A child's laughter floats through the Carsons' garden. Charles glances up from planting the carrots, just in time to see Will Bates come tearing towards him. The former butler drops his trowel and opens his arms. The little boy runs right into them.

"Help!" Will shrieks, giggling. The reason for his sudden appearance is unclear.

But Charles can easily guess.

Sure enough, a moment later Elsie emerges from behind the shed. Strands of hair stick to her face, there's color in her cheeks, and she's laughing just as hard as Will.

Charles's heart skips.

She has always been beautiful, but when she is happy, like now, her beauty is beyond words.

"Where is he? Ah HA! I see you with Mr. Carson!" Elsie tiptoes towards them like Poirot stalking a mouse. Charles stands up, shifting Will in his arms. He ignores his knees cracking.

"I won't let her get you." He whispers in the boy's ear and fights not to smile. "She is dangerous, but I can protect you."

Though she knows they are simply playing a game, Elsie's heart skips.

He has always been gentle, but when he is content, like now, there is a side of him he shows to very few.

"Aye, I am dangerous," she reaches out to touch Will. Her eyes gleam. "I will keep chasing you until I've got you!"

Will throws his arms around Charles's neck, turning his grinning face away from her. "No, no, noooo…"

She reaches up on her tiptoes and busses his cheek. "Got you!"

Squealing, Will squirms in Charles's arms. "No kisses! NO KISSES!"

Charles and Elsie bite back smiles, meeting each other's eyes. John and Anna's oldest wants to sound ferocious, but it's impossible when he starts hiccupping.

"Whoa, there," Charles grabs onto Will's legs as the boy wriggles further away from Elsie. Will's left hand clutches his hair. "I am NOT a ladder for you to climb!"

"You are to him." Elsie says. She reaches up to take Will, who's managed to clamber onto Charles's back. "Come down, little monkey." She manages to pry him off her husband.

Sighing in relief, Charles rubs his head and the back of his neck. "He's gotten heavy."

"He certainly has – Will!"

The young Bates has escaped her arms again, and disappeared behind the shed.

Charles takes Elsie's arm. "Let him go, love. Let him run until he's tired. You must need a rest by now."

She laughs a little, smoothing her hair back. "I wouldn't mind putting my feet up. But they're only here for a short time, Charlie, and I do love playing with him."

"I know you do." They hug each other, and Charles kisses the top of her head. "They're here until Monday, so you still have plenty of time."

Elsie sways in his arms. "Thank goodness the rain stopped yesterday. Tomorrow we might go to your island, for a picnic. Anna has wanted to go since last summer – and after Lady Mary praised the spot. Mr. Bates said he would get a ride from Mr. Mason and meet us there."

"Mmm, it sounds as though the plan's already been decided. But it isn't my island. Not anymore. Since we celebrated our anniversary there, it's now ours." Charles says.

"Yes, ours." A soft breeze murmurs its way through the grass. Elsie sighs. She leans more into Charles. "I could fall asleep like this. The lad's run me ragged."

"Come sit on the blanket by me, and curl up for a bit-"

A loud cry erupts from the basket near the door. Both Carsons sigh and laugh, stepping out of their embrace. Poirot leaps up from beside the basket, where he's been sunning himself, and vanishes into the begonias.

"Our poor cat is not used to the noise," Charles chuckles. "I'll tend to Johnny*, if you want to get Will. It's near tea-time."

"Anna did say they would be back by then." Elsie squeezes Charles's hands, and goes after Will.

Charles hurries towards the basket. The noise has not stopped; rather, it has increased in volume. Its source is a red-faced baby with a head of dark hair. He screams, his tiny hands balled into fists.

"Hello there, young man," Charles scoops the baby out of the basket, speaking rather loudly to drown out his cries. He sets Johnny on his shoulder and rubs his back. "Yes, we hear you. What's this? Well, I suppose being hungry IS a good reason for being upset. I would be too, if I were you."

Taking Johnny inside, he sets the kettle on the stove. As steady as his hands are holding the baby, he does not trust himself to fill it. Especially not one handed.

Elsie comes in a minute later, Will on her hip. "Play there while I make tea," she says to the boy. She fills the kettle and gets out the little cake and biscuits, and lays out plates, cups and saucers on the table. All this time Charles gently rocks Johnny. The baby's angry screams dwindle into whimpers.

"I'm sorry I can't be more help," Charles apologizes, watching Elsie move from the stove to the cupboard to the table and back again in rapid succession. "It isn't fair to you. I should have set the table before we went outside." He glances at Will. Thankfully, the curly-haired lad is absorbed in his blocks.

"You are a great help. You're distracting the wee bairn until his mam returns. And you do it well. Besides," she takes a breath of fresh spring air coming through the open windows, "after the rain yesterday all of us wanted to be outside as soon as possible. No setting the table for you! You were more eager than Will, to get into the garden!"

He grins. "I was." Johnny gnaws on his shoulder, and Charles grabs the first cloth he can reach and puts it on his shoulder to ward off too much infant drool. Using a tea towel for any other reason than its intended purpose would have been impossible for him in previous years.

