A/N: Thanks *so* much for the feedback, favourites, follows from the first chapter! They honestly mean the world. I hope you all continue to find stuff to enjoy in this story.

Not too much Anna and John in this chapter - actually, none at all, I'm afraid. But hang on in there, it won't be for long, I promise.

Again, I don't own anything DA or Sliding Doors.

"First left, please."

Anna had to shout the command feverishly, clutching on to the handrail as the cab took a sharp swerve around the corner and then jumped over a speed bump. It was lucky that she had noticed she was in the right neighbourhood just at that moment, otherwise she could have very well ended up on the other side of the city with a humongous fare. She had been in a daze for most of the journey, and was still partly drifting amongst her many and varied thoughts. She twisted the earring fixed on her left earlobe around a few times, shifting in her seat to keep her eyes on the road ahead while her mind still wandered.

She'd lost her job. She was officially unemployed. What was she going to do?

How was she going to tell everyone? Would they think she was a failure? She knew she shouldn't have felt that way, but she couldn't help feeling that there was something she could have done, a way to fight her case. If only she could have done things differently…

The wedding would definitely have to be pushed back. Just until she found something else steady, whenever that would be. God, her mother would be fussing even worse now.

Really, it'll be fine. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquistion.

His voice was so soothing, his eyes so kind. If she hadn't have caught that train, she wouldn't have got to speak to him. Would never have known his name. John. The way he smiled at her. Nobody had ever smiled at her quite in that way…

Anna glanced down into her lap, catching sight of the ring studded with three small diamonds resting on her finger. The corners of her lips curled into a slight smile, which grew as she ran the fingers of her other hand briefly over it. Laughing to herself, she shook her head as if to shake away the silly fantasy that had somehow started there. She kept her eyes upon her engagement ring for some time, feeling like someone had placed a reliable safety blanket around her shoulders, the light not quite hitting it, only barely touching the edges. She adjusted her hand to try and catch the reflection, but it was proving difficult in the back of the cab, so she settled to modestly admire it instead.

The realisation made her reach for her phone; she hadn't checked it since she'd boarded the train. A sudden wave of panic washed over her, until she saw the screen's light flash to life. No messages, no missed calls.

Anna laughed again to herself. It was typical, really. He'd probably gone back to sleep the moment she left, and was most likely snoring away right now. Totally oblivious, he could stay sleeping through an earthquake.

Jeremy was more than a little absent-minded, he quite often forgot to buy milk or bread until they'd ran out completely and swore blind that the date of their anniversary was different from year to year. When he said he was going down to the library to get cracking on his epic novel, she knew that really he'd be in the pub for a bit longer than usual. It had taken him seven years to get round to proposing. But that was just his way, and though sometimes it was irritating beyond belief, really she found his procrastination quite endearing, really. He was thoughtful, in his own manner. Whenever she was down, frustrated or thoroughly pissed off with things, he'd insist she drop everything and make her an extra sugary cup of tea or, more often, drag her out to get very drunk. He'd tell the corniest jokes to raise a smile from her, even though she'd heard them all a thousand times before. He wouldn't ever be the first to call, but Anna knew that he'd always be there in the end, to make her feel better. And really, that was all that mattered.

Having clambered out of the cab, Anna reached in to place a note in the driver's hand, telling him to keep the change. The engine whirred and the exhaust fumes danced at her ankles as the vehicle drove off, leaving her standing still on the pavement. She took in a gulp of air while she craned her head to look towards the row of town houses, slanting upwards on a little incline. For some reason, gazing upon the window that was gaping out at her, she felt an anxiety gnaw away, a weight laying heavy upon her shoulders. She had expected that the sight of home would instantly balm her in relief, but still there was this strange air around her, and she felt as though any moment she'd be knocked from her feet.

She tried to think that it would only be a few minutes longer. She would have poured her heart out in a frenzy, maybe let herself sob a little, and then she'd be sitting on the bed, duvet wrapped round her and heels kicked off, mug of tea scalding her hands. Jeremy leaning against her back, one arm draped around her waist and the other reaching to stroke her hair away from her neck. All of the troubles she'd had to face that morning would melt away, would cease to be real if just for a little while. The thought quelled her considerably.

Urged on by what would be awaiting, she clicked up the steps, fishing her keys from the depths of her handbag. She took a steadying breath as she fumbled and then secured it to the lock. The key twisted around a few times before the door opened. It had still been locked, just as she had left it. Lazy sod, he hasn't even got up out of bed.

Stepping inside, she had been tempted to shout out something about it being Tuesday, and that meant she was here, his mistress come to screw him senseless. But she really wasn't in the mood, her mind still clouded over. Not to mention that she was puzzled straightaway by what had greeted her in the hallway; two glasses were lying on the hall table, one half-full with an amber liquid, lipstick stain upon the rim. She'd only drunk a glass of wine the night before, and was quite certain she didn't own that shade of lipstick. Oh bloody hell, what if she had become that delirious that her mind was now playing tricks on her, setting up mirages before her eyes?

