A/N: Part 2, less angsty than the first but still rather emotional, which I guess is to be expected.

I should also point out that this part diverts from canon slightly, with some reworkings. Elements of 4.7 remain but 4.8 is pretty much forgotten about.

These Four Walls

Part 2

It was strange how things that had been learnt over years could shift and alter in the course of but weeks. Not even with the turn of the tide or the change of one season to the next, but much quicker than that. And yet the transformation was keenly felt, did not go unrecognised.

Each day, Anna would find herself up before the dawn, sitting quietly by the window, watching patiently for the sun to begin its rise over the horizon. Of course early starts had long been a necessity but certainly not a choice, Anna preferring to bury her head beneath the pillow and shut her eyes tight, pretending that the dark behind her eyes was the cover of night. Yet even when she was allowed the luxury she found she couldn't take advantage of a lie-in now. She didn't lament the change in her routine, turned what may have been considered a negative into something positive instead. It was certainly good that she wanted to savour the earlier moments of the day, instead of wishing them away fiercely as she had done not too long ago. Some mornings she would watch the sky change its colour from above, the window from the bedroom offering quite a wonderful view. Everything from the buds upon the trees to the birds nestling there could be seen restarting into life, if you looked closely enough. It gave her a peaceful feeling, and made her feel deeply humble. Other mornings she would pad downstairs, careful not to make much noise, and take up her seat there. Instead of being intrusive, the quiet that such an early hour provided was serene in its quality, interrupted every now and then by the chirp of birdsong, eternal and hopeful.

Each day, she took another step forward. Some days it was more than just one, and even though they were still relatively small, she was proud of herself for persevering. She was proud of herself for holding her head up that bit higher, pushing on, and not giving in even when it seemed such a tempting option. Since that night a few weeks ago, key in her transformation, she considered herself to be different, largely in a good way. She was certainly less hesitant in what she said, and she was working up to replicating that attitude in her actions, steadily. She had cried some more. In some moments, she had even laughed. Most importantly, she no longer saw the future as a desolate place that she could never truly belong in but instead believed that it held a great deal of hope, as it had always done. Just like the sun held up in the sky, some days that hope appeared to shine brighter than others.

There were days when she had no choice but to take a few steps back. Like the flame of a candle, optimism burned out and it became too much to pretend. She felt frustration, was sometimes wild with it, that she could not keep up the pace. She felt helpless, irrational, governed not by her will but by some other force that was intent on keeping her down, bringing her mind back to those terrible places. On those days she took deep breaths in and out. She placed her hands beneath her, she went outside to feel the sun – or the rain – on her face, she smelt the air and the earth. She reminded herself that she was only human, and that it was alright to feel bad as well as good. It was perfectly understandable.

She measured her progress in days, with the rising and setting of the sun, and it seemed the best way to do it. It was the only way to do it.

John was her constant. She looked back, and could not fathom how she had planned to ever stumble through life without him. It was quite plain and simple; she could not survive without him. He doubted his abilities often enough, worried that he wasn't doing enough to help her along, or conversely that he was doing too much without even being aware. Of course, they were all unfounded. He helped her much more than he knew, not always by words, not always by actions, but by just being a part of her life, the way she had remembered it. They would never be able to sever their ties from one another, bound by name, bound by heart. The little things he did for her each day, like polishing her shoes or leaving out her breakfast bowl with a spoon by its side, showed how much he cared. They never had been before, but now Anna realised more than ever that gestures did not have to be grand to be considered acts of love. He never overcompensated. He would sit with her, sometimes by her side. In the times when she had to be alone he departed without being asked, and always returned when she needed to see his face again. Their relationship had been built on respect, and now it came into play more than ever. With his unwavering support she felt herself gathering, reclaiming their life together. With every little look and smile, she remembered something that she believed she had forgotten forever.

I will find a way back, she had told herself months ago in those first faltering days. It was the thread that she had clung onto desperately, when everything else was falling. Now, as with her routines, that too had altered.

We will find a way back.

A couple of weeks previous, she was informed along with the rest of the house that Lord Gillingham would be returning to Downton soon. Anna did all she could not to fly into a blind panic at the news. Her worry kept her up at night, left her pacing the floor when John believed she was fast asleep. Just when things were getting on some kind of even keel, the recent past refused to stop haunting her. She recalled trembling with fear, barely holding herself together when they all stood in line outside the entrance of the Abbey. Lord Gillingham emerged with a tip of his hat and smile towards Lady Mary, and Anna released her tightly held breath when she saw that he was accompanied by a different valet. She briefly wondered whether she was dreaming. Later as she dressed her for dinner, Lady Mary informed her that there had been some kind of disagreement between Lord Gillingham and his previous valet, and he had been dismissed shortly after their last stay. He had never liked the man, apparently, and got on much better with his new servant. She asked what had happened to the old valet, did they know where he was now. Lady Mary was rather puzzled by the interest, but recalled Lord Gillingham saying something about him going to another country, somewhere on the Asian continent she believed. Either way, Lord Gillingham did not expect that he would be back in England any time soon, if at all again. He was the kind who liked adventure too much to settle for another job much the same in the next county along. The conversation moved forward, and Anna finally felt herself properly able to concentrate on putting up Lady Mary's hair without her hands fumbling and her heart pounding with fear.

