So here it is, the most informative chapter on Bates backstory so far. Some dialogue from Downton Abbey has been utilized in this chapter, but not by the same persons or situations as the original source. Wonder if anyone will be able to pick them out. Hope anyone who happens to stumble across this fic will find it entertaining, if not totally implausible.

I'd like to thank again any and all of you who have turned in reviews. Guess, I never realized how important they are in keeping a writer, on in my case a poser... motivated to continue on. Again, any comments would be deeply appreciated.

Bates staggered through the front door of their house a few hours before dawn. "Blast!" He exclaimed as he tripped in the darkened living room over the valise he had left on the floor earlier. He was still drunk, bloodied and disheveled. It was sheer luck that he had found his way home. He didn't even know why he'd headed back to Vera other than he needed to get some sleep and forget everything that had happened after he'd arrived home yesterday. Several hours into a brannigan at the local pub had temporarily succeeded in soothing, albeit temporarily his angst.

He remembered he had walked away from his wife. The details were fuzzy, but as the effects of the alcohol lessened the story horrifically came back to him.

His mind was still a bit foggy though with just bits and pieces of the past 18 hours floating in and out of his memory. He knew he wasn't proud of his actions…not in the least. It had hardly been a noble way to act running off from his wife as he did. But Bates also knew himself, and knew if he had not walked out right when he did he might have said something insensitive and cruel, lashing out at Vera, punishing her verbally for what happened. It would have been a stupid, stupid way to react, but it was his first impulse when she told him she was pregnant. No, he admonished himself, it was a far wiser and ultimately kinder move on his part that he'd said nothing and simply walked out the door.

John sat down on the settee in the living room, closed his eyes and tried to reconstruct how he'd spent the day coping with Vera's news. His head was pounding and his body ached. His knuckles were bloodied and Bates knew he'd recently been in a fight.

Placing his head in his hands, Bates tentatively tried to put the day's events into order. He remembered walking into town, positive that he needed some hard spirits to take off the edge, and soothe the inner despair and undirected guilt he felt. Plus, he was confused where to direct those feelings…towards himself or his wife or should the guilt be shared equally?

His plan for the day went no further beyond anesthetizing himself from all the negative feelings that threatened to overwhelm his normal reserve. Vera had always been able to cut through his natural tendency to keep his thoughts to himself, to never drop that screen of stoic manliness and reveal his true feelings. She would typically tease and flirt with him…cajole and tickle him until his mask came off and the emotional masquerade would cease. She made sure that eventually John would be able to laugh at his worries and more importantly at himself.

But there was no way now he could seek Vera out for any one of her sure fire cures because she was the cause of all his pain. There would be no sweet respite from the control he felt he always had to maintain, along with the guise of being the strong and silent type. The one thing he knew for sure was that alcohol would at least temporarily relieve him of that emotional burden.

But the pubs were closed as it was only 10:00am.

The rumbling coming from his stomach reminded him that along with drink he also needed some food. So he decided he'd better at least try to eat something.

After successfully negotiating a light breakfast of toast and tea, Bates sought some peace at his favorite refuge. The Pointed Plume was the bookstore he frequented often whenever he had leave to come home. Once sheltered within he looked for something to read, to distract his mind off of Vera and her pregnancy and also to give him something to do before the pubs opened up.

He passed by a stack of penny dreadfuls and couldn't help thinking… Blimey, I should write my own book. He found it ironic that his current situation would be perfect fodder for such cheap fiction. It would be a best seller, no doubt. The male protagonist would turn out to be a coward and run out on his wife. Bates could easily cast himself as that character in such a tome and shuddered as a feeling of disgust at his behavior towards Vera quickly passed through him. And then, as he continued to outline the story in his mind… of course, some handsome young lord would swoop in and sweep the abandoned heroine off her feet. He would shower her with riches while the slime of an ex-husband rotted away in debtors' prison.

"Best to not go there," John murmured with a smirk on his face.

