Summary: "Don't worry, Bates. I gave a false name. No one will know I was here."

Disclaimer: It goes without saying that I don't own Downton Abbey or these characters, but I'll say it again anyway.

A/N: I think it likely Robert would have visited Bates in prison. This is just a little something I worked up for a friend based on that premise because we never got to saw it on screen. Reviews are always appreciated.

"You shouldn't have come, milord."

Around them, the sounds of prison bars slamming shut and wardens shouting down long, stone corridors reverberated. But Lord Grantham paid the noise little attention. Instead, he sat straight in his seat, his hands folded on the table as though he were enjoying luncheon with an old friend.

"Don't worry, Bates. I gave a false name. No one will know I was here."

The Earl's tone betrayed indulgence, as though he did not feel the measures had been necessary but went along with them as a compromise with others. Lady Grantham, perhaps had wished him to avoid exposure, Bates supposed. Or maybe even the Dowager Countess.

"You must realize that I had to come."

The statement was like a dam which was just barely holding back a tide of unspoken emotions. Bates remembered his employer's expression as he testified at the trial, of how he'd been forced into betraying his friend's confidence. And he still thought of Lord Grantham as a friend, or as near to such as the two men could be given their social divide.

Gently, Bates said, "I told Anna, I don't blame anyone for not lying. No one said anything which wasn't the truth."

"Yes, but..."

Lord Grantham paused, looking away uncomfortably. The guilt in his expression reminded Bates of the day he'd almost fired the valet and then changed his mind. What had the Earl told Carson? It just isn't right.

Pressing forward, Bates expressed, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, milord. And Anna."

The other man nodded. "She withdrew her resignation, you know."

"She told me. I'm glad she's staying. She has friends at Downton."

Raising an eyebrow, Lord Grantham remarked, "So do you, Bates."

The sentiment was a simple one, but it carried great weight coming from the Earl. The fact that he was there at all was astounding. Now that his sentence had been commuted to life imprisonment, the sensational nature of the case against him might have died down, but it was still a risk to his reputation.

"I put my mother's house in Anna's name," Bates said quietly, "so she'll have some security if she needs it."

"She will always have a place with us, if she wants it."

Bates nodded, relieved. "Thank you, milord."

Frowning at him slightly, the Earl said, "But you shouldn't give up hope. Murray is still working on the appeal."

This statement prompted a genuine smile, although it might have seemed sardonic. "Hope is all that I have," he responded.

"Not all, Bates. Not all."

They spoke of little else of importance during the remainder of the visit, touching on safe topics and passing more than one moment in total silence. Lord Grantham mentioned Thomas in a vaguely irritated tone.

"You won't hire someone else?" Bates asked.

"No, I don't think so. Better the devil you know. He doesn't do a bad job with it, but..."

He's not you.

The sentiment was clear, even if he would never utter the words. Both understood the intimacy of such a relationship, the secrets that were conveyed in a man's dressing room. And while his Lordship clearly had no discomfort being dressed by someone like Thomas, the man would not have been Bates' first pick were he in Lord Grantham's position.

"All the more reason to get you out," Lord Grantham said with some levity, although they both knew he recognized the need for Bates' release far beyond his own desire for a more likable valet.

All too quickly, visiting hours came to an end and the two men were forced to part. Neither said goodbye. But Lord Grantham stood and watched as they took his friend out of the barred room.

Robert visited his valet again months later, somewhat on a whim while he was in York on business. Matters with the estate continued to look grim, and he forced himself to face the crumbling of the very foundation of his life.

Downton would be lost because of him. Generations of men before him had kept the estate together, but after so many years of work, it would collapse because of his failed business venture. Reconciling that fact with his love of Downton hurt immensely.

But as he entered the barred walls of His Majesty's Prison in York, Robert was able to put it all into greater perspective. Bates had no freedoms at all, his days full of toil, drudgery, darkness, and likely pain. His own troubles seemed very pale in comparison.

