A/N: Anything Could Happen is still very much a WIP, but I wanted to step back into the Downtonverse because I've missed being there. I don't have any solid ideas for stories right now (maybe S4 will change that?) so I figured a series of (short-ish) scenes would be the best way to do things, as moments occur to me.

This will be updated as and when inspiration strikes (and I get the time). Hopefully there will be time for a few at least before S4 rolls around. Scenes will be from S1 to far and beyond and won't be in any chronological order, just A/B throughout their relationship. I have some ideas and moments I would like to visit, but otherwise I am open to suggestions and prompts. I can't promise I will get to them straight away with juggling writing and real life duties but I always welcome ideas for inspiration, and as always, I'd love to hear what you think.

Beginning with something that could happen at the start of S4 (but probably won't). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Downton Abbey, more's the pity.

Thanks to the lovely and talented herewestand on Tumblr for the beautiful cover image :)

John sighed deeply as he met his reflection in the small, slightly smeared mirror. Having fixed on the stiff collar, he tried to focus his gaze on knotting the tie that was draping round his neck but found it impossible to ignore the red scratch stretching across his cheek, the consequence of his supreme clumsiness that morning, slicing himself as he shaved at the basin. The sting still felt raw against his skin. His eyes lowered for a moment before he gathered resolve and looked at himself full in the face. He never particularly enjoyed regarding himself in this way. He wasn't a vain man by any means, but he was only human, and that meant it was all too easy to find flaws in his appearance. The lines on his face were increasing daily, growing deeper with age. Shadows were gathered under his eyes and he wasn't sure that he would ever fully be rid of the hollows that had sunk his cheeks during those dark months.

Running the calluses of his fingers over the graze, holding the skin taut, a smile twitched on his lips as he recalled the softness of her touch, her hands roaming fascinated over each crease and mark as she lay on the pillow. The daylight that bathed them both while they met the morning together in their marital bed illuminated every inch of him harshly and still, without fail, he would dip his shoulders, trying to hide himself away. She soon put a stop to that, cupping both hands around his face, delicate but insistent. He couldn't help but flutter his eyes shut at her strokes; a salve, the touch of an angel.

"Don't you look away from me, John Bates. I need to have the pleasure of seeing my most handsome husband's face when I wake first thing in the morning."

He would give a hoarse laugh; he could never deny her anything. Her beautiful blue eyes fixed upon him as the tips of her fingers marked their path, claimed him as hers and hers alone with the purest of touches. He never much liked his appearance, but thanks to her reverence, her care, her consuming love, he had grown to be accepting.

He let out another long sigh thinking of the cut, considering the reason why he had acquired it. It was his duty as his Lordship's valet and so he knew it was just something simple that came with the territory, but it didn't make it any easier to bear, especially not now. Though it had been more than a year since his release, he still had great trouble having to leave Downton, being wrenched away from their cramped but completely perfect little cottage. It would only be three days, he told himself. Three days and two nights away from the comforts of home, away from the ever-loving arms of his wife. A deep pang socked him in the stomach. To think in his previous marriage he would find any excuse, going to the village an hour away for five minutes for something that didn't even exist in his mind, just to escape. If the world turned at his beckoning, he would make it so that he would never have to leave Anna's side. He chuckled, wondering what exactly she would think to that. He couldn't help but thinking, or rather knowing, that she wouldn't have any complaints.

Walking the short distance to the bedroom, the smile drifted further, reaching up to settle deep in his eyes as he saw her, curled in a neat ball, the only movement she made the soft, involuntary rise and fall of her ribcage. She was still in her black silken dress, not having bothered to crawl under the covers, her golden hair slightly messed. Leaning against the cracked wooden frame of the door, John breathed in relief, in sheer wonder. He still felt like he was walking in a dream simply to be so near to her, to have the privilege to watch her in this way. He never wanted to be accustomed to the feeling.

She was snuffling very lightly in her sleep and the sound was incredibly sweet to John's ears. How he cherished it every night next to his ear, believing for too long that he would not have the pleasure of hearing it for the rest of his days. She slept a lot now, falling effortlessly into slumber at the end of the day, clutching at it when she was afforded a free afternoon, as was the case today. At least today she had made it back to the cottage and hadn't ended up dozing in one of the guest rooms at the Abbey. He wondered how she would spend their time apart in the coming days. Most likely in the same way. It was more likely that she would find a way to be even busier than usual, working herself hard into the ground. If he ruled the world, he would also ensure that Anna had more than her fair share of time to rest and recuperate; God knows that it was well owed to her. But there were greater demands on her now, regretfully, and not for the first time in his life, he was helpless to ease them for her. He just prayed that his enforced absence wouldn't be a further weight upon her slight shoulders. To his surprise she had born the news quite well, wrapping her arms around him, smiling sweetly, kissing him contentedly.

"It won't be for long. We have survived far worse; this shall be a walk in the park, over before it has begun."

He supposed she was entirely right. He wasn't aware of a single situation in their life together when his brave, beautiful, clever wife had been wrong. It was a blessing really, and he shouldn't have been fussing over it if there was no need, yet as sure as dawn followed dusk, he would worry. Especially when it came to Anna.

The scene before him was so peaceful that it seemed almost against nature to break it. He braced his palms carefully against the edge of the bed, wincing a little as his knee protested against being lowered to the floor.

"Anna, my love." He kept his voice as gentle as the brush of a spring breeze, but couldn't resist caressing a finger over her rosy cheek. "You need to wake up."

