Bells chimed in the distance, rousing him from restless dreams. They told him what day it was before he was properly aware – and more importantly, they told him where he remained, despite all of his intentions. Sunlight coated with frost pushed at the cover of the curtains. John groaned, unfurling himself slowly from the cocoon of blankets surrounding him.
A sleeve from one of his jumpers poked from the top of his hastily-packed holdall, sitting patiently in the corner of the room. The notepad stayed at the side of the bed, its last word kept in place with the pen that lay between the pages, waiting to bring forth more.
He reached for it, thumbing through the pages and shaking his head faintly as he did so. He hadn't stopped writing since he'd been here. Some of the words were messier than others, a few he couldn't quite make out. Most of it was perfectly legible and really quite decent, he had discerned. Better than anything he'd wrote or even attempted in a long while.
He stopped again at the page that contained the first proper line, after many before it that had been scratched out.
Nothing ever came at the right time.
It could have been the story of his life, even if he hadn't meant it to be autobiographical.
She had found him sitting on the sofa, mindlessly watching a TV movie – background noise for his hectic mind. Her smile lit up as she placed her mug down upon the table, pulling a DVD out from the rack. The soft music of the film's titles filtered into the room and she settled down next to him, her frame causing the cushions to rise only slightly. She wore patterned socks that looked several sizes too big for her feet, and every now and then they brushed against his, perfectly by accident.
The film ended and she never bothered to turn off the DVD menu, the soft music continuing as a soundtrack to their conversation. She had been working most of the day – her last day until the New Year – and he shouldn't have kept her up. Her eyes were tired as he talked, though her attention was as rapt as it ever was.
The way she placed her hand absolutely innocently against his arm reminded him of something and it became suddenly impossible to hold back the tears that gathered in his throat. He hadn't meant to, especially not with her there right by his side. His grief was the last thing she needed after such a long day.
Her voice soothed his fears, stopped him from crying quite so much.
I'm so sorry that she's not here. I know how much you loved her.
The night started with her apology – for which there was no need - and ended with his.
For which there was more need than he could ever express.
He didn't know why he had begun; it had never been like him to pour out his soul. The words came spilling from him and though he searched, he couldn't find the break to stop them. It wasn't for her sake. It would have been infinitely better for her if he had never breathed a word.
The look on her face shifted throughout the minutes, and he never registered it before his eyes, lost to his own emotions.
He remembered it now, too vividly every time he closed them.
As he was still trying to make sense of them, he told her of his feelings for her. Feelings that went past gratitude or graciousness, and the dearest kindness she had shown him in the past few weeks, though he couldn't have ignored that it had intensified what was already within his heart. Memories went through his mind every moment, and suddenly he wasn't shocked to discover all of the times he had felt soft and protective towards her, the many moments he had smiled after something she had said or done – many times, for him especially - and the warmth that had consumed him at the mere thought of her.
Thank God, he hadn't made the move to hush his mad ramblings by trying to kiss her. He would have been repulsed by himself; taking her by surprise with this bombshell alone had been quite enough. He had got to his feet regardless, moving away from where she sat, knees hugging against her chest as she gazed speechless up at him, in case some other foreign impulse occurred to him.
He made different vows – ones that should have been more forthcoming before he had decided to reveal most of what had been keeping him up at night. She had followed him seconds later through the hallway, and he didn't turn to look at her – hearing her voice chase him made him feel guilty enough.
John. It's Christmas Eve.
That meant so many things, and he was only half-glad that she didn't clarify any of the possibilities.
Before he made it to the top of the stairs, shutting the door behind him and taking his few items of clothing from their hangers, he heard her small word – somehow he did, though it was whispered quieter than the utterance of a parent hoping fervently not to wake their child with promises of how much they cared for them unconditionally.
Please.
He hadn't left, creeping out quietly in the middle of the night, bag slung over his shoulder – nothing like a Father Christmas shadow, though the image was more amusing than it should have been when it flitted into his mind.