For a few days, she felt deep resentment. To think that if Lord Gillingham had acted sooner, paid closer attention to his instincts, it all could have been avoided. She embraced the feeling, and then let it fade quickly. What good did it do to think back, with only thought to change what had already gone? It would only set her back much further, lead her down a path that there was no escape from. She wanted to move past it as best she could and go forward, and that is what she would do. Which meant that she had to do something else too.

Safe in the knowledge that her assailant was on the other side of the world, Anna told John the last secret that was between them. Despite her initial regret that she had not been truthful from the start, she could not deny that she felt better for it. Even with the appearance of the sunnier days, a dark cloud had been hanging over their heads for too long. He said that he had had an idea, and she felt rather foolish for thinking she could deceive him so easily. He reassured her quickly, told her once and over again when she sorely needed to know it how blameless she was. With her permission he took her into his arms, soothed away her returning sorrow, told her repeatedly how brave she was. A lady with the heart of a lion. He hushed her when she began to cry, with relief more than anything else. It wasn't entirely over with and forgotten. Anna noticed on some evenings that John would be distracted, brooding between the pages of his book rather than reading them. A soft word or two from her would be enough to snap him out of it. She knew that he struggled and she wished that he would tell her what was on his mind but he bore his emotion as stoically as ever, pushing down his own feelings for the sake of hers.

While they pieced their life back together one aspect remained hanging in the air, due to both of their deliberations. The question of intimacy was one that required careful thinking, and actions that would have been second-nature months ago were now considered to the very last detail, regardless of whether they were carried out. Anna had always loved holding John's hand, and she was glad of the comfort and happiness it brought her still, now she was able to again. Touches were easier now and came gradually, usually on arms or shoulders and always when they were covered. The only other place they came into contact with skin was with hands on one another's face. Anna enjoyed the gentle way John would caress her cheek when she required a certain level of reassurance, knowing when she needed to pull away, partly regretfully. There had been an unfortunate moment when she had got too lost in his eyes and he had got too preoccupied with her small but bright smile. He knew when he had angled his head closer that it was a misstep, and shame consumed them both when she had pulled sharply away from him and out of his touch. Something they never used to think about now loomed so large. Anna felt guilt that she was not able to give in, her eyes clouding. Yet there had been no hurt in John's eyes as he returned her gaze, only understanding, as well as regret for his actions. He had nothing to be sorry for, and as she slowly smiled to encourage him that nothing was wrong, Anna resolved that she would not be shaken. It was important not to retreat, but instead to readjust.

They found new, different ways to be close with one another in the moments they had together. A detour to take a longer walk home from the Abbey, an hour or so spent in the garden as the weather got warmer. One evening when she came downstairs from getting changed out of her uniform, she was pleasantly surprised to see a plain white cloth laid over the table, two small candles sat in the middle and John standing by the chair at her side. The sight made her laugh lightly, and she had to admit that she felt much better about enjoying a dinner in the comfort of their own home, even if it was not quite as fancy. They spent the evenings talking, and mostly he would come up to sit with her until she retired to sleep, save for the really bad nights, which were getting fewer.

Some mornings, she heard him shuffling into the sitting room from the kitchen, and she smiled when he took his place beside her at the window, ready to trace the rise of the sun in the sky. Anna noticed that those mornings always seemed to be the ones where the sky was clearer, the colours even more beautiful as the day began to unfold. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but she liked to think not.

Today was one of those mornings.

This morning he had brought her tea, and Anna nodded her thanks as she took the cup from his hand, letting it settle against her lap. He sat down next to her and together, largely in silence, they watched the world slowly spring to life.

With her eyes focused on the horizon and the warm glow of the sun, she curled her fingers into his. Eventually she let her head come to rest by his shoulder. Anna felt his surprise in the way he held himself momentarily, and then relished how he relaxed, gradually moulding with her, his gaze focused on the same almost miraculous sight.

Day by day. Some days were very good indeed.

Though Mrs Hughes did her best to arrange the schedule so that their half-days would coincide, and most especially of late, there were occasions when it was simply not practical. With his Lordship needing to travel to York on business, Anna was left alone and unoccupied that afternoon. She wondered whether she should sacrifice her free time, stay up at the house and find something to do, but soon decided it was quite silly to waste an afternoon that only came along once every fortnight. She always graciously savoured the time she had to herself, and she resolved that would not change.

The summer's day was fine, and she took advantage of the weather by taking a short trip into the village. It was not the first time she had been up there by herself since but she consciously decided to spend a little longer walking about. She covered her head with her widest brimmed hat and every now and then would stop still, eyes darting in every direction around her. Of course she was entirely safe, but it didn't do any harm to be sure. She ran some errands, popped into the bakery to buy John's favourite pie as well as a couple of cream cakes as a small treat.

