I.

John arrived home close to three in the morning, opening the door quietly as to not scare Lacy. She barked anyway, not being used to him coming home at such a late hour. He quieted her down with a vigorous patting and pulled his phone out. "Lacy, sit," he told the big black dog. She sat down and cocked her head as he took a photo and sent it to Anna, smiling when he imagined what her reaction might be.

At the thought of her, he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter to steady himself. His heart had never felt lighter, yet contrarily more leaden in his life. He loved her. He had realized that in the moment that she took his hand in her office, felt that jolt to his heart that would have resurrected a cardiac patient. She kept him safe from the terrors that the sound of explosions were bringing him. It had taken every ounce of his resolve to not pull her to him in her office and kiss her with all of the passion he felt in the moment. His conscience and shame won out, and he thought he was safe from his wandering feelings for the rest of the evening.

Then he'd taken her home, and being confronted by the drunkard in the shadows had awakened the primal man within him. He felt the need to not only protect her, but to mark her as his, though he knew that he should be a much more measured person than his base instincts had made him. When she tried to put him off outside her doorway, his heart crumbled. The only thought he had in the moment was to tell her how he felt, whether she returned his love or not, even though he knew it was wrong to both profess and receive that sentiment. The moment the words left his lips and found her ears, he was too far gone to remain innocent. His heart had gone astray of his obligations to his past life.

The facts were sound. He was a married man. He was a priest who had taken his vows in good faith that he would not commit sin. He had fallen in love with a woman who was not his wife. Though they had never made love, never shared more than passionate kisses and furtive whispers and promises, he was an adulterer in his heart. He had sinned and broken a law of God, as far as he was concerned. If it ever let slip what he had done, what sort of man he truly was, he would be out the door of Downton and forced from the church as a whole before he could even pack his Bible away.

He hadn't loved Vera in years, not since the early days of their marriage almost thirty years ago. They got married because it seemed to be the thing to do, both of them being young and wanting someone to come home to at night. They stayed married because it was all either of them knew how to do. In the last few years they were together, they barely even spoke when he was home from his deployments. They only slept together when one or both of them were drunk or their urges got the better of them. He had lain beside her on more than one night, disgusted with himself, his bile rising from their twisted encounters. Yet he stayed with her because he was used to having her in his life, no matter how toxic they were together.

He had loved her in the beginning, when they were young and carefree. He wouldn't have married her if he hadn't. She liked being the wife of a rising officer in the S.A.S. and used it to her advantage. She became quite the fixture at the Officers' Clubs on whatever base they were assigned to. She was a social creature and made herself comfortable with whoever she needed to in order to secure herself in the pecking order. That meant sleeping with anyone who would have her and could be to her advantage, he discovered far too late in their marriage.

John found solace in the bottom of a bottle and the barrel of a gun. He let the adrenaline of training and combat be his drug when he was on duty and drank to excess when he was off. He would stumble in the door after celebrating the end of one of his multi-week training runs and fall into old habits with Vera. Sometimes she would welcome him into her body, sometimes she wouldn't even let him into the bed. She kept herself entertained with other men, and even women, and in the end, he'd finally had enough. She'd shamed and denigrated him one too many times. The last time he saw Vera was eight years ago, when he finally had incontrovertible evidence of her wandering affections, in the form of a wailing newborn that simple math and genetics proved was not his.

John fell into bed still wearing the tuxedo, not caring if he wrinkled it at this point. He didn't even bother taking his prosthetic off, though he ached from standing most of the night. As he stared at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, he murmured a prayer for forgiveness and asked for guidance in the coming days as he hopefully put the last painful chapter of his life to an end. He prayed to God for a sign that he was making the right choice.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He squinted at the bright screen until he could make out the words.

About damned time. Stop by the office on the 2nd and we'll get started. Anna must be very persuasive. -RC

If that wasn't a sign, he didn't know what was. His last thought before slipping into an all too brief sleep was of the beautiful angel that God had sent to him. He only hoped that she wasn't actually forbidden fruit made flesh.

II.