He hadn't left, though it may well have been easier.
It wasn't for him that he remained, but only for Anna. It would have broken her heart in the morning to find him gone without word or apology, souring the day that was always her most favourite of days. The weeks that he had stayed had told him much and how keenly she had been waiting for it to come around again. His own heart ached, and he doubted it would stop doing so for a while yet, but it would have been of little comparison.
He was surprised to find himself the first one downstairs, and he managed to smile taking sight of the presents wrapped neatly beneath the tree, some festooned with bows and shining ribbons. He reached around to turn their lights on once again, even though the sun shone in, cascading rays around the room.
Anna's mother greeted him with a wish for the day and a cup of tea, disappearing back into the kitchen almost as quickly as she had emerged, needing to ensure that everything was underway for the dinner later. He offered his help and not for the first time had it refused, Mrs Smith adamant that she wouldn't have a guest in the house do half the work. He wouldn't have minded but he knew better than to argue, so he gave a smile instead and went back to his cup.
Her voice rung out from the other room, the delight within evident.
"Merry Christmas, Mum!"
"Merry Christmas, my love."
John closed his eyes tight, hoping to repress the wild beat of his heart against his chest. He was really beyond all help if just the sound of her voice had such an effect upon him.
He braced himself, and yet his breath was still taken away when she walked into the room. Content to let the remainder of the tea go cold, he stood immediately and tried not to melt at the way she let out a small endeared laugh.
She was like an angel made real, the smart black and white dress suiting her perfectly and her haloed hair falling in delicate waves upon her shoulders. Aside from a little bit of colour on her lips, she was fresh-faced.
She looked exactly like she had done so many times before, and was just as beautiful as she had always been.
"Merry Christmas," he offered, aware he hadn't said anything to her since his regretful goodbye the night before, the goodbye he had not been able to see through for love of her.
"Merry Christmas," she replied after no more than a few seconds, the smile extending upon her face and travelling up into her eyes.
She could have made him wait or wonder for a little longer whether he had earned her forgiveness for his selfish confession. He would have deserved that with the way he had behaved towards her, running away without giving her the right to reply or simply to have the chance to let him down in the kindest way possible.
He might have wanted her to do any one of those things, but he had known she wouldn't.
He wanted to ask her whether they were okay, but he couldn't. He wasn't afraid – at least not completely. He had made the mistake of saying the right thing at the wrong time last night, and he wouldn't risk taking her smile away from her at this very moment.
She came closer towards him, and he felt himself freeze to the spot. There came no brush of her lips against his cheek, nor a hand upon his arm. It was no more and no less than he should have expected or deserved. Instead her eyes bore into his own, smiling gently whilst both of their figures were reflected in the twinkling of the lights upon the tree.
Smiles and laughs were shared, once-neat paper discarded in trails as present after present was plucked from beneath the tree and opened. John took heart in seeing Anna and her mother exchange gifts, half-pretending that they hadn't a clue what was beneath the wrapping but always remaining a touch surprised deep-down, and unable to hide their happiness most of all. Theirs made up the majority of presents beneath the tree, but there were a few left over at the end. Anna eyed them cautiously, and when no move had been made, handed the ones she had addressed the tags on towards John, stifling her laughter at his apparent shock.
"You didn't have to get me anything," he told her, his eyes still upon her as he began to fumble with a corner of tightly-wrapped paper.
"Of course I did," she answered, not in the least bit perturbed by his reaction. "It's Christmas. Do you want me to help you with that?"
John chortled, remembering too well how much of an expert Anna was when it came to gift-wrapping – no gap was left free from a liberal helping of sticking tape, the suspense kept until the very end.
"I can manage," he replied with a smile.
One by one he unveiled the gifts she had chosen. A calendar and a book of the walking history of Yorkshire seemed to go hand-in-hand, as did advice on writing from a host of famous authors and a rather hefty thesaurus. He had to laugh at her cheekiness on buying the latter.