She got back to the cottage with plenty of time to spare and was quite horrified to discover the amount of dust that the sunlight streaming in made visible on the surfaces, a vast amount of clutter collecting in the corners of the sitting room. Keeping the place tidy and up to her usual standards had not been her priority, and though John tried his best he worked so hard up at the house too. Rolling up her sleeves and fetching her apron, she decided that enough was enough. She set about giving the rooms a good clean, humming to herself as she went. She was reminded of her days as a housemaid while she worked methodically, the sheer physical effort proving satisfying.

Things were not quite so bad upstairs, so when the cleaning came to an end she endeavoured to make a start on sorting through the drawers and wardrobe, another task that had been put off for too long. Opening the doors she began to sort the contents into neat piles, not realising just how much they had accumulated, although Lady Mary and Lord Grantham had been quite kind with their cast-offs. There were already a fair few items that could be donated to charity, and a couple that just needed a little mending. Anna continued with gusto, placing the empty hangers on the rack and delving further. It was when her hand landed upon the delicate blouse near the back of the wardrobe that she froze, waves of memory arresting her and having quite a peculiar effect – not one that she had ever expected to experience while confronted with the items she was now gazing at.

Walking as if in a trance, she carried the white blouse and striking blue skirt across both her arms, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the bed. Lowering herself, she could not stop looking. Memories continued to flood back into her mind and they seemed to crowd the room. A strange ache hit her squarely in the chest. She had been too consumed to realise up until now, had hardly even considered that time in her life, as significant as it was. Even with the senses of sight and touch to aid her, she had trouble remembering precisely. So much had been lost and overshadowed in her mind, and this apparently most of all. There was no doubt that it was cruel but it seemed right. She mourned it deeply, more than she had the loss of anything else.

Through tears she raised her head to look around the room, illuminated by sunlight that had now travelled to the front of the house. She had not thought while she had been working, but the feeling struck her clearly now; that she was not deserving of any of the possessions that were here, and most of all what they added up to. It pained her to even look, being taunted by every place that her eyes fell upon.

She was unable to move, and she was still there, sobbing softly when John came home. It was still early, a couple of hours before they needed to be back at the house before dinner. He must have made some excuse to his Lordship, or otherwise the business had not taken as long as expected. Anna swiped at her eyes as she heard his footsteps climbing the stairs, preparing to ask him questions about his day. She felt dreadfully selfish as they all disappeared when he filled the doorway, her own worries consuming her once more. She did not stop a few more tears from rolling down her cheeks, and John came over to her immediately, still in his overcoat. He followed her gaze downward, watching her stroking the blouse in her lap over and over absentmindedly, covering her hand with his and softly stilling her movements. Recognition filled his eyes, a small and fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't seem to realise.

"I'm not the woman you married," she made her ever-charging thoughts clear to him. John stayed looking at her with eyes that were far too kind and forgiving. "I can't give the same things to you that I did then."

Perhaps she meant other things too, but there was little doubt to what she was referring, not too plainly. She briefly thought about the night that had followed that day, completely unexpected but made all the sweeter for that.

John took up her hand, letting the pad of his thumb rub tenderly against the curve of her palm. As she gazed into his eyes the thought crossed her mind that she would do anything, even let him seek his desires elsewhere if it meant he would not forsake her completely.

"Let me ask you something," he said, the smile not having left his eyes, "for how long and how much did I love you before that happened between us?"

A faint blush crossed her cheeks as her gaze dropped for a moment, recalling those years of courtship, how she always felt perfectly assured in his affection for her. Even in the moments that she had grown frustrated that she did not know him fully, she was again buoyed by the knowledge that their love bloomed far deeper than that.

"And how long will I love you afterwards?" His fingers caressed hers light as a feather, his eyes lighting as he finished his question. "Well, I suppose that one is rather unfair, considering there is no possible measure of an answer."

She let herself show a shadow of a smile to him, the skirt soft beneath one of her hands and her husband's skin even more wondrous beneath the other.

His tone grew more serious but remained soothing to her ears. "If it never is again, it does not matter to me. All that matters is that you are my wife, and that I can share my life with you is the most precious gift, and one which I will always treasure." At the moment her eyes caught with his again he gave her the most beautiful smile that lifted her heart. "You are always that to me. My brave and beautiful Anna May Smith, who granted me the greatest honour the day she became Anna May Bates."

She couldn't help herself smiling, and John took great joy in the way her features started to brighten faintly. Taking a different track, he aimed to coax a little more of that beautiful inner light of hers to shine.

"I remember it as if it were yesterday, that morning." He ran a finger over the warm metal moulded to her hand, not needing to delve very far back into his mind to recall. "I rose well before dawn, the anticipation in the pit of my stomach keeping me up most of the night. Did you notice how I hardly ate a crumb at breakfast? I had to do all I could to stop Mrs Patmore from staring and tutting at me."

Anna sighed softly and nodded, enjoying hearing about the day from his perspective.

"The morning couldn't go quickly enough. I was awfully clumsy with his Lordship's things. I just wondered about the suit I had, whether it would be good enough. I could have done with some assistance in putting it on myself, it seemed to take forever. But I enjoyed getting ready, knowing what it was all for." His words flowed easily, caught up in nostalgia. "The bus was quite full, and I worried that the heat would make me sweat. The sun was shining brighter than it had all day by the time I arrived outside. For some reason I started to fret, thinking perhaps you wouldn't be let away after all. And before I could think any more, there you were."