Anna yawned into her fist as she sipped her third cup of tea in an hour. She hadn't slept a wink all night, replaying the entire evening over and over in her mind. She could still smell his cologne on her hands, likely from when she dug her hands into his hair as they kissed. She found herself holding her hands to her face just to catch a faint whiff, even after she'd showered and washed up several times.

She'd spent a good portion of the morning tearing her apartment up, looking for her keys. She had a habit of dropping them where she stood, but swore she remembered putting them into her purse before leaving her flat the night before. Luckily, she had a spare set of door and car keys, so getting in and out and to and from work wouldn't be an issue until she had another set made. She returned the key to Mr. Patel and apologized again, offering him a plate of freshly baked biscuits. The elderly man was sweet and understanding about the situation. He did ask how her 'gentleman friend' was, and Anna pointedly told him that John was fine and went home soon after dropping her off.

As promised, John sent her a text when he got home, but instead of another photo of himself, it was a somewhat blurry photo of what she initially thought was a bear, with the caption Home. Lacy says hello that made her giggle uncontrollably. She had received another text from Gwen sometime after three, saying she was also home safely, that she had a nice time with Iain, and would tell her all about it at work the next day, after she slept the whole day off. Anna was glad that at least one of them managed to get some sleep.

Anna chewed thoughtfully on her toast as she studied the photo of John that he'd sent her. Of course, the dark graininess and fisheye effect were doing him no favours, but she smiled as she looked at it nonetheless. There would be no doubt to anyone that he was definitely quite a bit older than her, though his eyes retained a mischieviously youthful sparkle that she adored. The wrinkles around his eyes were caused not only by stress and conflict, but by laughter and shrewdness. They greying at his temples was of no concern; her own father had gone grey in his thirties.

Her phone beeped and she blinked at it, her eyes burning with fatigue. She grinned like an idiot when she realized it was from John. He should be just finishing with his services for the day.

How are you? he asked simply. He probably wanted to tread lightly, and so did she.

Fine, she texted back. Didn't sleep. Kept thinking if I went to sleep and woke up, it would all have been a dream. She set the phone down and stared at it, her entire body tense as she awaited his response.

Can I call you?

Anna's heart skipped a beat as she sent her reply. Her finger hovered over the talk button until it lit up green. "Hi," she breathed nervously into the phone.

"Good afternoon," John greeted her, his smile cutting through the line. "How are you feeling?" She could hear him moving things around in the background.

"Exhausted," she admitted. "But good somehow. I think I'm getting my second wind."

John laughed softly. "I'm glad one of us is," he said, sounding quite worn out himself. "I did catch maybe an hour of rest before I had to get up for services this morning."

Anna raised one brow as she curled up on the couch. "Hmm. Were our friends, Madames Harris and Lawson there?" She rolled her eyes as she remembered their impertinence.

"Front and center," John huffed. "I think they were expecting me to call it in today. I've never felt so happy to disappoint someone in my life."

Anna giggled and bit at her thumb. "Did last night really happen?" she asked quietly.

John sighed and she heard the rustle of fabric. "Let's see," he mused. "I remember a party, and fireworks, of the literal and figurative sense. Ringing any bells?"

"A few," she snickered. "Go on. Refresh me a bit more."

"Hmm. We've already touched on subject of the rude ladies. Then there was something about an interrupted kiss at midnight, which we more than made up for exactly two hours later."

Anna closed her eyes and touched her lips as she remembered every minute detail about that moment. "That was very nice," she said.

"That it was."

"Did you mean what you said? Because I did," she said quietly.

John was silent for a heartrending amount of time. She could hear his breathing change, becoming more rapid and shallow. She frowned as the silence stretched out, and began to suspect that he had only been speaking in the moment. He hadn't meant it after all. Fear and doubt gripped at her heart.

"Anna," he said finally. "I said it then, and I'll say it now. I love you." He sighed, his breath sounding shaky and uneven. "I prayed on it last night when I got home. I prayed for us both."

"You make it sound as if we're doing a bad thing," Anna said, shaking her head. "You don't think we are, do you? I know I don't."

"Praying about something doesn't mean that there's wrong in it," John explained. "As a man of God, I feel as if I am held to a much higher standard. I have to be an example to my church."

