Disclaimers: Although I wish I were the creative genius behind John's and Robert's character, they belong to Julian Fellowes. I'm sorry for the time I'm taking to write this story.

I'm sorry for the wait between updates. I've taken up a new project because I needed to go away for a while to better come back. I have the whole story mapped out in my mind but I have a hard time putting it into words. I hope you'll still enjoy it. Poor Bates is going through hell.

Thank you for sticking with me!

Thank you for your reviews, they are highly appreciated!

November 1900

John was sitting at the bottom of the black hole. It was too small for him to lie down or stretch, so he was hunched up. The place was dumped and he was sitting in a puddle, with mud all over.

Robert had managed to smuggle in some matches when he had escorted him to the hole in the ground. John wasn't afraid of the dark, but the situation was still having some effect on him. He had some difficulty breathing, mainly because of the dust flying around him, and his thoughts weren't helping him at all. Thoughts about his mother, Vera and his dead child. They wouldn't leave his mind, it was constantly there, reminding him that he had failed. Failed to make his mother proud if not happy. Failed to find love and support the one he was to share his life with. Failed to become a father.

This was his penance. The only light in all this darkness was Robert. He at least managed to save the man he admired more than anything. Seeing him resist orders and face the consequences made him even more humbled to be at his side during battles. It had inspired him to stand up and take the blame. Because it was the right thing to do. He deserved it while Robert had only shown great humanity. John wanted to repay his friendship, kindness and trust and this was his opportunity. Even if he had to pay it with the flesh of his back.

John watched the last match go off. He had no notion of time down there except that his stomach was rumbling. He knew he had to go through the night without food. He put his head in his knees and tried to sleep. Maybe deliverance would come sooner then.

The hole suddenly opened. Dazzling rays of light came rushing into the hole, forcing John to put his hand over his eyes before they could adjust to the daylight. A ladder was put up and two men came down to get him up and force him to climb off the hole. He was glad to let it behind him, and even though he enjoyed a bit of time for himself, he didn't like the prolonged solitude. Before too long he had been faced with the voices inside his head and let's say he didn't find himself very good company.

As his vision adjusted, John discovered the scenery before him. He had been transported away from the city to be put in the hole. They were surrounded by tents where soldiers were sleeping, eating and playing when they weren't in battle. But the camp was deserted. Away,

John heard the faint sound of drums. The men in uniform at his sides pushed him forward as a sign to walk in the direction of the drums.

They approached the extremities of the camp. All the soldiers were gathered in a sort of arena, at the skirts of the last tents. They were regrouped by troops and battalions, their respective chiefs beside them. The drum players were at the back, playing their tunes.

At the centre of the gathering were three officers in their formal uniform, one of them was Captain Crawley. Behind them stood a frail wooden cross and a man holding a whip. His two guards lead him in front of the cross as the drums stopped playing.

John looked at the crowd before him. All these men in ranks, waiting to see one of them being punished as an example.

"Sergeant John Bates," began the officer in the middle, "you have disobeyed your commanding officer's orders and have been sent to be flogged. As an example to your fellow soldiers of His Majesty's Army, you will receive fifty whiplashes. Any other disobedience to an officer will result in hanging from now on."

Drums started again. Robert avoided his gaze, looking at his feet. The two guards ripped his shirt off and tied him to the cross. John looked ahead and caught Robert's eyes. They were full of pain.

The drums stopped again. John heard the whip crack in the air and felt a sheer pain in his back a second later. He contained a cry. This was for all his faults. Every whiplash was to punish him for his bad choices and behaviour over the years. The flogger counted each time the whip touched his skin. John felt his flesh open and the pain overtaking him. A warm liquid ran down his back. At some point, John couldn't feel his back, it was just pure constant pain.

"...Forty-eight. Forty-nine." The whip cracked one last time. "Fifty," the flogger said.

John had no more energy. He was hanging on the cross by his wrists. The two men untied him. John motioned to leave when the officer called him back. He turned around. Robert was hiding a tear that was running down his cheek, his face devoided of emotions.

"You're a brave man. I salute you as such," said the officer. He threw him a coin that John caught before walking away. The ranks broke and the men started to go back to their occupations. John took two more steps and fell to the ground on his knees.

"Bates!" screamed Robert.

A hand landed on his shoulder and tried to help him to his feet. But John's leg failed him.

"Johnson, help me get him to the infirmary," Robert ordered.

As hands came to lift him up, John's vision went black.

John heard the cries of a baby, far away. He tried to walk towards the source of the sound but it seemed to get away. He started to run, faster and faster but the cries faded. Suddenly Vera appeared in front of him.

"You're just a pathetic excuse of a husband. You couldn't even protect your child or me. Now he's gone, and it's all your fault. You're a coward, John Bates. You only bring misery. I wish you were dead," she said. A knife appeared in her hand and she stabbed him.

John woke up in a sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. He swallowed hard and a gentle hand pushed him back on the bed. John swallowed hard and opened his eyes again. Robert was sitting at his side. He was in a field hospital, his upper body was covered in bandages. The pain woke up again and John remembered the flogging.

"Take it easy, Bates. You are in good hands here, I made sure of it," Robert told him, smiling at him. "You've been out for three days now, I was beginning to worry."

Three days? How did he sleep for so long?

"Your cuts have been carefully treated but you had an infection. But you're out of the woods now. You'll be able to come back by my side in a week."

"I don't understand…" he began. "Aren't you angry with me, sir?"

Robert looked at his boots.

"I was, Bates."

"Then why am I not relieved of my duties?"

"You did something incredibly stupid. I hope you know that. I have been so angry at you, Bates. But then I realised your sacrifice. I don't condone it, but I understand it. You protected me and for that I am grateful. But I also know you went into that room and took the blame because you knew you's be punished. And you were waiting for it, weren't you? Because you think you are to blame for the miscarriage."

John felt tears forming in his eyes.

"It is not your fault, Bates. Life has been so incredibly unfair to you, my dear fellow. I wish I could erase the pain you've had to endure…" Robert sighed and paused. "But please, don't do anything that stupid again, alright? It's an order," he joked.

"John smiled, a tear running down his cheek.

"Aye, aye, sir," he answered, feeling freer than he had felt for a long time.