Summary: A year and a half he'd been in prison, and he was happy to be out. Again. Out again, in the real world, when he thought he'd be in there forever.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

A/N: This is just a short story but it is partially meant to address Bates' absence after he's released from prison and what I imagine must have been a difficult transition back to the real world. I also think Anna and Bates would have waited until the privacy of their new cottage to rekindle their married life, but that's just my take. :)

Eighteen months.

A year and a half he'd been in prison, and he was happy to be out. Again. Out again, in the real world, when he thought he'd be in there forever this time.

Hope can be a slow acting poison.

It had tortured his mind, that minuscule possibility that he might get out one day. Still, he had hoped Anna would succeed in finding the evidence to free him. While he had never believed it, he did hope - as much hope as iron bars and stone would allow him.

In the end, the freedom frightened him.

The open sky outside the prison gave him pause until he saw her there, waiting. She would always be there, always wait for him, never giving up hope. That knowledge was enough to force him to put one foot in front of the other. With the smooth, solid wood of the cane in his hand, Bates forced his mind to set aside thoughts of using it as a weapon.

He no longer needed to protect himself. They would not come after him now, could not surround him in dark corners and beat and kick him until he was curled in on himself.

Instead, he felt only her arms around him, gentle but fierce. Even so, when he tensed at memories of that place and of the coming transition back to quiet life in the Yorkshire countryside, she gently squeezed his arm. Somehow, she knew without asking, without him saying a word. Being out would take some getting used to before he would feel himself again.

Thomas stole his job and now he had no occupation.

The fear tore at him, that he would have no work, no prospects after Anna had gone to so much trouble to secure his release. Surely Lord Grantham never thought it would happen? But the Earl reassured him so calmly and without edifice. And perhaps his employer saw something in his eyes when he suggested a rest, and he could read the valet's body language.

"Read books."

The words on the pages danced, their meaning eluding him. The attic servants' rooms were noisy, even in the midst of the day, and he jumped at each sound. He was reminded of the hospital ward after he'd been shipped back from Africa, of the jumpiness and nerves after always being in a state of alertness at war. And prison was a lot like war, with the requirement to be ever ready for attack, never quite relaxing.

Anna fussed. They all fussed. He hated it.

He wanted everything back to normal. He wanted to dress Lord Grantham rather than imagine Thomas doing it, making comments and trying to insinuate himself into the position permanently. He wanted the cottage with his wife they'd been promised, both for the chance of privacy with his wife and to get some distance from Downton. There were too many men there now, two young footmen who eyed him with suspicion. He needed to be away, someplace quiet and alone.

And with Anna...

When the walls pressed at him as surely as the shadows in his mind, she suggested taking a walk around the grounds. The weather was mild and sunny, but he would walk through the rain with her if she asked. She held his hand as they walked, rather unwilling to relinquish that contact between them. They talked about anything and everything and nothing, and he took every opportunity to remind himself of her presence, of her love.

Her love.

It was like a tangible thing, this emotion she exuded, and he basked in it. For a year and a half, they had communicated mostly through letters, their brief visits at the prison constrained by institutional rules and unspoken promises that passed between their tearful glances. But in their written words, they could bare their souls, at least a little. They could express both doubts and dreams. And his dreams were finally coming true.

Getting back to work was the first time he felt normal.

Lord Grantham seemed relieved as well when he took over again from Thomas, their easy way together returning as though no time at all had passed. It was not their first separation, of course, but Bates still felt guilty. So did Lord Grantham as he stumbled over words relating to his testimony at trial, the words which had been so expertly twisted.

"As I told Anna, I can blame no one for telling the truth, especially you, milord."

The other man's guilt still simmered under the surface, but their conversation gave way to excitement over the coming cricket match. Bates was happy to revel for a time in something so comparatively trivial. When a moment came clear, he asked again about the cottage. Once more, one was readily promised but this time, it was assigned without delay.

Of course, 'without delay' meant the cottage was vacated quickly and left in quite a state.

It reminded him of the prison, the dirty walls and dark curtains which obscured so much light. But Anna responded enthusiastically, and he found her all the more attractive for her optimism. His time off upon returning to Downton had slowly returned him to himself and given him back his proper feelings for his wife. She looked beautiful even in the dimly lit, dusty room, and her affection allowed him to be bold.

They broke the settee.

He could only laugh along with her. The freedom to laugh was a new joy he had not realized he'd been denied in that place.

And desire returned, slowly.

He was reminded of the garter she'd mentioned, the one she'd bought in Paris, and Anna's coy smiles told him she had not forgotten either. The memory of their wedding night had replayed in his mind over and over again during his time in prison, some nights in a unending loop as he thought about how much he missed his wife. And he had missed her, beyond imagining - her presence and the way her body fit with his, the tone of her voice when she whispered his name in the dark.

He needed her. In every describable way. But the physical pull was something else entirely.

They waited until their first night at the cottage. While she was keen for more than chaste kisses after so long a separation, he needed her to himself, so they could make love slowly and with care. When he lit a lamp so he could see her better, she did not argue. But nor did she let him alone for too long as he stared at her naked form.

She glowed in the warmly lit room.

At first, it was like the first time all over again. His nerves played at him as fiercely as his passion, but she was as insistent and demanding as their wedding night. The fiery nymph he'd married might be lacking in experience, but she demonstrated endless enthusiasm and curiosity. She brought out in him feelings he thought long dead, and the reactions of her body reinforced the love he saw from her, the love he could not always quite believe was real.

The feel of her naked body pressed to his ignited him, boiling the blood in his veins and turning back the clock to when he was a younger man.

His mouth sought out hers, needing the soft pressure of her lips and the sweet taste of her. Their joining felt like a primal urge, but he took his time, desperate to be a good husband. Far from meek and compliant, she met his every move. She sucked coyly on the fullness of his bottom lip, and her hands ran through his hair. As their bodies moved against each other in a collision of flushed skin and aroused flesh, her cries of pleasure drove him onward.

Anna in the throws of passion was perhaps the most exquisite sight he might ever behold.

She clung to him when her climax came, her fingers pressing tightly into his skin. Her eyes were closed tightly, but he could read the pleasure in her expression, a torturous agony of pleasure he wanted her to experience again and again. But the feel of her and the sight of her so perfect with passion ended his self control and he followed her into that state of momentary bliss.

The bed squeaked, his mind informed him later, when they lay spent together in their new bedroom.

He could not have minded less the squeaky bed, although his ability to meet the gaze of the neighbor who shared that wall might suffer in later days. But none of that mattered, not with her relaxed in his arms, one hand splayed across his chest as her smaller body curled against him. She was perfect in every way, this woman who had insisted on marrying him, her figure and her heart. His fingers trailed against the expanse of her naked skin as he admired her body further.

"I missed that."

She spoke the words, but they echoed his own thoughts. There would be plenty of time to explore each other now, over and over until every inch of her was mapped, every sound of pleasure torn from her lips. And she seemed just as keen as he. But for the moment, he relished the feel of her in his arms, her solid warmth reassuring him of his new reality. It was all worth it in the end, to be in that place with her.

He was finally free. Their life together could truly begin.