mary sighs. "Irony is one way to look at it."

Both women smile dryly.

"Anyway," Mary's voice recovers the business-like tone. "I know this won't be easy-"

"I don't care anymore. It's obvious nothing has been easy. So, whatever it is, I'll get through with it."

"All right. So, here's the list of names. The women we know for a fact were attacked. The ones we suspect. Others that may or may not have anything to do with it, but were in touch with him before he died. I want you to look at the names and facts, and tell me if something rings a bell."

Anna nods, and takes the notebook Mary hands her. There are a dozen names, neatly written. Some of them have been scratched; others underlined. At first, nothing. Then…

"This one, Laura Jones… she used to work at Michael's company, right?"

Mary checks the name. "Still does."

"Yes, I think she's an assistant or something. Melissa Lee, manager. And this one, too. Only she's…"

Mary reads the name over Anna's shoulder and then checks her own stack of notes. "Human Resources."

Anna checks the list again, twice. "Nothing else."

The lawyer smiles and resumes her seat. "Apparently that Green lurked about you ex's insurance company for a considerable amount of time."

The memories of Michael have unsettled her a little, she realises now. The familiar names bring back images of diners, company gatherings, stuff he would speak back home. It feels foreign; all of that is so different from her current life, and yet it still hurts so much.

She realises Mary's eyes are on her.

"You know," she starts speaking slowly, weighing her words. "That Laura Jones… she is currently living with Michael."

"Are they together now?" Anna asks in a flat voice, not sure of how she feels about it. She loved Michael, but that was so long ago, and so many dreadful things happened, it's almost irrelevant.

"So it seems."

"I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"

"Maybe it's none of my business," Mary clasps her hands together, her eyes fixed on Anna's. "But I think you should face him."

"Face… Michael? Why?"

"Because the way he left. Because he stole from you. Because last time you were together, you were as broken as any human being can be, and now you're not."

"And do you think he should know this?"

"Darling, I don't give a rat's ass about the man, trust me. But I think it'll do you some good. Go and face those demons. And maybe, get some of your stuff back."

Anna thinks for a moment. If she only could convince herself she doesn't care, but the fact is, she still does. Sadness, shame, anger…

"It'll be even more ironic if it turns out her current girlfriend was also a victim." Anna says dryly.

"I know," Mary says with an emphatic nod.

"If she has, she's been smarter than me, not telling him."

"What a load of bollocks!"

"Excuse me?" Anna blinks a little surprised.

"Sorry, I just had the strongest urge to slap you."

"What?"

"Haven't you seen on your own that you're better off without him? I wouldn't go as far as insulting you telling that the attack was a blessing in disguise, but the fact is that it made it clear as water the fact that you were about to marry an insensitive fucking bastard!"

Anna is silent for a long moment, letting Mary's words sink in. During all those days alone, before the police came, and then with everything that came afterwards, she has never actually had the opportunity to think about her relationship in those terms.

"Now I feel stupid," she finally mutters.

"Good."

"What?"

"Sorry, no good, but you know what I mean."

Anna nods. "Give me that address." While Mary writes it down, it just occurs to her. "And please, Mary, don't tell John- I mean Bates about this."

Mary looks at her, the shadow of a smirk on her lips. "I wouldn't. If he had come with you today, we wouldn't have had this conversation and that would've been a pity."

An idea suddenly occurs to her. A very uncomfortable one. "Can I ask you something Mary?"

"Yes?"

"It's obvious you don't work pro bono. Even if you'd inherited the premises, somebody must be paying for the stationary, to say the least. So… is John paying for this?"

It takes a second for Mary to speak. "He is… but don't take it on him. He was just concerned about you having a shit of a lawyer."

"I know, but I can pay! Probably not what you charge, but something!" She is touched, of course she is, but there is something else. She appreciates him wanting to help, but offering is one thing. Doing it without her knowing, somehow, feels wrong.

Mary shrugs. "Don't think about it until you're free. I mean it." Anna nods, knowing that it will be impossible. "And don't tell him I told you, would you?"

She seems to be somewhat distant. Maybe he is reading too much into her being tired, or something of the sort, but he has the impression her eyes are not quite meeting his. Still, she kisses him warmly the moment they are alone and he welcomes her in his arms.

