A/N: This is a short one, but I am officially on fic writing hiatus as of tomorrow until December 3 so I wanted to leave you with a little something. There's plenty more to come.

When the next weekend rolls around, the house dolls up and steps out while Betty and Gladys hunker down in Betty's room. Gladys sits on the bed with a newspaper open and scissors in hand; Betty lies with her head on Gladys's thigh, another newspaper open and a thick black marker. They circle and snip advertisements for second-hand furniture, a record playing low and a happy daze of weekend calm heavy over them.

The fog breaks sharply, with a rap on the doorframe. The door hangs open, Betty and Gladys relaxed in the absence of housemates; Kate does not so much fill the doorway as cling to one side like a wrinkled handkerchief.

Both Gladys and Betty jump, Betty springing upright and tucking her legs under her. They look to each other, wide-eyed, then back to Kate. She steps gingerly forward, looking for hostility in their faces; but they are only curious, concerned.

"May I come in?" Kate says softly.

Gladys leaps up and gestures for Kate to take her seat, walking to the chair and moving it forward with the ease of domesticity. "Please, Kate," she says, and Betty straightens, plants her feet on the floor and moves aside, turning to face Kate and putting space between them at the same time.

Kate seats herself, spine straight, and stares into nothing. Gladys and Betty share another look, then Gladys leans forward, resting her forearms on her thighs.

"What's wrong, Katie? You aren't here on a social call." Unspoken, filling the room, is You haven't been here on a social call in quite some months. In fact, you don't eat lunch with us anymore. You barely smile in passing. What is wrong? Please tell us.

"It's Ivan," she says lightly, a tone she has mastered while the blank expression on her face speaks to them of distance, denial. "He's taken my keys and locked the front door. You know how men are. Moody," and she smiles, a smile so frozen Gladys and Betty are both taken aback, horrified.

There's a pregnant pause, no one knowing what to say, and then Gladys says gently, "I think I'd better make some tea. Will you stay here for a moment, Katie?" When Kate nods, Gladys gives Betty a significant look and they both stand up, closing the room door softly behind them. In the kitchen, Gladys fills the kettle and Betty leans against the counter.

"We'll have to let her sleep here," Betty says.

"Yes," Gladys replies, turning on the stove and placing the kettle. Betty waits, expecting her to say more, but Gladys doesn't look away from the kettle. She's thinking, so Betty waits some more, watching her mildly. Finally, she says, "I think we'd better purchase two bed frames tomorrow."

"What? Gladys—" Mind churning, Betty's expression turns quickly from confusion to terror. "You can't mean—"

Gladys turns slowly, her expression perturbed. She is still thinking, but her eyes meet Betty's when she says, "We need to be prepared."

"But she can stay here—" Betty begins desperately.

"You know she can't," Gladys says, level and low.

Betty huffs out a breath, torment in her eyes, and Gladys steps forward to take her hands, looking deep into her eyes. "What else can we do? Betty?" She shakes her head and Gladys steps forward again, her hand going to the back of Betty's neck and her other arm wrapping tight around her back. Betty clutches at Gladys's sides and Gladys says, "I know, sweetheart. I know."

They stay together until a sound makes them both look up, and there is Kate again; now with a stricken look on her face.

"I'm sorry—I shouldn't have—" and she turns to leave, but Betty takes a quick, long stride and snags her elbow.

When Kate turns back, Betty puts her hands in her pockets, looks at the floor, shrugs sheepishly. "I made you a promise once," she says hesitantly. "We can help you, Kate. We have to help you."

Gladys comes forward then, slipping her hand through Betty's arm. "If you'll take it, that is," Gladys adds; her voice is gentle, but her message is clear.

Kate's eyes shift back and forth for a moment, and they're sharp and focused for the first time. A small smile struggles onto her face, wobbling, and she says, "You'll take me back?"

Betty reaches out her free hand, drawing Kate closer and saying, "We never left you, Kate. We were always right here."

Her smile is pained and she bobs her head, then slowly and cautiously moves forward to embrace them both. And for a moment, they cling together there, the three friends, and it seems like everything might be okay after all.