A/N: After the trailer yesterday, I had this idea. It's a different narrative style, but ultimately it's a bit of what I wish for Series 6. Very fluffy, so there's your warning! Let me know your thoughts on this one. Thanks Terrie for editing!

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

You by fuzzydream

You weren't wanted for a long time. Rather, you weren't considered for a long time. The first time you were ever in their minds, albeit shyly so, was when she was twenty-six years of age, and he was forty-one. She didn't really consider you then - it was a mere thought that crossed her mind. To change her path. Have a husband, have a family.

He never let himself think of you, not during that time. She was unreachable - a possibility that never was and never could be. But you came to him on a dream, once. Again, just barely. He saw her, smiling. Laughing. Holding you.

And suddenly, you became a dream.

He was the one to mention you for the first time, and it slipped off his lips as easily and as surprisingly for him as it had been for her. He had never considered anything from his first marriage. With her, now, he wanted everything. He wanted to give her everything she deserved. He wanted you.

And because of his voicing of his dreams, she let you become a concrete dream as well. She wondered if you would have her hair or his eyes. If you would be thoughtful and brooding like him or if you would be fair and kind like her. She wondered if you would have her pointy nose or if you would have his chin. If you would be a little girl for him to spoil or a little boy for her to run after.

She wanted you, so much, and the mere thought of a future with him like that made her the happiest woman alive. For him, she would change her path completely. She would change it for you too.

"How many would you like?" she asked quietly, the candle burning between them, sitting alone in the servants' hall.

"Children?" he repeated, just to be sure. She had never let herself dream as freely as now. But he was about to be divorced. He was about to be hers. They were about to marry. They could plan for the children. And his response had been a dreamy smile. "At least two."

She had giggled then, happiness engulfing her heart. "At least?"

He nodded, and the smile didn't leave his face. His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "You don't think me too cheeky, do you?"

She shook her head at once. "I expect to be very happily married. One or five, I shall be happy anyway, because I will have you too."

They had sealed the deal with a soft, sweet kiss, and they couldn't have predicted how their dreams would be crushed two days later.

She hadn't let herself think of you until years later, when he was taken from her, perhaps for good, perhaps forever. She couldn't rest properly, she couldn't eat a thing. But she lived, because of him. And when she realised her cycle was late, she lived because of you.

But her cycle was late, and it was never late. And barely two weeks ago they had shared one single night together - a night of love and passion and marriage. It had been everything she had dreamed of and more. The eternity seconds she spent in his arms, learning, embracing, knowing him as a wife would - she let herself think of you again. A gift for her, a glimmer of hope in between failing investigations to help him out of that horrid place, a faint piece of happiness in a relationship that had been marked with misery for so long. A piece of her, and more importantly, a piece of him.

She had cried when she thought that you were a real possibility. That you could be with her in just a few months. That perhaps he would be with her then, too.

But she wept alone when she learned that it had all been in her head, and she mourned for a loss she never truly had. You wouldn't be with her, not until he would be with her again, at least. And unbeknownst to her, that would take longer than either of them had predicted.

She wept alone, and she never told him about you.

When he was declared guilty, she couldn't believe it. She mourned for him, for her life, for the future they would never have. She mourned for the promises and the plans and the dreams they had shared. She cried for his life, and wanted hers to be taken with his when it happened. She couldn't even think about living without him. Life without him would be torture. She couldn't consider it.

She thought of you again, in the dark of the night, alone in her little room. She thought of what could have been if they had acted sooner. If they had had more time as a married couple, perhaps they would have had you. Perhaps, she would have you, a little piece of him, to help her live. She couldn't live for herself anymore - that changed when his life merged with hers. She desperately wished for more time, for more chances, for more of him, for you.

When the sentence was changed to life in prison, she made her decision. She would fight for him, for them. She would fight for you.

He came back to her. He came back to her, and she was so happy. They both were. The days passed by quickly when they had each other like this, every day, every night, side by side. Their marriage properly began then; she learned so much about him, and he fell in love with her again every day.

She loved how thoughtful and considered he was, and he loved how much she took care of him. She hated how he had the talent to leave books everywhere, and he hated how she fretted over cleaning and tyding everything. They both loved the nights together, whether it would be spent reading together or making love. She loved it when he taught her what he liked, and she loved it when he kissed that spot beneath her ear. He loved how eager she was to learn, how curious she was about everything. She was almost bold - probably bolder than him, really, despite being inexperienced. And he loved her, with all his heart, and a little more every day.