She reached out to the glass to make sure she wasn't going round the bend, until another of her senses was distracted. The strains of James Blunt were blasting at considerable volume from above the ceiling, accompanied by a steady, repeated thudding. Now, that really was weird. If there was one thing that he told her enough whenever she was scanning their CD collection for something to play of an evening, it was how much he despised James Blunt. Anna's confusion grew as she ascended the staircase and her stomach lurched when she clearly distinguished other sounds, getting louder and more distinct the further she approached. As much as she wished she could have believed they were being conjured up by some sadistic corner of her mind, there was no mistaking the chorus of guttural groans and soft moans that sounded horrifically against her ears. Reaching the doorway to their bedroom, she wanted to shut her eyes tight but found she couldn't avert them even an inch away.

"Oh, ohhhh, yes…"

His face was contorted, his eyes screwed up in concentration, and he looked, quite frankly, ridiculous. Anna felt her features crumple in contempt and crushing distress, and then his eyes flickered open.

"Oh, Jesus!"

"Well, I rather hoped you'd be screaming my name…"

The porcelain curve of her back arched as she tossed her head, her auburn locks tumbling over the bare skin while she remained very tightly straddled to his thighs, her legs seeming to go on forever. This woman, whoever she was. Whom she could only assume really was his mistress. Anna's eyes were transfixed to the ripple of ivory skin, the bed still shaking, the tap of his hand that had turned into a firm slap upon her back to get her to take notice of what he had done seconds ago. Very slowly, her head turned to look over her shoulder to the other side of the room, fiery curls bouncing over her eyelids. Anna noticed she didn't look in the least bit ashamed, or indeed portrayed any discernible emotion at all.

"You know, you really shouldn't stop so suddenly. Sets a girl back a week, doing something like that."

She was surprised at how easily the words left her, how nonchalant they sounded and how comfortable they felt in her mouth. Standing there, her limbs stuck rigid, she felt anything but at ease. Her insides tightened as she cast her gaze just to the side, seeing the bodies unfold; the woman picking up the discarded negligee and dress from the floor and wrapping them lazily around her, Jeremy hunching up his shoulders like a scolded little boy with the sheets pooled around him as he continued to lay there. She didn't want to move a muscle and yet wanted to charge out immediately, run a million miles away from the sordid scene. This was her house. Her bed. She felt sick to her stomach.

Her voice remained measured but low when she spoke again after a long, painful silence. "Who is she?"

"She is Claudia."

Claudia sauntered across the floor, flexing her long legs, rolling her shoulders and clutching her shiny leather stilettos in her hands. Anna was incensed at the nerve of the woman, as she watched her passing from the corner of her eye. She wouldn't look at her fully. The way she strolled around the room as though she owned the place made Anna seethe. Jeremy rubbed a hand over his face and didn't make a sound. Oh, he'd be pleading in a second, if she had anything to do with it. She wished she couldn't look at him either, but she was determined.

"Well, I've had an awful morning. I got the sack." Her eyes wandered over the crumpled bedsheets, the covers barely draped over his body. She shot out a bitter laugh suddenly. "So did you, it would seem."

He kept his gaze down, studying the fibres of cotton intently, his cheeks burning. At least he had the decency to be shamefaced. Yet he still seemed so pathetic. Why hadn't he jumped up, fallen to his knees in front of her, begged for forgiveness? That wasn't his way. She wasn't sure whether she would have been comforted or even more repulsed. He could at least offer her something; he hadn't even been the one to give her the woman's name. She had an American accent. Where could he have met her? Did it really matter? Probably not. Anna kept staring at him, mistakenly thinking the longer she did that that he would eventually break. But there was nothing.

She shifted upon the ball of her foot, her eyes swivelling to the wall briefly before fixing back upon him, sitting amidst the sheets. She made the most flippant remark she could think of, somehow hoping that it would wash all this from her memory.

"Cup of tea?"

His voice came out in a whimper. "That'd be nice."

She couldn't stop her mouth dropping open in disbelief. In a second, she was across the room and on top of the bed, flailing her fists, aiming blows at his curled body but predominately hitting the air.

"You absolute, bloody bastard!"

Her shouts were ragged, fighting for space against her exerted breath and the sobs that had started up despite her best efforts not to let them escape. She let her hands pound against the edge of the mattress, with gradually lessening force. It really wasn't worth the wasted energy. One of his tentatively reached out towards her wrist as he lay on his side, but she wrenched her body away with lightning speed. Anna paced around the centre of the room, her eyes dropped to the floor, her head working desperately to take this all in.

