A/N: So I don't tend to write angst outside of the occasional drabble but yet then I ended up writing this first draft entirely in one sitting. It was cathartic for me, so I only hope that I still was able to keep it in character.

Warnings: PTSD from sexual assault, anxiety, mentions of past miscarriages

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds but sometimes she wondered if the scars in her ran too deep for that.

It had been more than three years now; she had other things to worry about. And more importantly, things to be happy about. She'd go weeks without it crossing her mind. Sometimes she'd grow bitter, such as whenever she'd see Sergeant Willis at the abbey, reminding her of all the chaos that had ensued after. She'd feel irrational however, knowing he wasn't to blame.

Other times though, it shook her more to the core, random mentions that brought her back to that horrible night. Even hearing the name "Melba" made her heart seize, anything that sounded remotely operatic made her freeze in her place.

It helped if John was with her. He'd offer her his hand, and she'd reach out and squeeze it, grounding her back to the present.

He's dead, Anna, she'd tell herself. He can't hurt again you or anyone else again. You above all everyone know that.

There it was, that bitterness. She'd choose to try to focus on the good.

I'm safe, John's safe, and the baby—

She'd pause, waiting for a flutter. And once that happened, she'd press a hand the slight swell, sighing in relief. That was her main concern now. Stitch in place, superstitions chanted, but her anxiety still flared there too. In fact, it didn't make sense to her that her mind still had room for the other darkness to creep back it. More and more sunlight was filtering in as the days passed – she was beginning to show. Her grief was subsiding as the hope grew in more ways than one. Her daily mood was more excited anticipation than not, their greatest dream within their reach.

But yet it seemed like she was still haunted by the past, that grating voice sometimes sneaking in. You can't possibly be happy—

I am very happy thank you, she'd tell the voice. Was it her memory repeating, or her feelings now, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts?

It didn't happen every day. It didn't even happen every week. But when it did, it seemed to hit like a hammer. She'd draw quiet, but her mind churning. All of her anxieties would meld together. Perhaps she really was ruined, that's why she had lost two pregnancies. Or it was that she no longer deserved them, or happiness in general—

This is nonsense and you know it, she finally managed to tell herself, Dr Ryder diagnosed you with a medical condition that you've always had. You've been treated, you are fine, the baby—he gently wiggled—is fine.

Then she had the first nightmare she had had in months. John couldn't shake her out of them, as they learned early on that she'd just try to get him off of her. She felt so guilty, feeling like she was hurting her husband. All he could do is sit up and calmly chant her name until eventually she woke up. Even if she wasn't physically harming him, she knew that must hurt him to feel so helpless. Ironic, given the content of her traumatic terrors.

She finally awakened in tears, sobbing. John offered his hand, per usual, but she hesitated at first to take it. Finally she reached out and gave it a squeeze, then allowed him to embrace her.

"I thought this was over," she managed to choke out. "I'm pregnant now, this shouldn't be happening. This shouldn't still bother me."

He kissed the top of her head and smoothed his hand up and down her shoulder.

"I just thought—I thought I had moved on. He's gone and I had other tragedy to deal with. And now—now I'm supposed to be happy."

She gave a heavy sniff and then turned her face into his chest. His hand now went to her back, rubbing soothing circles.

"You are moving forward, darling, you are. Bit by bit. You have had so much to happen to you, and yet you are still here carrying on. Some things are going to hurt when revisited. But with time, the pain will lessen even more."

She shifted to look up at him. "I once said that I knew that things couldn't go back to the way that they were before, but I'm not sure I actually took it heart."

"Well, things aren't going to go back, are they?" He slid one hand down to her small bump, pressing lightly. "We're having a baby."

That made the corners of her mouth turn upward into light smile. "That we are." Her hand joined his there, now sitting more upright and facing him

"I once wanted revenge over—over what happened that night. But in the end, the greatest 'revenge' is seeing you continue on, Anna. Seeing you happy and sunny for what is to come. But even in the darker moments, you are still succeeding. And when you feel like you aren't, that's all right because I will be there to help you get through them." He stroked her cheek and thumbed away tears as they slide from her eyes.

"I really don't deserve you," she said quietly.

"I have thought the same about you, darling, but in the end we chose each other, didn't we?"

"We did. And I could never regret choosing you. I love you."

"And I love you. I always will." He lightly kissed her forehead. "And now, let's try to get you some sleep."

She cuddled against him and exhaled slowly as she closed her eyes. She had often thought of it as "getting through this" but that always implied that there was an end. Maybe there wasn't one. The grief over her lost children-never-to-be was ebbing with each day that the baby she now carried continued to grow. Assuming it all went well, and that was constant worry—bad harvest bad harvest—she knew what the result would be. There would be a sense of closure over the sadness, and that that happiness could be attained with the new life beginning. But defeating the horrible memories that still haunted her…

Perhaps time was helping. It was less and less and maybe as she grew happier and happier, she would have the best revenge. Perhaps it would never fade completely away. But perhaps she'd come close. All she could do was try, to keep on embracing the joyous times to come.

She felt John shift against her, one arm around her, his other hand lightly on top of her abdomen, protecting his family. She felt a flutter and smiled.

I am safe, John is safe, and the baby is safe. And we are together.

A/N: My other works in progress are definitely lighter fare. Thank you for reading!