Prompt: Person A writes Person B a letter that never gets sent.

The sound of the Christmas singing faded as the door closed behind them.

"Come with me," John whispered, taking Anna by the hand. "Let's go home."

Anna didn't answer, she simply allowed him to lead her down the stairs. For once, John had to slow down and wait for her. Her legs were shaking, causing her to be deliberate with each step until they were at the servants door and even then she couldn't make herself rush. She just couldn't believe he was really back. John reached for her coat and held it open to her.

"Shouldn't we at least tell someone that we are leaving?" she asked, still whispering. She didn't know why; maybe it was a dream and if she spoke too loud she'd wake herself up.

"Mrs. Patmore saw me sneak in," he replied. "She will let Mr. Carson or Mrs Hughes know that I've returned, I'm sure," John replied confidently. "They will figure it out. And I don't think they will blame us for taking our leave." Anna simply nodded. He observed her fumble with her gloves and hat. "You're trembling."

"I can't seem to catch my breath," she laughed skittishly. "I just can't believe you're home!"

John picked up the bag he left by the door when he first arrived and opened the door. The chilly night greeted them as they made their way through the courtyard and down the path toward their cottage.

"Let me," Anna said, reaching for the bag.

"I can manage."

"I know you can," she chided. "But I want to hold your hand." He understood and he didn't argue, simply relinquished his piece of luggage and held out his arm. They returned to their journey home. "That's better."

The walk toward the cottage was a quiet one, as snow drifted through the night to the ground before them. He said the questions could wait and she agreed. Instead, she would squeeze the fingers that held hers, to communicate her relief, her joy, all her love. And to convince herself he was really there.

"Tell me what's been happening at Downton."

"What is there to tell?" Anna asked after a few silent beats. He hesitated as well, careful with his next question.

"Has everyone been treating you well?" There was an edge in his voice, half expecting the answer to be no.

"Yes," was her short answer. There was silence and Anna knew she would need to say more in order for him to believe it. "No one has been unkind, anyway. Lady Mary keeps me occupied. I think she believes it will help me avoid being bothered with questions."

"And did it work? Were you bothered with questions?"

"I wasn't bothered, not really," she said softly. "No one was cruel. Daisy asked about prison as if I were away on holiday. She was curious is all."

"And Mr. Barrow?"

"He behaves," Anna offered, her voice tired. Just because Thomas seemed civil, it was no guarantee that he wasn't hatching something. They exchanged knowing looks. "But now that you're back I doubt he will be able to help himself." After a few moments she sighed. "It's still there, though...unspoken. Mr. Molesley will talk about the weather but I can practically see that it's running through his mind, Miss Baxter, … even her ladyship. It's there between us like a bad smell."

"Surely they don't believe-"

"Of course, not," she quickly cut him off. "But they know what happened, they know my secret." John squeezed her hand. "They want to say something but don't know what to say. I suppose it's only natural. I'll have to get used to it, that's all."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Yes, well, missing you was the worst part," Anna said with a touch of reproach. John didn't say anything for there were no words. It was a terrible situation to begin with and their separation was the price for her freedom. Anna pulled her key out of her coat pocket as they approached the cottage door. "Welcome home," she said, holding it out for him.

John unlocked the door and pushed it open, waiting for her to go inside first. It was a good feeling to be back in their cottage. Even though they spent very few waking hours here, it was a sanctuary, all theirs, where nothing could reach them or hurt them. At least that is what they told each other.

Anna shed her coat and hat quickly, throwing it over the hook by the door. She rushed to light the big lamp on the table before turning to inspect the rest of the room, quickly collecting a long forgotten cup and saucer. "We should get a fire going," she muttered. "But I'll do it, you should probably-"

"I can do it," he laughed. "Please relax, Anna, it's only me, not the crown prince."

"Would my prince like some tea?" she teased with a smile. "I'm afraid there isn't much else."

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you." John took his bag from her. "I'll just take this upstairs and then make the fire." Anna followed him and pulled on his arm when he reached the bottom of the stairs. She worried her lip, fighting the tears that were filling her eyes. She stood on her toes and reached for a kiss.

"I am ever so glad you are home," she whispered as she pulled back. John slipped his fingers into her hair and brushed his thumb against her cheek. She took a cleansing breath and covered his hand with her own.

"Yes, me too." He stroked her face once more. She offered him a shy smile before moving along to the kitchen and leaving him to put his things away.

He was glad to be in their bedroom again, especially knowing he wouldn't be sleeping there alone like the last time he was in it. He smiled curiously at the unmade bed, recalling the cups and saucers she had left in their sitting room. How unlike his wife to neglect such things! She always took pride in their home, tidying it with the deft hand of a former housemaid. He chuckled to himself at the idea that he had caught her out when he noticed another thing; lying on his pillow was their wedding photograph in the carved wooden frame. At once his amusement was tempered by the realization that his plan had worked to get her out of prison, but it hadn't kept her from being lonely, which he knew too well was a kind of prison all its own.

He shook himself out of those thoughts. He'd had to do something. He hated that it meant he had to leave Downton, but it was never going to be for long. Now he was back and they were together. Now was all that mattered.

