A/N: First of all, thank you for being so kind to me in your reviews, they mean so much to me. I originally planned to post this chapter shortly before Christmas but never got round to writing it due to many reasons. I'm sorry it took me so long. When I finally did start writing a while ago though, I decided to make it a Christmas chapter nevertheless and I hope that you will like it, regardless of the fact that we're nearing summer.

It's still early Christmas morning when he hears a hesitant, quiet knock on the door of their bedroom. He has been awake for a while, looking at his wife of thirty-nine years who is still sleeping soundly beside him. It has always been her favourite time of the year. A time for family, a time for love and peace. A time where they're all with you, my love, close.

Just as quiet as the knock has been, he whispers for whoever it is on the other side of the door to come in. He isn't surprised when he sees Sophie enter, barefooted and with little Gracie close by, both still in their nightgowns. No words are spoken as they make their way to the bed, separating as soon as they are in front of it, so that Gracie can cuddle up to her Grandma while Sophie tiptoes to Charles side of the bed, just as it is their tradition. He smiles at his girls. I will never grow tired of this.

"Happy Christmas, Soph" he says gently and takes her in his arms, their youngest, although not so young anymore by now. They both look to the other side of the bed, where Gracie has made space for herself, quite assertive, pushing Elsie in closer a bit in the process. Charles looks at her with one eyebrow slightly raised. What have you thought of, then? Gracie only smiles and Sophie nods at her reassuringly. And so she starts to sing, quietly at first, more confident as soon as Sophie joins in.

Charles knows how much Elsie will cherish this, sees it too as soon as she starts to wake up, a small smile forming while she's still in the daze of waking up, soon turning into the smile that is simply her. She opens her eyes, moves closer to him and, as soon as their girls have reached the second verse, they join in. He is still smitten with her singing voice, has always been. The voice that sang their children to sleep, brought hymns to life next to him in church, accompanied her through her daily life all these years. He smiles inwardly. You've always been most beautiful when you sang, my love.

As soon as they reach the third verse, she searches for his hand and holds it tightly.

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay.

Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.

He can see tears forming in her eyes, knows she can't help it and squeezes her hand for a moment. It's alright Elsie. I know.

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care.

There's a small tear trailing down her cheek now, and he knows what she is thinking of, for he is thinking the same. Their little girl, who is gone since so many years, without ever having really left them. Merry Christmas, Allie. May it be a wonderful one for you.

She looks up at him, her eyes concentrating on his face through the veil of unshed tears as she sings the last line. And fit us for Heaven to live with Thee there.

He can see the silent prayer in her eyes, maybe an order even. But not yet. He leans down and nuzzles her hair for a moment. I'm still here, love. I'm here.

Their quietly shared moment doesn't escape Sophie, who cannot help but tear up a little too. They all know it will get worse. They know that the moments he will be with them completely will become fewer and fewer in between. But today is Christmas day. And he is still fully with them most of the time. She sits up, puts her hand on her parent's joined ones and together they look at Gracie, who jumps out of bed and declares it is time for presents.

As soon as he had brought the doctor to the door, had accepted his words of condolence absent-mindedly, he went back up and found his wife sitting on the bed, with their daughter in her arms. Peacefully calm, beautifully sweet, unbelievably still. Elsie didn't avert her gaze from her face as he sat down next to her and took Allie's hand, kissing her small palm, once, twice. When she did look up, he could see the bewilderment in her eyes, the fear, the insecurity. He closed his own ones, slowly turning away. And, with his heart and mind, left her.

He had hoped that they would be in for a white Christmas. He loves Yorkshire in winter. And he especially loves it, when Gracie is sporting around in the snow, while William tries to throw snow balls at her. When Sophie, although eighteen by now, still goes out to form angels in the places where the snow is still untouched, to show her Mama that all the angels in heaven are with them too. Remember the time she first did that, love? We all healed that day.

Both his children are racing Gracie now, and it's easy for him to see William and Sophie when they were six, seven maybe, just as old as Gracie is now, doing it exactly the same way. The excitement of it never changes, the delighted chatter, the squealing. He sees Gracie running up to the bench, to him, all red cheeks and bright eyes, feels her jumping on his lap, exclaiming she is safe there. Papa, Papa stop, Grandpa means nobody can get me. It warms his heart. It has always been a promise he has given willingly. For you, sweet, for all of you, always.

William lets himself fall next to him on the bench. He's become a very serious man, thoughtful, often quiet. The war has changed him, just as it has everybody, but there is still the dry wit, the observant honesty and calm rationality, the love and thankfulness his son clearly feels for all of them. And they are just so glad to have him back. So glad, my boy. So glad and relieved I cannot put it into words.

