Going Through the Motions

Summary: Walking like a man already condemned to the gallows, Bates felt his emotions shift from anguish into a dull rage. He hated himself. He hated Anna, just a little. S5E6 post episode. SPOILERS

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

A/N: SPOILERS for S5E6. I didn't set out to write this but the last episode just begs for a bit more to explain and explore what we saw on the screen. So this is my attempt to do that. I mostly skip over the scenes from the show itself. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Or feel free to drop me a PM.

Anna did not want his child.

Not only did she have literature on how to prevent an unwanted conception, she had a device specifically for that purpose. The book was creased so that it fell open to the page explaining how the thing was used and a quick study of the literature confirmed for Bates that she could use it without his ever being the wiser. He could also tell from wear and tear on the box that the item did not appear to be brand new. His hands shook as he put the items back in the cupboard where he'd found them, and Bates had to forcibly swallow against the sudden sick feeling in his stomach as the biscuit he'd stolen from the kitchen threatened to make a reappearance.

Despite everything she'd said to the contrary, Anna had gone to great lengths to ensure she would not conceive. The thought of his wife lying about such a thing made no sense, not when they'd always wanted children, right from the very beginning. He had seen her disappointment month after month as she informed him of the start of her cycle. Sometimes their hopes were caught high when she missed one or two as she tended to do in times of great stress and turmoil, but without fail, those hopes were dashed as it later became clear that she still was not with child.

Bates knew she could not feign such disappointment, such heartbreak. As he considered it, he slowly came to realize that she did want children.

But she did not want them with him.

He could think of only one reason why she might suddenly change her mind at this point in their lives, one motive which was entirely reasonable and consistent with the woman he'd known for so long. She no longer wished to have a baby with him because she had come to doubt his own character. The business with Green had left her spirit both raw and scarred, and in the wake of it, she still would not reveal to him that the valet had been her attacker. She would not say the words, even though it was abundantly clear with the police investigating his death. Like an ostrich with its head stuck in the sand, Anna refused to recognize his knowledge because if she did, she would also have to believe him guilty of killing the man.

Deep down, Anna thought he was capable of murder. The woman who'd stood by him through the trial over Vera's death, who had worked tirelessly for a year and a half to prove his innocence and seek his release from prison, who believed him full of more goodness than anyone he'd ever known... she tortured herself with worry over his guilt. And her doubts kept her from being able to commit to having children with him. After all, how could she possibly bring forth the progeny of a murderer?

Walking like a man already condemned to the gallows, Bates felt his emotions shift from anguish into a dull rage. He hated himself. He hated Anna, just a little. While he could not blame her for not wanting children with him, especially as he knew he was just as capable of murder as she suspected him, he did blame her for lying. How many times had they discussed having a child? How many nights had she spent with him in their bed, making what seemed like heartfelt attempts in the endeavor? Had she even enjoyed their lovemaking, or was that yet another lie? Was she driven by a feeling of duty to him in those moments of passion? They had not been intimate for many months after he finally found out about her attack, and Bates attributed it to her healing and recovering from the trauma she'd experienced. He hadn't pushed her, hadn't asked for anything. Anna had been the one to re-initiate their marital relations.

Going about his morning in an angry fog, question after question occurred to him and Bates soon lost himself in the endless sea of doubts - about himself, about Anna, about the core of their relationship.

When she found him in the boot room, he was nearly bursting with it. It hurt to listen to her chattering so naturally, as though she really did feel at ease with him. Any other day he might have taken her statement about going back to the cottage to read before dinner as an invitation to join her. But the foundation of his understanding of his wife had cracked and crumbled. Anna was no longer the woman he knew and loved. She was someone else entirely, the kind of person who could smirk and smile at him at one moment and then betray him the next.

When Anna finally did ask him what was wrong, her gentle and teasing tone grated at him. He laid out to her what he'd found at the cottages in terse sentences meant to convey his broiling emotions. But rather than showing shock or remorse, Anna reacted indignantly, as though he'd had no business finding the items to begin with. But their argument was short lived as they were quickly interrupted and Anna vacated the room for one of the other maids. The young woman - Lily - nearly thrummed with nervousness as she polished the shoes Anna had left for her, but Bates could muster no sympathy for her. All he could think about was that his wife had lied to him and tricked him, and she showed no contrition for the crime.

Anna was the most kind and loving woman he'd ever met. If she did not feel badly for her actions, then surely, she considered them to be for a good reason. Bates accepted that logic as a given, unable to conceive of her behaving capriciously. If she did believe he was a murderer, a man of violence, then of course she would lie.

She did not seem to fear him, but she'd proven that she was very capable of deception. The weeks she'd spent living at Downton after her attack proved that. But did she think he would harm her if she actually revealed that she did not wish to have his children?