Loving, living. Words with the same meaning for them.

And they talked of you. Of their future. Of the possibility of you. Preferably in a few years. They wanted to enjoy their time as a couple now. But if you came then, they wouldn't have complained. They would have loved you, no matter what. Now, it wasn't a matter of if anymore. It was really just a matter of when.

But you didn't come, and fate had more darkness in store for them.

When she saw the red spots on her underwear, she cried in relief. She couldn't bear thinking of a child now. She couldn't be a mother to a child from him. She would rather kill herself - and perhaps she would have, had it come to it.

But thankfully, it hadn't. She wasn't with his child. She was never pregnant, and for the first time she was relieved that she wasn't. And she wept in relief, in misery, because she couldn't share this fear with her husband. Her sweet, lovely husband, who didn't know what that man had done to her. Who didn't know that she was dirty. That she had been touched by dirty hands.

But at least, she wasn't carrying his child.

And then, for the first time, she realised that perhaps she would never have you.

He mentioned you again. He thought she didn't want you because of him. But he hadn't done it, purely out of love for her. Out of love for the life they had together. He hadn't done it. They were both free, and not guilty.

Intimacy hadn't been easy to restore, but they were slowly getting it right. She loved the feeling of him moving inside her; he loved watching her face when she found her end. She wasn't made of glass, but with the way his hands touched her, that might as well be what she was made of. And they dreamed of you again. They talked of you again. It was taking them some time. They were doing nothing to prevent you. But you never came, month after month. She wasn't worried. They had been through so much, and she more than anyone knew that with the way life had been treating them, it was good that you hadn't come yet. And she told him that it was just taking them a little longer.

And he believed her, because he could never doubt her. You would come. Their future depended on you.

But another month passed, and you weren't there yet.

A period of separation could do grand things to a marriage. Sometimes, it could bring damage. Sometimes, it could ignite passion. Theirs was the second case.

They couldn't get enough of each other. They stopped thinking of the future - the present was what mattered. They lived through days to be together in the nights. They knew each other as husband and wife again nearly every night, sometimes more than once. Their love only grew. The passion never ended. But perhaps this passion was nothing more than unconscious attempts, over and over again, to bring you into their lives.

You never happened, but then... Then, one morning, just a few days after they got the news that they were both officially free, she counted the days and knew that her cycle was late. And you wouldn't leave her mind. They were making plans. They had savings. Perhaps they could buy a property. Perhaps they could leave service.

This time, when the red spots were seen again, she shared her news with him. Unhappy news, or perhaps no news at all. And this time, they wept together.

She worried. She worried so much that she paid a visit to the doctor. Every month, she cried. Every month, he watched her. And he worried.

Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes would soon marry, and were thinking of retiring. She was even approached to replace Mrs Hughes, but she didn't consider it. Her career path changed when she became a lady's maid. She had never thought she would still be a lady's maid now. By now, she thought she would have left service.

And as another month came and disappointment surrounded her again, his strong arms comforted her. His kisses made her feel alive and well again. He promised her he would be happy even if they only had each other. But she still felt like a failure, and she knew he did too. She asked him to let this go - and asked that they planned for a future without you.

As much as it pained her to say it, perhaps she wasn't meant to have you. Perhaps they weren't meant to be blessed by you. Her husband's arms were a safe nest, and he agreed with her that perhaps they shouldn't think too much of you. They planned for the future. They bought a property, a small one, in Whitby. It needed some repair, and they wouldn't be able to move for a few months. They agreed to wait until Christmas. And she was happy and he was happy. Their future was slowly becoming more than a dream. Perhaps it wouldn't have you, but they had each other, and that was enough.

They celebrated by making love in the drawing room, a little accident when they couldn't reach the bedroom. They eventually did go to bed, and it was the first time in a long time they both felt so carefree.

"Mr Bates," she said teasingly, running her palms over his chest, her hair falling on his face. "Proud owner of a hotel in Whitby."

"A future hotel, you mean," he said, his hands stroking her ribs softly. "Won't you regret leaving Downton?"