"What greater example could there be than two responsible and consenting adults in love?" she asked carefully.

"None," he agreed, his smile clear in his voice. "I can think of nothing more beautiful in God's eyes. He made and keeps us because He loves us, and He sent and sacrificed His Son because of that same love." He sighed quickly and chuckled. "Sorry. I'm preaching again."

The idea of being beholden to the church and a higher power was a decidedly foreign concept to Anna, but she knew she had to make an effort to understand where John was coming from. It was an integral part of who he was, and if she was going to love him, she had to come to love all of him, even if she didn't necessarily agree with the doctrine he adhered to. It was sort of refreshing to think that he would measure everything carefully, not allowing either of them to misstep along the way. She'd rushed headlong into both of her previous long-term relationships without a care for what was necessarily wise or proper and it had only led to utter disappointment and heartbreak. There was something to be said for pursuing a relationship in an old-fashioned sort of way.

"No, it's okay," Anna said after thinking about it momentarily. "It's a part of who you are. If I'm going to love the dashing and dangerously handsome John Bates, I'll also love the pious Reverend as well."

"You're amazing, do you know that?" he breathed, the smile evident in his voice. "I thank God for you." He paused before chuckling lowly. "Dangerously handsome? I don't know that I've ever been described as the latter before. Dangerous, but never handsome."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Maybe not to that you've ever heard, but I've seen the way all the widows and bachelorettes look at you in church. Some of the married ones, too." She bit her lip and fought back a giggle. He was hers. She would need to step up her game when he was ready to go public with their relationship.

"It's a good thing that I've never given any of them a second glance, isn't it?" he almost purred. His voice was driving her insane as she felt an aching knot forming low in her belly, sending out tendrils of arousal. "But I don't want to give them more gossip fodder any time soon. I wouldn't want a repeat of that mess last night."

"Well, then, Reverend," Anna said with a little drawl. "You'll just need to pray for ways for us to see each other without prying eyes judging us, though I think that being alone together would lead to all sorts of other problems. Like you said, we shouldn't be letting ourselves get carried away for the time being."

He laughed into the phone, the richness of his amusement delighting her. "I wish I could see you tonight, but I don't think Robert has any more parties scheduled for quite some time. I miss you."

Anna scrubbed at her eyes, clearing away the tears that had been brimming. "We'll actually have to plan for ways to see each other now instead of just running into each other. I hear that people do things like go to movies and have romantic dinners and the like. I hear that they even do these sorts of things before declarations of love."

"Do they now?" he said in mock astonishment. "How about a visit to the town bazaar and perhaps lunch at Patmore's Cafe on Saturday? Keeping up appearances that we're simply friends for now, of course."

Anna thought about it and nodded. "Alright then, it's a date. A secret date."

"Deal," John said. "I have a confession to make, though."

"Oh?"

"I knew you would be there last night. I wasn't even going to go to the party until Robert said you were going to be there."

Anna blushed hotly. "You had a plan all along, you silly beggar," she accused him.

"Guilty as charged."

"Fine," Anna said firmly. "I have a confession to make too, but I need to know if you're wearing your...priest things right now."

"I'm not," he said slowly.

"Too bad," she said in mock disappointment. "Because I was going to confess to having impure thoughts about a man I was with last night. Very impure."

"You naughty girl," he said in an amazingly sensual drawl that made her shiver.

"So when you've settled whatever it is you have to settle, we'll talk about those thoughts some more," Anna said. "That is, if you don't think God will mind."

John groaned into the phone. "You're making it very difficult to be good, Anna," he rasped.

"I know," she giggled. "Now. I'm exhausted and need to see if I can close my eyes for a bit."

John actually yawned, though he tried to hide it. "You're absolutely right. I think I should catch a nap myself. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"I have to work in the morning, so maybe tomorrow night?" Anna said after thinking on it.

"I look forward to it," John said cheerfully.

They bid their goodbyes, professions of love not rolling off the tongue automatically just yet. Anna pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over her and closed her eyes, to dream of the best man she'd known.

III.

