Apologies for the delay in getting this out. In the end it proved incredibly difficult to write: I realised a little late that I didn't really know where I was going with this. I knew I would not be resolving anything per se and this meant I ended up with an embarrassing lack of direction. And yet, somehow, this has ended up being even longer than the previous chapters – probably should have been split in two. Not entirely sure quality and quantity are evenly balanced here. I may also have taken a teeny historical liberty.

On top of that, as has been found by other writers, common themes and issues are cropping across the range of stories on this site, and I found this quite inhibiting – especially when presented with some truly wonderful writing in places. I know there are a few things here that have kind of appeared in other stories already. I can only say that I had thought of them for myself before they were published by others and hope you will accept my word for it. For the avoidance of doubt and the sake of honesty, I should say I'm referring to pieces from PBCD, MyMadness and Augrah.

Some special thanks to PBCD, actually, for putting up with some epic dithering and wringing of hands on my part!

Right – hope you paid attention to the above. There will be a test later.

xxXXXxx

Anna was in his room?

Bates stared at William, convinced he'd misheard him but the young man gave him an eager nod.

He left the bathroom, forcing himself not to run, and paused briefly before his closed door. Perhaps it was some strange joke. Perhaps William had imagined it. Perhaps Thomas had in fact knocked him out and this dream was the result.

He walked into his room. Thoughts started to race through his head at the sight of her, standing there flushed and bold, and he said her name, expecting her to disappear. He'd believed he would never again be alone with her but there she was. He'd believed she was disappointed with him and would never want to say a word to him, but there she was. He'd believed it was all for the best but there she was - and everything he'd ever pledged to himself was forgotten. Everything was forgotten, because she was here in his room and the top buttons of her bodice were undone, showing her collarbone and a delicate hollow at the base of her throat where he knew he could fit his mouth. Her breathing quickened, lifting her breasts, and in his mind's eye he pictured them in his hands; the thought was so vivid that it felt like a memory. When he looked into her eyes, he could tell, with a primitive certainty, that she saw the same things he did. He put the candle and toiletries he'd been carrying down on the dressing table by the door.

"Anna," he repeated. It wasn't her name anymore. It was an incantation, a prayer, a warning. And she ran to him, then and she was in his arms, her own flung around his neck. His legs unsteady, her momentum carried them backwards just like Thomas' had down in the courtyard, and they hit the door with a dull thud. She was trembling in his embrace, her chest falling and rising fast against his own.

Somehow, even though he was holding her so close and tight that not a single hair could have passed between them, it wasn't close enough. He bent his head, kissed her throat, her cheek, and then Anna was moving, too and her lips met his, soft and hard all at the same time. She yielded to him and he took and took, devouring her mouth, until they had to break apart for breath, foreheads resting together. Some of her hair had fallen loose and Bates raised a finger to tuck it behind her ear, taking the opportunity to trace the line of her jaw, then lifting her chin so he could kiss her again – small, gentle kisses, the merest grasp of lips upon lips. Then Anna was moving against him, raising herself up on her toes, her hands moving through his hair to hold him steady and tighten her hold on him.

He was only too happy to help. He spun them around and lifted Anna up against the door so that he was the one looking up at her now; she gasped but did not break their bond. It was the most delicious surrender: her tongue stroking his, slow but demanding, her fingernails raking the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He bucked against her and heard his own guttural sound of pleasure at the sensation on his flesh.

A gust of wind whistled through the roof over their head and burst into the room, throwing the window wide open and blowing out both candles. Somewhere else in the house - not far - a door slammed shut, its echo dying into a roll of thunder. They froze in the dark, panting, her breath hot on his mouth. He let her gently down to her feet and shifted slightly to her side so he could hear what was happening in the corridor. It took a few moments to be able to, because Anna remained clasped to him, her hands now around his waist, and he couldn't tell the pounding of his heart from her own. There were hurried footsteps and someone called Mrs Hughes' name quite loudly. When no more of the conversation could be heard, Bates assumed the caller had been severely shushed by the housekeeper. More footsteps followed soon afterwards, although not on the men's side of the corridor as far as he could tell, and silence, apart from the sounds of the storm, returned to their corner of the world. Now that danger had seemed to pass, he became aware of rain dripping into the room from the opened window and of cold air blowing over them. It was too late to worry about embarrassing himself but he disentangled himself from her anyway, ostensibly to deal with the window and the darkness. He did so slowly, because he had no idea what he was supposed to do or say next. He felt ashamed over his lack of control - the second time this evening that he had risked losing everything - and anger followed. How had Anna got through the door between their quarters? She must have left it unlocked - what if Mrs Hughes had found out? And William knew she was here. What must the boy be thinking now? Hadn't Bates beaten Thomas for calling Anna a woman of little virtue? And now she was seen creeping into his bedroom? Everyone would know before the end of breakfast. Why couldn't she leave things alone?

