Warning: This episode carries a trigger warning for PTSD, as Anna is about to go through a pretty unpleasant flashback.

I realise that everyone who experiences PTSD endures flashbacks in a different way. This type is drawn from personal experience, both endured and observed. It was hard to write, but it needed to be done.

On the Thursday, they woke to an horrendous noise outside in the farm yard. Groggy and stumbling towards the window, John peeped through the curtain and struggled to make sense of what he saw. The yard was covered with what looked like fluffy snow.

"What the...?"

Anna, wrapped in the blanket, peered around him through the gap in the curtains.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing at their confusion. "It's the sheep! Remember, Bill said they were being dipped today."

John grunted, still half asleep.

"I thought sheep were quiet."

Anna spluttered a chuckle.

"That's only because you see them far away. Up close they're noisy things. Messy too."

John turned to clamber back into bed only to realise that his wife was wearing the covers.

"Never mind the sheep, come here you, I'm freezing..."

"Make me." Anna poked her tongue out cheekily.

"Oh I will..."

With a shriek, Anna tried to evade John as he lunged for her, not quite making it, ending up splayed across the bed in a tangle of arms and sheets.

It was some time before they made it downstairs for breakfast.

…

When they did emerge, they found Hetty had left them a note.

"Bacon and eggs in the covered dish, tea in the pot! Gone to feed the shepherd and his lads, back soon!"

"I guess everyone is going to be more busy today," said John, buttering a slice of toast.

"Mmmm," Anna leaned over to sneak a bite.

"Oh, you, get your own toast!"

"What's yours is mine, husband dear," Anna was already tucking into her bacon.

John watched her for a second, marvelling at the recovery of her naughtiness and humour in just a few short days.

"So what do you want to do today?"

"Shall we stay and watch?"

"Aye we could... City boy like you should learn a bit more about how farms work."

"It's interesting. Far more so than a city life."

"Eat up then! They'll be starting soon."

…

Up close the sheep were even more noisy, having been herded into makeshift pens. The animals had the sense that something unpleasant was coming. The only time they were kept in close quarters like this was to be sheared or dipped and they liked neither. Mother ewes bleated piteously for their lambs, who were kept in a separate enclosure. Hearing their parents call, the lambs echoed them.

"Do the little ones get dipped Bill?"

"No, lass, they'll be alright until the next dipping. They're too little for such a long swim in the antiseptic."

The stuff smelt horrendous. A long trough had been filled with the potent liquid and was now being stirred by the two young lads who assisted the shepherd.

"All set for the first one Bill!"

The shepherd looked like an older, craggier, more weather beaten version of Bill.

"Right you are, Davis..."

And they were off.

Sheep after sheep was herded down the gangway into the trough and swam in such a comical fashion down the trough that John almost forgot to feel sorry for them.

"What's this in aid of Bill? Why do they have to do this?"

"Warm weather's coming. All sorts of bugs and nasty lice make nests in the sheep's wool. In order to keep 'em in good health, we dip 'em, make 'em swim through the antiseptic to kill all the bugs before the warm weather makes 'em breed."

"Will they go back to the field today?"

"They'll 'ave to stand a drip for a bit. Wouldn't do to get that muck all over the grass. Good for 'em to swim through, not so good for 'em to eat."

"They don't seem to like it much."

"Daft buggers sheep, they never like what's good for 'em."

"Bill, just mind out there, that fence round the lambs is looking a bit..."

Before Davis could even finish his words, Bill, John and Anna all turned to see one determined and bulky little lamb headbutt against a less secure panel of the lamb enclosure. The fence collapsed and suddenly, a whole host of panicked, wriggling lambs had escaped from their prison.

Pandemonium ruled.

"Quick!" yelled Bill, wading towards the fence and repairing the damage as fast as possible. "Catch 'old of 'em... get 'em rounded up before we lose 'em! John, give me a hand here, lean against this so I can get it back together."

Bearing his weight against the fence, John struggled to hold in his laughter, watching his little wife and the shepherd boys run hither and thither around the place trying to catch hold of the wriggling lambs. The fence finally mended, Bill hastened to join in the chase, while John guarded the guilty panel and made sure it didn't break.

Anna was in her element. She had fed dozens of lambs in her time on the farm as a child and knew just how to catch hold of them, firm but gentle, depositing them back into their pen.

Bill counted them up.