He took yet longer with the last package, untying the gold ribbon wound artfully around it. Anna was practically beaming as he took the leather bound journal into both of his hands, the fountain pen that accompanied it not an afterthought in the least.
"Anna..." he started to breathe her name, quite overwhelmed by her generosity.
"I've seen you scribbling away," the faint blush rose in his cheeks as she spoke. "Can't have you running out of supplies, not when it's your masterpiece."
He shook his head modestly, running his palm over the cover and smiling at the embossed 'J.B.' in the corner. It couldn't have been a coincidence, and the sparkle in her eyes confirmed his suspicions.
He held up the glittering stocking by the loop of silky fabric with his thumb. It didn't seem much at all compared to his bounty, just bits and pieces that he had acquired and looked out for while he had been here and a couple of things he had bought while still in London.
Anna received it with a grin and took out the small trinkets one after the other with yet more glee.
"Oh John, they're all perfect," she exclaimed, unwrapping another large chocolate bar after the tealights and the bottle of her favourite hand cream.
"I don't know about that, but I did my best," he said, finding that his face was still too hot. He moved away from the seat nearest to the fireplace, perching on the arm of the sofa instead.
She gazed up at him from where she was kneeling upon the floor surrounded by paper.
"You always do," she replied after a few moments, making him smile.
She was happy, and that was all that truly mattered to him.
The day went by faster than he had expected it to, though he didn't want to linger on what could have been if he hadn't taken up her offer all those weeks ago. Dinner was bountiful, and despite having attempted seconds, thirds were quite beyond him. They watched terrible television and took it in turns to play card games in front of the fire. There was still enough food in the fridge to feed a small army, and they made their way through some of it, picking at bits throughout the evening for their next meal.
Though the worry remained in the back of his mind, there had been no awkwardness between them. Everything had been as it had before, as though time had rewound and he had never let the secret slip out. He was relieved, at least for the most part. And when it came to the rest – well, he would just have to teach himself to be content, because he had no reason not to be. He had not lost her friendship despite running such a huge risk, and that was nothing to mourn. Without sounding terribly sentimental about it, it was the greatest gift that he could own.
Her mother headed up to bed at around half ten, having been up incredibly early to get the feast of the dinner going. The volume had been lowered on the sound system, but Anna was still dancing around the room, singing along to every song that played with a half-drunk glass of prosecco in her hand. She denied that she had had too much, yet John thought she was a tiny bit tipsy, if not that much. It only added to her exuberance, and he couldn't take the smile off his face as he watched her display, dispensing of another chocolate from the box on the table and rustling the wrapper between his fingertips.
"Come on," she held her hand out towards him as a particular song started up. "For old times' sake."
It was strange to think of it being so long ago, but he supposed that time went faster now.
There was no hesitation as he took her hand into his own, watching her dance next to him as he made his way through the tune. He hadn't sung in quite a while, and he wouldn't normally bother, but it had been one of her favourites.
Her giggles sounded much better to him than his melodies, a little off-pitch for his liking, though she didn't complain.
Holding her hand aloft, he spun her round as the song came to a merry conclusion.
"Encore!" she called out, raising her finger to her lips when she realised her volume.
"I think there's been quite enough of that," he smirked. "What's say we help your mother out and do some of those dishes. It's only fair after she went to so much effort."
After a few moments, Anna nodded her agreement with a smile.
"It takes half the time with two," she remarked, as they made their way through the mountains of dishes in the kitchen at a speed that was quite incredible indeed.
Their eyes met as they packed the last of the newly-clean plates away, and John took Anna's lead as she beamed, a hint of shyness held in her gaze.
"I hope you've had a good day," she half-asked, smoothing the tea-towel back onto its rack. Her voice was gentle but eager, and he told himself again that it was useless to build his hopes up.
"I have," he answered honestly, a half-smile pulling his lips upwards. "You and your mother have both been wonderful. All things considered, I know I haven't been the jolliest guest."