Bates shuddered at the very notion. If she could not stomach bearing a baby Bates, then he would never push her for it, no matter how much it hurt to give up on the dream of a family he thought they'd shared. And if she felt him too deficient to be a proper parent, he could not argue with her. Anna had always valued his worth more highly than he himself did, but she'd never expressed him lacking until now. Perhaps she'd finally seen the flaws in him to which she'd always been blind? Perhaps she regretted not only their plans for a family, but that she'd married him at all?

No matter her motives, it all came down to the lies.

Had she only been honest with him, Bates would have accepted her reasons, whatever she chose to tell him. But the deception was like the proverbial knife in his back, buried so deep that he could not breath, and centered so perfectly that he could never reach it to relieve his pain. Instead, it festered and throbbed with agony each time he tried to negotiate the puzzle of her decision.

He did not wait for Anna to finish dressing Lady Mary after he came downstairs from his nightly duties to Lord Grantham. She had said nothing to him at dinner, and he had steadfastly maintained his own silence. But their conversation would surely begin again once they were in the privacy of the cottage.

In some ways, Bates longed for them to finally put the unspoken issues between them into the air. Holding in his secrets for so long was easy enough; he tended to keep himself to himself. But watching Anna try to ignore her own doubts and fears was true torture. Besides, he needed to know what she really thought of him, if she really believed he was the killer so many others suspected him to be.

But if he confessed to wanting to kill Green, to having planned to do exactly that, would she turn away from him? As though he were a drowning man at sea, Anna's faith had buoyed his spirit for so long that he was not sure he could survive without it. He was not equally uncertain if he wanted to. Bates had long since taken to measuring his worth not in his own eyes, but in her much kinder ones, and that had made all the difference. But now...

If she believed him guilty...

Worse still, if Anna could not stomach the thought of having his children...

He wondered if she even wanted to be with him, if she stayed out of duty rather than love? Bates shuddered at the thought of her just going through the motions, of having to pretend to want to be with him, to create a family with him, when she believed him guilty of such a horrendous sin. She was not outspoken, but his wife was a Godly woman, the kind to quietly pray for others without their knowledge. How many nights had she prayed for him? Or had she prayed to be rid of him?

Anna reached the cottage shortly after him, her faster gait apparently allowing her to gain ground on him on the walk home. He'd managed to pull off his tie and collar when he heard the front door open. Anna hung up her hat in the hall before entering the parlor, carrying on their conversation from the boot room as though no time at all had passed.

"What would I want with such a thing?" she demanded.

When their secrets were finally laid bare, Anna sat across from him, his hand cradled between her own as she brought it to her lips. She cherished him with such tenderness, as though he were the most precious thing in the world to her. The sincerity in her eyes confirmed what he already knew - she hadn't lied about wanting a family with him. She'd never lied about that. Anna loved him with all her being.

"I'm so sorry I ever doubted you," she told him, still smiling despite herself. "And I never meant for you to think that I don't want your child. Because I do, more than I can possibly say."

Curious, he said, "You haven't told me why you have those things."

With a sigh born of obvious discomfort at the whole subject of the contraceptive, Anna responded, "They aren't mine. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you without breaking a confidence. Did you really believe I would do something like that without discussing it with you?"

"I didn't know what to believe. I just found them hidden in your things, and I..." He paused, searching for the right way to explain. "My mind went to the worst place."

"Well bring your mind out of that place," she scolded.

"I wasn't snooping," Bates added. "I was honestly looking for your button box."

She still had not let go of his hand, and as Anna turned her eyes down to study it in a distracted manner, she said, "I know. I shouldn't have been angry. It just took me off guard, and I reacted badly."

"I shouldn't have been so accusing." He spoke softly, apologetic. In hindsight, he'd been pushing his own hurt feelings onto her, and it had only made the misunderstanding worse. He should have known that his wife's kindness was far too great for her to believe the things he'd been thinking.

Lifting her eyes back up to his she agreed, "No, you shouldn't have done. But that's what I get for keeping secrets. I should have told you a long time ago."

"About what you were hiding in the cupboard?"

She paused, taking a sharp breath to steady herself. With a shake of the head, she stated, "No, I meant about him." She paused. "About who it was."

"Anna-"

But Anna kept speaking, unwilling to let the topic fall aside again. "I should have told you, at least after he died. I suppose part of me didn't want to know if you'd been involved. If I knew, then I'd have to face it, and I couldn't face it."

Of course it would be difficult for her, understanding him as she did. They both knew now that he was capable of murder, especially given the circumstances, but believing someone might do something and knowing they had done it were two different kettles of fish. The knowledge settled in him with an aching finality he knew he'd simply have to live with: his wife not only suspected him of being a cold blooded murderer, but had endured terrible turmoil for months and months because of it. Anna did not even blame him for this deficiency in his character.