He found his matches on the nightstand and lit the candle there. When he eventually turned back towards Anna she was sitting on his bed, her fingers bunching up her dress on her lap, her gaze cast to the floor.

Bates had never seen her so uncertain or uncomfortable. His anger disappeared as quickly as it had come and now he struggled to look at her - unable to stand her distress, knowing he was the cause of it. Shame took on the bitter edge of cowardice and he willed himself to do something – anything – but couldn't think of what.

"You're angry with me," Anna said.

How do you do that? How do you always seem to know?

"No," he replied, because he'd realised something as soon as she'd spoken. "I'm angry with myself."

"You've not done anything wrong, Mr Bates. If anyone has, it's me."

"You weren't the one who punched Thomas."

"I wish I'd had the blooming chance." It was not what he had expected her to say – nothing she ever did, he reminded himself, was what he'd expect from another woman –and the surprise must have shown. "What is it?"

"I thought you were upset with me. You didn't look very happy down there." He stepped a little closer to her, candle in hand, and saw the red in her eyes. "You've been crying."

"I was upset, yes. Upset that at that moment I fell in love with you even more but couldn't say or show it. That maybe I never would be able to. It all seemed a bit hopeless."

Bates put the candle back on the nightstand, then sat down next to her, his bad leg held stiffly out in front of him. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I have cause to say that to you. I thought I was past having to apologise to women I care about."

"What is it that you're sorry for, Mr Bates?"

He looked at her, confused. "This... situation. My past. My marriage."

She smiled at him, more softly than he'd ever seen her do. "Please don't be. Your past and your marriage have nothing to do with me. And if you're sorry about this situation, as you call it, then that makes you sorry about the way we feel about each other. About what we just did. And I'm not sorry."

"Anna…"

"It's like I was only living before I met you. Every day was just the same, ever since I was fifteen and started working here. Now…" She bit her lip. "Now I feel... Alive. I didn't know there was a difference until now. It's like I've woken up."

Elation, joy, guilt and despair tumbled over each other. "But you said it yourself – it's hopeless –"

"I said it seemed hopeless."

"Oh I beg to differ," he snapped. He felt himself redden and stood; too quickly, and his leg bit again. He took two wincing steps to his chest of drawers and leaned against it, trying to compose himself and another apology.

"May I ask you a question?" she said, before he could do so. He turned back to her, quite uncertain, and nodded. "You used to drink too much. You suffered two years in prison for a crime you didn't commit. And yet, one day," she continued before he could interrupt, "one day you made a decision to change things for yourself. To make them better. Did you not?"

"I don't understand. Anna –"

"Did you not?" He nodded again. "I think you did because you wanted to be happy. Isn't that why we all do things? To be happy? When we do a wrong and seek to repent, it's because it's made us unhappy. Don't you think?"

Bates considered what she said for a while. "Yes. Yes, I suppose so."

"You have a choice here, too. To be happy."

"How? How can I be happy when..." His temper was flaring again. He had to be careful but his walls had taken one battering after another since the moment he'd caught sight of her in his room.

"When what?"

"When I can't have you!" He closed his eyes, clenched his fists and tried to count to ten in the little Dutch he'd learned in South Africa.

"Do you want to have me?" she asked, matter-of-factly.

"Don't be coy, Anna."

"Don't be angry with me. Remember?"

He looked at her, even though he feared he might be glaring. He'd only got to five. But there was no coyness in her gaze, only warmth, understanding and a twinkle of amusement. She didn't mind his anger – she was telling him she knew it wasn't directed at her - and that was enough for him to let go of it. He had no idea how she did it: how she managed to make him feel so safe to feel whatever he felt, to be himself. The tightness in his guts unwound itself and he found he could smile at her.

"I have often thought of you as an angel. Now I think you may be a wicked faerie, sent to torture me."

"I don't know about being a faerie, but in light of tonight, I think the vicar would agree I'm no angel. You've not answered my question."

"In light of tonight," he replied, using her own words, "I think it rather obvious."

"Is it? Or will I go to bed later, only to find in the morning that you are just my friend again? That tonight might as well never have happened?"