He picked up the frame and circled around the bed to set it on Anna's night stand, shifting some things to make room for it. As he did, a few loose sheets of paper fell to the floor at his feet. He recognized the handwriting instantly, the smooth but unrefined penmanship of his dear wife. He bent to pick them up, but lowered to the edge of the bed as he began to read.

.

Dear John,

I cannot bring myself to start this letter to you with words of endearment for I am quite vexed. What were you thinking? I know you think you were rescuing me, securing my freedom by writing that letter and confessing to a crime we both know you did not do. I supposed I should be grateful but what a foolish risk! How could you be certain they would release me? Never was there such a devoted husband, surely they could see through the falseness. Chances were just as likely that I would still be in that prison, only without your support, wondering where you were and if I would ever see you again! Surely you know this would have killed me, John Bates!

Nevertheless, your little trick worked, though I'm not entirely convinced it was because they believed you. Mr. Murray thinks that Scotland Yard knows they pinned too much on so little and your letter of confession allowed them to save face and give me bail. So, congratulations, you are a genius. I'm no longer in prison. But I'm still separated from you.

And what kind of fool am I, writing a letter to you when I have no idea where to send it? Mr. Carson let me see the letter you left him and I hoped for a clue to where you'd gone. Perhaps his Lordship will share his letter.

Oh, my dearest darling John, what have you done?

John read the letter a couple of times and his heart grew heavier each time. When he set his plan in motion, he had one purpose and that was to get Anna out of prison where she didn't belong and home to Downton where she did.

He did it because that place was no place for her to be. He knew this better than anyone and every day she was there she lost a piece of her light. He couldn't let that happen. There was no price he was unwilling to pay. What he hadn't considered, not then, was that he did not bear the cost alone.

"There you are," Anna said from the bedroom doorway. "The tea is getting cold." John stood quickly to face her. He hadn't heard her climb the stairs. He looked stricken as he fumbled the papers in his hand and her eyes were drawn to them. "Oh. I see you found my letter."

"I did," he replied, handing it over as she stepped closer and put her hand out in a silent request. "I… I'm sorry, my darling. I'm sorry for what I've put you through." Anna's lips twisted as she flipped between the two pages. She sat down and patted the edge of the bed, inviting him to join her.

"I know that," she said, running her hand up his arm to sooth them both. "I do."

"And I promise you, the plan was to return as soon as possible," he explained. "When they set the date for a trial, I-I-I panicked. I had to do something. I knew it was a risk, but a risk worth taking if it meant you didn't have to spend another day in that place."

"I didn't know where you were," Anna hummed quietly. She budged closer and rested her head on his shoulder. "I thought I might never see you again." She took a shaky breath. "I felt lost without you. It was… it was like the time you left Downton."

He winced. They almost never talked about the time he left Downton with Vera. It was too painful to recall the way he left her in tears, pleading to know the reason he would throw their dreams away. He hated himself for it and promised he would never break her heart like that again. It was clear from the letter that he wasn't very good at keeping those kinds of promises.

"I never wanted to make you feel that way, Anna. And it was never going to be forever, but I needed to see you free before I could make a plan for us."

"What kind of plan?" Her head came up and their eyes met. He simply shook his head.

"The thing I want to say to you is this," he turned to face her, resting a hand on either side of her face. "You will never have to worry and wonder where I am again because we are going to be together… always. I will swear this to you with all my heart." Anna's eyes shone with unshed tears. She pulled down one of his hands and kissed his palm before pulling it into her lap. "Will you forgive me, my darling? For putting you through such anguish?"

"You silly beggar," she sniffed, then laughed. "I already forgave you. And you'd know that if you had picked up all the pages of the letter."

"What?"

Anna slid to her knees and searched the floor, giving a little sound of triumph as she straightened herself and held up the missing page. "Here you go," she giggled. John took the paper from her, a look of confused shock on his face.

P.S.

It is amazing what a full night's sleep can do to one's outlook, especially when the sleep is in one's own bed and not the straw stuffed pallets of prison. It's a good thing I don't know where to send this letter because I'd hate for you to know how hopeless I let myself become last night.

Quite a few of our battles have been fought while separated but it never stopped me from feeling how much you love me. There is something that connects our hearts together, like a string that can stretch no matter the distance between us. Love keeps us together even when we are apart. I'm ashamed that I let myself forget this thing that makes us who we are, Mr. Bates.

I miss you, I won't deny it. But I am not despairing. You are in my heart, with me at all times. I write this while sitting in our home, free and safe. I love you for what you've done and I know we will be together again.

I still don't know where to send this, so you may never see it. If you do, just know I am forever your loving wife,

Anna

Anna waited for him to speak when he finished reading, but all John did was rub his chin as he handed the piece of paper back to her. "Say something, John."

"I'm not sure I should be absolved so easily. It is my job to make things better for you. Always."

"And you did! We're together and we're going to spend Christmas in our home! A few weeks ago I didn't think any of this was possible but now it is, and all thanks to you!." She released an exasperated groan. "I should have burned this letter."

John lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "No, it is a beautiful letter. And you are beautiful. And I love you."

"I love you," she smiled. She reached for his waistcoat, pulling out his watch and checking the time. "The tea has gone cold by now, but it won't be any trouble to make a fresh pot."

"No," John replied. He looked at the crumpled blankets behind them. "I think I'd rather help you make the bed." Anna giggled.

"Whatever for?"

"So we can have fun unmaking it."