"Twenty eight, twenty night... aw, heck we're missing one! Everybody spread out, look under the hedges, she's gotta be here somewhere..."

"Look!"

A shepherd boy pointed over toward the lane. The back end of a lamb could be seen wriggling through the hedge.

Sprinting off, the lad dived towards the lamb, catching hold of its feet.

"Help!" a muffled yell came. "I'm stuck, I daresn't let go of 'er..."

Bill and Davis hauled him out of the hedge, still clutching the wriggling lamb. Proud as punch, the lad brought her back to the pen, depositing her back among her cousins.

"Well done lad! Well spotted. If she'd gotten into the lane, that would have been it, she's not even branded yet."

Bill was beaming with pride, exchanging grins with Davis. John smiled, pleased to see good work rewarded with praise and recognition, reminded oddly of Mr Carson for a moment.

"Aye, he's a good 'un," Davis agreed, wholeheartedly. "I've got two good apprentices this year, let's hope I make shepherds out of 'em both."

"What's your name son?"

"Green, sir. Rick Green."

Green.

No, dear God no.

Any name but Green.

Where's Anna?

In slow motion, John sensed Bill turn to look at him, just as his own face drained of life and desperately sought Anna.

She had heard the name. Turning white, and rapidly grey, she turned and fled, clattering into a pail and almost falling, but too bent on her escape to stop.

"Anna... Anna!"

John turned in anguish to look at Bill, willing his limbs to move out of their shock.

"Go. Just go. Now."

At the sound of an order, John's military training jump started and he obeyed. As swiftly as possible, he set off after his wife.

"John, what on earth...?"

"Where did she go?"

"Straight upstairs, but whatever's the matt...?"

John didn't even stay to hear Hetty's question. He could already hear her sobs from the room upstairs. He heard Bill come in behind him, speaking to Hetty, but he didn't even register the words as he hurried as quickly as possibly up the stairs.

He knocked on the door.

"Anna!"

Her sobs behind the door wrenched his stomach. He opened the door.

"Stay away! Stay AWAY!"

Anna was shrieking, curled into the corner of the room.

"Anna... Anna it's John."

He tried once to approach her and saw her lash out.

"STAY AWAY. GET OFF ME, LEAVE ME ALONE!"

He backed away. So she was this far gone. He hadn't seen her this bad since the very early days, after she had returned to the cottage. She would wake from nightmares, screaming, fleeing from bed, huddled into a corner, unaware of where she was.

"Anna. It's John. I'm not going to touch you. I'm going to sit here."

How many times had he done this?

"It's alright. You're safe. You're with me."

"He's here..." she sobbed wildly, her knees drawn up, arms clenched around herself, shaking wildly. She must have been freezing, but he didn't dare approach her.

"Anna. He's gone. He's dead. He's not here. It's just a boy, another boy with a bad name. I'm here, and you're safe. You're safe Anna."

"He's found me..."

"He's dead, Anna. I'm with you. It's me, John."

For a while she just cried. Not even responding to his voice. Slowly and patiently, John kept up his mantra.

"It's alright Anna. It's alright. You're safe. I'm here with you."

Her sobs quietened. Her breathing slowed.

Quietly, John got up and picked up the empty wash bowl, placing it down on the floor near her.

"Anna, it's me. John."

"...John?"

She finally raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked and pale to near transparency, her hair matted with sweat and tears.

"That's right, sweetheart, it's me, John." Cautiously he sat down on the floor next to her.

"Oh God... John... I'm going to be sick..."

John sat by his wife, stroking her back and holding back her hair while she threw up her breakfast and a distressing amount of bile into the bowl.

Eventually, he managed to get her to sit up. With a dampened corner of the towel, he cleaned her face, helped her to pull back her hair from her face.

"I'm sor..."

"Don't you dare. Just sit here. There's no need to talk."

She was exhausted.

"Come on..."

John got to his feet, motioned for her to stand. She wobbled over towards the bed.

"Back to bed for you, sweetheart."

"You won't leave me, will you?"

"Not for a second, I'll be here with you, until you sleep."

Like a mother with a sick child, John gently undressed her, helped her back into her nightdress and pushed back the covers to help her into bed. Pulling the little bench over to the side of the bed, he sat beside her, holding her hand.

Slowly, her breathing evened, deepened and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Rest, darling. Just rest. I'll get rid of the mess, and let Bill know you're alright. Just rest now."

She was already fast asleep.