"How was your day?" he whispers.

It takes her a moment to reply. "Good I guess. Went to see Mary?"

"Really? Why didn't you tell me? Is something the matter?"

"Noting is the matter. You were away."

"You could've called."

"I know. Only, it didn't seem worth it."

He sighs, not particularly happy with that answer. He knows she's not a little girl, and he can't pretend to be her shadow, but still, he really wishes she had at least told him she was planning to go.

"So, what did she have to say?"

Anna shrugs. "Just a list of names of women that could've known Green. She wanted to know if any of the names ring a bell." She puts her jacket on and he hastens to do the same. Actually he can't wait to be with her properly alone again, not in the middle of the kitchen.

He wonders though, what exactly makes her do these sort of things that seem as if she goes a step back in trusting him. Or maybe she doesn't but to him it feels like it. Maybe he is just too eager, or too... he is not sure exactly, but as they drive in silence she takes his hand and when he looks at her, Anna is smiling.

He must be definitely reading too much into it.

That night they go to his flat. They don't have much time, and both are obviously tired, but the moment they step in, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him fiercely. He answers with enthusiasm and it's a long moment before they part.

"What was that for?" he asks. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

She chuckles. "I guess, I just missed you today."

"Did you now?"

"A tad." Her eyes are bright and her cheeks pink after the kiss. Without pause, he bends down to kiss her again, and a moment later his hands are looking for zippers and buttons, eager to see the whole of her, to have her as near him as possible.

This time she is the one pushing them both to bed, where they land in a frenzy of kisses and touches, muttering their names.

The neighbourhood is very similar to the one where they used to live together, and that realisation is a little annoying. Of course, Anna shouldn't be bother with it at all, but it still strikes her how he is still living his previous life, or a similar version of it, while hers couldn't be more different.

She stands in front of a three-storey house that has been turned into apartments. His - or should she say theirs - is the one occupying the second floor. The curtains are drawn and there is a very strong possibility neither of them is home.

Coming here without telling John has been much more difficult than what she thought it'll be. He didn't really pry when she told him she wanted the Sunday afternoon for herself, but she could see he was a little hurt. Which was silly, now that she'd think of it. They are together, of course, but they also need some space on their own, don't they?

She sighs. Maybe is the fact that she has come to see the man that once was her fiancée and she has neglected to tell him. But then, she knows he would've wanted to come, and she didn't feel like explaining why it is important for her to do this on her own.

Tired of her own thoughts, which are by no accounts new, she buzzes the intercom.

"Hello?" his voice makes her freeze for a moment. Her heart seems to stop and she realises her palms are sweaty. Still, this is important. She has no doubts.

"Hello," she uses her most professional business-like voice. "I've come to see Michael Holmes."

There is a pause on the other end. "What is this about?"

"Anna Smith," she says, not giving herself time to consider.

It takes a long time for him to answer, until, finally, she hears the buzz again and she pushes the door open.

The inside of the house is very nice, but she doesn't pause to admire it, as she takes the stairs resolutely. He is standing at the threshold, the door ajar not allowing her to see the inside of the flat.

"Hello, Michael," she says flatly.

"It was you then," he shrugs. "Voice sounded familiar."

She cannot tell if it is the almost closed door, his air of nonchalance or just the sight of him, but sudden rage boils inside her. She wants to see him hurt, or, at least, she wants to wipe that smirk off his face for good.

"Is Laura home?" she asks. At this the smile flatters.

"You know about-"

"Never mind that. Is she?"

"Why would you want to know?"

"Because I want to talk to you, and I don't think you'd like her to listen." Anna hears herself speak almost as if it was somebody else doing it for her. She had rehearsed what she wanted to say so many times, trying to make sure she wouldn't break down in front of him, but now it seems there was no need. She suddenly remembers that time going to see Mrs Logan about her missing things, and the old quilt the lady had given her out if pity, and a new wave of anger engulfs her. Michel hasn't move. "Are you going to let me in, or should we carry this on here?"

He looks confused. "Does it have to be now? Only… maybe you'd want to grab some coffee or-"

"It has to be now". Because I very much doubt I'll ever feel as powerful as I do right now.