"How have they been treating you?" he asked the man across the table from him.

With Mary in Paris on her honeymoon with Matthew, he presumed that Bates might relish a visitor in the absence of his wife. The man's expression of restrained pleasure confirmed this belief as he said affably, "Well enough, milord."

Bates looked thinner than he'd last seen him, his face marred by a few day's stubble and his limp decidedly more pronounced as he'd entered the visitor's room. But his smile in greeting was absolutely genuine as he'd set eyes on his employer.

"I understand that Anna visits regularly."

Nodding, the other man said, "Yes, she comes on her half days. I've told her she should take more time for herself, but she never listens."

With a snort, Robert said, "I'm not surprised."

"And what news from Downton?"

Robert did not want to tell his valet. He did not want to tell anyone, but it would become common knowledge sooner or later and he'd rather the man heard it from him than through whatever channels might be available to him in prison. Did they get newspapers there, he wondered idly. Or was Bates completely cut off from the outside world?

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. I..."

He searched for a way to say the words. Telling Mary and Cora had been difficult, but telling Bates - a man he greatly respected - was somehow that much worse.

"I lost a great deal of money in an investment." Robert looked away, grounding himself with the sight of the cold iron bars and rough stone walls of the prison. Imagining how much more difficult the other man's life was at present than his own, he pressed on, "I was a fool, and my foolishness may cost us Downton."

Pressing his lips together, Bates said nothing for several moments, but the silence was not entirely uncomfortable. Robert felt no recriminations from the other man, no waves of resentment or pity. Rather, the valet quietly commiserated for his loss and his feelings of guilt and self chastisement.

"We all make mistakes, milord," he finally said, his tone both gentle and forgiving.

He did not quite look down at Bates' woolen prison uniform, but Robert's eyes were suddenly drawn to it. He thought of the mistakes Bates had made with his ex-wife, the small missteps that ultimately led him to prison rather than the happy life with Anna he so deserved. He was innocent, but he'd said and done things - little, seemingly harmless things - which aided the jury in finding him guilty.

Their circumstances hardly seemed similar at first blush, but as Robert considered the matter, he realized they were more alike than he might wish to believe. He himself had acted without fully considering the direst of consequences. Others had warned him about investing all in one railroad, but he had pressed on, foolishly.

"We do at that," he agreed finally.

Bates nodded, and with the barest hint of a smile, said, "It is what we do to learn from those mistakes that make all the difference."

Curious, Robert asked, "And what have you learned?"

There should have been some irony in posing such a question to an imprisoned man, in coming to him in this hour of desperation, in the shadow of ruin. But Robert felt only the old familiar calm of speaking with his valet in his dressing room, either putting on his social armor to face a formal dinner or removing it at the end of battle.

"To appreciate what I have," Bates said with a long exhale.

He thought of Anna and her dedication to the man, despite everything. They'd married in secret, while Bates was under investigation for murder. And the housemaid had never wavered in her devotion. With a fond smile, Robert was reminded of Cora and their marriage. They hadn't married for love, but love they had found together after all.

"Wise words, Bates," he stated with a nod.

When they parted at the end of the visit, Robert would have shook his valet's hand, but it was not permitted. Instead, they settled for a last silent look, and it seemed more passed between them in those few seconds than all the words actually spoken.

The telegram said he was to be released. Anna had asked for use of the car to travel to York and pick up her husband from the prison, and Robert gladly granted it. The lady's maid's joy was certainly a sight to behold.

And as he sat alone in his library for a time, Robert thought about all that had happen since Bates had been taken to prison. Slowly, he recognized that giddy feeling of excitement that seemed reserved for childhood, such as waiting for Christmas to arrive. He smiled to himself and then laughed out loud, letting out a breath he must have been holding ever since he'd heard the judge's words in that courtroom.

His valet was to be released. His friend was coming home.

fin