Bates continued to browse through the stacks. He avoided his favorite section, where the poetry books were lined up in precise rows. No point to visit his preferred poets that day. There would be no lyrical stanzas found that could heal his damaged soul and tormented mind. Certainly, his favorite poet Yeats would not be the best choice to repair his broken heart. On the contrary W.B's poetry would only feed into John's inner angst.

Eventually he came upon the history section. And it was there that he found a book on the First Boer War. His professor at Sandhurst, had been an uninspired educator at best, whose monotone drone as he lectured put the majority of the class to sleep. Bates was somewhat concerned that he may have dozed through some crucial bit of info as he had also fought drowsiness in that class. So he took finding this particular historical treatise as an opportunity to fill in some potential gaps to his knowledge of the Transvaal and its denizens.

He was very much aware that the military scheme he was to embark upon would require him to act and think like a native of the that area and the Free Orange State. Any and every bit of historical knowledge would only help to increase his odds of making it back safely from his mission. Though what he would be coming back to still was blurry in his mind. But being in favor of self-preservation for now, Bates grabbed the history book, and found a comfortable padded chair. Sitting down he stretched his long legs out and began to read.

Several hours later John awoke with a start as he felt someone's hand roughly shaking his shoulder.

"Sorry, mate but we're shutting down for the day. You best find somewhere else to continue your nap," the store clerk said gruffly.

John shook his head to try and clear the fogginess that surrounded his brain. Apparently it wasn't just the teacher, but also the subject matter that he found to be sleep inducing.

Bates wandered out into the sunlight and instinctively brought his hand up to shield his eyes, as he was temporarily blinded by the brilliant rays. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light he surveyed his surroundings. It was mid-afternoon and John knew the pubs would be open by now but he'd just spent the greater part of the day sequestered indoors and ascertained he'd benefit from a little fresh air before heading back inside to drown his sorrows.

Once again he felt his stomach rumble, reminding him that all he'd eaten that day was some toast and weak tea. Spying a bakery, John headed over there and purchased some hard rolls. Next door was a butcher where he was able to procure a few slices of ham. Armed with the ingredients for a sandwich, Bates knew there was a small park just down the road. He headed off on the short stroll there where he found a bench that was situated along the perimeter.

Settled down and hoping to enjoy his meal, his thoughts drifted again back to what had happened earlier in the day. Best laid plans of mice and men, John thought. This day had gone completely in the opposite direction from how he had envisioned it.

Instead of finding himself in bed with his wife, enjoying her body while she took enthusiastically from his, he sat on a hard park bench, alone, miserable and gnawing his way through a dry roll and tasteless bits of dried up ham.

Just as he thought his mood could not possibly get worse, his ears were assaulted by the sound of children running and shouting as they played a spirited game of tag several meters away. School was out for the day and the children freed from their disciplined and structured classroom were now enjoying a bit of play in the park before heading home.

Rather than enjoy their hijinks, John felt his emotions turn darker. Children…he and Vera had never actually spoken about having any, but he had always assumed that they would have some eventually.

He'd been somewhat concerned when Vera had not conceived the first year and a half they were together. But that concern changed to relief once he'd been assigned to go overseas as Major Grantham's batman. He would have worried if she had been with child and he had not been stationed nearby and able to give her the support he knew she would need.

While Vera was by no means a delicate lass, there was a frailty of spirit that she hid behind with manufactured bravura. John knew that inner weakness was there, and was positive she would need help, not physical but rather emotional to get her through a pregnancy.

John was truly devastated that she was going to finally be a mother, and the child would not be his. He knew he was being selfish, but honestly, he could not, would not be a father to that child. He would not be there to support her throughout her misbegotten pregnancy.

The louder the youngsters got, the nearer to where he was sitting, the blacker John's thoughts became. How was he ever going to deal with it? If he was to remain married to Vera would she be willing to put the child up for adoption? That seemed like the easiest solution to him. Surely, Vera would be reasonable and see it that way also. She couldn't possibly ask him to raise that child as his own. And under the circumstances, he couldn't imagine her wanting to keep it either.

His thoughts were interrupted by a smack against his head by a leather ball that then settled onto the bench beside him.

