A/N: Hey everyone. 2012 has been interesting to say the least. I've discovered things about the career I want, found a new hobby, and have improved on many things in various ways. I have met some beautiful people, who I wouldn't otherwise have met had I not made a particular choice, (heehee) and I have also solidified many of my old friendships from years past. Each of you are all special to me, have enabled to become stronger in so many ways, and I thank you all for your continuing support; it is something I really, truly appreciate. ^_^ May your stars shine brightly in your chosen universe, may you find love and hope when you are in the darkness, and may there always be someone to sing you praises for you just being yourself. I wish you all a wonderful beginning to 2013. May it be the best year yet.

It appears that the old muse wanted to end the year on a happy note, and I really love how this has worked out. An almost-companion to Red Holly and Hot Cocoa, this fic is a recognition of love, of commitment, of hope, but most of all, it is for all of you. Thank-you. Xx

Disclaimer: If not for Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, I would not be able to play in this wonderful universe, so no, I do not own the Thunderbirds.

I am wrapped in the soft blankets of sleep, when I hear the baby cry. I let out a slight moan, half tiredness, half resignation-tempered love, because however much I want to sleep, my little boy needs me more.

Before I can move however, the figure beside me has pushed the blankets away from his body and tucked them back down in an effort to not rouse me. It is too late though, for I am already fully awakened.

I hear him stumble down the hallway to where the other bedroom is, and the wails and crying cease instantly.

I know I cannot fall asleep, just in case my two-month-old needs a feed, so I slide from beneath the covers, and pulling on my night-robe, tiptoe down the hall.

The room where our sons sleep is barely big enough for the baby crib and the toddler-bed that Scott moved into when we realised that I was pregnant with Johnny. He's found it hard to settle lately since Johnny has to be checked regularly during the night from being so premature.

I can see Scott's sleepy blue eyes now, peeking out from beneath his dark fringe, and I settle slowly onto the bed beside him, and hold my arms out. The almost-three-year-old snuggles into my embrace immediately, and we both turn and watch as Jeff cradles Scott's little brother in his arms.

It was barely three years ago that we discovered that we were going to have our first boy; didn't even realise until two weeks before our wedding that I was expecting him, and then Johnny surprised the both of us again almost two years later when he announced, with violent nausea that he was on his way.

It is with the greatest thanks to Heaven that Johnny survived his birth at all.

Scott, not really awake, has nestled himself neatly onto my lap, curled up with his head on my knee; space-ship pyjama-clad body warm against mine. He yawns and falls back to sleep almost immediately. He is so precious. Both my baby boys are.

Jeff is still trying to calm Johnny, who is whimpering occasionally, but doesn't appear to need to be fed at all.

My husband catches my eye and moves quietly over to sit next to me on the side that is not occupied by dark-haired toddler. He shifts Johnny's tiny blanket-covered body into my arms, and by the light of the night-lamp, the little pale-blue eyes blink owlishly up at me. I smile and rub a finger across his smooth cheek, and I feel Jeff press his lips into my hair as we gaze down on our sons.

They are the most precious gift we could ever receive, and I know that the vow I made at our wedding still stands. It even stems back to when Jeff proposed to me on Christmas Eve in the gazebo, with hot chocolate and marshmallows and the engagement ring that now hangs on a chain around my neck. He gave me a beautiful pair of earrings to match for our wedding anniversary only a week ago.

There is suddenly a chiming sound from the little clock that sits on the counter in the kitchen down the other end of the apartment, and our eyes meet as we realise that it is midnight. The beginning of another year; where anything can happen.

"Happy New Year, Lucy."

"Happy New Year's, Jeff."

A/N: Happy New Year everyone.

- Pyre. Xx