Anna dismissed him with a firm shake of her head, while her gaze stayed soft and understanding.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair now that they were aimless. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about her. I know she would have liked to have hung on to see another Christmas, but it wasn't meant to be, and it was a blessing, really. It would have been hard with the pain she was in...God, I feel awful even saying that."
"You shouldn't," Anna assured him. She was closer to him now; he could feel the warmth and comfort of her embrace without even being in her arms. "She's in a better place."
John nodded; even though he didn't share Anna's beliefs, he knew what she said was true and that she spoke to the things he believed in too.
"It's been easier than I thought it would be." He wanted to tell her that it was because of her, but it felt too soon after everything he had said. Even so, he was certain that his eyes were giving him away for every second he looked at her. "Thank you for that."
"You never need to thank me," she replied, "but you're welcome, all the same."
He only hoped that he knew how grateful he was; as the situation was, a smile would have to do. Perhaps a hug or two before he had to leave – although really, he didn't need to go anywhere.
"About last night..."
She spoke tentatively, shuffling on her feet. His heart sunk like a stone past his stomach, and yet he knew that wouldn't be the worst of it.
"Anna, forget I said anything. Honestly."
"I don't know if that's the best idea."
She smiled with her eyes sincerely – no doubt doing her best to soften the blow. John silently sighed, leaning back against the counter and accepting that he needed to take responsibility for his actions.
"You're my best friend," she began, fiddling with the ring that lived on her right hand. "And nothing will ever change that."
"That's a relief," he smiled, being unable to refrain from doing so.
His attempt at trying to make light fell somewhat flat; Anna's eyes were more insistent on his than ever before as she glanced up at him. She teethed at the corner of her lip, her hands in the air before she placed them upon the skirt of her dress.
"I have been worried about you."
He saw the concern in her gaze, had seen it in many moments since he'd been staying. God, he hated so much that he was the cause of any fear for her. A part of him was convinced that it would have only got worse if they were together, and he didn't think he could have coped with that. Another small mercy was to be had.
"When I asked you here, I wasn't expecting you to be happy, and that was fine." She took a moment to collect herself; John noticed the shimmer of tears in her eyes that made her irises appear a slightly darker shade of blue. "I just wanted you to be with someone who cared about you. That's all I cared about."
If it was at all possible, he was falling more in love with her. Her eyes, her empathy, her words; the way she looked at him as though he was the only person in the world that mattered.
"I have been happy," he said. "Truly."
She smiled at his words, even though she seemed to be holding something back.
"I don't know if I've been happy," she admitted.
He couldn't help but be confused. Ever since the first night he had stayed, she was nothing but absolutely joyful. She had been so excited the last time he saw her, and he knew it was something she had wanted for a while – to start a new career, to go back to the place where she was born and grew up. Perhaps it hadn't been all she was expecting; that the hours and effort had left her exhausted, or maybe Mary was just too demanding as a boss.
"Do you know the worst part of leaving London?" she asked, not expecting an answer, though he shook his head silently.
A little unsteadily, she took in and then exhaled a breath slowly.
"Leaving you behind," she uttered, each word more considered than the last. "Being without you."
Their gazes locked together more closely, and all of a sudden both of her palms were pressed against his chest. He gasped in a breath at the sensation of her touch – a touch that seemed to mean more now – a thousand, not all incompatible, feelings flowing throughout him.
Though he wasn't completely sure she wanted him to, he instinctively brought his arms to circle around her. He caught sight of her smile growing bigger, and that gave him his answer, as unimaginable as it had been only moments ago.
"Anna," he said her name slowly, with more reverence than he ever had said it before. Gently, he touched her arm, tingles coursing through him as bare skin kissed skin.
"I don't want to intrude," she said as she breathed him in, his closeness, running one of her hands down his side. "You're still going through so much, and it's a lot to consider. There's no rush, and I understand."
His head whirled slightly; he wasn't sure whether he could take this in, whether it was actually real or he was dreaming.