"Sorry sir, are you all right?" squeaked a young boy's voice. Without looking at who was talking to him, John raised his hand, palm facing the child and nodded he was okay.

"Please sir, may I have the ball then?" same little voice raised just a tad bit higher.

This time Bates looked up and saw the youngster…perhaps six or seven looking at him, alternating his gaze between the ball and John. Bates hadn't seen him with the group of children playing tag. The boy appeared to be alone. He was a sturdy little tyke with big hazel eyes and shock of dark hair peering from beneath the bill of his cap. Bates felt his heart skip a beat followed by a dull ache in his chest when the thought briefly skirted across his mind that had he had a son, he could very well have looked like this youngster. John felt the tears begin to form, blurring his vision. His eyes stung as he thought about how his dreams of a family with Vera were now jeopardized in light of the morning's revelations.

"Thank you sir" the lad said after Bates handed him the ball. "Care for a catch?"

"Sorry son, I'm just leaving" John replied, nearly choking on the word "son".

"Please, sir. Me mum is sitting just there." The boy pointed towards a lady dressed all in black sitting a few benches down.

"You see she don't know how to catch or throw or kick a ball. Papa used to play with me but he died in the war and now I don't have anyone to have fun with."

"Sorry, I can't son". John internally chastised himself. Why did he use that blasted word "son" again!

He felt a lump in his throat starting to form. John stood up, patted the young boy on his head and nodded towards the lady in black. He then wheeled around and quickly walked away from the boy and his mother…just as easily as he had walked away from Vera and her pregnancy. He needed that drink, now.

Bates knew exactly where he was going. He headed over to the Fox and Crow. In hindsight, it definitely was a bad choice on his part, for it was where he had met Vera just four short years ago. In fact, most of what passed for courtship between the two of them had occurred within the pub's four walls. Many was the time they both were too besotted to make their way home and found their way to one of the rooms upstairs to sleep it off initially, but there was always that sexual heat between them that had to be satisfied once they sobered up.

As he entered the establishment his mind was flooded with memories of those times with Vera. His reverie was quickly broken when he heard a voice calling out to him through the noisy, smoke-filled room.

"Bates! Well as I live and breathe, John Bates! How are you, mate? I thought you were in Africar fightin' for the crown. Givin' them Afrikaneers the what for."

John instantly recognized the voice… "Liam Thornton!" he answered back. "My God man, how long has it been? At least 10 years?"

"If a day." Liam responded. He rose from his chair and indicated for John come and join him.

Bates pushed past the men gathered round the bar and made it over to his friend. The two men gave each other a hearty embrace and forcefully slapped each other on the back.

"John, how are you? Heard you got married a few years ago. Where's yer blushing bride? Or, is she too delicate a creature to be found in an establishment like this? Liam winked as he teased John, having no idea how his playful jibe fed fuel into John's sour mood.

Bates and Thornton had been inseparable growing up in the rough streets around Whitechapel. They'd engaged in petty thievery as youngsters and by adolescence Bates had developed into an above average pickpocket. It wasn't a skill he was particularly proud of, but when his mam needed money to pay the rent because his father had drank away his wages at the local pub, John felt obligated to put his expert cutpurse ability to use. He always made sure to choose his marks carefully, preferring to victimize one of the poshes on the West End, justifying that they wouldn't even miss the few bob he'd take from their pockets or purses.

For the next several hours Bates and Liam took turns regaling one another with story after story of all of the capers and adventures the two of them had participated in growing up in the slums. John's glibness was due in part to the number of beers he continued to consume as they reminisced.

"Remember John, when you nicked a couple of sweets and a pack of fags from old man Wilson's store. And later that evening you met that girl, what was her name… Sarah. Ya spent most of the night with her under the bridge, enjoying the sweets and having your way with her."

John couldn't help but smile at the memory. Sarah had been his first and he had thought he had been hers. The sex was unexpected and over very quickly despite his clumsiness getting started and his lack of experience. He remembered she had big brown eyes and blond hair that framed her chubby face with a peaches and cream complexion and a low, sultry voice. Her body was voluptuous, warm, soft and round. There were no hard edges or angles on the girl. He'd never forget Sarah.