The grin that covered his face transported her back to that most perfect day, most clearly.

"I don't think I really believed it until your arm was in mine, until I saw you smiling up at me. I swore that I was dreaming. Until I held your hand," he glanced down to where her hand was still entwined with his. "Until I kissed your lips."

His gaze flickered consciously away from her mouth and he shifted a little where he sat. Anna felt something within her sink, knowing it would still be strange for a while for either of them to consider or even mention.

Drawing up her courage, she pressed her palm more firmly against his, making John meet her eyes again. She gave him a watery smile.

"I do want to be like that with you again, you know," she said in a small but certain voice. He was her husband. Of course she wished to be with him in the way that a husband and wife were most natural together. "One day."

"Oh, my darling." John's voice was torn from him in an almost broken whisper. His fingers were light upon her hand, and as he kissed the back of her hand but once, his lips were even lighter, almost so she was unable to feel them. His arm placed itself gently around her shoulders. "You needn't promise me anything. What we have is all that I want."

Anna's worries about the future faded as they sat together, her wedding outfit draped over both their knees. She remembered the joy that she had felt then, less fragmented now as it was before. She felt her eyes begin to droop and wondered briefly if she could risk having a little nap before she would have to ready for the evening's duty. The noisy grumble of her stomach echoed in the room, causing them both to startle and then chuckle softly.

"I might have forgotten to have luncheon," she uttered, causing John to look at her with mild consternation before his eyes softened. "There are some cakes downstairs, but I thought we would have those for supper."

"Well, I don't see the harm in going against the grain," John smiled.

Disturbed nights effortlessly followed peaceful ones, no rhyme or rhythm to the pattern. The anxiety that occupied her took on many different forms, from short and sudden bursts to awful, deadening stretches that lasted for days. Something as simple as a louder step upon the stairs or a phantom breeze that mistakenly caused one of the bells to ring brought on an attack. In some respects they were easier to deal with at the house; she would say it was a funny turn or she just hadn't eaten enough. Often people were too occupied with their own tasks to even notice. She hated that they afflicted her at the cottage just as much, making her feel suffocated in her safe haven, but there was no discrimination or exception. She coped the best she could, which was mainly to feel it and then let it pass largely unnoticed.

Her fear reached its peak when it was announced that Lord Grantham would be taking a trip to America, just before the annual bazaar. Even though she knew there was no need to fret, she was not ready to be without John for such a prolonged period. He promised that he would not go, and they sat up together the evening through after Lord Grantham's departure, Anna barely letting go of his hand for a second. Telling Lady Mary of her ordeal was a small price to pay to ensure her husband could remain with her. Six months from the day passed, leaves turning golden upon the trees and John remaining precisely what she needed him to be, helping to distract her until the clock struck a minute past midnight. It never made it disappear. There was much that she wasn't ready to say, and she wasn't certain that she could ever tell it all. Her moments of introspection remained, but there was no unhealthy balance. Their home provided her with a place to release and a place to retreat, where she was free enough to build herself back together at her own pace and in her own time. She was utterly grateful for its shelter, in every sense of the word.

Despite being so very loving and attentive with her, Anna could see that John was not taking care of himself as much. He was often lethargic, relied upon his cane more than he normally would around the cottage. He grew quieter and more turned into himself. It was almost as though he had reverted back to the time before they were married, when it could prove to be quite the effort to get him to speak about his troubles, as well as his joys.

Anna watched him as she brought the tea she had made for them both into the sitting room. His large frame uncomfortably bundled into the armchair, head bowed and shoulders tight. She thought with regret how it used to be nothing to her to place her hands upon him after a tiring day, delighting in hearing his contented sighs as she worked him free of knots. His bad leg was stiff and unmoving, the other bobbing restlessly. He only seemed to be aware of her presence when she placed the tray down on the low table in front of him, and she rolled her eyes lightly, hands held on her hips.

"I can hear you ticking away from the kitchen," she quipped, coaxing a small half-smile from him. "I hope it's nothing bad."

"I'm thinking of you, so that could never be bad."

Usually such a response would reassure her, but she could see something else lurking in his eyes. She knew that if she simply left him to his own devices that he would go back to being strong and silent, and nothing would be solved.

"I wish you'd come out with it, whatever it is." The old familiar words eased from her tongue as she sat herself down in the seat opposite, the glug of the tea as it fell steadily into the cups softening the atmosphere. "I won't break into pieces, you know."

John looked at her a little cautiously, sighing while she offered him a true smile. After some contemplation he half-heartedly waved a hand in front of him.

"You have enough to worry about," he lamented softly. "I have no need to burden you with what is on my mind."

"I think you have every need," Anna responded keenly. "I know I certainly do. It worries me to know you are keeping things to yourself, even if it is for my sake."

The guilt that was all about him was palpable, knowing that his old habitual ways were causing her to fret unnecessarily. He frowned, deep lines bedding into his brow, and Anna expected him to say no more on the matter, but it seemed that her candour had given him the push.

