A/N: I wanted to put together something that was Christmas theme so I'm going with my version of It's a Wonderful Life through the eyes of John Bates. I'm anticipating this will be three parts followed by an epilogue. Much like the movie the beginning will be angsty, so bear with me, I promise it will get better. Some spoilers for series 5. Thanks to a-lady-to-me, chisoxtam, and terriejane for helping me flesh this out and provide input/editing where it was needed. Hope you all enjoy. Please review :)

Part I

He hated this. Hated this place. Not only because his wife was had been locked away from him here, but because of all the memories it conjured up of his own time spent in prison. John Bates looked up at the stone wall structure with its iron bars over its impossibly small windows that hardly let in a shred of sunlight and he swallowed the bitter taste that had settled in his mouth. Once he was through the guarded doors the haunting screams and moans filled his ears and brain, a cruel reminder that he was often subjected to in his worst dreams.

And now his poor Anna was being subjected to this inhuman form of punishment for a crime she didn't commit, when she should be at home with him in the safety of his arms. John was about to see his wife for the third time since she had been carried away in handcuffs before his very eyes. She had been subjected to four weeks of isolation before John could even see her the first time; he was familiar with the process. With each visit she seemed to grow more hopeless and withdrawn. He reminded himself that the bright, young, beauty that was his wife might not look the same and to be grateful that he was allowed to see her at all. John had to remain hopeful for her sake; to be strong and find a way to get her out of here.

He took a seat alongside some of the other visitors at the bench of the table. John's hands toyed with the handle of his cane as he eagerly awaited her appearance. It was so surreal being on the other end of this table. He'd wondered if she'd been able to get any sleep since they'd been separated, John knew it seemed an odd thing to wish, but any escape from this environment was better than no escape. That would have been true years ago, except now he wondered if the screams in the cells were triggering her nightmares of Mr. Green again. That vile man was the source of his wife's discomfort. They had so many plans and dreams that had only drifted further away with Mr. Green's visit to the abbey over a year ago. John wished he had killed the man when he had the chance, if only to spare his beloved wife from experiencing this version of hell. He supposed the one good thing was that the men and women's prisons were separate; aside from the guards she didn't have to worry about being surrounded by strange men.

John heard the clank of the metal door as the lock was undone and all thoughts of Mr. Green were quickly pushed away. His eyes lit up in anticipation as he sought her face in a sea of colorless faces. John thought he would have been happy to see her, but when his eyes fell on her slight, withered frame that threatened to crumble in on itself, his face fell. This wasn't the Anna he fell in love with; it wasn't even the shadow of the Anna that had managed to survive what Mr. Green had put her through. She was dressed in a drab, grey prison-issued uniform that washed her out. The only thing that still reminded him of her former life was the way her hair was still perfectly plaited from years of practice. Her eyes look tired with bags under them. Her cheeks were sunken in, her hair had lost its golden sheen, and she looked more pale than he remembered. He found himself fearing that this would be the last time he would ever see her, worried that she might shrivel up before their next visit. Now he understood the pain she had gone through whenever she had come to see him at the prison every other week for just over a year. How had she managed to stay so strong and put on a smile for him? Whatever it was, he prayed to a God he didn't believe in to help him be the glimmer of hope she needed right now. He'd been doing a lot of praying lately. It seemed fruitless to John, but he was all out of answers and maybe what he needed was to have faith like Anna had.

John wasn't sure why but he half expected her face to light up when she saw him, but she didn't. Anna barely managed a smile and when she sat down with her hands in her lap he was all too painfully reminded why. No touching. He couldn't kiss her or hug her. John couldn't even caress her knee under the table like they normally would have in the servant's hall. Her lips trembled slightly when she finally looked up from the table and he saw tears welling up. She was barely holding it together and it was killing him, like a knife to the heart. He wasn't even sure what to say. John knew all too well that any form of weakness, especially tears would only lead to more trouble for her with other inmates once he was out of sight. Perhaps it was better to skip the pleasantries. He wouldn't spend time on small talk asking how she was faring when one look told him all he needed to know.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't see you sooner than today. Thomas was taken ill and I rather think that Mr. Carson didn't want Mr. Molesley to fill in as valet for fear he'd be asking for a promotion for the next few months. My train got in late yesterday and I missed visiting hours," John explained.

"I understand. It's not as if I had anything else to attend," she replied with a meager smile.