Liam continued. "And you wanted to be a gentleman and walk her home… and home turned into be the rooms above Wilson's."

"Aye, and Wilson turned out to be her Pa…Nearly took my head off with a cleaver when he saw that it was me bringing Sarah home." Bates chuckled

"And thus began the legend of "Big John" Bates…" Liam winked at John and gave him a nudge.

Apparently Sarah was not the innocent John had believed her to be, but rather was a loud and proud believer in "kiss and tell". And apparently Bates had been one of her most talked about prized and "gifted" conquests. Word spread quickly and John soon found himself to be one of the favorites of the ladies in the neighborhood.

"Ye never lacked for female companionship back then, John. If I'd had your special endowments I might never have settled down with just one woman. Ya know the old saying, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?' You were living in a bloody pasture!"

John winced at Liam's rather crass recollection. Hearing his luck with the ladies described so harshly, certainly lessened the fond memories he had of those days. Especially since he always went out of the way to make sure the woman he was with left satisfied whether it be a one off or something with a little more longevity to it.

"So tell me about her, mate. Who is this woman who tamed Big John Bates and got him to pop the question?"

Realizing that there was no way Liam would let him dismiss telling the story of how he met his wife, John reluctantly began.

"Not much to tell Liam. Met her here, in this very pub nearly 4 years ago. She was an impressive lady, fiery, dark haired, beautiful and she could near drink me under the table. Gave as good as she got which was what really attracted me to her. She was proud and knew she had a right to be. And once she fixed me with that "come hither" look in her eyes I was gone."

"So where is she now John? At home minding all them baby Bateses?"

John winced at the end of the question as he took another gulp from the beer in front of him. He'd lost track of the number of rounds he and Thornton had gone through. But it hadn't been enough. If it had been enough Liam's question would not have stung so.

"Um… she's feeling poorly this evening. So, I told her not to bother with dinner and I'd find something here and leave her in peace for tonight."

"Ever the considerate gentleman yer are Bates. I see those years you spent as a footman for Lady Schiveley refined you a bit more also. Not much of the old neighborhood left in your speech."

"Working at a great house was an education, that's true, Liam. It was hard work, but a steady income and helped me see there could be more to my life than working odd jobs around Whitechapel, or servicing the ladies like some prime stud. And mum was so proud of me, straightening myself out, striving to be more than my station at birth gave me the right to be."

"Yer were one of the few that escaped, John. I was proud of you also, though I missed our times together. I have to admit I was also a mite jealous of your success. Whenever I'd run into you ma and ask how yer were doing, she'd go on and on about John's doing this, and John's doing that and John just got a promotion. And look at you now. A Master Sargent in Her Majesty's Army… a home…money to spend and married to a beautiful woman. But you didn't mention if you had any children yet… a little John Bates, Jr. perhaps? Surely you have a couple of wee ones by now?"

John felt his cheeks redden as the subject of Vera and babies came up again. The beer just isn't doing the trick. He raised his hand catching the eye of the man behind the bar.

"A bottle of whiskey here, if you please, barkeep."

He saw Thornton's eyes get wider and understood his concern. "It's on me, Liam. Not every day one gets to meet an old mate and rekindle a friendship. I've enjoyed playing catch-up and remembering the good times we had together. But really, my good man, most of our conversation has centered round me and my exploits since we last met. What about you. What finds Liam Thornton in this part of London?"

John was relieved that he had successfully managed to change the subject and that Liam hadn't continued on with his questioning concerning Vera and babies.

The whiskey bottle was brought to the table just as Thornton began to recite his story. John poured himself a generous shot. He downed it in one gulp and savored the burn as it ran down his throat. He felt his head spin a bit. This will do it, he smiled. Sharing a bottle with his mate might just do the trick and help him to forget.

"Nothing much to say Bates." Liam looked down at his scarred and work worn hands. I've spent a good many years at the workhouse in Whitechapel. Done some stone breaking, bone crushing, and wood chopping. You know me John, a jack of all trades." Liam smiled and gave John a sideways glance. As usual John remained quiet and nodded towards his mate that he understood.