"The last thing you could ever do is intrude," he replied after a moment, still half-amazed by how far she had opened him up, and not just within the last few weeks. "I thought I'd be taking advantage of you. And I'd never...I mean, I wouldn't even try...Jesus."
She let out a soft giggle, staring up at him.
"Perhaps you shouldn't think so much," she teased. Her arms raised, and she slipped her hands across the blades of his shoulders, eliciting a quiet groan from him. They settled into place, and she smiled with a beauty he had seen a thousand times, but had not properly noticed until now. "I'm very glad you said what you said, because I was starting to wonder whether I was just going out of my head."
"We can't have that," he replied softly.
It felt unbelievably natural to have his palms cradling her hips, but he couldn't stop himself from frowning.
"This isn't me getting caught up, you know. Or trying to show how much these last weeks have meant to me. Though they've meant so much."
He began to give way to a smile when he saw the look in her eyes that hadn't left.
"I know," she replied, letting her fingertips drift across him tenderly, teasing away all of his anxiety. "I don't want you to worry. I just hope I don't sound too forward when I say this."
He was curious. "Say what, exactly?"
She gave him an innocent smile, her eyes sparkling.
"If you want me, you can have me, Mr Bates."
They both laughed, letting go of any tension that remained between them, but not each other for a second. Their smiles were shared and their gazes were upon the other, adoring and believing more of what the other said and meant with every moment that passed.
"How lucky I am," she said, her voice catching only slightly. "To be in love with my best friend."
John cupped her cheek with his hand, caressing her skin lightly. Her eyes closed before his did – he wanted to look at her and the beaming smile on her face until the very last moment – and before very long at all, so tenderly, their lips met. He tasted the slight fizz and the chocolate, the soft sweetness that comprised her. She held onto him as their kiss deepened, and he only hoped that the moment was as wonderful to her as he found it.
For him, kissing her was like coming home.
She broke away from him slowly, not before catching his bottom lip in both of hers. Her eyes were hazy, and her smile more so, her hands more certain as they remained upon his sides.
After a few moments she found her voice again, and her reply made him smile wider than he ever had in his whole life, never mind the last couple of weeks.
"I'm quite certain that's the best present you've given me today. Or ever before, if I'm honest."
Five years later: Present day
The tree was finally dressed, complete with glowing lights covering almost every inch, and it had to be said that it was the best one they had had to date.
Of course, that was the case every year.
Feeling quite done in – he always underestimated how much hard work went into decorating a Christmas tree – John retreated to his writing bureau at the other side of the room. The twinkling coming from the centrepiece cast a warm light around the place, and he smiled as he took the brown leather-bound book out from the drawer, slightly battered around the edges but still with a few clean leaves inside. He popped the lid from the fountain pen, pushing the nib lightly with the tip of his finger and watching as the small dot of ink bloomed upon his skin.
He had spent almost all day taking care of one tradition, but he wasn't too tired to see to another.
Dear Mother,
I almost can't believe that another Christmas is here. Time seems to pass quicker with each year, but I know you wouldn't want me to brood about it. I'm a lucky man indeed – each year I have less and less to complain about, and more and more to celebrate, and though it could certainly be easy to do I don't take any of my good fortune for granted.
It also seems unbelievable to claim it, but I can honestly say that this year is the happiest to date.
My second book was published in September. It seems to be selling well – Tom tells me better than the first, though I'm not keeping count; I'll leave that to the people who know best. I still have to pinch myself that I get to write for a living now. You did always say I would one day, and I owe you a lot of apologies for not taking what you said as seriously as I should have done. Anna says I should have used my own name rather than a pseudonym, but I prefer it this way, and it means that she's the one who gets to keep it - and me - for herself. I do miss working with Robert and everyone, but I still get to see them every now and then. Once you're an adopted member of the Crawley family, there's no way of leaving, not completely. I'm getting some ideas together for the third book, nothing too solid at the moment but hopefully they'll find their way out in time.
It's hard to keep my mind occupied on work when it's so full of something else.