Try as he did, sleep eluded him in the hours after he hung up the phone with Anna. He had actually been preparing to take a short afternoon nap after he finished the day's church services, but the urge to call and hear her voice was far too strong to fight. He needed to gauge her receptiveness first, so he sent her a quick text, and was relieved when she didn't put him off.

Now, after having talked to her, he lay back in his bed, staring at the play of light from the window on the wall. It was something he found himself doing often when he had to think, or when he needed to seek guidance from God. The window had four panes, divided into quadrants down and across the middle. Between two and three in the afternoon, he'd found, the light from the window cast the shadow of an angled cross on the wall. This was the time of day when he had his most profound and personal moments with his Creator.

As the sun changed its angle, the shadow faded, and the room filled with the amber glow of the afternoon. Yet he still couldn't sleep. Memories of the night before played back over and over in his mind, the constant loop both delighting and tormenting him. He needed someone else to talk to about his dilemma, someone who knew the struggles of a priest trying to balance love with the laws of God. He puffed his cheeks out in frustration before realizing he knew exactly who he could talk to, who had a deep, personal understanding that priests were human too, who had flaws and scars to battle with every day, just like the people they ministered to.

John swung his legs out from the bed and secured the prosthetic in place. He changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, tossed Lacy a couple of dog biscuits, and headed out the door in search of his own spiritual guidance.

An hour later, he sat in front of Saint Andrew's Community Center, with a flood of memories rushing in to fill his head. The building hadn't changed much, other than it seemed a bit more run down than before. The familiar old Peugeot still sat outside, and John smiled, knowing that he would find the man he was looking for inside the building, just as he expected to. He stepped out of his car and pulled his jacket close around him to fight the biting wind that had blown in from the north since the morning.

He stepped into the old building, the smell of cleaning products and old furniture heavy in the air. He found his target exactly where he thought he would be, sitting in the very room that John found himself in so many years ago as he sought salvation from the bottle.

"I'm afraid you've just missed today's meeting," the man bent over a stack of papers called out without looking up.

"Pity," John replied with a smile. "Think you have time for a private counseling, Brother?"

Anthony Strallan looked up from his work suddenly, his surprise turning into glee as he stood up and held his hand out to John. "Brother John, as I live and breathe," he exclaimed with a toothy grin. "The prodigal son has returned."

John shook the older man's hand, then pulled him into a fierce embrace, thumping him on the back in camaraderie. "How are you, my friend?" he asked. "It's been too long."

"It has indeed," Anthony agreed, his face turning up with a huge grin again. To the casual observer, he was the happiest man one could ever meet, but John knew that most of Anthony's smiles and laughter were out of sheer nervousness. He was an awkward fellow that put a lot of people off, but he had a real love of God and a desire to help anyone in need. John himself had been unnerved by the man initially, but after several contemptuous counseling sessions with him, he warmed up to his quirks. He had been the person who helped John find his way with the church, as well as the one who shoved Lacy into his arms. No other person had put him so close to his path of redemption than Anthony Strallan.

"You look like you're still keeping busy," John said as he looked around at the empty trays of store-bought biscuits and bottled water on the table. Come for the biscuits, stay for the salvation, Anthony once said.

"Well, I suppose," Anthony sniffed, ducking his head. "Not as many programs right now. I don't know if having less people seeking help is a good thing or a bad thing. Sit?" He nodded at a metal folding chair near John, the same type that he had spent so many hours in, talking with his group and listening to their stories. As John took his seat, Anthony pulled up a chair and sat down himself. "How do you find your new church?" he asked.

"Incredible," John said truthfully. "The parishioners have been terrific and most welcoming. I'm certainly not stopping anyone from jumping off of a ledge like you do here," he said, nodding to indicate the sparse and rundown room, "but it feels good to be spreading the Word."

"I'm so delighted," Anthony replied with a laugh, slapping his knee. "So delighted. We all have our parts to play in God's story and I'm so glad you found yours. So what brings you here? I know it's not just for my company. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm a dreadful bore." He laughed disparagingly at himself.

John worked his jaw back and forth as he thought of how he should begin.