She whimpered a little as she unfurled her limbs, and in the next instant she had awoke, her eyes a burst of blue upon his darker ones, the colours colliding. Her dainty hand, shining with the glint of her wedding band, shifted upon the bed and grasped his swiftly, naturally. The wonderful feeling of their fingers being joined struck John, a welcome and familiar warmth surging through his veins, easily combating the ache of his leg against the hard floorboards.

Her other hand rested against her forehead, and she smiled an enchanting, sleepy smile at him.

"What time is it? Did I oversleep?"

John stroked the smoothness of her porcelain skin reassuringly. "No, my darling. It's just that I must be going now. His Lordship wants us to depart from the Abbey in less than an hour."

"Oh." A shadow seemed to pass momentarily over her features. She was bolt upright before long, rushing around the room, adjusting the pins in her hair. "I'll just need to fix myself, it won't take me ten minutes."

He had to suppress a laugh at the sudden change in her, how she could charge into action so quickly.

"There's no need. I'd rather you get your sleep than nearly break your ankle running round after me."

As she turned to enter the bathroom, an adorable frown knotted her brow. "There is all the need in the world."

"Anna, I insist."

She still ran around regardless.

He picked up his worn travelling valise at the door, putting on his coat, holding off on fixing the hat to his head. Glancing at his pocket watch and then up the stairs, he sighed before calling out. There wasn't any longer to wait, but it felt very strange not seeing her face before he went.

"Anna, love, I have to go. I'll be back before you know. I love you."

He took a final turn around and found his breath snatched away at the sight of her, standing radiant and strong in the hallway but with her face pale, a glistening of tears marking her lashes.

"You will be taking the train?" Her voice was small, with a little shake, yet resolute. "Tell me that you will be boarding the train, John."

He swallowed hard to try to vacate the lump that had surfaced in the base of his throat. She was looking at him so intensely, her bottom lip straining not to wobble.

"We will be, to go to London." He couldn't lie to her anymore, not even white ones to try and cause her less hurt. They only ever had the tendency to cause more in the long run. "But we must take the car to the train station. And after we arrive…"

A hard gasp came from her and seconds later, the tears were streaming down her face. He threw down the valise with a thump, taking her shuddering arms into his to steadying ones, doing his utmost to soothe her. Her sobs tore his heart in two as they cascaded.

"Shhh, my love. Shhh," he repeated over and over, holding her close to his chest, feeling her soak the edges of his waistcoat. "Don't cry. We've had enough of that." He drew his thumb across the curve of her jaw, tipping her tearful eyes up to look into his. "Tell me what the matter is. I can't leave you like this."

That last sentence only brought forth more helpless cries.

"I…I've been having dreams," she stuttered inbetween sobbing, clutching onto him. "Horrible ones. You and His Lordship were in a car, driving to London. The day was awfully stormy. No one could see what was on the road ahead. I was there, somehow. Another car came out of nowhere. I cried, but I could do nothing." Her fingers held tighter onto the lapels of his jacket. "You were thrown yards, your face was covered with…I ran to hold onto your hand, to touch your face. You were already cold, you weren't breathing. I couldn't do anything. And it was all my fault."

He breathed heavily, guiding a hand over her head as it fell upon his chest.

"How long have you been dreaming this?"

Her voice was a croak. "Since you said you had to go away, for a month solid."

And he thought she had been perfectly fine. He cursed himself for not looking harder.

"You should have said something." His words were as soft as the strokes he was issuing upon her hair.

"I didn't want to bother you," she whispered. "And speaking about it makes it seem more real somehow. When I think of poor Mr Crawley…"

Of course. The time she spent, almost every hour of the waking day consoling a grieving Lady Mary, she would think of nothing but. He had often conjured the image himself; of the young father just made, all of his prospects and future swiftly snatched. Fate could be so cruel, and yet he had always been spared.

"Anna, I'm your husband. It's my job to share your burdens, and do as much as I can to take them away from you." He sighed to feel her tiny frame fitting snug against him, her heart beating out a hasty rhythm. "What happened to Mr Crawley was a terrible accident. The type of unavoidable thing that happens so rarely. I have always been safe travelling before, and I'm sure this time will be no different."

He tucked his thumb gently under her chin, lifting her head with a flood of love in his eyes.

"Besides, how could I fail to be safe with this to send me on my way?"

With the greatest tenderness, he brushed his lips over hers. He felt Anna's hands grasp tighter for a moment, heard her mewl softly before her fingers relaxed upon him, stilling and then smoothing over his jacket, stroking his chest slowly as her mouth mirrored the same action higher. He let the sweet kiss deepen for a moment, a testament to his need for her now and always, a promise of the truest love he could ever know, a vow that no darkness would be cast upon their light ever again.

He savoured the slow opening of her eyes, the steady breath that she inhaled, taking his own with her. She turned her head a little, raised her hand up to trail her fingertips delicately over the reddened graze inched upon his cheek. She smiled, shaking her head lightly at the mark.

"What'll I do with you, eh?"

John grinned back at her, lifting her other hand to his mouth. "I'll give a call to the Abbey the second we arrive."

She narrowed her eyes, giving the little pout of her lips that always made his heart flutter like mad. "Be sure that you do." Then there was a smile, and he felt his heart sigh with relief.

Making his way down the well trodden-path that led to the great house, John gazed at the clear sky from beneath the brim of his hat and reflected. He had never doubted that his wife was the strongest woman he had ever known, but even he could take that strength for granted sometimes. It was easy to do when it was always there, silently propping him up, keeping him afloat in times of trouble. From now, in the moments when he had to be away from her, he swore that his strength, made from the love she had given to him, would stay, giving her something to always hold onto.