It was a poor attempt at humor, but John tried to smile back. She was doing this for him and it only tore him up even more. His beautiful wife was trapped behind bars and she was still looking out for him. Going out of her way to attempt to make him smile or at least comfort him the best she could; not wanting him to worry more than he already was. "I've been keeping in touch with Mr. Murray almost daily. He says there's a good chance this will never even go to trial since it's all circumstantial." As much as he wanted to believe that, John knew better than anyone about the pitfalls of the justice system. "I had another thought…"

The corner of her mouth quirked up, like the beginnings of a smile.

"You could tell them it was me…" he said.

She hadn't even allowed him to give a reason or explain how he would go about it. Her head shook in disagreement automatically. "No. No."

"Just hear me out...you wouldn't even have to tell them about…" he couldn't even say the words, but they both knew what he was referring to. "Everyone saw the way I got mad at you during the round of racing demon earlier that night," John said with regret. He wished he hadn't gotten so upset with her. Perhaps she wouldn't have gotten that headache, they wouldn't have gotten into their unspoken fight, and she wouldn't have gone downstairs to meet her inevitable fate. Like leading the lamb to the slaughter. "My jealousy would be motive enough," he tried to reason with her.

"No. Absolutely not," she said.

"But why?" he argued back in a low voice. Even though the idea of privacy in this room full of strangers was laughable, he wanted to make sure their conversation remained between the two of them.

"I've been in your shoes before John. It was too much to bear once before. I can't do it again. I may only face life in prison. They won't give you another chance. I won't watch you hang. They may as well string up a rope along side of yours," she insisted.

"Don't talk like that," he urged.

"Like what?" Anna asked, but she didn't give him time to answer. "Like I've given up. Don't you see, John? They wouldn't have held me this long if they didn't think they had a leg to stand on. Even if I got out of here do you really think everything would just go back to normal?" He stared at her almost frozen. "Every time I think the past is in the past and we can begin to move forward something bad happens. Maybe this is all we were meant for."

"What?" he asked in confusion. It scared him more than ever to hear her talking like this.

"We found our one great love in each other, however short it may have been," she said. Her voice wavered under the strain of emotion, but it didn't falter. "Maybe my purpose in life was to save you and show you that love is possible."

"And you have, my darling," he said with absolute certainty.

"But maybe that's all it is. In the time I have been here I've become more and more convinced that we were not meant to live happily ever after, John. There will be no fresh start at our hotel by the sea, or…" as much as it pained her to say it she wouldn't didn't see the point in avoiding it, "or children to surround us as we grow old and grey." Her head dropped and she could only stare at her lap as her body shook and she sobbed silently.

"We can still have that," he said in a comforting voice.

She only shook her head more adamantly. "No, John. We can't." Her voice took on a more forceful tone. "I was a fool to think there would ever be a break from this. Everything we share is shadowed," Anna said with conviction. "Who would want to stay at a hotel run by two formerly convicted murderers?" Anna cried harder, only now the tears were actually trickling down her cheek.

"Anna, love…" John realized then that he didn't know what to say. Even if he could promise that he'd get her out of here she had said the one thing he couldn't convince her of otherwise. That if she were freed they would live happily ever after. The last promise John had made to her he failed to keep. Thankfully the sound of the other cellmates and visitors chatter seemed to drown them out. No one paid her any mind.

He wanted so badly to reach out and touch her hand. His eyes drifted to her tiny hands that had always fascinated him, his gaze lingered on her naked wedding finger. John remembered how she had been so proud and adamant about wearing her wedding band while he was in prison. Even though he had worried that her wearing a ring would only lead to her being chided for marrying a murderer, she wore it like a badge of honor. And now she had been stripped of her most valued possession; a symbol of all they had fought for and all that she tried to protect.

John gave her a few minutes to collect herself. She asked about the state of things at the abbey; desperate for something normal to talk about. He remembered the feeling all too well. But he didn't want to talk about the abbey or himself, his sole concern was for her welfare. That didn't stop her from touting him for not eating enough or getting enough sleep. He simply argued he couldn't sleep without her by his side. They made idle chit chat for the next half hour, but eventually they ran out of things to talk of that didn't depress her.

"I'm so sorry-sorry I failed you. I wish I could spare you of this-all of it- I could have prevented it. What a poor excuse of a husband you have." John's voice shook with anger and sadness. John didn't know such a pain like this existed, not even when he thought she had left him because she no longer loved him or when he found out what she had endured and how she tried to save him from himself. He wasn't even sure he would be able to walk away from her at the end of this visit without the guards hauling him away.

"There is nothing you could do. Nothing you can do. It would have happened no matter what," she replied back in a monotonous voice. Her eyes were staring off at the bit of light that was peeking in through the iron bars that covered the window. She seemed so far away for a brief moment.