"It's not a crisis of faith, is it?" Anthony asked quickly, suddenly very serious. His grey eyes widened as he leaned forward intently.

"Not precisely," John said, folding his arms across his middle and sighing. "You're the only person I can think of who would understand what I'm going through right now."

Anthony frowned, his eyes darting back and forth before realization dawned. "You're having issues with weakness of the flesh, aren't you?" he said, very perceptively. "You've found some woman who you're keen on and you're wondering if it's all part of God's plan?"

As always, John was floored at how well Anthony could read people. "How do you do that?" he asked in astonishment.

The older man laughed nervously, though the amusement never reached his eyes. "You spend a lot of time with people who have problems, and those problems practically jump out at me as soon as they enter the room. So what's her name? The one who has you questioning your faith."

John rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself. "Anna," he answered finally, staring at the ceiling. "And I wouldn't say I'm questioning my faith, just certain...restrictions that accompany it." He gave Anthony a brief history of meeting Anna, how he had begun to have feelings for her, and without too many details, the story of their time together the night before. Anthony listened intently, murmuring little words of encouragement every time John faltered in his speech or paused to think of a more delicate way of explaining his feelings.

"So what is she like, your Anna?" Anthony asked finally, after John got to the part about coming to see him for guidance.

"Incredible," John sighed. "She's warm, and giving, and a great listener. She makes me laugh. I told her about Iraq, and my leg, and the addictions, and she never flinched or wavered, not even once. She's infuriatingly tenacious. She somehow still says she loves all of me, even though she's not religious herself. She accepts me for who I am, who I was, and who I will become."

Anthony leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "You love her, don't you?"

"I do," John admitted, with a mixture of pride and shame.

"Do you want to know how I know you really love her?" Anthony whispered, a little grin spreading across his face.

"How?"

"When I asked you to describe her, you never said a word about her physical attributes."

John smiled broadly as he closed his eyes and thought about how gorgeous she was. "That's because there are no words that can describe how beautiful she is," John mused, his eyes burning with the sting of tears. "She's exquisite. Far too beautiful for an ugly old bloke like me."

"If she's as perfect as you say, and you love each other, why are you seeking counseling from me?"

John leveled his gaze at his friend, knowing that he was unfortunately opening old wounds. "Because I'm still married to my wife, even if we haven't so much as spoken in eight years."

Anthony exhaled slowly, realization dawning in his grey eyes. They stared a thousand miles into the distance, never blinking. "Yes," he said haltingly. "Yes, I suppose it makes sense why you're here then. I may have quite a bit of insight as to what you're going through."

John nodded silently, rubbing the back of his neck. "I couldn't seek counsel from someone in the diocese. It can't go up the ladder."

Anthony's lips pressed together grimly in a pale line. "Don't I know all about that sort of thing?" he said, huffing quickly. "Though I would hope our circumstances are different. You haven't…" He trailed off and waved his hand vaguely. "With Anna, I mean. Not meaning to pry, of course."

"No," John said sharply. "We haven't. Honestly though, I don't think it would take much for either of us to fall over that cliff. The attraction I feel for her..." He stopped himself from saying more. It was one thing to think about them, and another to voice his urges.

"Of course you know Matthew 5:28," Anthony reminded him gently.

"But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart," John recited from memory. The same verse had been swirling around in his head all night and all day.

"You must be discreet with your affections. Chaste even."

"I know," John sighed.

Anthony frowned. "And what about Vera? Her name is Vera, if I remember correctly? Have you filed for divorce?"

"I intend to," John said confidently. "As soon as my solicitor can find her. I put it off so long because…" He frowned and stared at the flickering fluorescent lights above him. "At first it was laziness, and then simply not wanting to dredge up the past for no reason. And then when I entered the seminary, the idea of divorce became vulgar to me, no matter how vulgar our marriage itself had become. We didn't even have a marriage anymore. Especially after she had another man's child."

"My dear fellow," Anthony laughed, almost uproariously. "Our entire church was founded because some fat bastard wanted a divorce. In fact," he wheezed in amusement, "the Church of England itself is a product of divorce. We left the Catholic Church because it just wasn't working out and we wanted to see other people. If that's not a ringing endorsement for personal divorces, I don't know what is."