But so much has changed.

For the better.

Before a quarter of an hour has passed, the children's parents return. Anna hurries into the guest bedroom with Johnny and Mr. Bates sets Will in his chair.

"They weren't too much trouble, I hope?" The former valet asks, putting the blocks away.

"No trouble at all." Charles says. He puts a hand on Will's head.

"We had a lovely time. What about you and Anna? How are the Molesleys?" Elsie says, pouring the tea.

"Doing well. Very well." John smiles. "Their home is set up the way they like it now. I don't know who's more proud of it, Mr. OR Mrs. Molesley."

Anna emerges with a now-content Johnny before they are too far into tea. Elsie takes the baby from her, to let her younger friend eat and drink freely.

And to give herself another chance to hold the baby while she can do so.

Anna goes into a fair amount of detail about the Molesleys' new home.

"You know how modest they are," she says. "Mrs. Molesley sewed all the curtains herself, and let me think they were store bought, until Mr. Molesley told me otherwise. They have a lovely sitting room. It has a loveseat, one big chair, a desk, and two bookcases. Old Mr. Molesley's photograph is on the wall, and they always keep fresh flowers in the room to remember him by…"

Elsie cannot help smiling as Anna rattles on. It is not just the Molesleys who have created a new life for themselves, she thinks. Anna and John have also well and truly moved on from Downton Abbey.

As we have.

Her time and Charlie's time in service will never be forgotten, of course. Neither of them would want to forget it. But it is now simply a part of their lives, not the entirety of it.

Johnny stirs in her arms. She looks down at him, brushing the back of her finger lightly across his cheek. Her heart melts seeing him yawn.

She feels her husband's eyes on her. The soft look Charles gives her is one he never would have shown in front of others, in the early days of their marriage.

The Bates family stays with the Carsons for a few more days. Walks are taken, meals shared (some in the garden), and memories made. Elsie plays with Will every day. Charles teaches him how to hold a cricket bat. The little boy does not quite master hitting the ball, but it's a good start, the former butler and former valet agree.

It is with heavy hearts that Charles and Elsie say goodbye to their friends on a foggy morning at the station.

"Thank goodness our visit to Withernsea is already planned later this summer." Charles says after they return home. He hangs up their coats, and turns when his wife sniffs. "It won't be very long before we see them again."

"I know." Elsie mutters. It is unlike her to be emotional, but like her husband, she has changed as well. "You would think I would be used to it by now, them going home. I should be delighted to have our house back to normal!"

"You mean you miss them? There's nothing wrong with that. I do, too." He says. His lip curves up in an understanding half smile.

Elsie gives him a smile of her own through tear-filled eyes. It seems like a century has passed since he told her he was going to Haxby, and she told him she would miss him.

They both know now that there is a cost to admit missing someone. But it is a cost worth paying.

The rest of the day passes. Elsie writes two letters. One is to Becky's former nurse, who now lives near Dover. Another is to Ethel Parks. Lady Merton had kept in touch with the young woman, and had passed on her address to Elsie. A start is made on a third letter, but by then Elsie is distracted by her husband going in and out of the door, and by Poirot. Both seem restless. The cat noses beneath the loveseat, ambles through the kitchen, wanders through the sitting room.

He meows against Elsie's leg until she sets down her pen. "What is wrong?" She reaches down, lifting him onto her lap and petting him. "Do you miss Will and Johnny, even though Will tried to pull your tail off and Johnny was much too loud?" She carries Poirot outside.

Charles rummages in the shed. "Where-is-it-" he mutters under his breath, red faced.

"Can I help?" Elsie asks. Poirot jumps onto the ground to find a patch of sun.

"No," growls Charles, knocking over a shovel. He sets it back against the wall with some force. "I can't find the bloody rake."

"Why do you need it now?" Elsie scans the shed through the dim light. She doesn't see it. It is not like Charles to use vulgar language.

I think I know why.

"After Peter mowed the grass, he left a lot of grass clippings," Charles huffs out a frustrated sigh and stands up. "I wanted to rake them. The garden's getting neglected."

"He mowed last week. You might as well leave it now." Elsie touches his back. "Is this really about raking?"

His shoulders slump at her touch. "No. I just…needed something to do."

"Let's go for a walk. That is something to do." She says, steering him out of the shed.

His hand finds hers. "I thought you were catching up on your letters."

"I was. But someone else in this house misses our visitors, and he kept distracting me." She squeezes his hand.

Poirot lays in the sun. Elsie notices that he's in almost the exact same spot where he used to be when Johnny's basket was nearby.

Neither Charles nor Elsie bother to fetch their hats or coats. Instead they go through the gate and down the lane as they are; her wearing an old dress, and him in shirtsleeves and braces.

Spring flowers around them. Roses are beginning to bud along a neighbor's fence, and a bee buzzes across their path. Despite the cool breeze, the sun is warm in between passing clouds.

