A/N: Hello there friends; more notes at the end, but for now I would simply like to disclaim that, yes, I had finished writing this by Christmas… but life (and denial) got in the way of my typing it up!

Now that school is done (for the last time!) and I have an actual computer desk (WFH) – and this fic is over 4 years old! – I am back (for the last time!)

Chapter 21: Anything Can Happen (If You Let It)

"If you reach for the stars, all you get are the stars – but, we've found a whole new spin: if you reach for the Heavens, you get the stars thrown in…"

Snow fell heavily upon the London streets, turning grey as it mingled with the sediment of the pavement, the smog of the rooftops. A few lingering businessmen bustled about, having been too absorbed in the office to notice the blanket burying their city. Unseen were the anxious wives, standing by ovens to keep their husbands' dinners warm as they wondered how much longer he'd be.

Just outside the city, down a winding road which disappeared in the dark, sat a big old house, protecting a man and his wife. The pair in question could be found curled up on a sofa, fresh mugs of cocoas warming their hands, and a plate of fresh gingerbread before them.

The former Mary Poppins let her eyelid grow heavy and she listened to the soft timbre of her husband's voice hum a holiday tune. When he paused his song, she kissed him lightly, sweetly.

"You are not working tonight are you?" she asked, breaking the silence with a defeated sigh in anticipation of an answer in the affirmative.

"Love, it's Christmas Eve," he laughed as he pulled her closer, "why? Are you worried?" He added as an afterthought, processing the concerned tone in her voice.

"Oh, no it's nothing," with a wave of her hand, "I was only curious if I had you all to myself tonight," she explained. But Bert was not quite convinced.

He took her hands and kissed them. "You're not usually this worrisome. Are you certain everythin' is all right?"

"Was it something to do with your outing with Joy today?" His latter enquiry was delayed a beat as he recalled how elusive his wife had been about her specific plans for the afternoon.

At first, he had assumed it was simply something about a Christmas surprise, but now he wasn't quite sure.

"Why don't we give each other our gifts a bit early – since we have a whole lot of people breakfasting here tomorrow morning?" He suggested, hoping something good would take her mind off whatever was troubling her.

He was right. Although she was taken aback by his suggestion, there was a playful manner about her now. The knit in her brow softened and she grinned back at him.

"You impatient child," she chided, "though I suppose you make a good point about tomorrow. They probably will be staying all day and through the night." He knew she was feigning her deliberation, but still egged her on, glad his distraction was working.

"You go first," he suggested, playing with her hair.

Mary took a moment to look at the fire burning before them, the blackened wall beneath her family portrait still teasing her. The high ceilings and white walls made the room feel open and inviting, in spite of the black trim; her gaze continued to travel further, her mind building to a whirl as she built upon her husband's anticipation.

"Well," she drew out with a playful tone, hoping it masked the tentativity of her uncertainty – this wasn't exactly something one planned to say. "I actually have two presents to offer you tonight."

She smiled lightly at his quizzical expression before continuing her speech.

"Something interesting did come about during my outing with Joy earlier," she replied, taking pleasure in the eagerness in his dark brown eyes. She knew he was silently begging her to forgo her cryptic ways for the sake of soothing his mind. But he knew the woman he married, and had long ago accepted that such appeasement would never come.

"You know I love you very much," she opted to tease, taking his face in her hands and squishing it like a mother toying with her child, "but you are positively adorable when you are impatient," concluding her remarking with a quick kiss between his eyes.

Laughing, he pulled her close and kissed her fully, allowing himself to be submersed in the moment and the sound of her own laugh which had quickly followed his infectious amusement.

"My love, I am with child."

Her husband's foolishness ended abruptly as he slowly absorbed her announcement. Her words hung in the air as he sat back silently. His own eyes reverted to taking comfort in the beams above, as though a cypher for his emotions lay amongst them.

"Say something," she pleaded after a minute or so of said silence.

Slowly, he brought his eyes back down to meet hers, reaching a hesitant hand out to caress her midsection. Any other gift of the evening had long since been forgotten.

She put her own hand over his with a reassuring pat before venturing to enquire, "are you happy?"

At this, he scoffed. It was not a condescending scoff – Herbert Alfred was never condescending – but particularly not toward his wife. Instead, it conveyed the sheer incredulity of Mary's doubt on the subject.