"My head hasn't been set straight today," he confessed, quickly noticing the dark and worrying flicker in her irises. "Don't worry, it's not about what you think."

Anna exhaled, her shoulders sagging and a great deal of her tension swiftly ebbing away.

"I only care about you," he uttered with a sincerity that could not be doubted. Anna smiled naturally; she loved this man with all of her heart, and even more that she did not own. She had no hesitation in reaching her arm out, placing her small hand part way over his, grazing the tips of her fingers over his knuckles. The gesture made him relax, if only briefly, before sorrow consumed him again. "I try, with all of my might, and I know it is wrong of me, that I have no claim over it. But I wake up, and it covers me completely." His voice was heavy, laced with regret. "Some days it is all I can think about."

She knew by now that it did not make an effect, that he perceived her no differently for it. She was only mournful that all that she had experienced was making him so wretched, worse for the fact he did not know of the exact details.

"I have seen the cruelty of this world too plain. I have witnessed suffering, God knows that I have caused enough of it. But you, my love, you should not bear it, not ever again." Though his eyes were distant, his voice was wrought, bringing her much closer to him. "You are far too good and kind, and you do so much, so selflessly…" He began to trail off, holding her hand tighter but with gentleness that could not be faulted. The gentility she deserved, with all of her being. He would never dare to call her beliefs into question but he knew that he had no favour with a God that allowed such agony to be brought upon someone as perfect as she was.

John let go of his bitterness, looking at his wife's face, still soft despite her weariness, and always indescribably beautiful, holding so much forgiveness, a kind that he was not quite as ready as yet to show to the world.

"It is my duty to protect you, and I could have done so, but I didn't, because I was complacent and foolish. I failed you, and I despise myself for it." He looked more lost and defeated than he had ever done, through the long battles with Vera and the unjust life sentence that had been placed upon him. It broke Anna's heart to see. "How can you ever trust me again? I swore that I would never let you down again, but it would seem that I cannot stop myself from being a damn fool."

"John Bates, I never want to hear that from you." He was a little astonished to see the fire set deep within her surging up to her eyes, the spark that had been stolen emerging again. "You could never let me down."

He knew for certain he had, and it was a long and shameful list that he was adding to, but he would not be stubborn enough to argue. It was not what Anna needed, and anything he did from now on was only to do the best by and for her. He owed her so much, that he wasn't sure he would be able to pay.

Her blue eyes were shining, only with a few tears in the light of the fire that burned softly.

"I trust you with my life and everything I have, and that will never change."

Though she too had been foolish to doubt his ability to trust her those months ago, those fears were discarded from her mind now. She stroked his hand with a touch a little more sure, to add weight to her words.

"I don't want you to know pain," he repeated softly, trying not to break her heart further. "I want life to be perfect for you."

"That's a very considerable task to achieve, Mr Bates."

His expression remained set, sombre, as he turned over a weight in his mind, the sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

"I want to suffer for you."

"And then we'd both be miserable. What a fine time that would be."

John should have known that even now he could not reckon with the fact that his wife had an answer for everything. Anna sighed as she placed her hand back into her lap, vaguely aware that the pot of tea had already gone cold.

"It's very noble of you, but I believe we're past all that." Things were changing, she was changing, very slowly but more noticeable with each day. Certainly, just last week she wouldn't have been able to appear as light-hearted as she had for moments then, even with all the will in the world. She needed to let him know that it was up to him to make some changes too, in a gentle way. "You must promise me something."

"I'd promise you the world."

Anna had to smile at his eagerness to please. He truly would do anything, even put his hand to the impossible, for her.

"I want you to tell me when things are bothering you. Never mind fretting over me, because I've already told you where I stand on the matter." Her eyes softened, and she saw that it was starting to chip away at him, sinking in. "If it is to get easier, then we must be open with each other." She was too aware of the clench in her chest, the lurch in her stomach. "I will try, just as much."

"You have no obligations, not to me," he replied, putting her at ease and once again overlooking himself.

The clock swung closer to the time they would usually part to sleep. Anna was determined that all that they had achieved, not just in these months but in the years previous, would not go to waste.

She stood, half of her lit by the glow of the fire, extending her arm almost like a child, innocently sealing a vow.

"Promise?"

His fingers slid like ghosts amongst hers, the embers falling upon his face as he started to softly smile. "I promise."

Their words held within the walls, adding to their durability, they went separately to sleep peacefully and this time undisturbed.

The promise of no more secrets was a good one. They kept to the pact, Anna as far as she was able. It made things easier for her that Lady Mary offered a listening ear regardless of whether the offer was always accepted. She felt a little guilty that John did not have the same outlet when he surely needed it. There were a couple of times when she descended the staircase and saw him emerging from Mrs Hughes's parlour, clouds of shadow lifted from his face. The level of openness they had reached, assisted by the confidence of others, truly helped her on her way back from the wilderness.

The nights grew longer, the first frosts of winter beginning to chill the earth. Even after a long day, John always made sure that the woodpile for the fire was well stocked. Anna dug out the extra blankets and covered them upon the bed, knowing as she fit them that her feet would remain cold.