Charles tries to muster up some sort of propriety, conscious of his rolled up shirtsleeves. After all, what if they should meet a member of the family?

Unlikely.

It would be embarrassing! To them, and to us.

Would it, though?

He realizes after a few short moments that he doesn't care.

"Did you ever think we would be doing this?" He asks.

"Doing what? Taking a walk?" Elsie tilts her face back, gazing up into the sky. "We walk almost every day, when the weather's fine."

"Of course. But that's not what I meant." He slows a little, to not outdo her shorter strides. "I mean leaving our home not properly dressed."

Elsie bursts out laughing. "Not properly dressed!" She slips her hand through Charles's arm. "You make it sound as though we're out here in our dressing gowns!"

He can be pompous. My dear man.

He rolls his eyes, half annoyed at her laughter and half loving her teasing him. "I am not talking about our attire. Not really."

"Ye old booby…what then?" She says.

Charles searches for words. "Do you remember when we looked at houses to rent? Before we were married? I asked you about your life in retirement. You gave a flippant remark…that was before you told me about Becky. What do you think now, that we're both retired?"

Elsie has not thought about that conversation for a while. Not since before their marriage.

A surprise proposal drove everything else from my mind.

"It's hard to say. I had no expectations before," she says, after a long pause. "I never thought I would retire. I never thought I would do anything, other than work."

It sounds sad, even to her.

"Did you ever think you would be taking walks in retirement? Without your hat or coat on, I mean," she deflects the question back to him. "Is that as exotic as you dared dream?"

"No. Then again, my dream seemed both as improbable as touching the sun in the sky, and as simple as drinking a cup of tea." He says.

"My, my. How intriguing. You must tell me what it was." She says, smiling.

Stopping, he puts his other hand over her hand that's wound around his arm. "My only dream was that you would marry me. I hardly dared hope that you would accept me, and I had no wish to fulfill, other than that one."

Sometimes when he wakes at night, he turns on the bedside lamp just to look at her sleeping form. To know that the dream became real.

Life now is better than anything he ever dreamed before.

Her eyes fill with tears. He astonishes her at times with what he says. She knows he means every word.

"Oh Charlie," she whispers, reaching up to cup his cheek. Her simple wedding band glints in the sun. "Did you really think I would refuse you?"

"I hadn't had good luck in love before. And you'd refused…that other chap years before." He cannot help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards Elsie's former suitor, even though at the time he had not fully appreciated the depths of his own feelings for Downton's then-housekeeper.

She smooths her thumb over his lower lip, his chin. "But you are not him. What I felt for him was nothing like I felt for you…that Christmas Eve when you asked me to marry you, I was astonished that what I felt for you was, indeed, reciprocated. Of course I said yes! The man asking the question made all the difference."

Her answer confirms once again how glad he is that his heart, his most secret self, is safe with her.

I always knew it, even before I knew I loved her.

For a man who projects such confidence and charisma, she knows that his appearance sometimes hides how fragile his heart is.

It is a privilege, and a gift, that he entrusts his heart to me.

His soft lips touch hers, and the familiar flutter, like butterfly's wings, stir in her belly.

"I love you, Elsie," he says, after several kisses.

"I love you too," she says, rather breathless. "And to answer your question from before, no, I did not think we would ever be doing this. Kissing and carrying on in broad daylight in the lane, where anyone could see." Her eyes sparkle.

"Is there anything else you would like to do in retirement? Anything that you haven't done already?" He asks.

"I have already done far more than I ever thought I would." She says. Her cheeks grow warm under his rather cheeky grin. "Oh, you know what I mean! We have our comfortable home, and our good friends. We've traveled a bit. For me, that's enough. If I think of anything, you will be the first to know."

He winds his arm around her waist as they walk back home, drinking in the sunshine. "You know I want to make any dreams of yours come true, if I can."

"Right now, I only have one dream." She puts her arm around him. "To spend time with you. For you to not worry anymore today about the garden, or me to think about my unfinished letter. Just for us to be together." She looks up at him from beneath her eyelashes, and he forgets to breathe for a moment. "Mind you set aside all my hairpins this time, Mr. Carson."

He raises his eyebrows. "I was not aware that your lost hairpins were all my doing, Mrs. Carson…and I would be glad to be with you any day," he rumbles.

Intermittent sunlight flickers through the window, onto the floor and onto the bed. Her fingers glide through his mussed hair; his lips chase the moving shadows across her skin. Loving whispers and soft cries echo in their bedroom as they share their dream together.

After, they share tea in the garden. He lays with his head in her lap while she reads aloud. Her unbound hair falls over her shoulders, hiding the wrinkles in her dress.

Her hairpins are safely counted and left upstairs on her table.

A/N: This is a belated birthday treat for ChelsieSouloftheAbbey. Happy Birthday to you, dear friend, and I hope you have a fantastic new year! Chelsie on!

*I started writing this fic long before the movie came out. Since I didn't then know what Baby Bates's name was, I called him Will. That's why his younger brother's name here is Johnny. Not quite canon, but close enough. :)