John laughed heartily with his friend. He'd never really thought about it that way. "But do you understand where I'm coming from? I've technically committed adultery in the eyes of the Lord."

"Did you get married in a church?" Anthony asked.

"No."

"Did a minister marry you?"

John frowned and shook his head. "It was at the county registrar's office in Brighton, when I had three days leave from the Army. The clerk had us sign papers, read her lines from a card, and off we went, unhappily ever after."

"Then so far as I and God are concerned, it was never holy matrimony to begin with," Anthony said with a shrug.

"You're parsing the definition," John chided him.

"Am I?" Anthony said, a little hint of triumph in his voice. "Technicalities are both wonderful and terrible, aren't they?" He rubbed his hands together. "Look, John, I'll never tell you who to love or who to cast aside. God knows I'm not an expert in that sort of thing. I will warn you, from personal experience, to tread lightly, lest the diocese find out and strip you of your title. You must wait until you are no longer married on paper or in the eyes of God before taking any sort of further steps with your lovely Anna."

John sighed and nodded in understanding. "The woman you were with, have you ever heard from her? After it all ended for you?"

"Not after the decision from the Archbishop was handed down," Anthony said sadly. "I was a diversion from her other problems. I don't blame her, really. She was excited that she'd taken up with a man who she thought loved her, and as such, she told her friends about it. I can only blame myself for having relations with another woman while Maude lie wasting away in a nursing home." He stared out the window onto the dingy street beyond. "I knew the risks when I lost myself in a woman seeking my counsel for her addictions. It's funny how she traded substance abuse for sex addiction. I was too blinded by lust and too weak to recognize it, and I can blame only myself."

"And you never filed an appeal with the diocese?"

Anthony snorted. "Who could I have appealed to? It was the Archbishop of York himself who stripped me of my church and banished me from the pulpit. It wasn't the sin so much as who I committed the sin with, a woman who sought my help for her addictions. I could have appealed to God until my face turned blue, but it would have done no good. I was branded by my own lust and the laws of God, as they are interpreted by men." He leaned forward and looked at John sternly. "Do not make the same mistake as I did, my friend. Get right with God and the church first, before you carry on any further. You've sinned, that much is for certain, but by recognizing it, you can keep it from tainting your love for her any further. Imagine the pain you would feel if that same love caused you to lose everything you've worked so hard for these past few years."

John listened intently, as he had years ago when he'd first sought out the counsel of the former Reverend Strallan. He didn't know at the time that Anthony was struggling with his own demons, and within a few months was excommunicated from the church. The older man spoke from experience, his mistake of falling into the arms of another woman leaving him with nothing but a leaky and cold community center and a room full of addicts and discarded paper products on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"How is Maude?" John finally asked, the question having been on his mind since he arrived.

Anthony's eyes drooped sadly. "Much the same," he said with a sigh. "She hasn't even looked at me in ten years, or known my name in fifteen. Alzheimer's is the cruelest of diseases. To rob the mind while the body remains an empty shell. I'll never divorce her and I'll never stray from her again, even if she doesn't know who I am or what I've done. The home that she's in takes good care of her, and I'll still visit her every evening, until one of us has gone." He barked out an ugly laugh. "It's strange. I think I talk to her more now than I did before she became ill. We never had a great deal in common."

"I'm sorry you've had to bear such a burden," John said, his eyes welling in sympathy.

"I've known love," Anthony said with a wistful smile. "I've known loss. You've known them as well. This love you have now, treasure it, so long as you can." His smile broadened. "True love is a gift from God, John."

"She is a gift from God," John replied, a smile splitting his face. "I still can't believe the way my life has changed in a matter of months, between finding my place at Downton, and then finding her. It's as if I've almost found my place in the world."

"Then perhaps you'll find your place together," Anthony said, clapping his hand on John's shoulder.

The idea of both made John's heart soar, and he returned to the pastor's cottage that evening with a much lighter burden on his shoulders. He was finally beginning to see the sun through the clouds, after years of staring at the sky, looking for his own version of heaven.