"My god, Jez, I don't…" she began babbling to herself in confusion, her now heel-less feet padded by the pile rug. "I don't even know where to begin."

"I'm…I'm sorry."

She barely heard him speak, his voice was so small. The words sounded so hollow and her head hurt like hell. With them, her demeanour changed completely.

"It's not bloody good enough!" She screamed, taken aback by the force of her own voice. The frustration started to pour from her. "I am slaving away, working all hours to support you while you write your first novel…or at least that's what I thought you were doing, but evidently you were up to other things entirely. I should have known. How bloody stupid I am…"

"You're not stupid, Anna."

"I don't know, I've been with you ten years, haven't I? I think that classifies me as certifiably insane, never mind just stupid."

Ten years. The realisation hit her like a ten-tonne weight. How many of those years had actually been hers alone? She'd never thought before, but now she couldn't picture anything else. Of him, his limbs tangled up with who knows how many…

"How long?" She came to a stop, her hands and her voice shaking. She choked back a sob contemplating her next words. "Do you love her?"

There was the slightest pause.

"No, don't tell me, because I'm really not interested." She turned to walk out, then her steps wandered back. "Or maybe I am interested." Her hands flew from her sides aimlessly, and then settled once more. "Really, I just want to know how big a mug I am."

She stayed staring at him, seeking an answer, as he simply did nothing more but look straight ahead at the wall. He couldn't even look her in the eye. To Anna, that said it all. She sighed heavily, brought her hand to her mouth for a second to stifle a cry, then turned and walked out of the bedroom.

"Anna…"

Her name followed her as she went the short distance to the bathroom, muffling when she shut the door firm behind her. She thought she might have slumped down instantly onto the cold tiles, but she managed to stumble along to perch herself on the edge of the bath, the porcelain still shockingly cool against the fabric of her skirt. Her hair fell around her as she buried her face in both of her hands, allowing the tears to fall, finally unrestrained. Strands of hair began to stick to her damp cheeks. She was never one to feel sorry for herself, always found the resolve to pick herself up, dust herself off and carry on. But now she felt there was no other choice. She felt like she was well within her rights to wallow, if only for a couple of minutes.

Of all the things that could have happened…she was still having trouble comprehending, even though she had seen it before her as clear as day. The blackness behind her eyes as she had screwed them firmly shut was beginning to make her feel dizzy, and she clutched tighter to the bath's edge. Bringing her free hand up, she rubbed the wetness away from her opened eyes and slowly lifted her head upwards. She had intended to meet her reflection in the mirror, to discern how terrible she looked, but the first thing she came across instead was the pair of boxer shorts that had been left strewn upon the floor. The room was still hazy with mist from the shower and a certain musk hung heavy in the air. Heat rose in her throat and she could feel the palms of her hand slip, slick with sweat, as a kaleidoscope of images flashed through her mind. Her stomach dropped to her feet and she couldn't stop shivering. She almost couldn't remember the last time she had had a panic attack, it must have been just after she had left university. The distant, familiar sensations were enveloping her entire body and mind once more, as furious as they had ever been. It was funny how a few moments were all it took, to set you hurtling back so far, and yet it was so easy to recall. How she wished she could block it all out, go numb on the spot.

"Anna, Anna."

His voice came through the crack from the other side of the door. She made to shout at him to go away, but it seemed she had momentarily lost the ability to speak.

"Let me explain…it's not what you think, honestly."

A snort rasped from her, echoing in the room.

"Oh, let me guess – she's your long lost cousin, is she? She just wanted you to check a mole? Give me some credit, Jez. It looked incredibly clear from where I was standing."

She could hear him shift, could see him crouching awkwardly even with the barrier keeping them apart. He coughed once or twice.

"You want to know how long it's been going on…"

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

"Not long at all, I swear. It's nothing."

Another voice came echoing from the distance, laughing abruptly.

"I don't think you can call eighteen months not long, Jeremy. At least tell her the truth. I told you you should have told her months ago. Put us all out of our misery."

She was still in the house. Strolling around, taking her time, telling her how she should be feeling. Anna was absolutely enraged. At once, she flew up, flinging the door wide open, nearly breaking its hinges in her fury.

"Anna, please, don't listen to her…"

She went straight past Jeremy, not even seeing him as she charged out onto the landing, grasping Claudia by her bare upper arm. She wriggled underneath her fingertips, auburn hair flying around.

"Get off me!" Claudia screeched, as Anna stayed stony silent, walking them both down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, she immediately did as Claudia had commanded, making her stumble a little with the brevity at which she released her grip. The other woman looked quite dishevelled, her tight black dress barely yanked over her hips. Her eyes were wild upon Anna as she calmly opened the door into the street.

"Get out."

