Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or John and Anna, but they own a part of me.

It's no good going on living in the ashes of a dead happiness.

Nevil Shute

John Bates stared out the front window of his mother's house, onto the street. Passersby went about their daily business, as if the life he had managed to create at Downton from the wreckage of his past and the future he had just begun to trust might happen hadn't been shattered, the irreparable shards lying at his feet.

This had been home for the latter part of his childhood, but it was also where he had returned at what had then been the lowest point of his adult life, after his release from prison. At last free of the bonds of both alcohol and the law, and with Vera vanished without a trace, he had taken a hard look at his life and made the decision to make a change. It was here that he had begun anew, here that he had searched long and hard and unsuccessfully for work, here that he had – in desperation – remembered the words of Captain Crawley (or his Lordship, as he had come to address him), spoken years previous, at his bedside in a military hospital soon after the only partially-successful surgery on his leg.

"You saved my life, Bates, and I recognize that I can never repay a debt of that magnitude. But if there is ever anything I can do for you…anything at all…please don't hesitate to write me at Downton Abbey in Yorkshire."

At the time, John had turned his face away, the excruciating pain clouding his mind. But years later, in desperation when door after door had closed to him, he had recalled the words of his comrade and superior officer. He had swallowed his pride, and written to inquire about possible employment.

That path had, of course, led to the beginning of a new life…honest work among people he could, for the most part, admire, the respectability of an esteemed household, a return to at least some sense of the camaraderie he had shared with his Lordship in the army. And it had led him to her…to Anna. To her kindness, support, friendship, and then to so much more. To love…and eventually the prospect of a new life with a wife he truly loved, who loved him. The possibility of a family. After so many years of despair, of loneliness, he had just begun to believe that it would actually happen for him…for them.

But now he was back in London, living once again in his mother's house. Not with his dearest Anna, but with Vera…the wife he hadn't loved in years, if he'd ever loved her at all. His dreams dashed, his life uprooted once again.

Vera didn't want to be with him, not at all – she could not care less about him. What she wanted was to possess him. She didn't want him to be happy, most definitely not happy with someone else.

So here he was, living a life that was really no life at all. Vera was gone most days and even most nights, which was actually a relief, as she did not refrain from expressing her loathing of him whenever they were in the same room. But with no prospect of employment – he had looked for work with no success, his injury once again garnering stares and sneers wherever he had enquired – he was at loose ends.

This gave him a great many hours, days to brood, to feel his loss, and to remember his final, heartbreaking conversation with Anna…the one in which he had walked away from her for good. He tortured himself with what ifs. What if he had made different choices? What if he had somehow been able to gain the upper hand when Vera had appeared at Downton? What if he had been honest with his Lordship? What if…?

"The only ruin I recognize is to be without you!" Anna's anguished voice rang in his ears, over and over again…and her pained, disbelieving face, her wild eyes…and her tears.

If only he could catch one more glimpse of her – a happier memory to hold in his heart. If only he had a sketch of her likeness, or a photograph. Would he always carry her beautiful face with him throughout the rest of his life, or would her features start to become indistinct and fade as the years passed? Tears pricked at the back of his eyes.

He had so many regrets, and felt the heavy weight of guilt for the false hope he had given her, for the way he had ruined her life. He wished that he could have just a few more minutes with her, to reassure her that what they had had was real and true, even if it had been doomed from the start. He wished that he could, at the very least, convey his regret for the pain he had caused her. If he could do that, perhaps she would be more easily able to move on, to find happiness without him.

But he could do that, could he not? There was nothing to prevent him from writing a letter. Would he cause her more pain by making contact one last time? Would she be better off without that? Most likely the answer was yes to both questions, although a letter might also help to ease her mind…and thus help to ease his. One chance to say a proper goodbye…he could perhaps allow himself that. Just one letter, no more.

He would need to write it while Vera was out, but that should not be a problem, as she was rarely in the house. He could write it and put it into the post this very same day. Vera need never know.

John sat down at his mother's desk, pulled out a sheet of writing paper, a pen, and bottle of ink. Dipping the nib into the ink, he began to write.

My dearest Anna,

No, that wouldn't do. He had forfeited the right to endearments when he had broken her heart and walked away, steeling himself to her tears. He set the paper aside and took up another sheet.

Dear Anna,

Even this formal greeting felt too familiar, given their circumstances. John sighed, pushing this sheet away, as well.

Anna,

That was better. It felt cold to address her in this manner, but he didn't deserve more familiarity. Truth be told, he didn't deserve to address her at all. Dipping the nib into the ink once again, he paused, then began to write.

I hardly know how to begin, and should not, in fact, be writing to you at all, but the manner in which we parted continues to weigh heavily on my mind. My departure from Downton was abrupt, and I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you. I would have given anything for things to have turned out differently, but it was not to be.

My time at Downton was the happiest of my life, and it is among my greatest regrets that, due to the circumstances of my leaving, I lost the trust and esteem of so many people I respect and to whom I owe so much.

Anna, you are the finest soul I have known, and I know that you have much to look forward to in life. I am certain that you will, in time, find a better path, and hope that one day you are able to look back with relief and gratitude that this seemingly unfortunate turn of events was, in fact, what freed you to find your true happiness.

The words blurred on the page. He tried to blink the tears back, but his eyes spilled over, a few tears falling onto the page before he could wipe them from his face. He blotted the moisture gently, trying not to smear the words on the paper.

John startled at the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

"John!" snarled Vera, her footsteps echoing in the hall as she approached the room.

He swept the papers from the desk and shoved them all into the fire, watching his final, feeble attempt at a connection to his former hopes and dreams blacken among the coals until nothing was left but ash.

A/N: Many thanks to lemacd - I know that this would not have gotten done without her help with both motivation and writing issues. This was my first attempt at a canon-era fic, and I found it daunting, to say the least. It's also very different from the rest of my fics in tone and subject. Hopefully I have done this little missing scene justice. Thank you for reading!