On their half-days, they spent longer sitting up talking steadily and smiling more too. It was as the hour grew late on one such evening with no particular significance and when John made to lift himself from the edge of the bed that the request left her, with no apparent amount of forethought.

"Stay with me."

His eyes flickered with concern and uncertainty in believing what he thought he might have heard. Anna only returned with a smile that showed the warmth she felt, sitting wrapped in one of her shawls. The time had come, quite unannounced, but she only knew that it felt right. To be but another night without her husband by her side would surely cause her to crumble, for all the strength she had shown outwardly. Making sure that she was comfortable above all else, John lay himself down slowly on his side of the bed. He intended to stay on top of the covers but Anna shook her head, saying that he would freeze to death. Unfurling them with his help, she held her breath as he climbed in, careful to keep his distance but still closer than he had been to her for a long while.

Neither slept all that much that first night, John leaving a single candle at the bedside burning at Anna's request. She wanted to be able to look at him, trace all the features of his face and the form that was visible to her. Knowing the warm weight that was not far from her side, learning again how it felt just to have it there. He smiled when he closed his eyes for a few brief moments, unguarded, and she blinked away her tears. She had not realised how intolerable the nights had been, how many there had been. She had missed him so much.

The space that was large enough to fit another being lessened by centimetres each night. They lay their hands over each other over the covers, comforted by soft touches. Anna worried that she would frighten him with her terrors, knowing they could creep up with her unaware. When she felt herself getting suddenly tense she turned onto her side, listening to John's steady breathing and the thud of his heartbeat when it was quiet enough, aligning her own in time once more. She would go to sleep close by his side but held away so that he did not reach to touch her mistakenly. After the haze of slumber lifted in the early morning she felt a little flush of embarrassment to realise her arm had ended up draped over his chest, their legs tangled together.

Slowly, certainty resurfaced and old routines made themselves known with the comfort of time passed and the patience of love to reassure.

It had been a tiring day, preparing for the final large party of the year at the house. Caught by unwanted thoughts in certain moments, she had had to stop dead in the middle of what she was doing several times and everything had seemed to take so much longer to recover afterwards. Still, there would not be much left that they were required to do, which made her feel better, as did the fact that they were home for another night now and would soon enough be lost to sleep.

She was all ready for bed, wearing the heavy nightgown she was now accustomed to, save for one final preparation that needed to be made. Though her eyes were close to drooping completely shut, Anna stayed sitting at the small vanity, not understanding why her body should remain upright and apparently unable to leave.

Though he was ready for bed too, John pottered around the room, adjusting items at the bedside. He always waited for Anna to be the first to climb in, giving her time still to adjust. He looked to where a stream of moonlight fell upon Anna's head where she sat, smiling to himself as she let out a long yawn.

"I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I don't have the energy or inclination to take out a few pins, it seems."

Usually it was the first thing she did before she even changed her clothes, the implements pinching at her scalp after lengthy hours. He thought of how she would rub her head vigorously when they had been discarded, relieved to be able to breathe. He remembered how she had suffered from a nightmare the night before, turning out of his arms with urgency. His notions turned sadder as he considered that unconsciously her actions, or lack of, may have been more deliberate.

"I'll still be sitting here come dawn at this rate," she sighed, a softer note in her voice that made him feel more assured. She seemed so small, swamped by the swathes of fabric that clothed her.

A small silence lingered, which made Anna realise how ludicrous she was being. At the moment she raised a palm to cover the back of her head, John spoke with a little waver, his tones always so suitable.

"I could do it for you." Before he had even spoke he worried that it had been too soon. "That is, of course, if you would like me to."

His hesitancy was partly endearing, and a smile started on Anna's face while her reflection nodded her acceptance.

Her shoulders rose up despite herself, waiting, and then his hands were there, upon her head. She did not feel his fingers taking out the pins, so light was his touch, only realising when her hair tumbled to her shoulders. She believed that the job had been done and so stuttered a breath when, very delicately, one of his hands raked the length of her tresses. Only once or twice, a few minutes apart. Anna's eyes fluttered closed; she was lost in some moment from long ago. He always loved her hair, held it in some kind of reverence. She remembered being a little bemused but thoroughly liking the attention he paid to it, months and years ago. She opened her eyes again seconds later, fixing them upon the mirror. She watched herself, but more keenly watched her ever faithful husband behind her, the small wooden hairbrush held in his large palm. As gentle as ever, he swept the bristles down, combing out her hair in stages until the dull shine glistened once more. Anna did not take her gaze from him, the studied concentration on his face upon his task coupled with the rhythm of sensation sending her to occupy another world. A world where no cares existed whatsoever. His fingers carefully lay the brush back down on the vanity, the back of it making a small tapping sound which snapped Anna out of her reverie.

She uttered a small but deeply sincere 'thank you' to his reflection, and his eyes gleamed at her before he turned away, leaving her to put her loosened hair into a braid, her energy renewed. When she finished securing the ribbon, she couldn't stop her gaze from wandering over her shoulder to where John was sitting, rifling through the pages of a book though he fought to keep his own eyes open. Smiling softly, she rose to stand, seeking for them both to get some much needed rest.