"What if I refuse?"

Anna takes a small step towards him. "Do you really want Laura to know exactly why and how you left me?"

"She wouldn't believe you." He sneers, but she sees there's doubt in his eyes.

"Are you willing to bet?"

He sighs. "Come on in," he opens the door and motions towards a living room. It's slightly messy, it's obvious he wasn't expecting anybody. He looks around, a little hopelessly. "Would you want-?"

"I want you to listen to me. You owe me."

He doesn't expect this; that much is obvious. "What exactly?" he almost sneers.

Anna walks around, taking the small details in. "This frame," she points at a red, plastic one, now displaying a picture of Michael and Laura. This time she needs to take a couple of deep breaths before speaking again. It used to display a picture of them, Michael and her, the day of their engagement. "Looks familiar," she finally manages.

He doesn't answer, so she carries on, focusing on her anger. "You took my stuff. When I was away."

"You went to jail!" He snaps. "What use was it to anybody there, inside boxes?"

"You're right. But now I'm back and I want it all back, too."

"It's been more than a year!" he protests.

"Of course. So, I'll take cash."

"What?" It's more than clear he's not expecting this.

"Let's see," Anna recites the list she has repeated so many times inside her head. "Laptop, tablet, books, kitchen appliances - and mind you, there was a very fine mixer I clearly remember buying - linens, curtains, and an assortment of things… like that frame over there."

"You can't possibly prove you bought that stuff on your own!"

"But I could. There is something called credit cards. Receipts. Bank accounts. You, of all people, should know."

Michael pinches the bridge of his nose and Anna takes a small satisfaction on seeing him about to lose control.

"What do you want?" He finally asks. "Is this some sort of revenge? Are you jealous I carried on with my life without you?"

It hits her, hard, and yet she manages to whisper, teeth clenched. "I couldn't care less about your life, Michael."

Both look at each other for a moment, and she can hardly remember what was in those eyes that made her fall in love so long ago.

"5000 pounds," she finally says. "A check. Right now."

"What? Have you gone crackers?" She just shakes her head. "You must have, if you think for even one fleeting moment that you'll get even a penny from me."

She sighs, and this time it's just because of a new wave of rage she has to keep under control.

"Listen to me, you bastard. You owe me. And paying me back is the only decent thing to do. I suggest you do it just to clean your conscience." He snorts. "But, since it seems you are above it all, I will be forced to do this." Mary's words sound inside her head. Not an empty threat. The truth. "I'll speak to Laura, to everybody in your company, and whomever I like about Green, and about how you protected him that night, leaving me, because, I assume, you cared more about that client and your job. Which," she almost manages a chuckle, "is highly ironic, given that he died. So you didn't even secure that account!"

Michael looks lost. He is not looking at her anymore, but at her own two feet.

A sudden sound from the hall make them both jump.

"Sweetie?" calls a female voice.

Michael walks hastily towards the entrance, leaving Anna on her own. She hears him whisper, and then her voice much clearer. "Who?"

A second later she enters the living room, standing still at the sight of Anna.

"Hi, Laura." She manages to sound friendly. It's not her fault. She might be a greater victim than me. "Perhaps you don't remember me?"

"Anna," she says without emotion.

"She was leaving," Michael says from the door.

"Of course I am," Anna manages, torn between amusement, rage, and some imprecise feeling she can't really describe. "But don't forget what you need to give me."

She sees the defeat downing on him. Laura turns around to look at him. "What's that?"

"I'll tell you later. Anna, would you come with me?"

She nods. "Sorry to interrupt your afternoon like this," she tells Laura. "Don't worry, it won't happen again."

Michael is already at the door, scribbling something on a small table. She waits, glad that Laura hasn't follow them.

"Here," Michael finally mutters, handing her a check. Anna looks at it; the amount, the signature, the date.

"Thanks very much. And I mean what I said. I won't come again. It's just… too disgusting."

And without further ado, Anna exits the flat, and goes down the stairs as fast as she can. Almost at a run she manages to put some distance between the house and herself. When she sees a bench she collapses on it, finally losing the knot on her throat with a sob. She cries for a while, glad that the passers-by ignore her.