"I think…." He cleared his throat. "I think I will find it rather difficult to forget."

He knew what it was she wanted him to say. He knew she had a right to it, after everything that had happened between them, but it was something he had only ever told the dark and his pillow, as though God might not hear him at night. Saying it out loud to her would make it impossible to deny to the light of day, and yet his heart was the one thing he could give her. He met her eyes again.

"I love you, Anna. God knows I don't want to, but I love you. Yes, I want to have you. But I can't."

To his dismay tears came to her eyes again, but she shook her head, seeing him frown, and came to him. She took his left hand – the one he'd punched Thomas with - in hers and kissed it several times.

"You already do have me, John." She opened his palm and laid his hand on her chest, over her heart. "This is yours and it beats for you."

"Anna…" He turned his hand so he could clasp her fingers in his. He struggled to sound sensible, to make her understand, and not to kiss her. "It isn't simply that I am a married man. What about our places here? If we're ever discovered… What we've done tonight – what we might have done - we can't do again. Can you live without it? Truly?"

He considered her – her youth, her boldness, everything that somehow made her the wondrous woman she was, and it seemed unlikely. Worse: like a crime to expect her to. Like caging a bird.

She looked stricken.

xXx

How odd, Anna thought as she stepped back from him, that your heart could be made whole and break at the same time. Her mother had warned her a long time ago about men who might prey on her and promise her their love, until they had got what they desired and abandoned you, sometimes in disgrace. She wished her mother were here now, so she could show her a man who would promise her nothing and refused to take what she was so willing to give. She ought to feel ashamed, she knew that. But she didn't. At least not as far as the rest of the world was concerned. John Bates' opinion of her, on the other hand, was much more important.

"I am sorry, Mr Bates," she started. She felt teary-eyed again and hated herself for it. "It's like I said before. I know I'm the one who did wrong. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have done what I did. You must be wondering what you hit Thomas for after all. You must think -"

"John," he interrupted. "Call me John again, please."

He had a new look in his eyes now, something more like tenderness. Her stomach churned with joy and uncertainty. Before she could continue he led her back to the bed, where he made them both sit down.

"Yes," he said, "it was dangerous to come here, and to involve Gwen and William especially. But as for the rest – you did not do it all on your own. I should have exercised more control and I'm sorry. I am older – much older than you – and I should know better. I do know better."

"So you don't think..?"

"What Thomas suggested earlier was filthy," he said firmly. "Do you feel what we did was filthy?"

"No. Not at all." He smiled - nearly smirked, in fact - at the speed of her reply. "Well," she added, feeling a little piqued that he seemed to want to tease her, "I did say I was not a lady."

"Hush. You know what I think of that."

"If that is how you treat a lady, I shudder to think what you do in different company."

"A good sort of shudder, I would hope."

The heat in the room, and in her limbs, shot up. Bates let go of her hand and looked away.

"I apologise. It was inappropriate."

"I think it was very appropriate."

"Anna, we must be serious."

"Very well. What do you suggest?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. After two more attempts on his parts, she took pity on him.

"John?" Good Lord, she loved saying his name. He seemed to love hearing her say it because his eyes were back on her immediately. She cupped his face in one hand, gently tilting it further towards her so she could kiss him. When she leaned back a little, he followed, one arm snaking around her waist to keep her where she was. They stayed like that for a while, at an arm's length from each other as though they were dancing, but mouths moving together, lips getting to know each other.

"There," Anna said breathlessly when they eventually parted. "I knew you'd agree."

"This is exactly what I mean," he answered, his voice hoarse. "I do not begrudge you wanting this, because I want it, too. But there is something else the years have taught me. This - if we are even ever able to be alone in this way again - will soon not be enough. Not for either of us."

"Neither is your friendship alone. It's why I couldn't stay, in the courtyard. I realised I couldn't love you, and I couldn't bear it. I don't know how to be friends with you anymore. I don't know how I can forget dinner trays and flowers and walks to the village. We may lose each other yet, but it doesn't have to be today. Isn't this better than the alternative?"

"It's better than I deserve."

Here we are at last, she thought. "I didn't take you for a coward, John Bates. Don't give up now."

"A coward? Do you know what it has taken for me to push you away these last two years?"

"That's not courage. That's pride." Colour drained from his face then, as though he'd seen a ghost. "You have been in prison. You have a painful limp. You cannot be with the woman you say you love. And you think you've not been punished enough?"