Little by little, life was starting over again. Not quite exactly the same as it used to be, but the adjustments slotted well with the remembrances. She involved herself more happily with her work, drawing less concern as she went about, most days with a smile on her face. Though she had never felt uncomfortable there she was more at ease at home, hardly startling at the quiet or the slightest bit of noise. Those walls had welcomed her when she had been near her worst and now they let her grow, giving her room to breathe easily.

They met on the landing just outside the bathroom, almost bumping into one another as Anna was making her way to their room. It caused them both to laugh lightly, the rumble that came from John harmonious to her ears. There was a time not too long ago when she believed laughter and joy had been banished from their life.

"I know you're tired," he said softly, stooping down a little to her height. "I won't be too long."

She shook her head to the side, wanting him to take as long as he needed in his nightly routine. Her eyes cast down, she noticed that he had already rolled up his sleeves, the dark hair on his forearms capturing her attention. She did not wish to compare, it paining her deeply to do so, but she was also comforted beyond belief to know that they were so very different.

She left the door to the bedroom open a little, changing into her nightgown while John washed, as was customary for them to do. The habit of it soothed her. In the silence she could hear water splashing against the sink, travelling down the little landing. She would often be beneath the covers by the time he returned, now staying in the room while he changed. After she took down and then braided her hair, she brushed her hands over the end of the bed, smoothing creases out of the covers before she perched herself on the edge. The silence echoed, began to grow louder, but Anna refused to give in to it.

John entered, his hair still a little wet at the ends. He seemed a little surprised at the fact that Anna was still up and not in bed, though he did not give his wonderings voice. Closing the door softly behind him out of habit, he hesitated as Anna did not move a muscle, staring at him and every move that he did not make. He let out a breath that he had been holding too long when she got to her feet and went over to where he stood, her eyes still pinned to him.

"Let me try something," she murmured, a steely determination in her gaze which melted when he looked down at her tenderly. John silently gulped the lump in his throat, amazed by her courage as she raised her arms towards him.

"Anna, you don't have to," he felt the need to utter.

"No, but I want to."

He half-smiled weakly, preparing himself for whatever was to come and vowing not to make too much of it, though it was a massive step. He had never doubted her bravery and right now she was showing it most wonderfully and unexpectedly, to him.

She exhaled slowly, determined not to shake. While her eyes were locked with his, his warm gaze giving her confidence, she laid one palm flat against his clothed chest, followed by the other seconds later. Anna felt a small jolt run through her body, a spark of life at the feel of him beneath her hands. She kept them still, relishing being able to touch him after so long, assured by his sturdy solidity. She almost couldn't believe that he was still here, that he hadn't disintegrated from her touch. John did not move, watching her considerately, the only thing he did to breathe in and out. Anna shifted her right hand along a little and closed her eyes, trying not to break down at the feel of his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingertips. He was real. He loved her so much. She felt her fear fade away, knowing that she was with her husband in their own home, and that there was no safer place on this earth. She could take this step, for now.

Craning her head up to look at him again, she smiled a small smile as her hands followed suit. The stiff collar had been removed by him long before and it was the more pliable one of his shirt she was met with, her fingers lingering for a few moments before she started to undo the buttons. She fumbled with the first, but soon became swifter. John kept his eyes on the top of her head and his arms by his sides, so full of quiet admiration, not wanting to do anything to break the perfect moment or startle her. She seemed to do that herself, her hands trembling suddenly halfway down and coming to a stop, rested against him. His eyes began to fill with tears, believing he could have done more to not allow her to push herself.

"It's okay," he whispered in the softest voice, bringing his hands slowly up to finish the task himself, as he should have started it. Before he could reach, Anna's eyes, so blue and striking to his soul, met with his. In the next moment, her fingers curled once more, opening the rest of the buttons fluidly.

She placed her hands upon his arms when she finished, holding them there against the fabric, able to feel the movement of his muscles and sinews underneath. Slowly, they went up to his broad shoulders, and she brought the shirt from him, letting it fall to the floor. The tips of her fingers brushed at his hairline and then the nape of his neck, going back and forth as she brought back her memories to life with each small caress. She moved to splay her palms at his shoulders, over his undershirt that remained. John fought to stop himself making any noises when she let her hands fall, roaming over his torso. Her touch was about discovery, not desire, though Anna was surprised to be aware of a small stirring in the pit of her stomach. It delighted her at the same time, giving her hope for somewhere in the future.

She raised one hand, turning it so the backs of her fingers ran along the inside of his forearm, mapping the place she hadn't dared to so much as look at, let alone touch in the last few months. She repeated the action on the opposite side, drawing in breath before her fingers dipped to the hem of his undershirt. John looked at her all the while, letting her know she could stop any time she wished. Walls were coming down with the passing of every second and she felt herself stop clinging on so tight. She grasped the edges softly in her hands, and John raised his arms as she pulled the shirt over his body. Anna felt briefly exhilarated, adrenaline surging through her limbs and leaving her quite exhausted.