It would be concerning, if it wouldn't be so wonderful as well, to see his eldest as a father of two children, a devoted husband, the man who survived the war and managed to find his own peace again. But when did I become so old? All the years, they have gone by in such a hurry. And while he still remembers most of them, they are already there, the blank spaces, the moments when something escapes him, leaves him wondering. He could be angry about it, could rage and refuse to accept the fact that his mind betrays him. That the betrayal will grow, slowly, steadily if they are lucky, suddenly if they are not.

But he doesn't. Because he has been given so much. And he knows that Elsie has the strength to bear this with him. As long as we have each other, love, we will be just fine. It is true for them. Love has made them grow in so many ways, it has helped them through so much. The constancy of it gives them peace and has built a home that is honest and true. They will manage, he is sure of it. And we will do it together, just as we always have. Together. And lovingly.

He turns to his son, who is looking at him enquiringly. Everything alright, Pa? He encloses Gracie a bit tighter and smiles. William smiles as well. Good.

When they buried her, she thought she might not take it anymore. She wished for everything to turn dark, or different, but just not like that. She wished for Allie to be here, with her, close. She knew she could not have that and the thought of her little girl in the heavy earth, surrounded by darkness and cold, alone, engulfed her with never ending force. She wished she could say with certainty that their little girl was safe, at rest, somewhere beautiful, but her faith did not allow her that, not in that moment.

And where they should have been a safety for each other, a place to pour out, scream at the injustice of it all, find comfort in the reassurance of not being alone and just grieve, they weren't. Elsie knew, as she stood next to Charles at the little white cross, that he wasn't with her, that his stoic silence was an outer protest and yet an endless effort to keep it all away from him. Their little girl was dead. And she could not help him.

Elsie can see them sitting together on the bench from her place at the living room window. The sight brings tears to her eyes, it is still the overwhelming feeling of relief that engulfs her, after years of hoping, wondering. He's alive. He came back. And he manages.

The war years had been eating at her, at all of them, but seeing her family now, like this, it floods her with indescribable happiness. And to see Charles, with Gracie wrapped up in his arms, obviously content, it warms her heart beyond measure.

She knows it is hard on him. You've always been the perfect one. The correct one. My man. And it does already happen more often. She can see it when he pauses, stays still for a moment. She knows then that he has one of the blank moments and it pains her for all of them. Because we should have years ahead of us. Now that we're together again. And fine.

But it especially pains her for him, because their life is built of memories, just as every life is, and it's them he will lose. The delay of the inevitable is her silent prayer these days. But not yet. Not for a while yet. Please. It's a gamble with time they are exposed to, but she has promised herself to make the best of it. We are together. We've been so happy. We still are. And we will be.

He has told her of his fears, as she has told him of hers. He wants to make it clear for her. I love you. So much. My heart will belong to you always. No matter what I'll do, or say, in my heart I will still be the same. He tells her what she already knows, but it does good to hear it nevertheless. Just as good as it does him to hear that she won't give up on him. How could I? This is an obstacle. Something to work on. And I will never stop doing just that. They tell each other they'll be fine. And we will be. I know we will.

She is drawn out of her reverie by Jane, who comes in with little John, barely three months old, and asks if she can take him for a moment. Elsie puts her arms forward wordlessly and looks down into the brown eyes that the little boy has definitely inherited from the Carson family as soon as she cradles him safely. Hello, little one. She smiles at Jane, who smiles back tiredly before going to the kitchen to make them a cup of tea.

They have grown really close over the years. Elsie is so proud of her and William, for having their own family and being wonderful at it, despite the long, forced separation. She likes to think that she and Charles have set a good example. And apparently, her grandson agrees with her. She takes his small fists. "Are you smiling at me, young man?" He gurgles and she laughs. I really believe you are.

He had left her. Had gone, without a note, without saying, had just left before dawn. She lay awake worrying, being desperate for something that would tell her he was alright. It had been three days without one word from him. Next to her, William lay asleep. He had asked her, every day. "Mama, where is Papa?" First Allie. And now Charles too. He was still so little.

She wished she could say that her husband was alright, that he had needed space, seclusion, to come to terms with it all. But she couldn't be sure. Not now, when for the first time he refused to open up, when he was so withdrawn that she couldn't even have an idea of what was going on inside of him. Only, that she did, in a way. She knew the pain, knew the pictures that couldn't be banned. Knew how constricted her chest got when William asked yet again where Allie was, if it was her turn to stay with Granny now.