"Can't you see I'm doing this for you? Anna - you have your whole life ahead of you. I have nothing decent to offer you. Nothing."

"Are you sure it's not Daisy you're in love with? Because last time I checked, I wasn't a silly little girl who trips over her own feet. I have my own mind and I have been making decisions for myself for quite a long time. And I've not done too badly for myself so far."

"And yet," Bates said with a tone of gentle rebuke, "here you are. In the bedroom of a married man."

"I didn't say I was perfect."

He burst out laughing and the sight of mirth on his face - the knowledge she'd made him happy, if only for moment - made her heart skip a beat. She was close to having him and decided to press her point. It suddenly occurred to her that she was effectively trying to seduce him, a man nearly twenty years her senior, indeed married, and who had seen far more of life than she was ever likely to. Not long ago she would never have believed she could be capable of such a thing but that was what he had done to her: revealed her to herself.

"Maybe you've made mistakes," she told him, when he'd stopped chuckling. "When you'll have atoned for them - I know it's up to God to say. But you're a good man. You prove it every day. When you protect William or Mr Carson. When you stand up to Thomas and O'Brien. You care, John. And you try and you try. And believe me, you succeed."

He shook his head. "I'm a selfish man, Anna. Most of my life I have gone only after what I've wanted, and I have got it, and look where it led me to. Thatis why I don't trust myself."

"Then maybe you need to trust me."

Trust me, even though I want you, a married man, and I am forgetting everything my parents taught me about what is right. Even though I am asking God to forgive you even as I ask you to sin. Even though I am being selfish, too.

"Such faith you have," Bates murmured, and she wondered whether he could read her mind, if he really did have her soul in his hands. He was moving closer to her again and she knew he wanted to kiss her. She felt inexplicably shy - humbled by the joy of getting her heart's desire.

"I can be stubborn, that's all -"

She didn't get to finish. He shut her mouth with his own, in such a possessive way that, seductress or not, she was left in no doubt about which of them had more experience. And then - the world pitched around her and her body went slack, as though she was falling, and when she opened her eyes he was holding her close, looking worried, his grip firm around her back.

"Anna? What's wrong?"

Oh no, Anna Smith. You did not just swoon.

"Nothing - sorry – I simply..." She was faltering. Maybe she was a silly little girl after all, to nearly faint from a kiss. "The heat," she said. "I've been so hot and thirsty all afternoon - it's been a long day." It wasn't all a falsehood - she was still feeling hot and thirsty, and her corset felt tight and uncomfortable.

Bates gave a sympathetic nod. "It certainly has - you must be exhausted. Let's see if we can get you back to your room."

"Not yet, please," Anna protested before she could stop herself. She told herself it was too late to worry about decorum. Besides, he was the proud one, not her. Mostly. "It's just… Like you said. We may not be able to be like this again."

He sighed and put the back of his hand to her forehead. "I know. I know. But you're feeling very hot and you're probably dehydrated, too - you could be having heatstroke. You need to take some of these layers off and cool down."

In for a penny, she thought. "I can take them off here." The expression of horror on his face could have hurt her feelings if he hadn't been kissing her into near unconsciousness a moment ago. "Not all of them, Mr Bates," she clarified. "I know I said I wasn't a lady but really, you have nasty thoughts." She squeezed his hand to reassure him. "I trust you. Entirely."

He hesitated but only briefly. He kissed her fingers and stood. "I'll get you some water to drink and to freshen up."

She watched him hobble to the window to reopen it, then to the dresser where he'd left his jug. In the two years she'd known him she'd learned to gauge how his leg was depending on his gait. She could tell it was stiffening up, but whether or not it was painful she couldn't say. He carefully listened for noise in the corridor, then stepped out. Just before he closed the door, his head reappeared.

"I'm afraid I do, you know," he said, looking grave.

"Do what?"

"Have nasty thoughts."

The door shut without a noise, apart from that of Anna's stifled snort. With him gone, however, her courage temporarily abandoned her. She was about to get undressed in his room. She did trust him, there was no question about it – more than she trusted herself. And for all she'd said before about their friendship not being enough, they had been friends first, firm friends; curiously, it was why she trusted him. But for all the happiness coursing through her veins, she was in fact feeling a little unwell, and since she'd also meant it when she'd said she didn't want to leave just yet, she had little choice. Reminding herself that he was only wearing an undershirt himself and therefore that there was not much difference if she did the same, she opened her evening dress and shrugged the top off her shoulders. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she opened her corset and removed it, leaving her in her short-sleeved chemise, then took her cap and released her braid from its bun. She let out a sigh of relief at the new coolness on her skin, and took a deep breath, enjoying being able to do so at last.

