Again, thank you, all of you, massively, for your reviews, feedback and comments on this story so far. This story has run away with me. When I started it, I genuinely meant to write a light fluffy little fic about a nice trip to a farm, with a nice man acting as host. It has been so far removed from my original intention, because that story simply wouldn't come out. Because the characters were not healed enough for it to happen.

I am flattered, beyond measure and belief, to have so many writers that I admire (and yes, I do admire you, I've been lurking for a long time and reading your incredible works) tell me that I have done these characters justice in their healing above and beyond what JF and DA have done for them in script and on screen. That, more than anything, tells me I was right to write this fic. And I am so glad that it has met and satisfied your needs and expectations.

This next chapter deals with the aftermath of the flashback Anna has endured. I will admit, it is the one where I struggled to stay in the context of the setting, because these are the words I want them to say. The feelings I want John to have, but I'm not sure that emotional intelligence and awareness had progressed enough in the 1920s for him to say this to Anna. None the less. I have given him these words, because they need to be said if this couple are going to move on to a happy life together. (It's what I needed, and my husband needed, and while here isn't the time or place to talk about that, there will likely be an explanation on Tumblr at some point for those of you who found me there.)

And if cannon does not give our darlings the happy ending they so richly deserve, well I recognise it might have made a decision, but it would be a stupid ass decision and I would proceed to ignore it.

Happy reading everyone. There's a few more to go, but not many.

"Knock knock?"

John called softly as he opened the door. Anna was awake, sat up against her pillows with a shawl around her shoulders.

"Do you need a hand?"

"No, you stay there," John backed through the door carrying a tray of tea and toast, along with some ginger biscuits that Hetty had sneaked onto a plate. A little juggling and the tray landed safely on the bedside table.

"How are you feeling now?" John reached for Anna's hand.

"Worn out," she said sadly. "Stupid. Foolish. Angry…"

"Come now, there's no need to be angry."

"I have every right to feel angry."

"Why?"

"Because I thought I was past this."

Her tears welled up in her eyes. Having expected this, John was prepared and passed her a clean hankie. She dabbed at her eyes.

"I've said it before, but I'm so sick of crying. Really sick of it. I'd like to get through one week without hankies on the line."

"I know how that feels."

"You hardly ever cry."

John was silent. He cried more often than Anna knew.

"I was doing so well…"

"You are doing well, love."

"… I mean, this week. I know there was that wobble when we arrived and I was all tired and upset on the first night, but since then…" her eyes were still stained pink, her face washed out, devoid of colour.

"Being with you, making our plans, just being together… it's all felt so right. And the things we've done together…"

A faint colour painted her cheeks at the memory.

"I thought I was recovered. I thought… being able to do those things with you, being able to enjoy them, I was sure I was free of it all…"

She looked him straight in the face.

"I never thought that I would take pleasure in you binding my hands John. Not after what happened. But... when you suggested it, I wanted it. I actually wanted it. And I loved it! How could I love that and then have something as silly as a name bring me back down to this..."

It's all my fault…

No. It isn't. Remember what Bill said. This is not about you.

"Anna, sweetheart. Six months ago, even a month ago, the idea of what we did yesterday would have broken you. Let alone an attempt. Or a fruition. I wouldn't have dared say the words."

Very gently, John reached out to smooth his wife's hair, stroke her face.

"Why can't I be shed of this John…? I just want to be better, to go back to how things were before all of this happened. I want the person I used to be."

A week ago, John would have rushed in with assurances that she was still that person; that she would get well, be free of it someday, whole and recovered. But now he realised the dangers of such a statement. The old enemy of false hope. He looked down at his knee, and the cane lying next to him.

"John?"

He looked up at her, rescued from his own thoughts by her smile.

"Sweetheart, if I say something, will you promise to listen, until I get to the end?"

"I'll try."

"That's my girl." He kissed the back of her hand.

"Do you remember when I first came to Downton? How determined I was, to do my job, in spite of this?" He motioned to the cane. Anna nodded.

"I wanted this gone. I tried to make it gone. Especially after I met you. I longed to be the man I was before, to be free of this limp. I … I tried a cure."

"What kind of cure?"

"A limp corrector."

"What's a…?"

"It's… a device. You put it around your leg, to straighten it, stop you favouring it. It's supposed to make you stronger."

"What happened?"

"It failed."

John was acutely aware that even a few months ago, his response would have been 'I failed.' But now he knew better.

"Did you keep it?"

He smiled to himself, pleased to be able to find some dark humour in one of his less pleasant memories.

"Mrs Hughes made me get rid of it. She…" he chuckled. "She made me throw it in the lake."

Anna's eyes widened in shock and despite herself she began to giggle.

"Get away… really? So the thing is…"

"…at the bottom of Lord Grantham's lake. Yes."

Encouraged by her rallying smile, John poured some tea and offered her a slice of toast. Anna was starving.

"I tried it because I wanted to be free of this. To go back to before it ever happened, be the man that I had been. But some wounds, well… they don't fully heal. You learn to live with them. Live around them."

"So you're saying… I can't be free of this."

"That's not quite what I'm saying. What happened to you… it was horrific. Like any injury in a war. An enemy made you vulnerable. Hurt you. Injured you. But you survived. You live. And in living you win."