She could barely bear it. Barely, but for her boy, who still smiled up at her roguishly, who still needed comfort when he fell, stories before bedtime and cuddles on Sunday mornings. She had begged him. Had begged Charles to talk to her. But he had just looked, pain evident in his eyes, so evident, and turned away. He had found her sobbing in the larder, one afternoon, when the sun was just too bright, the birds too loud, when she thought the longing for her little girl would eat her up. And where he would have taken her in his arms without question, only a few weeks ago, he could not bring himself to take her hand now. She didn't blame him. She wasn't angry. She just wanted to understand. And for him to come back. She needed him. She could not bear this on her own. Not for much longer, anyway.

He finds her putting the last of the dishes back into the cupboard. She's wearing the shawl she has gotten from all of them and it's just as he had thought, the dark red colour fits her perfectly.

When she sees him, she leaves the plates be for a second, and comes over to the door. He reaches for her hands and plants a soft kiss on her mouth, another one on her brow and looks at her, her eyes closed, her features soft and content, every inch of her beautiful face known by him so well.

She feels him kiss her and cannot help but think that, just for this moment, everything is all right in the world. She can hear the happy chatter coming from the sitting room; they have spent a beautiful day together that now nears its end with joy and laughter. She moves closer and lets herself be embraced by her man. In his arms is still her favourite place to be. Nothing can change that.

He is whispering in her ear, asking her if she is happy. She makes him look at her. Now, what do you think? He smiles. And she kisses him fully. You are everything. I love you.

He started missing her on the fifth day. He was still beyond himself with grief, but something felt different when he woke up on the fifth day. His mind was still captured by loss, the face of his dear, sweet girl coming along with him always, memories with all of them together so dominant that he could not face anything that showed him she no longer was. But he missed Elsie's presence beside him when he woke up, the hand that was always within reach, her soft voice wishing him a good morning.

It was then that he thought he had failed her. Realized that she, who in his mind was closest to Allie, did not, as he had previously assumed in the haze that his thoughts were, make it even less bearable with her presence, but was the only one who could ease the pain. Her and William was all he had. And he had left, without a word.

The haze slowly eased, leaving him with one constant thought, to return to them, to have them close. He needed to ask for her forgiveness, needed to say sorry for running away. He had gone to London, the only place Elsie had not ever been to with him, in hope for what he could not say anymore. And it hadn't made anything easier.

He sent a telegram to Yorkshire and when the train drove into the station, he did not dare hope she would be there. He was proved wrong. She stood on the platform, her posture straight, stoic, her complexion pale, her head slightly turned down. William, who was next to her, started running towards him as soon as he stepped out of the carriage. He bent down and scooped him up, pressed him as close as he dared and closed his eyes for a moment. This was it. This, them, was what it was worth to go on for.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw how Elsie, this fierce, private woman that meant everything to him stood on the platform, tears trailing down her cheeks unabashedly, relief written all over her beautiful face. He put William down and strode forward, as did she, and when they met, they held onto each other for dear life.

And now, having her in his arms for the first time since it happened, he found that he could cry. He cried because he could not describe how much he missed his girl. He cried, because it broke him to see his family so lost. They did not deserve this happening to them, they had done nothing wrong. This was nobody's fault, and it couldn't be helped, and he had failed the people he hold most dear, and he was sorry, so sorry, sorry for everything.

"I failed you." His words were harsh, desperate. He felt how Elsie shook her head against his shoulder, heard her whisper in his ear that it was alright, over and over, and cried all the more for the beauty that was her heart, her good soul.

Elsie felt him bury his head in her shoulder and held on even more tightly. He was home. He was back. She was not alone anymore and there would be time now, time for sharing, for everything to get better and maybe, she believed it now, maybe even for healing. They would be strong for each other, would complement each other in this just as they always had. She had no doubt of it. Not anymore. She slowly took his face in her hands and a small smile crept on her own. There was hope now. She felt it. And finally, brought forth by her smile, so did he.

They leave their children by the fire and walk up the stairs together. When she reaches the top, she turns to the first door on the left and opens it quietly, years of practice showing. When she is satisfied that everybody who should be asleep is indeed, she turns to him and reaches out for his hand.

"What a nice day it has been." A whisper, her way of saying thank you, accompanied by the smile he will never grow tired of.

He takes her outstretched hand. "Let's go to bed, Mrs. Carson."

He knows they'll be alright. For he has her, hasn't he? They all have. Most highly favoured lady. Gloria.

I would love to hear what you think of this. I'm not completely happy with it, but in the end it was all I could come up with, so feedback would be very appreciated. This will only be followed by a short epilogue, I will post it later on. Thank you for reading. :)