A/N: Well, here we are at the end (or beginning, depending on who you ask). It's been a wild ride and you people have just been so amazing, you've reminded me why I got into writing in the first place all those years ago. If you'll have me, I don't think I'm ready to leave this fandom just yet. I have one or two things in the pipeline, including a little ficlet addition to drabble 15 (_an ending_). Thank you, all of you. Please enjoy:

_watch it begin again_

He still does not have more than his uniform and his pack and the walking stick in his hand. But somehow he still has his favourites of her letters and the socks. There is something a bit too sentimental about that; discovering them in his pack, tucked beneath his cot at the hospital had brought him near to tears.

He steps off the road as it opens up into the driveway. Takes to the grass and travels around the Abbey. It is nearly evening and dinner will have been served and cleared away. The Ladies tucked away in the sitting room, the men - those that have returned and he will find out soon, after he has seen her - retired to His Lordship's study or the library for drinks and a game of cards.

The staff will be waiting now for the final calls when the family retires for the night. And perhaps she will be in her parlour, or in the corridor outside the kitchen and he will surprise her there.

He rounds the house and stops.

She is close enough that the deep breath he takes in smells of her and it is he who is surprised.

She has not seen him, her eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall. He has not seen her sit on this bench for almost two years.

There had been a risk, however slight, that the Elsie Hughes he has carried in his heart was not the true one. That he would find her less than he had built her up to be in his head these last years.

He should not have worried.

The moonlight bounces off her hair, making it glow like a fading flame.

His eyes take in the brush of her lashes against her cheek, the gentle slope of her nose and slight tuck up of her top lip.

Her eyes open as he watches and from the side he can see the blue of them shining.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to go over the wine lists now, Mr Bates."

Oh and her voice. How has he survived without it this long? Her letters have sounded in his head with her particular lilt but that was nothing like it is now, thickened with tiredness.

"I think Mr Bates can wait a few more minutes, Mrs Hughes."

She jolts, her body lifting off the bench as she turns to him.

"Mr Carson." She says and raises a trembling hand to cover her mouth, her voice a plea. "Charles."

"I'm here, Elsie." She takes a step and then another, as unsteady as he had been this morning. He does not feel that way now.

Her fingers are cold against his cheek. It has been almost two years, but his skin has not forgotten the feel of hers as she traces the cut at his temple.

She crumples and he gathers her close, his stick falling forgotten to the ground as his arms circle her, hold her closer to him than he has ever dared to before. His stitches twinge but he does not care one whit.

"You're home." She says, her breath such warm relief on his neck, her fingers curled against his back.

'Yes, I am' he thinks and says; "marry me, Elsie" into her hair instead. All of his elaborate plans disappearing into the night.

He has lived without this woman and he will not do so again. He will give her the courtship they both deserve, but he will do it as her husband, her hand wrapped tightly in his.

"Yes." She says, into his throat, his jaw, and then finally, pressed from her lips to his. "Yes."

End.

Of course, that's not to say I won't keep dipping back into this world every now and again. Just to see how they're getting on and such.

I hope this ending lived up to everyone's expectations. This story was all about the distances between them and well, now there aren't any.