Anna's due date is getting nearer and nearer, and I'm not sure which one of us is more excited. It feels like only yesterday that she told me the news, a couple of days after our anniversary. Part of me is sad that this part is nearly over, but I know that the journey is only just beginning and I can't wait to meet the little one. Anna's still keeping chipper but she's tired, and I wish I could do more for her aside from rubbing her feet and making her tea. I suppose I'll have enough to do in the months to come, and I'm not going to complain for one moment. It could be any day now, really. Anna is convinced that the baby will decide to make their appearance on Christmas Day, and I guess it would be fitting.
A new member of the Bates tribe soon to be in the world. I only wish you could have met him or her (I wanted to find out, but Anna convinced me that it would be better as a surprise), but I know you'll love them just as much as Anna and I will. As much as we already do. (I didn't think it was possible to love someone so much, but then I never expected any of this. It's all thanks to taking chances, and I thank my lucky stars every night that Anna decided to take a chance on something more for the both of us.)
Take care, Mum, and happy Christmas.
All my love, John xxx
He removed his glasses, wiping away the tears that had formed in his eyes as he had been writing the letter. He didn't get too sentimental about it now, and as hard to believe as it had been that first year it did follow that time was a healer. His mother was still missed so very much, especially at this time of year. But his anger and frustration at her passing had gone. It was the nature of life for things to change, as well as to be dearly cherished, and he found that he didn't cling on so tightly anymore.
Love healed him too.
Her hand was upon his shoulder, and he smiled, turning in his chair to see her properly.
"Anna," he uttered, shaking his head at the plate of cookies she held in her hands. He had an idea she had been up to something while he had been busy with the tree, and she couldn't have been in the bath all that time. "You shouldn't be doing anything more than sitting on the sofa. I put that bell on the table for a reason."
"The baby was hungry," she shrugged, answering his smile with one of her own as she devoured one of the iced biscuits.
He plucked a small one from the plate, saving the rest for her. His grin was unstoppable taking in the sight of her in the Christmas jumper, and how her huge belly perfectly accentuated Rudolph's red nose. With a gentle touch he brought his hand to cradle the bump that sheltered their child, taking delight in the way Anna smiled contentedly at the scene of their living room.
"Aww, the tree is beautiful," she cooed. "I'm sorry I couldn't help out."
"I'm not," he exclaimed. "I'd rather you didn't go into labour while I was tangled in a string of lights, unable to help."
She laughed, covering his hand with her own and using them both to give her stomach a rub.
"They won't come yet," she said, continuing to be confident of the guess she had made. "Although, I was thinking of names while I was in the bath. What do you reckon to Holly for a girl, and Noel if it's a boy?"
He tipped his head to the side, valiantly not trying to grimace. "Umm, well, if that's what you'd like, my darling..."
"I'm joking, you silly beggar," she chuckled, tapping her hand against his arm. "I haven't lost my mind completely."
He shook his head, issuing a kiss upon her hand. "That could never happen."
She gave him a loving smile, the twinkling from the tree bouncing from the gold band upon her finger.
"We're agreed on one thing anyway, if it's a girl then she'll have your mum's name as a middle name."
He pressed another kiss over her knuckles, brushing his lips over her fingertips.
"We just need to figure out what names go well with Maeve," he replied with a smile. "I'm looking forward to finding out."
"Me too," she said, leaning forward towards him.
John guided her with his hands at either side of her, making sure she didn't have to stretch too far to meet his lips. Her laughter muffled as he got rid of the bit of icing that had been left behind at the corner of her mouth.
"Only twenty days to go."
"Hmm, I'm not sure," he pondered. "I think this one will keep us waiting a little bit longer. What odds will you give me for New Year's Eve?"
He grinned as he watched her stretch her hand across her belly once more.
"Fair to very good, I'd say."
A/N: Yeah, I just couldn't resist mirroring canon there at the end *grins*. Merry Christmas A/B lovers, and here's to the best present we could ever receive!