This was written as part of a present for knittycat's 1 year anniversary of writing fic. Several of us wrote 365-word pieces from various 'verses to celebrate. I'll have you know it's very hard to write a piece that's exactly 365 words long.

Frances and Sarah have a long way to go to get here, but they needed their happy ending, too.

-amy

The doorbell rang, and Frances looked up from her knitting only briefly before saying, "Honey, would you get that?"

Matthew trotted to the door and looked out the window before opening it. "It's a lady, mommy."

The chuckled response, however, was completely unexpected – "I'm no lady," said a still-familiar voice - and Frances flew to her feet, knitting forgotten on the carpet.

"Sarah?"

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" she said.

Frances made them tea in the kitchen she'd designed, and it had never felt quite so perfectly complete as it did with Sarah sitting at the island across from her, idly playing with the cubes of sugar.

"How was Morocco?" Frances asked.

"Hot. It's weird to speak English after using only Berber for the past couple years." She looked Frances up and down. "You look good, for a mom of three."

"Well." Frances put a self-conscious hand on her belly. "You can't see the stretch marks. But… thanks. Blaine is napping, but I can take you in to see him, if you want."

"In a minute." Sarah's eyes focused sharply on Frances. It was intense enough for her to draw in a breath. "I'm really here to see you."

Frances tried to look away, but couldn't quite manage it. "I'm glad to see you, too. You know you're always welcome–"

"Just stop." The quiet words sounded like a command, and Frances closed her mouth. "I think I have one shot at this, so listen, okay?" Sarah took a deep breath. "I can't stop thinking about you. About what you said. About… all of it. And I think… I think I've been in love with you all along."

"Sarah," Frances whispered.

Sarah shook her head, not dropping her gaze. "You don't have to say anything. I know it's probably too late. I just wanted you to know."

"It's not," Frances said without thinking. "Too late, I mean. Not… not for me."

Sarah exhaled slowly. When she was done, she was smiling. "Okay," she said, and reached across the island to take Frances' hand. "Holding on."

"Not letting go," Frances said with a flood of relief, and smiled back.