The door opened behind her. Anna heard him pause and hoped he wasn't offended or embarrassed after all. When the silence started to stretch, she turned to face him with a bright, casual smile and asked if he'd heard anyone else about. He shook his head, then set about arranging things for her, bringing the stand for the basin close to the bed and filling it from the jug, tipping what was left over into a glass from his nightstand, which he handed to her. She noticed he was avoiding looking at her, but she understood. As soon as he'd returned, she realised that the sight of him in only his undershirt was doing nothing to cool her down.

"Drink," he said. She obeyed, knocking it back like a sailor might with rum. Once she was done, he took the glass back and got her a flannel from one of his drawers. "Once you are done, leave it on your shoulders for a bit, and pop your feet in the basin."

"Thank you. You know a lot about this."

"You learn a lot about heatstroke when you serve in Africa." They fell into silence again but this time he was the one to rescue them. He looked around himself and started to pick up the clothes he'd dropped on the floor, leaving her to start washing with a modicum of privacy.

"I'm sorry about the mess," he said. "I'm usually very tidy."

"I can see that. The army again?"

"A very strict Irish mother. The army was a blessed relief."

Anna laughed, but turned to look at him when she couldn't hear him move anymore. Bates was staring at her, a soft smile lighting up his eyes. "What is it?"

"You're a ravishingly beautiful girl, especially when you laugh."

She blushed and returned to her flannel, grateful for the cool shelter of the damp cloth. She finished wiping her face and her neck, having already done her underarms, then did as he had explained with the basin, dipping her now bare feet into the water. He sat next to her again, a little gingerly, and picked up the flannel to leave it on her neck.

"Sorry, I forgot."

"Not a problem. Any better?"

"Much. Thank you." She grinned when he slipped his hand under hers, palm up, and joined their fingers together. "You always take such good care of me."

It was his turn to look a little shy, which she decided was dangerously endearing. "Do I?"

She kissed his cheek in answer. "Let's see if I can return the favour. How is your leg feeling?"

"A little worse than usual. But I only have myself to blame for that."

"Is there nothing that can be done?"

"I will take some aspirin before bed. I'll have to be careful tomorrow – a little slower."

"I have a feeling I shouldn't be saying this –"

"Oh Lord," he teased her.

"- but it was quite a display you put on. I don't think Thomas really knew what hit him, and neither did anyone else."

He grimaced. "I fear Mr Carson might not be so impressed."

"If there is one thing Mr Carson hates, it's being lied to. And he knows Thomas lied to him about you stealing the wine. It wouldn't surprise me if he's worked out for himself that Thomas was the one who took it. You will be fine."

"That's what William said, too."

"And I can't imagine His Lordship would let you go for it, either." Thinking of Lord Grantham reminded her of another thought that'd crossed her mind earlier that night. "He was up late tonight. Were you talking about the war?" He nodded. "Is he going to reenlist?"

Bates' expression clouded over somewhat. "He is rather torn on the subject. He once promised Lady Grantham he would not return to active fighting and he doesn't feel he can break that promise, or even that he would be let anywhere near the front line. But he doesn't believe a staff position would suit him and his experience, either."

"What would happen to you if he did reenlist?"

"I would accompany him wherever he went, so long as my leg would allow."

"And if it didn't allow it?"

"I don't know."

She didn't believe that was entirely true. The likely possibility would be that he might be out of work. Either way, he would be leaving Downton, perhaps for quite a while. The awfulness of that prospect was too much for her to contemplate at that moment.

"I think you told that leg of yours tonight which of you two decides where you go," she said, going for some levity.

He gave her a long, searching look, then, and his eyes grew darker still. "You always take such good care of me, too. I love you, Anna. So much so that I sometimes feel rather insensible with it."

For someone so quiet and reserved, he certainly could find the right words when he wanted to. Feeling insensible in turn, she could do nothing in response except grasp his face in her hands and kiss him again. She seemed to take him by surprise but he was soon kissing her back, both his hands on her waist to steady her. Wearing only her chemise, she could feel each and every one of his fingers through the thin fabric, almost as though they were touching her skin. He must have felt it, too because they moved a little higher and tightened their hold, his thumbs gently caressing her.