The sight of him was enough, and then suddenly it wasn't. Her hands rose again, meeting his neck, his bare shoulders, the thatch of hair that covered his chest. She had forgotten so much, blocked it from her mind for what had been an eternity. He was her husband. He loved her from now until the end of time. As she kept her hands pressed upon him, he told her as much, whispering words of his adoration to let her know how much she was loved.

"My darling, you are so special."

"You mean everything to me, you are my world."

"I can't remember life before you…there is no after you."

"I adore you, my wonderful Anna."

His words surrounded her, made her feel safe and protected and alive again. She could not stop her emotion from spilling out, though she was able to hold back her tears as she gazed up towards him. Taking his hands into her own, she linked their fingers briefly – a precursor – before she placed his palms on the arches of her hips.

"Kiss me," she said softly but steadily, pushing down any reticence that remained. She knew that she wanted this, she knew that she was safe.

She missed him, so very much.

"Please."

She gave a little nod of her head after uttering her plea, her eyes imploring and remaining locked with his until they closed of their own accord, remembering at last how this went. One of his hands tenderly cupped the back of her head as she drew closer. His lips were soft as they pressed to hers gently, the short kiss achingly sweet, all that she could ask for. In those few seconds before she was frightened of what she would remember, but as soon as he met with her, so tender and loving, all she knew was him. Her husband, just as he always was. She felt cold night air tempered by warmth, her heart thumping against her chest, being happier than ever before in her life following his slightly awkward proposal to her.

She felt renewed, in small part, blessed beyond belief that she had been granted the chance to begin again.

Her wish would have been for more, to be able to give more, but they both knew there was no need to rush. It had been quite a leap, both felt the significance and could not underestimate it.

Breathing back tears, Anna opened out her arms and released when John gathered her into his. She hugged into him, her cheek against his chest, the sensation of skin upon skin soothing and intimate. How relieved she was that it had not been lost forever. Now he was not reserved about holding her close, pressing light kisses against her head, arms circled around her, never to leave. Her hands reached up, stroking at his hairline, happier than ever before that she was able to offer him comfort, again.

It was a step, forward not back. There were many, many more to come; they did not fool themselves about that. But they had taken it together, and that was what mattered most of all.

The spring sunshine was a welcome sight after such a long winter. It spilled through into the hallway and Anna closed her eyes to it, appreciating the light upon her face. She spent much longer occupying it now, the shadows not entirely gone but far less consuming than they were.

It had been more than a year. A whole revolving of the earth around the sun. It was strange, the ways time could be measured. Such a large shift could never be properly charted, hour by hour or day by day, but things did change indeed. And in the same respect, they also stayed fixed. Nothing so disruptive could ever alter the foundation of the world, or interrupt the movement of time.

She knew that from the way they would watch the sun rise every morning, the way that on clear nights they looked upon stars crossing the sky, John pointing out the constellations to her in the times she needed a focus and something bright to gaze upon.

She felt it in the way she lay in his arms every night, her head pillowed upon his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in her ear, his pulse connecting with her own.

His soft half-step came down the stairs, and she turned, meeting him with a smile as he took the final footfall down.

"I'm not sure I'll need a coat today," he commented, squinting his eyes a little against the light that was shining in.

"Better just to be sure. You can always take it off later if needs be, but the nights still get chilly."

He nodded, smiling at her fussing, opening his frame up so that she could put the coat on him, with a bit of assistance. It was something she had only started doing in the last couple of weeks, of her own volition. He certainly did not dismiss anything from her, but he was aware of the need for going slowly. She was always the one to try things out, and John couldn't help but smile when he thought that had always been the case. Anna handed him his hat in her dainty hand, and he placed it firmly upon his head.

He noticed a small frown line her features, and felt a too familiar pang of worry strike up in his chest.

Anna shook her head, quick to dismiss his fears.

"It's such a beautiful day," she mused, adjusting the frill of one of her light gloves upon her wrist. "I just wish that we could spend it here instead. It'd be nice to make a proper start on planting in the garden again." They hadn't done any last spring, not surprisingly. She let out a small sigh, rolling her eyes amusedly. "It seems the case that all our half-days are destined to be rainy."

It was true that the last few had been, and the many before then too cold to venture outside very far.

Her husband gave her a smile that lit up the spark in her heart.

"The sooner we make our way, the sooner we can be back. I don't expect I'll have a very busy day, what with his Lordship meeting with Mr Branson for most of the day about the estate." The smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle and light with hope. "I'm sure I can do something when we're back."

Anna's own lips curled, her spirits lifting higher in anticipation. "So long as I get to watch."

"You know that I hold your opinion in the highest regard."

She giggled softly, and then took the steps forward to open the door before them, the gentle warmth of the day flooding in. John was reliably at her back, and as he took his steps down outside, her arm met with his, linking firmly there to remain as they took the journey up to the house, the smile remaining on her face too.

In the darkest days, even in the days when she had come back, she had doubted whether she would ever feel truly safe again. But now she felt safe, and so much more. Most days she felt happy and hopeful. Every day she felt loved.

And it was all thanks to being home, in the place that most felt like home, with the heart that she called home, from the moment they had met.