1924

The holding area smelled of sweat and fear. John was familiar with rooms like this, much to his disgust. He could only assume that the others in the room with them, mostly young women, were there to issue various complaints or were perhaps held under arrest for petty crimes. No matter the reason, it wasn't the sort of place his wife belonged. As it was, he still burned with shame, punishing himself for the exposure she already had, thanks to his own incarceration. He sat tall on the bench beside Anna, her own perfect posture never faltering. It was her hands, however, that gave away her worry. Wringing painfully and methodically, her palms were clasped in her lap.

"Propriety be damned," he thought.

In a moment, he sprung into action, his left hand reaching out to settle and reassure her. Of what he was reassuring her, he didn't know for certain. They were asked to come in for questioning, that was all they were told. The police continued to beat the dead horse, so to speak. From all of their prior meetings, they still couldn't make out a clear picture of why they were held suspect. And yet, there they were.

Numbly, she took the number handed to her and as she took her place in the line, her incredulity faded into mortification. If she had been aware of anything at all, John's anger would've been glaringly obvious as the floor nearly trembled under the force of his rage. Instead, her feet held her rooted to the spot as a man made his way closer to her, staring one at a time into each woman's face. Only once before had she been so terrified. Like that night, she was once again helpless by the whims of men. She willed herself not to think on it, but the comparisons came too easily when his breath, mere inches away, ghosted her face. Fear threatened to choke her and her muscles tensed as she fought not to pull away in revulsion, looking anywhere but into his eyes. When her chin wobbled, she never hated herself more for allowing them to see behind her mask.

"It isn't him. He can't hurt you anymore," she repeated silently like a mantra. As he turned his back to her, she released the breath she didn't know she was holding, squeezing her eyes shut. Chanting once more to herself, she opened her eyes to see an officer. She stared blankly at his outstretched hand, before realizing she needed to return her number. Looking at it one last time, her upper lip twitched, almost sneering at it. And feeling her own anger bubbling up, she steeled herself as she went to meet her husband.

"Let's go. We have some business to attend to while we're here," she directed not only to John, but to Inspector Vyner. Ignoring the man's parting words, she squared her shoulders as her heels clicked rapidly away from him against the stone floor. With one last glare, John followed after her.

Anna took hold of his elbow as soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk. As her hand found its place in the fold there, she could feel his muscles twitching as he quietly seethed. She knew all too well of his brooding tendencies. Her own lip quivered in a vain attempt to keep control. They looked at anything except one another. If their eyes met, one or both of them would be sure to crumble on the spot.

It was a silent walk to their house, and when they finally entered the safety of those walls, John sighed deeply. From the entryway, he curled the brim of his hat in his fists while he watched her. She moved about, walking from one piece of furniture to the next, touching things here and there absentmindedly. How helpless he felt. The indignity of what had just taken place weighed on his mind. Never minding how they treated him, the fact that they handled her so callously made him burn. Such a pure and gentle soul should never have been allowed to suffer the slings and arrows life had thrown her way, but thinking like that only led to blaming himself further. She had been doing so well. Slowly but surely, his Anna had been returning to him, blossoming. And now this. "Will this never end?" he wondered to himself.

Her hand came to rest on a windowsill. Even if she noticed them, she couldn't bring herself to care about the layer of dust there or the chips in the paint. She gazed out the window, shuddering as her thoughts churned. She felt so dirty. Being scrutinized as she was, they all looked at her like she was no better than filth. No matter how hard she tried, she still couldn't manage to cleanse herself fully of him. Would the spectre of Mr. Green haunt them forever? From where she stood she could see nothing but a world where it colored every aspect of their lives.

Hat and cane discarded near the door, John shuffled nearer. She jumped slightly when he ran his hands gently down her arms. He hated himself for that. He should've known better. Just one look at her would tell him that she was coiled tight.

"I just don't understand, John." She turned as she spoke. Her eyes pleaded with him. "Why would he do this to us? Lead us to believe that we are only coming in to answer questions and instead we were ambushed."

He settled his hands by her elbows when she reached up to grip his lapels, worrying the fabric. He released a deep breath before he spoke.

"Maybe if he told us, he thought that we would run."

"But we have nothing to hide."

"He doesn't believe so."

The implications of that statement hung in the air between them. Neither of them spoke for several moments. She shook her head slowly before looking back at him. His eyes stung to see her tears welling, lip wobbling of its own accord.

"We're being punished, I know it."

Her declaration confused him. "I...I don't understand," he stammered.

They had talked at length after one of the Inspector's more recent visits about what details they chose to share with him. Rat poison and untorn train tickets came to mind, both were things unsaid. He couldn't know of Anna's assault as they had admitted nothing, and they debated. It would prove a motive. So they stayed quiet, hoping the whole investigation would pass them by.

She leaned back against the window ledge and her bent leg bobbed in agitation. "I was a fool for letting myself think, even for a moment, that I'd be believed. Can you imagine if I told them what happened, they'd surely declare it to be my fault and that'd be the end of it. I'd never be in their favor." She looked through and past him as the words fell from her mouth, the panic in her voice becoming more apparent as she continued. "How do you even believe me? No one else seems to."

Her shoulders quaked as sobs erupted, her breaths coming in short puffs. She was spiraling, retreating to a place where he couldn't follow and he knew he needed to act quickly.

"That's enough of that," he asserted. Taking hold of her shoulders, he waited for her eyes to focus on him. "You are faultless. That snake, he... " He stopped as he struggled to reign in his feelings, seeking the right words. "None of this is your fault."

"But…"

He hushed her. "You are blameless, my darling. And I'm not going anywhere. You are the most precious thing to me, I love you and I'll be here beside you no matter what comes." She stepped into the circle of his arms, pressing her face into his chest. The irony of his words wasn't lost on her. She said very much the same thing on the eve of his arrest and she hoped they wouldn't be a harbinger of events to come. However, in that moment, in the safety of his embrace, she let herself be calmed.

AN: This goes out to lemacd, since this was inspired by her unofficial request :)

This is a big departure from my usual style. Typically, I let the sugar fall where it may in the fluffiest of fluff-fests, but that is not the case today. I would very much appreciate feedback as, again, this is different for me and I'd like to know where I need the most work.