Perhaps he understood more than Liam knew, for Bates was full aware that kind of work was reserved for inmates at the rural prisons. So, Thornton had spent some time in jail. John wondered if a similar fate would have been his if he'd not decided to try for the footman's job 10 years ago. He wouldn't judge his friend. There but for the grace of God….

"And to answer your question about what brings me here? Well, I had only planned to stay a couple of days on my way to London proper. But I met a nice woman. She's a looker John…more your type than mine. I can't believe my luck, and she seems to like me as much as I do her. So for now, I've settled here. Who knows we may be neighbors some day."

John looked hard at Liam and saw there was truth in his eyes. He looked quite smitten and his hard edges softened right before John when Thornton spoke of his new love.

"Nothing like the love of a good woman to set a man right," John agreed. "It sounds like you're ready to set roots here. When's the lucky day?"

"There's the rub, John. There's one teensy problem that's preventin' me from asking her to be mine eternally."

"Nothing too major, I hope?"

"It's a bit of a tangle. You see she's married."

"Married? My God, Liam! What type of folly is this? Married? Why would you take up with a married lady? What kind of courting could you possibly do under those circumstances? Knowing you, it's more about the thrill of not getting caught!"

"That's just the thing, John. There's not risk involved! Her husband ain't around."

"She's been abandoned by her spouse then?" John felt a bit hypocritical asking that question.

"Not exactly. He serves at Her Majesty's pleasure. Been stationed in South Africa going on a year now." Liam whispered that last sentence. He felt some guilt about cuckolding a man in the Service, but that turned out to be the least of his worries.

John couldn't believe his ears. Liam was sleeping with the wife of a fellow soldier! The kinship he felt with his brothers in arms was the strongest bond he had outside of family. In fact they were like a second family to him. If you harmed one of his comrades you injured John also. He immediately stood up, grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the table and looked for another empty seat to settle in to.

Liam followed. "Aww...John… c'mon mate. Don't be like that. I didn't plan to fall in love with her, just meant for it to be a bit of fun."

"And in what possible universe does the fact you only wanted to bed her initially make it better?" John responded sharply. He was barely able to control his desire to throttle his now ex-best friend. He emptied his glass and this time he just picked up the bottle and drank directly from it.

Liam put his hand on John's shoulder and had it roughly brushed away.

"I'd advise you not do that again Thornton." John growled as he put the bottle of amber courage once more to his lips.

Liam tried one last time, deciding to break the male code against sharing feelings. John was a good friend, possibly his best, and he hated to see it about to dissolve.

"John, listen mate. Don't let this little thing come between us. I love her and I'm here to stay. Ain't nothing you can say or do that's going to change that fact."

Liam paused to see if Bates was reacting at all. Only response from John was to take another swig from the bottle.

Undeterred Thornton continued. "Me and you…we're going to see each other in town quite a bit. Let's not turn those moments into uncomfortable encounters. God I couldn't believe it when I saw you come through those doors this evening. I was so glad to see you after all these years, and I know you felt the same. Me and you, we've been through too much together to let this silly bit of nonsense destroy our friendship."

John snorted and took another gulp. By now he wasn't even feeling the burn of the liquid down his throat… and his head was feeling heavy. He may need to go to bed soon…but where? Bed… what bed, whose bed… his head was swimming.

Liam felt he had given it his best shot but to no avail. Same old Bates, stubborn, opinionated, and in this case, unforgiving.

Thornton stood up from the table looking down at his once best friend. He grew angry at John's lack of response. John wouldn't even look up from his drink and acknowledge Liam's plea. He'd not been so high-minded when he was bedding everything in skirts from Whitechapel to Covent Garden. Being in service, both with Lady Schiveley and in the Army had certainly changed the man, and not for the better as far as Liam was concerned. So, if this was it, he was not leaving without getting in one parting shot at John, the moralistic ass…

"Ye can't even look up from your drink to answer me, John. Why…what's the matter? Afraid it could happen to you, are you? Some fancy man or just a MAN would come by and have some fun with that wife of yours. And maybe she'd like it and divorce you and take your kids.."