Claudia seemed at a loss for words. "But I haven't got my coat, or my purse."

"Get out," Anna repeated mechanically, refusing to let any of her emotion show, to let this woman win over her in this instance.

Perplexed, Claudia stumbled outside. Before she could watch her walk down the steps, Anna closed the door quietly shut, taking in a deep breath.

"Oh, thank God, Anna."

She flinched just marginally to feel his presence at her back.

"Now we can sort this out."

She turned sharply on her heels, almost not believing what she was hearing.

"Are you joking?"

The beseeching look he fixed her with told her quite clearly that he was not.

"This is not something that can be sorted out, at least not in a moment's notice. You've been unfaithful, Jez. For eighteen months." The notion slowly sunk in with each word she spoke. "That isn't nothing."

He moved ever so slightly towards where she was, but she backed away like an animal that had been hurt, hopping up onto the first step of the staircase.

"You really expect me to just open my arms to you, say it doesn't matter, that everything's alright? It doesn't work like that." She fought to keep her voice contained. "I can't even bear to look at you right now, let alone let you touch me."

He wouldn't give up that easily. "Anna, please."

She raised a hand into the air, her other clutching the stair rail. "I mean it, Jez. If I had any sense, I'd throw you out onto the pavement right now. But for some reason, I can't even care." Her words wavered slightly. "I just can't."

He stood at the foot of the stairs, watching as she rose up. "You don't mean that."

She stopped on one of the steps, turning round just slightly at the waist to see him looking up at her forlornly.

"I really do."

On autopilot wandering around their room, she pulled out two bags from the closet and began to take random articles of clothing down from their hangers, stuffing them in without even looking into the empty bags. They filled up quickly as she grabbed a few other pieces, and she strained and struggled but finally managed to get the zips closed. She wobbled slightly, pulling her towering heels back on, and threw her coat over her shoulders. She took one last look at the room, and then made a definite exit.

Jeremy was still standing there, his arms folded and hands splayed at his elbows, as she arrived at the door. The silence was thick surrounding them, him giving up on any last attempts to explain and instead just letting his eyes roam over her. Before she braced the handle, she sighed and turned to him.

"You wouldn't have said anything," she uttered in a low tone.

It took him a few seconds to reply. "What?"

"If I hadn't have been fired, if I hadn't come home early…you wouldn't have told me. And I would have gone on forever, thinking you loved me, waiting to be your wife." She was trying so hard not to cry, her voice crackling and her eyes watering. "Being a perfect fool for you."

His own voice was hardly a whisper. "You wouldn't."

Yet, standing there in their hallway, they both knew it was a lie. In the aftermath of the silent revelation she was gone, making her way down the street and away from him, not looking back for the briefest of seconds.

She must have walked for miles, but she'd barely felt it. The only way she'd known was that the edges of the sky were beginning to darken and sink ahead of her as she stared out over the Thames, standing with her hands draped across the steel of Hammersmith Bridge. Turning her head she noticed groups of tourists walking by, snapping photos of the London skyline. Further down there were a few couples, huddled close together against the cold wind that had picked up, staring at one another absorbed and completely oblivious, inclining their heads to one another to steal kisses. Feeling stung at the innocent sight, she whipped her head swiftly back the other way.

It had been an instinct to come here. Ever since she came to London, it was the one spot she had loved more than any other. There was something about the river, especially at the end of the day, that held her enraptured and this was the place that seemed to mark so many significant moments in her life. She'd run along the bridge laughing with Gwen on the evening after they'd graduated, excited for their lives to begin. She'd walked arm in arm with Jez as they made their way home from sipping champagne on the London Eye, one of their more extravagant dates. She'd stood near enough in this very same spot, utterly lost for words when he held out the little box in front of her, asking her if she'd marry him, almost three years ago now.

And for half of that time, he'd been having an affair with another woman and she didn't know a thing about it.

Unable to hold back any longer, Anna burst out crying. A few people passed by, and she was certain they could hear her loud sobs as they did so, but nobody bothered her. She was trapped in her own world. Through her tears, she glimpsed the blurry vision of her engagement ring, the diamonds twinkling tauntingly in the falling light. She held it on her finger between two fingertips from her other hand, frozen for a few moments, before she tugged it over her knuckle and slipped it off. Rolling it in her fingers, she hovered over her coat pocket for a few moments, pondering what to do. Then, without a second thought, her hand flew up and out, the ring falling from her grasp, plunging into the waters of the Thames far below. She had no regrets, only relief to be rid of the thing that had been keeping her down, unbeknownst, for so long. Still, she couldn't stop the wracking sobs seeping from her.

In the space of just a few hours, Anna Smith's world had collapsed completely, and she hadn't the faintest clue of how to rebuild it. Instead, she was totally lost amongst the waters.