She turned a bit more and leaned into his touch, into him, hanging on to his neck for some kind of balance. His tongue skimmed her lips and she happily opened her mouth to him. Now they were almost swaying, pushing and pulling at each other in turn, until Bates let out a grunt of frustration and reached for her legs, which he swung over his lap so she was almost sitting on it. Now that he didn't need to keep her upright, his hands started to roam all over her back in firm, searching strokes that robbed her of any breath she had left. Anna broke off their kiss and tried to say his name, but his mouth moved to her cheek, her ear, her neck. He tugged at the sleeve of her chemise, uncovering her shoulder, and he kissed her there, his breath tracing the top of her breast. She felt on the edge of a precipice, and the thought of falling was both thrilling and terrifying; she had to hold on to something –

Her arms closed around his neck and she lifted herself onto his lap. He raised his head at the sudden movement and she pulled close to him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. His hands stilled on her back but held her tightly still, and she let one of her own drift to his chest and rest where his heart was beating a wild rhythm. As it slowed and steadied itself, so did hers, and, eventually, she sat up a little so she could look at him.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

She dropped a quick, chaste kiss on the side of his mouth. "I'm very well. Again, I think I should be the one apologising."

He smiled and she was glad to see that he looked reassured. "Perhaps, again, we are both to blame." Anna giggled, mostly out of relief, and he sighed. "Truly, you are the devil."

"Will you tell Mrs Hughes on me?"

"I wasn't complaining."

She laughed again and was rewarded with a big smile. She decided she liked the sparkle in his eyes when he felt pleased with himself. Then she shivered, and his expression grew concerned, one of his hands reaching for her feet.

"These are dripping wet." Her raised his other hand to the back of her neck, where the damp flannel had fallen from as they got carried away with each other. "Come on, you mustn't catch a cold now."

She came off his lap and watched him grab the towel she'd discarded earlier. He rubbed at her neck, then indicated that she should give him her feet. He rubbed them dry, too and they carried on talking for a while, comfortably drifting from one subject to another like they always did. It was a different kind of intimacy from the physical kind they'd just shared but she cherished it as much, if not more; there could not have been one without the other. It was not something she quite understood yet but it didn't matter for now. For now she was happy and that was all she needed to know.

Too soon, it seemed to her, they were interrupted. The sound of footsteps came up the men's corridor to pass Bates' room and open a door further on. A few moments later, the door closed and the steps passed by again. They said nothing until they could hear no more noise.

"I think that was Mr Carson checking on Thomas," Bates said quietly.

Anna knew what he was telling her. It was late, and time for her to go. She nodded and stood to pick up her corset. Her back to him, she put it on then slipped the top of her dress back on to her shoulder. Although she had managed her corset fairly quickly, the buttons on her dress were somehow defeating her.

"Let me help," he murmured over her shoulder.

She turned around and he went to work, leaving her to envy Lord Grantham that he had Bates to dress him every day. She didn't expect it carried the same meaning for His Lordship, however, and the thought made her smile.

"What mischief are you up to now?" he asked, looking amused.

"I'll tell you some other time."

"Anna Smith, not speaking what's on her mind?"

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

He grinned and dropped a kiss on her forehead, finished at last. She put her hair back in a bun and in her cap, and was finally ready. It was hard not to look how she felt – a little sad and disappointed they had to part – but she reminded herself how far they had come tonight.

He took her hand and guided her out onto the corridor. They reached the door to the women's quarters fairly quickly and found it unlocked. It had to be Gwen who'd caused a commotion earlier, she decided, probably to distract Mrs Hughes, and she'd kept her word. Thomas had warned her against city life, but perhaps it was the city that ought to be warned about the girl who was coming to it.

"You're going to have to explain this to me tomorrow," Bates spoke in her ear. Stepping back, he mouthed 'I love you' and she did the same; they stared at each other for a beat longer and then there was one last quick kiss – she thought of it as the kiss she'd wanted to give him when he'd brought her a tray of food - and she was on the other side, locking the door and tip-toeing back to her room.

There was no light in the room, but she heard Gwen shift in her bed as she started to get undressed in the dark.

"Are you all right, Anna?" she whispered.

Anna slipped under her sheet, facing her friend. Her eyes were used to the dark now and she could see Gwen's looking at her. "I'm fine, Gwen. I'm wonderful."

And I never thought I'd ever have Thomas to thank for anything.

The End.

PS The eagle-eyed and DVD-owners amongst you might have spotted a reference to a deleted scene. Did you catch it? Imaginary gold star for you if you did.