Based on the obvious mutual understanding between them at the beginning of Series 2, I think this scene must have happened, and it was such fun to write. I got a little teary myself! Thanks for reading!

December 1915

Christmas morning Bates awoke early, as usual. He got out of bed and dressed for the day before opening the top drawer of his bureau and taking out the small package he had for Anna. He turned it over in his hands, dissatisfied. It wasn't much; a box of her favorite chocolates, which he'd picked up the last time he went to London with Lord Grantham. He had hoped to find something better, more meaningful, but nothing had come to him.

Anna would love it, of course. She always did. Her reactions to his gifts made him feel unworthy for not being able to give her what she really wanted—his hand and his name. And ultimately, that was what had him feeling badly today, that what he wanted to give her and what he had a right to give her were so different. He'd have showered her with diamonds, if she wanted such a thing, but she didn't. Her heart's desire was so simple, and so impossible.

With a sigh he tucked the box into his pocket and left the room.

The morning went by in a bustle of work, helping the family get ready for church, and before he knew it he found himself limping carefully down the icy paths, with Anna at his side as always. He stood next to her in church, their voices blending in the hymn. Anna glanced up at him, her eyes warm and happy, and Bates was hard put to smile back at her, so strong was the clenching of his stomach. He wanted to be hers in every way possible—wanted to love her freely, to be able to offer for her hand, to take her in his arms in all the different variations of passion and tenderness he could think of. And it nearly choked him that such a thing could never be. Bates knew quite well that the surest way to keep Vera from giving him a divorce was to go seeking her out and give her the upper hand. The only way it would ever happen was if she came to him, asking for it … and that event seemed so unlikely it wasn't worth speculating about.

As Anna turned her head away from him, looking forward toward the altar, he wondered if she ever felt frustrated. She showed it so seldom—she was always just there, next to him, supporting him, believing in him, loving him. And he repaid her trust with despair, time and again.

And then it came to him. There was a gift he could give to her, one she would truly appreciate. He wouldn't wait; he would give it to her now, while the spirit was upon him.

On the way back from church, he walked even more slowly than usual, allowing all the others to pull far ahead. Usually on days when he was holding her back from her duties he would encourage her to leave him to walk by himself, but he didn't today. Anna glanced at him with curiosity. "Is your leg bothering you?"

Bates peered ahead. Yes, the others were nearly around the bend. It was as much privacy as could be expected. "No." He stopped moving, turning to look at her. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Mr. Bates, it's Christmas Day." Anna looked up at him reproachfully, and he realized with a pang of guilt that she expected him to try once more to talk her out of her regard for him.

"I know it is. And I was standing there next to you in church thinking what a gift you are in my life."

Her lips parted, a little gasp of surprise escaping her.

"I have tried to hold firm against my feelings for you. When I came to Downton, I thought that part of my life was over and I was content with that. I have nothing to offer any woman—any decent woman, that is." He held up a hand as she began to speak. "I know, you don't agree."

Anna smiled at the acknowledgment, but didn't carry her protest further, having made her point.

"When you made it clear that you had feelings for me, I thought if I could only keep from encouraging you, maybe you could turn your attention to someone more worthy, someone who had a future." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Make no mistake, Anna, whatever else is true, this is: it is very unlikely that Vera will ever give me a divorce. While I was in prison, I thought she might, but I believe she sees me as an asset to hold onto, in case she might need something from me in the future. She won't let go of that easily."

"It doesn't matter, Mr. Bates. Not really."

"It does, and we both know that it does. But Anna, through all of it, you have stood firm at my side. You've never wavered, you've never withdrawn your … your love and your trust. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have been sacked over that snuffbox."

"Mr. Carson would have seen through that."

"Maybe." Bates didn't agree, but that wasn't the point. "You've given me so much, and I've repaid you with so little."

"That's not true!" Anna began. Bates put his gloved fingers over her lips.

"It is true. I've withheld myself from you with some idea that I was saving you from me, and I am sorry for that."

She pulled his hand off her mouth. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes, I do." Bates took both of her hands in his. "I want to say this, so that you will know exactly how I feel. I don't ever want you to wonder again." He looked deep into her eyes. "I love you, Anna Smith. You are the truest friend I have ever had or ever hope to."

Her eyes were very wide and very blue, shining with tears that trembled just on the edge of her lashes.

Bates's own eyes felt suspiciously wet. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, as he could feel his throat closing with the strength of his emotions, and he wanted to tell her all of it, here and now. "I want nothing more from my life than to spend the rest of it with you. I know that even in the event of my being granted a divorce, we couldn't be married in the church, and there would be people who would look down on me for being divorced in the first place. I won't be getting any younger, and my leg is likely to get worse, rather than better. With all that to consider … If ever I am free to ask, could you—would you be willing to share your life with me?"

The tears were flowing freely down her face now, and her chin was trembling violently. She was past speech. All she could do was nod, and then she stepped forward and buried her face against his waistcoat, her shoulders shaking as she wept. Bates folded himself around her, cradling her against him, not at all ashamed that his shoulders were shaking, as well.