She gave him a languid kiss. "No. I love our present, but I think I'll love our future the most."

And they celebrated again, once more, in bed that night. For the future would be a dream come true, as long as they had each other.

They would never truly know if they made you on that night. Perhaps it had been then, but perhaps it had been a few days earlier or later. They would never know, but the fact remained that a little over two months later, amidst wedding celebrations and trips to Whitby, she received the news she had been waiting so long to hear, had given up of hearing a while ago, the news that would change her life - their lives - forever.

You existed.

And suddenly, they were planning for a future with you again. Suddenly, their dreams of so long ago could come true. It was all falling together as if it was meant to be - you would be born around Christmas, and they would be able to be close to people they trusted. When the New Year came, it would be a new beginning for all of them. And all because of you.

You were there, growing, inside of her. You were the baby they had been dreaming of for so long. And she would never forget the look on his face when she told him the news - she would never forget the way his kisses felt or the way his palms stroked her belly. You were there, growing just beneath his palms. She didn't even mind the nausea during the days. They had fun with her want for him during the pregnancy months. She didn't love the constant need of peeing at the most inconvenient hours. He tried not to feel too bothered with how much space she needed during the nights, and how much she moved in her sleep during the last months. You were growing steadily, her belly getting bigger, and she was glowing more and more every day.

You were there, and you were already so loved.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Ten little fingers. Ten little toes. Anna couldn't believe how she could love the baby so much after meeting her just a few minutes earlier.

But it wasn't like that - she had loved this baby ever since she dreamed of her for the first time, more than ten years ago.

And she was perfect. With dark wisps of hair on her little head, her curious blue eyes, her button nose, her pouty lips, her chubby fists and arms. Anna kissed her forehead and she wriggled slightly. This baby girl was the baby Bates they had been dreaming of for so long, and she was finally here, in her arms. The best Christmas present she had ever had.

"Shh, it's Mummy," it was a natural thing of her to say, and the little human being in her arms stopped moving and looked back at her. Anna wondered if she knew her voice, after talking to her for so long when she nurtured this baby inside her body. "Hello, my angel."

As if on cue, the baby girl blinked and contorted her little face into what could possibly be a smile, and Anna sniffed loudly. She could hardly remember the labour pains she had been feeling for the past hours. Everything was a blur. All that mattered was the little bundle in her arms.

The sound of a half-step and a cane made her look up, and her heart burst with joy when she saw her husband.

The sight of his wife holding their baby was more than John could have ever imagined, and he didn't hide the tears in his eyes as he watched them. Anna called him to come closer, and he did. It was snowing outside, but the bedroom was warm with love. He could make out dark hair on the baby's head and he smiled.

"Daddy's here," Anna said to the baby, but she looked up at him. "Come meet your daughter."

A daughter. They had a daughter. He sat beside his wife and watched the baby. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her eyes were just like Anna's - and it seemed like almost everything else was Anna's too. His heart swelled with a love he hadn't known existed, but that had been there ever since he laid eyes on Anna for the first time.

"She's perfect," he breathed, and turned to kiss Anna's temple. "You did wonderfully, my love. I was so worried."

"We got here in the end," Anna said softly, looking down at the baby. "Or, I should say, this is just the beginning."

"The beginning for Lucy, you mean," he chuckled. "We are settled on the name, aren't we?"

Anna nodded, and moved so he could hold little Lucy May Bates in his arms. She was light and seemed so small in his arms, he was so worried. But she settled quickly there, yawning slowly, and it was possibly the most endearing sight he had ever seen. He looked at Anna, who watched them with tired eyes, tired eyes filled with so much love - love that he felt in his heart as well. Little Lucy was holding his little finger in her tiny fist and he was in love - with his baby girl, with his wife. With their life.

It would be a new adventure for all of them, he was sure of it. But dreaming was never easy as it was in this moment - imagining his baby girl give her first steps on the hardwood floor of their new house in Whitby, imagining Anna nursing her during the night. To visit the beach together, to build castles in the sand with his little girl, spoiling her with more dolls than she needed and more chocolate than Anna would like her to have. She was the missing piece, the new life they needed to go on with their lives.

With little Lucy, their future was complete.

* I almost named this fic "Ode to Baby Bates", because that's what this kind of is.