"I couldn't face you going to prison again, or... or worse."

He looked up to meet her eyes, her clear blue eyes still full of tears. "You weren't wrong to worry about what I'd do. I did want to kill him, for what he did to you."

Nodding, Anna said, "I know. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't realize you'd already figured it out."

Bates mused aloud, "I hoped that if I just let it go, if I didn't say anything, that it would stop hurting you so much. The last thing I wanted was to bring up your memories again from what happened."

Her hands tightened on his and Anna brought his fingers once more to her lips as she squeezed her eyes closed. His heart ached at the sight of her and the devotion he saw in her expression.

"We'll get through this," she told him a moment later, and the words came out as much like a promise as a reassurance. "I won't let them take you away from me. Never again."

With a gentle tug of her hand, Bates pulled her over to his chair. His efforts met with no resistance and Anna moved to balance on the arm of the chair as he tilted her head down to kiss her. There was no hesitancy in the touch of her lips on his, nor did she seem to mind his closeness. In the time after her attack, she had difficulty with such nearness, and they had slowly worked through it. But it still hurt to think of her not wanting him there, or worse - simply enduring the feel of his hand on her hip, his lips softly pressing against hers, when all she wanted was to pull away.

But the way Anna was kissing him, he knew she was not playing a role. She was not pretending or making herself go through with something she did not want. Rather, she melted against him, the only tension in her body the product of what was growing between them. One hand was still firmly clasped in both of hers, so he moved his other up to stroke the side of her face. Involuntarily, Anna leaned into the warmth of his palm, breaking away from the kiss with a throaty sigh.

Her eyes fluttered open a moment later and she looked down at him with a heated gaze. "Are you ready for bed, Mister Bates?" she asked with deliberate meaning.

The invitation did not surprise him as much as the sudden longing in his chest. He needed her - not physically, although there was that too, but Bates needed to feel her love for him again. His own thoughts and feelings since finding the device and book by Ms. Stopes had left him so bereft that he needed the reassurance like a man dying of hunger needed sustenance.

His voice was deep and gravely as he answered, "Oh, yes."

Anna led him up the stairs, switching her possessive hold to his left hand so he could walk with his cane. Almost tripping on the first step as she walked backwards to keep her eyes on him, he reached out to steady her before she could fall.

"Careful," he warned, and she laughed nervously.

They made the rest of the journey to the bedroom without further mishaps, and Bates sat on the edge of the bed as he allowed his wife to assist him in undressing. She moved deliberately, silently, her deft hands making short work of the buttons and putting aside his shirt and jacket so they would not crease. Watching her work, he was reminded that she was a professional in helping people put on and remove their clothes, just as he was. While they often helped each other in this manner, he rarely took the time to simply enjoy the pleasure of it.

But unlike her service to Lady Mary, Anna's attention to him was a little different. She dropped a kiss on the side of his neck when she removed his shirt. Fingers trailed across his arms, his neck, the wide planes of his back. In helping him pull off his trousers, she stood close enough for him to feel her warmth, deliberately letting her leg brush against his. Her seduction was slow, studied, and nearly invisible, but by the time she'd reduced him to his underclothes, he ached for her.

Bates wanted to return the favor, but both of their patience was growing thin. Anna shimmied out of her black dress easily and he hummed at the sight of her in a thin shift. She still wore her corset sometimes, but for work she had given it up, just like most of the other female servants. On this night, it would have been just another layer to remove and he was glad she was without it.

"You are so beautiful," he commented, reaching up to remove the pins that held up Anna's hair in the elaborate twist she had taken to favoring. It fell down in waves over her shoulders. As though those pins had held up her restraint along with her blonde locks, their removal signaled a burst of desire from his wife.

She pulled him with her to roll onto the bed as she reclaimed his lips in another passion-filled kiss. Attempting to focus on more than his own growing need for her, Bates tried again to discern any reluctance on her part. But Anna betrayed none. Her kisses were genuine, her touch against his skin as natural as their first night together.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses, the words too heart-felt to be doubted.

Bates knew in that moment that he would forever doubt himself, his worthiness of such a woman. He would continue to wonder each and every day why she chose him of all people to spend her life with, especially in light of how miserably he'd failed her. And he would never take for granted that she had chosen him, that she wanted to spend her life with him and have his children. But he could not doubt her feelings for him, not now, not as open and apparent as she displayed them.

They did not create a new life when they made love that night. Nor did they completely repair the fissures in Bates' shattered self worth which had cracked at the thought of Anna believing he was a murderer. But they reveled in the joy of each other, making a lovely memory to carry with them in the darkness of the coming weeks.

Anna fell asleep in his arms, her warm breath playing across his chest. He followed her a short time later, dreaming of the future he'd almost given up on.

fin