I would like to thank each and everyone of you who have reviewed this story, from the bottom of my heart.

The idea for this story had been floating around my head for a couple of months now, and last week I decided to start typing it out, not realising that it was basically going to write itself and be finished in just over a week! Had I have known, then this would have been up a lot earlier.

The response to this, and to my other Persuasion fics, has been outstanding and I'd like to thank you all again for the support for those. You guys keep me writing.

And, as you may have guessed, this is the end of this one. What's next I wonder?

The bed was shaking and for a brief moment he believed he was back aboard the ship and that seeing Anne, of holding her in his arms, had been a torturous dream. As he slowly woke from a sleep brought on by complete and utter exhaustion, of having had next to no sleep over the past few nights in desperation of getting back here, of getting back to her.

It wasn't the bed that was shaking though, but Anne.

Encased the protective circle of his arms, her tears had returned with force and her body shook with the effort she was exerting to keep quite as to not wake anyone in the small house by the sea.

He spoke quietly to her, smoothing back her hair from her face and trying to get her to look at him. She kept her head buried in his chest though unwilling for a long time to look at him, fearing that it would break the spell she believed she was under.

"I thought it was a dream," she confessed finally, pressing herself closer to him. "I thought I would wake and you would still be dead, lost somewhere beneath the waves in the southern Atlantic.

"I'm here," he promised her.

There had been long nights when he just couldn't sleep and his mind had often journeyed back to her. Sometimes his imagination had been so vivid that he had gone to sleep thinking things where alright and that she was sleeping soundly in his arms, only to wake in the morning and find it was all just a dream.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," she whispered into his shoulder as her tears subsided and she relaxed against him.

"Funny," he mumbled, sleep closing on him once again. His eyelids fluttered shut and he snuggled further under the covers, Anne clasped firmly to his side. "I was going to tell you the same thing."

When he woke a time later and found himself alone, he thought his mind was once again playing tricks on him. There where telltale signs that she had been there; her dress on the chair in the corner of the room, her scent on the pillow, the way his jacket had been neatly hung up neatly when he had merely tossed it to the ground earlier on that night.

It was still dark outside and he wondered what she could be doing up at this time of night.

He extracted himself carefully and quietly from the bed, suppressing a groan when his muscles protested at more movement, and made his way from the room and down the stairs.

He found her sitting by a chair in the living area, a small fire going in the fireplace, nursing an infant with a bottle.

The sight made his heart ache, for he had often seen her in his mind with children and it had so very nearly not come to pass. Once things where more settled, he hoped they could start a family of their own. Perhaps not one to rival the size of the Harville's, which he thought must have grown whilst he had been away if this child was any indication, but certainly one large enough to love and cherish for many years to come.

He was not sure how he stood at the foot of the steps just watching. After some time Anne became aware of the other presence in the room and turned. Compared to how she had been hours earlier, the calm and serene picture she presented at that moment, was calming to him as well and he felt another layer of tension, apprehension and worry just roll of him and a new wave of sleep hit him.

"Would you like to hold your son?" she asked quietly, aware of the sleeping infant in her arms.

All thoughts of sleep vanished in an instant. A son.

He was a father.

She held the baby out to him and he gathered the sleeping child gently in his arms, carefully not to jostle him and wake him, he held him close to his chest and sat on the chair next to the fire, and spent a long time just staring at him, memorising every dimple, each finger and toe (ten of each) and the feel of his skin beneath his trailing fingers.

Anne watched in amazement and joy at the meeting of father and son. It was exactly how she had pictured it, long ago when she had still thought he was coming home, to when she believed him to be still alive.

He looked up at her then, the love and pride shining out from his eyes making her own well up again. The tears raining down her cheeks matched by those on his. He stood then, taking the short distance across the hearth to join her on the settee. Freeing an arm, he wrapped it about her shoulders and pulled her to him. She sank into his side and he bestowed a kiss on her temple, whispering his love and devotion.

That was how the Harville's found them hours later. Both cuddled up on the couch.

Handing his son over to Anne, Frederick stood and embraced the man that he considered as another brother.

And when they parted neither man commented on the wetness of the others eyes, they where meant to be men after all. Margaret Harville refused to keep her emotions in check and happily sobbed into his shoulder for a good minute before pulling away and smacking him soundly in the chest, having a go at him for worrying them when he had been alright all along.

They sat down together for breakfast, and Frederick recounted his tale. They all listened intently and then filled him in on the events he had missed while he had been gone. They talked for many hours, reacquainting themselves with one another.

Letters where dispatched to everyone they thought should be notified. And to others as an after thought.

"You're happy to stay here," Margaret said later on that evening, "Just till you get your bearings."

He looked at Anne then to find her gazing right back at him.

"A few days," he agreed, speaking to Margaret but continuing to look at Anne. "Then, we're going home."

Anne nodded. "Home."

"Home."