Before he could finish his sentence, John was on him.

"Bastard" he screamed as his fist crushed Liam's nose. He felt a flash of pain shoot up his arm upon impact, but it felt good to John. He was able to react and punish this violator of married women. Following him down to the floor, the two began to thrash and roll around on the ground, punching, gouging and biting. Whatever it took, as their old street instincts started to come into play.

A circle of the bar's patrons quickly formed around the two combatants as tables and chairs were swiftly pushed away to give the men room to battle. John was able to get in another good knock as he straddled Thornton's chest only to have Liam form a ball with his two fists and deliver a very strategic blow onto John's groin. He screamed as the pain shot straight to his brain and fell off Liam clutching the injured area in agony and trying not to pass out.

Liam staggered to his feet, one eye was swollen shut and he could barely see out of the other as a cut above his good eye was blurring his vision. Thornton began blindly kicking at John, as blood continued to pour from his broken nose. John had curled up in the fetal position as the best defense to the kicks. He needed time to catch his breath and work through the pain. Foolish Liam was concentrating his kicks on John's broad back, and Bates could tell his opponent was starting to tire as the strength of his kicks were becoming weaker and weaker.

Sensing his opponents growing vulnerability, John timed his next move, and as soon as he felt Liam deliver his last kick and start to pull back to deliver the next, John rolled towards Thornton, caught his leg in mid swing and jerked it sideways causing the man to lose his balance and fall heavily onto the floor banging his head in the process. Bates was on the semi-conscious man immediately ready to deliver the knockout punch when he realized that Thornton was a beaten man and could offer no further resistance. He got off him and shakily rose to his feet.

Looking down on his defeated mate, John took no pleasure from his victory. All he felt at this juncture was pain, disgust and exhaustion.

The crowd parted for Bates as he staggered forward, a couple of voices from the crowd shouted.

"Good going, mate."

"You showed him who's boss"

With each shout Bates alcohol fueled mood turned blacker and blacker. He was literally seeing red when one hapless soul slapped him on the back for emphasis after praising the move that had sent Liam to the ground.

"Don't touch me!' John yelled and swung wildly in the direction of the man who had laid his hand on him. His punch landed solidly on the man's jaw and he dropped like a sack of flower. Whereupon his friends went after Bates who continued to thrash about wildly not bothering to cover up and defend himself from the pummeling he was receiving. As he continued to flail away at his attackers he apparently picked up some backers who attacked his opponents. A full blown donnybrook was now in session as the barman fled the scene to get the cops to break up the fight before the bar was destroyed.

At the sound of the coppers' whistle the fisticuffs ceased and the crowd dispersed. All the participants, save John fled the bar, leaving him bloodied but unbowed standing in the middle of shattered tables and broken chairs. Even Liam had appeared to have escaped.

"He's the one what started it," the barkeep cowered behind the policeman as he pointed towards Bates.

"So, yer the one responsible, mate?"

"Yes, officer. I am" John stared at the ground, unwilling to look the man in the face.

"Why'd you do it, sir?"

"I'd rather not say officer. It's a private matter. Do what's required." Bates set his wrists forward, preparing to be cuffed. He was ashamed and even more worried that this could by the end of his membership in the special mission team he'd trained for over the past 3 months, or possibly even his military career!

"Well… before I do…." The policeman turned to the bartender who was also the owner. "Do you want to press charges and have us arrest this man? Looks like there is a lot more damage here than just one person could cause. Is it fair to have this young man take the full responsibility for it and possibly have his life ruined by going to jail over a bar fight?"

The owner brought his hand to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. "No, I suppose not," he responded. "But someone has to pay for the damages. I'll not let my generosity of spirit interfere with my need to make my livelihood. If he agrees to pay for the damages, I'll not press charges."

"Are you agreeable to that, sir?" The officer turned in Bates direction.

Bates nodded in agreement. It would probably take all of his and Vera's savings to do it, and perhaps a promissory note to pay off the balance in case their savings were not enough. But it had to be done, lest he go to jail and endanger his army career.