"Anna...we don't have much time. I am hoping to have you out of here as soon as possible but if not I'll come visit you on my next half day. I'll write you every day for as long as it takes." Another fortnight without her. As if the several weeks hadn't been bad enough. "I love you. I need you to know that. I won't fail you this time." She was nodding along but she didn't seem to be listening. "My darling... did you hear me? I love you more than life itself." His eyes were almost reaching out to her; holding her in the highest regard and transferring every ounce of love and strength he could with a simple look.

"Time!" a guard called out from behind him.

John's eyes winced shut. It had all gone by so fast. Their moment of time gone in a flash. It would have to be enough to get them through another fortnight.

As she was led out of the visiting area he told her he loved her over and over. Until she was out of sight. Anna said it back once but after that she could only wipe the tears from her eyes. The metal clacked against the wall as the door that led to the cells was shut, emphasizing the finality of their visit.

He reluctantly left the prison and kept his eyes trained on the castle like structure as he pulled away from the train station. It felt wrong leaving her like this. He was grateful that no one wanted to chat with him on the train after the conductor had come by to tear his ticket. And the same could be said for his long walk home from the station. The village was already decorated for Christmas, a holiday that had been a long time favorite for Anna, even though they usually spent it working. It dawned on him then that if she wasn't out soon he wouldn't get to spend Christmas morning with her this year. Another stolen moment. He let out a heavy sigh and shuffled along through the thin layer of snow that had settled on the ground around his feet.

Once John arrived at the abbey he made a beeline for the stairs, hoping that Mrs. Hughes wouldn't spot him. Surely she would want to speak to him about Anna's condition, a thought that made his stomach recoil. As much as he loved the housekeeper and knew what a pillar of strength she had been to his wife during her darkest hour, John was emotionally exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lay down in his room before having to go dress his Lordship for dinner.

John made it to his old room in the men's quarters unseen. He quickly shut the door behind him and let out a heavy sigh. It hadn't taken him long to make a request to take up a space in his old bed if only to escape the living memorial that had become their cottage. Everything there reminded him of Anna. The abbey did too of course, but it seemed harder sleeping in a bed that was built for two without her by his side to keep him warm through the night.

John hooked his cane on the back of the chair and sat at the tiny desk and took the weight off his leg by sitting down. His hand ran along the seam of his lapel before stopping just over his heart. The outline of the object within his jacket pocket was all too familiar and satisfying. He let his hands disappear into the pocket that lined the inside of his jacket and withdrew the item. It was a small flask filled with alcohol. John had made the purchase shortly after stepping off the train while he was in the village. He could almost feel the amber liquid sloshing around with every step he took on his way back. Without even removing the cap he was reminded of the thick, calming fragrance that had filled many a drunken night in his past. John simply turned the flask over and over in his hand, knowing how disappointed Anna would be to see him so easily giving in to temptation in her absence when she had been strong for him. But this was different. She was stronger than him. She always had been.

John tried to remind himself that he had quit alcohol before ever meeting her, that he had been able to stay sober on his own long before. Perhaps he wasn't as weak willed as he thought himself to be. But as bits and pieces of his life came back to him in flashes; each one like a bullet fragment tearing through his heart it occurred to him that maybe he hadn't changed much at all. Looking at that flask with disdain all John could see was the man he was before he met Anna. A son of a drunk and abusive father, a disappointment to his mother, a cripple, a poor excuse for a husband. He couldn't even keep his wife from crawling into other soldier's beds when he wasn't stationed in Africa. A disgrace to her Majesty's Army for taking the wrap on stealing some silverware.

And then there was the man he was after he met Anna. He had left things such a mess with Vera that he had nearly brought shame upon Anna and her reputation. John had dragged her through the mud with his problems, made false promises of a future that he still had been unable to secure for her. He tainted her name by marrying her before being convicted of the murder of his ex-wife. As a free man he had yet to make her a mother. He couldn't even protect her from that monster. His wife had endured so much to keep him safe, to prevent him from blowing up, and forever tearing them apart. And why? She knew of his past, she knew of the man he once was and what he was capable of. What a fool he had been to think that he had been propping her up when all along he'd only been pulling her down. He stared at the flask with tears in his eyes and contemplated a swig, just one small one. But he knew where that would lead. No where he wanted to go again.

Suddenly a knock at the door startled him and shook John from his thoughts.

"Mr. Bates," a familiar voice called out.