Confident that he had found the right track, John continued to speak, hoping that Anna would understand.

"He … Green … tried to dominate you. Tried to control you. Possess you. But he couldn't. He thought you were weak. He had never ever been so wrong in his life, I will wager that."

"But I couldn't stop him…"

"But he didn't win. Look at us. Here we are. Together. Planning our future, married, wanting a family. We are together, and strong, and so in love it makes my chest feel like it could burst with my love for you. My heart sings when you look at me. Anna…"

John cupped her face in his hands.

"You live. You embrace all of life, and you refuse to be afraid. You… you try new things. You're willing to take on everything."

"But then this happens…"

"And it still doesn't stop you."

"Doesn't it?"

"Not at all." John's smile was genuine. "You haven't stopped being my wife. Loving me. You've continued in your work, your loyalty to the Crawley family. We're going to buy a hotel. Start a new business, just us together, have a new family... raise our children… Now, I don't deny, there will be black times. I have them too. Days when my leg aches beyond sense and reason, when I feel so angry with the war, with that injury, for ruining my life. But it hasn't ruined it at all.

"Would I have come to Downton without that injury? Would I have met you, fallen in love, finally been free of Vera? I doubt it.

"And if you hadn't endured all that you have … Would we be here? Would we have had that conversation about the hotel, come back to our dream, with calls booked tomorrow to decide our future? Or would we still be living in our cottage, nestled into a small life, devoted to the Crawleys until we are no longer fit to serve? For all its pain and heartache, I know which life I would prefer."

"Oh John…"

John gathered Anna into his arms, tears streaming down her face.

"What did I ever do to deserve you in my life? I love you so much John, I love you…"

"Shhhh… I love you Anna. Always."

"How is she?"

Bill was sat downstairs in the kitchen, polishing off a huge slice of fruit cake.

"Better," John came down the stairs carefully balancing the empty tray on one hand. "Much better. She'll be down for dinner."

"Did you talk?"

"Yes, we did."

"Good." Bill spoke with the assured manner of someone who is pleased that their good advice has been heeded. "So what happens next?"

"Well… more than anything, this has shown me that we need to leave Downton."

"This'd be your hotel plan then."

"That's right. I've got calls booked from the post office tomorrow to see how our finances stand. The next thing is to start looking for a place."

"Any idea on where?"

"Still Yorkshire, we think. We had a look through the paper and found a couple, once Anna had calmed down and eaten a bit of toast."

"'Ave you 'ad anything to eat today John?"

"Not since breakfast." As he spoke John was aware of a groaning emptiness in his stomach.

"Well, you jes' sit, and pull that paper out. Let's 'ave a look at those hotels you found."

Bill pottered about, assembling what looked, to John, like enough food to feed a regiment. His mouth began to water when he saw the delicate slices of rosy ham, plump tomatoes and sweet yellow apples that Bill was gathering up.

"Where abouts did you look?"

"There was one in Scarborough, and one in Whitby."

"Nice places, both of 'em. Not short o' visitors. My Allie's sister lives in Whitby, married to a fisherman. Close enough to a farmer to keep 'er Dad 'appy."

"The Scarborough hotel is bigger… but it's not in very good shape from the looks of it."

"Hmmmm…"

Bill set the platter down and John fell to it like a ravenous beast.

"Le's 'ave a look…"

Bill peered at the advertisments that John had circled in pencil.

"Are y'plannin' to tek on many staff?"

"We're not sure. I think Anna would prefer us to do it ourselves."

"I think y'd be wise to if you can. Just get yerselves a cook general, and an 'ouse maid, and see to the rest," he set the paper down suddenly and his eyes bored into John's. "No sense in adding more strangers to your dream if the whole point is to give 'er a new fresh start, now is there?"

"I quite agree Bill."

John and Bill turned to see Anna coming downstairs.

"Anna…! You said you weren't getting up until dinner…"

"No, YOU said I wasn't getting up until dinner. I got bored." Dropping a kiss on her husband's cheek, Anna came around the table to give Bill a hug.

"Not very proper I know Bill, but I feel I should say sorry. Were Rick and Davis alright, I didn't frighten them?"

"Don't you fret lass. I told Davis you'd been spooked by something and weren't feeling well. He's wise enough not to ask when it comes to women. Rick's back to work and more interested in the shilling bonus Davis gave 'im for grabbin' that lamb, and the sheep are on their way back to pasture now. Now, John's been showin' me your hotels…"

Anna pealed with laughter. "Hotels? Oh Bill, if only we could afford two, what a scream…"

"Well, there's no need for two. This little guest house in Whitby is a fine place, very fine. And a good price. You'd have a livin' out of that. Y'd never be wealthy, but y'd never want."

Anna's eyes met John's. Had they really found the right place?

"I were sayin' to John, y'd need a couple of lasses. Hard working maid, an' a cook general. Although, don't you go thinking you can steal my Daisy!" He winked, as John and Anna caught each other's eyes, thinking about their conversation beneath the willows the previous day.

"Right…" Bill drained his cup of tea. "Best get back. Wouldn't do for the place to figure out it can do without me."

With his customary swiftness, he was gone, leaving John and Anna to dream and plan for their future, which had seemed so impossible just a matter of hours earlier.