Seeing that there would be a peaceful resolution to this event, the gendarme stood over the two men as they worked out a payment plan. Once the terms were agreed upon, he left while John and the owner put pen to paper and created a contract with a precise payment schedule. Upon the last t being crossed, John signed the document and walked out of the Fox and Crow still drunk, bloodied and a poorer man for the experience, but at least he was free.

But free to do what… go where?

And that's how and why John found himself back sitting in his front room. Everything that had passed since yesterday was finally straight in his head.

As he sat there pondering his future, Bates became acutely aware of the odiferous and filthy state his body was in. John understood the necessity to at least clean himself up a bit before even daring to think where he was going to sleep for the next couple of hours.

He rifled through his bag, hoping he'd packed a nightshirt or something to sleep in. He remembered thinking yesterday morning, before his whole world collapsed, that he probably wouldn't need one. The only thing he had planned to wear in bed was his wife. Vera's long limbs entwined with his… Damn why was he going there… John felt his face redden as he felt his shame at thinking about Vera that way again. He was still so addle minded. His confusion fueled by a combination of exhaustion and the remaining drops of alcohol still in his system.

Relieved to find a nightshirt and a couple of clean flannels packed into his valise, John took his shoes off and padded softly to the kitchen. Nightshirt and flannels in hand Bates proceeded to strip down to his shorts. He pumped some water into a basin deciding to forgo warming it up and cleaned himself up best he could using a bar of soap he'd found on the counter.

Once he felt sufficiently clean, he donned the nightshirt, picked up his discarded clothing off the floor and tossed them in the direction of the front room. Returning to the settee, John surveyed the couch and knew it was too small to comfortably accommodate his tall frame.

As he sat there pondering what he should do, he heard the sound of gentle snoring coming from the bedroom. John smiled in spite of himself, as he recalled the "remedies' that they would employ upon one another when snoring. Inevitably the offending party would be woken up and their punishment would involve a lot of lips and tongues strategically placed upon one another.

John shuddered as those thoughts played inside his mind. He still hadn't decided what he was going to do and he convinced himself that no decision could be made until he'd spent a few more hours asleep. John found himself drawn to the bedroom and as he gently pushed open the door his senses were assaulted by the scent and vision of Vera asleep, nude in their bed.

Bates arousal was almost immediate, but he refused to give into his baser needs. His objective was to get some sleep and sleep he would have. He slipped under the sheets of the bed carefully so as not to rouse Vera. Turning his back away from her as he stretched out as close to the edge of the bed as possible he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to overtake him.

John wasn't sure how long he'd actually slept when he heard a noise outside of the bedroom. It sounded like it was coming from the front room. Someone was in their home! Whoever it was did not appear to be trying to be silent with his home invasion and in fact seemed to be familiar with the layout of the house. Bates heard him walk into the kitchen, pump some water into a container, probably the tea kettle and proceed to stoke the fire in the fireplace and hang the kettle there to boil.

John stealthily got up out of bed. As he did so, Vera stirred, but did not wake up. Carefully he pressed the latch and opened their bedroom door. His heart was racing as he realized that without doubt, he was about to come face to face with the man who had been assaulting his wife on a regular basis...the father of Vera's child.

The room was brighter than when John had left it before going to bed, so he could clearly make out the image of a man standing at the sink, his back towards John. As Bates made his way towards the figure, John felt his blood begin to boil, his hands formed into fists ready to beat the man bloody and take his revenge on the villain who had damaged his wife and his lives.

Just as he was about to take a run at the man, John's feet got tangled in the clothing he'd discarded on the floor and he hit the sideboard in an effort to maintain his balance.

Hearing the sound the man chuckled, his back still turned and said, "My, my, woman. This is a first. Coming out to meet me this early morn. Eager for the fun to begin are we?" Hearing those words, John's blood froze. And after uttering that remark, the man turned just as Bates launched himself at the scoundrel.

John's arm pulled back about to deliver the first blow when he suddenly froze and gazed in horror at his opponent's face. Those eyes, that nose, the hair, the face… they were all too familiar to Bates. His arm dropped and hung loosely by his side.

He knew this man…