It was Mrs. Hughes. John hid the flask under his pillow on the bed and wiped at his eyes. He took a second to collect himself and opened the door just enough to see the housekeeper's face. "Yes, can I help you?" he answered back.

"I was just wondering how everything went? How Anna is doing? And of course yourself?" she asked in her Scottish brogue.

"As well as it could as far as prison visits go. She's soldiering on. You know Anna," he said with a weak smile. As the words fell from his mouth John instantly wished he hadn't known Anna at all. Not for his sake, but for her own. The housekeeper eyed him with more concern than before. "You shouldn't waste any time worrying about me. Nobody else does. Well, no one except, Anna." And that was just it. Sometimes he felt that his amazing wife spent more time cleaning up after him that she was missing out on the life she deserved.

"That's not true Mr. Bates. You have many people that care for you here," she urged.

"People care for Anna. They only ask about me because I am lucky enough to call myself her husband. But the truth is I've failed her."

Mrs. Hughes looked back at him with kind eyes, "Remember Mr. Bates, no man is a failure who has friends. The both of you are very highly valued."

"I thank you for that Mrs. Hughes. I think I just need a moment to myself to get relaxed before this evening's activities.

"Actually that's what I came here to talk to you about. Mr. Carson and I feel that you should take the evening off. Thomas will cover for you this evening," she said.

"Thomas?" he asked back.

"At his insistence. Thomas volunteered if you can believe that," she said.

"I don't, but please let him know it's much appreciated and completely unnecessary. I will be down to complete my duties as usual. It's better than just sitting around thinking of Anna," he said.

"If that's what you want," Mrs. Hughes said.

"It is," he replied. John began to shut the door and Mrs. Hughes headed off down the hallway.

John stared back at the flask hanging out below his pillow. He ignored it and went back to his desk. He removed some paper and a pen and began attempting a letter to Anna but the words wouldn't come. Nothing he could think of could possibly make this better or ease her burden. Apologies would do no good and he was sure she was tired of hearing them.

Then it dawned on him. An idea that had once before settled itself in his brain, never fully letting go or disappearing. Only to be used in cases of extreme circumstances. Ironic though, that the last time he ever considered it Anna was the one who found him. It was when he had first arrived at Downton and had been let go by Lord Grantham. He had reached the bottom of the barrel as he tried to console himself in the men's quarters and figure out what his next step would be. He tried to push the thought away but he couldn't help himself. It may not have been the solution he was looking for, but perhaps Anna was right. There wasn't an ending written in the stars where they ended up together. But there was a way he could save Anna. He could end it all. A life for a life. He would have to leave a note of some sort, confessing to the murder of Mr. Green, otherwise she'd be widowed and still left to rot in that dank cell. Atleast with her on the inside she couldn't talk him out of it, couldn't intervene. Anna would be so upset when she found out the reason for her release, but she'd be free. That was all that mattered to him. In time she might be able to let go of that anger, with the help of Mrs. Hughes and Lady Mary of course. Maybe she'd even be able to find someone else to love that could give her all the things he couldn't. As much as it pained him to think it, it only pained him more to watch her decline.

Before John could think about it a moment longer, he pulled out a photo of her. It was the same one he'd had of her to get him through his prison sentence. One that she had surprised him with after a trip to Ripon. It was frayed around the edges and the sharpness of the image had faded from being stuffed in and out of his pocket but he could still see her clear as day. She looked so sweet and innocent then, but that hadn't stopped her from offering to turn her back on everyone and everything she loved to run away with him and be his mistress. Even when he was behind bars she never stopped dreaming of a brighter future with him. How naive she had been, thinking he was the answer to all her problems when really he was the key to her undoing. He should have been stronger and rebuffed her. She had just begun to come out of her shell again, not the same Anna he had fallen in love with all those years ago, but similar. Certainly an Anna he loved just as much, if not more. And now it was all wrecked. Months of work to help build her confidence again and teach her to love herself, for nothing. She was right it had all been for nothing.

John cried like a baby, harder than he ever had after his mother's death or during his own imprisonment. "It's my fault...everything she has suffered has been my fault," he said through tears. His eyes were glossed over with tears, blurring his vision. John wiped them away with his sleeve but they wouldn't stop coming. "I wish I'd never come here...She'd be better off without me. The world would have been better off without me," he cursed under his breath. John's hand shoved the few items that covered his desk off of the hardwood surface in a rage. The contents came crashing to the floor but it made no difference, there was no one upstairs to hear it. John let his head fall in defeat against his hands as he cried some more. "I suppose it'd been better if I'd never been born at all," he muttered.