Then, she takes the check out of her pocket and smiles. It's not much. Not nearly what it would've been if she had been thorough with everything he had taken. It was much more than money, though.

Feeling relieved, liberated, almost happy, she heads to the tube, and back to the restaurant, counting the hours to eleven, so she could tell John all about it.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

To say that he was confused would be an understatement. He simply failed to grasp what sort of ideas had made her go there, and talk to him, and even ask for money. He barely noticed the look of pride and relief when she first arrived. That was gone now.

"There is nothing to tell, really." She sounds exasperated. "I realised I had been letting myself being bullied long enough."

"But was it necessary to go and see him?"

Anna frowns. "Are you jealous?"

"No I'm not." Only, if he is to be honest, he is, just a little. "I'm worried about what that bastard could do to you. He left you badly-"

"I know that, thanks." Her voice is glacial.

"What I mean is, was it necessary to go there and be exposed to him doing... I don't know, something?"

"It was." She says firmly. "I am trying to build my life back. And to do that, I need a clean cut with the past. Or, at least, with its demons."

John sighed. "I wish you had told me." That, and not exactly fear for her safety, is what's gotten him so angry. After all this time, and everything he has done, she still doesn't trust him.

"Why? You'd have wanted to come with me."

"To support you!"

"I know! And I appreciate it!" Though her tone of voice indicates nothing of the sort. "But this is my problem to solve. I need to know I can do it!"

For a long moment they stay silent. John feels that she is waiting for an apology, but he can't find it in himself to say it. He's not wrong in caring, or in wanting her to trust him. And maybe she is not wrong either... only, what a risky way to try and prove it.

"For a moment I thought you were going to a job interview," he finally says. It's the truth. He pictured her not telling him, getting ready and going on her own, just to surprise him with the good news later.

"What ever gave you that idea?" She looks genuinely surprised. "Why would I go to a job interview when I already have a job?"

"Come off it," he sneers. "You can't possibly think this," he waves his hand around the kitchen and points at the supply closet, "is a proper job. Not for you at any rate."

"Oh really? And what, pray, would a proper job be?" Her voice is loaded with sarcasm.

"You know what I mean! Going back where you were! A bank, or something to do with that degree you have."

"Do I need to remind you that I am on bail? I have a criminal record!"

"Still, you could try. See exactly what happens, call people you knew... I don't know! Go back there!"

"And why is that? Because you can't feel comfortable going out with a cleaning lady?"

That hurts. It's unfair. And so very untrue.

"I can't believe you'd think that low of me."

"Then?"

"It's for you! You can't possibly be happy doing this!"

"What if I am?"

"So you want to be cleaning for the rest of your life?" That is the thing he can't understand. There she is, intelligent, capable, educated. Why on Earth isn't she looking for something else?

"You're missing the point! This," she repeats his hand gesture, "this is who I am now. This is what I do. And maybe it's below your standards, I don't know and quite honestly, I don't care! This is my effort! This is me, finding the dignity I thought was gone for good. This is me, fighting, for the first time, to survive. And what's more important, this is me finally succeeding in life. And if you can't understand how very important this is then..." she takes a deep breath. "Then I can't see there's much we can discuss any further."

"What do you mean?" his voice is flat.

"I mean… I can't be with you if you can't find it in you to respect me as I am now." She walks to the closet and takes her jacket and her bag. He hears the words but can barely believe their meaning. "I can't have you trying to force decisions on me, even if with the best intentions. I- that's what you're doing, John. You're forcing stuff on me. And I've had more than enough of that in my life."

"You can't mean- You can't compare-" His brain seem to be overloaded with words.

"Goodbye."

She goes out and he doesn't move. He's too hurt, too angry to know what to do. It's insulting. After all that has happened, after all they have talked and done, the fact that she thinks he considers her below his standards… which standards to begin with? Hasn't she realise he's been doing it just for her all along?

His hands are on fists, and he hits one of the gleaming surfaces of the kitchen.

She might be used to him going after her now, but this time is different. He won't go after her now. Not if this is what she thinks of him.

AN: One more chapter to go! Thank you all very much!