"Happy?" he asked. It was his turn to squish her face in his hands. "I'm bloody ecstatic! It's– it's–" he gave her a smirk. She seemed to know what he was thinking, her own sparkling eyes daring him to say it.

"It's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

"And you are a child," she retorted, tapping his nose with her forefinger. She'd deny that such was her own internal reaction when the doctor had confirmed her suspicions.

"Then I declare I'll get along just swimmin'ly with our future child!" He shot back, jumping from the sofa and doing a sort of dance that fair sent Mary into a fit.

He pulled her up, coaxing her into joining his jig. He spun her around whilst asking question after question.

"So, you 'ad the doc call on your sister's house today, did ya? How long've you speculated for?"

Still laughing, "only a day or so," she replied. "I was so very ill yesterday – thankfully you weren't home to dote and fret over it – and I called Joy for advice."

"Of course miss Mum-of-five would pick up the symptins right aways!" As he said this, Mary led him back to the sofa, trying to settle his excitement, for she felt positively winded after all that twirling about.

"Oh, this is so splendid," he continued, a smile beaming off his face from ear to ear, "would you wish to make an announcement tomorrow, or do I 'afta keep me mouth shut."

"It's still early," she pondered, "I'm not sure I want everyone to know. I mean," she paused to take a breath, trying to find the best way to phrase her next sentiment, "anything can happen – what if something bad happens?"

"And what if somethin' good happens, Mar!" Bert exclaimed, cupping her face in his hands, "best case scenario we'll 'ave a baby. We needn't think of the worst-case until we need to, understand love?"

He was so gentle and reassuring as he spoke to her. Mary could tell that it wasn't just blind optimism: she trusted that he understood the worst, but knew that he had to balance her subconscious pessimism. She didn't want to be weighed down by fear – she wanted to be able to enjoy this moment – and Bert allowed her to, reminding her that there is a good side to everything, even if the bad side is scary or unknown.

Bert seemed to intuit this and pressed on. "You needn't live your life in fear so long as we've each other. Everyone coming over is practically family – they'll all be excited by the news."

Mary nodded along in affirmation, allowing her spirits to raise.

"And," he continued reassuringly, "even if something does go wrong, there'll be that many more people who can support you and help you through it. You'll never enjoy today if you spend all your time worrying about tomorrow," he concluded, kissing her upturned nose.

She softly murmured her thanks as he did so. "How did I get so lucky as to be able to call such a kind and wonderful man my husband?" His reply came in the form of another lingering embrace.

She brushed his hair off his face, "and I hope he's going to stay home a bit more often once his child is born." Her sapphire eyes shone under the crystal chandelier as though to provide a reminder in the form of emphasis that, thanks to Mary's father, the couple were by no means struggling with money, as Bert had grown up to be accustomed to.

"I don't wanna set a poor example for the little one, now do I? A man's gotta work to provide for 'is family," he replied, and she resigned herself to defeat: he was right – he would have to set an example.

She certainly did not want her children growing up spoilt; "I suppose they will need to know they need work for things," she retorted as a last effort, "unlike Angel who simply sponges off whatever man she can. I swear, love and peerage are synonymous for that girl."

Bert couldn't help laughing again, knowing whom her sister was spending more time than would be perceived as proprietous with – more so than Mary was cognisant of. Lifting her chin with two fingers he conceded, "I suppose I can take a day or two off to spend with my family every so often."

…

It was a rather interesting which the Alfreds were preparing for on the following day. They had hosted Christmas the year previous, and were thus determined now to establish such a festivity as a new tradition. There was more than enough room at the Lily-of-the-Valley estate to accommodate their dear friends and close family, as well as some additional staff; and the couple were eager to exploit the use of said space. Not including the youngest children (who would be taken in by a few of the maids to a make-shift nursery where the girls would entertain them for the day) fourteen people were expected to dine, and the servants were twittering with excitement the week prior in preparation for such an affair.

Mary and Bert had not made a habit of hosting large gatherings, preferring the comfort of their most intimate acquaintances, but the holiday spirit brought forth an extra layer of excitement to those preparing for what some may call a "small gathering" or a "large affair" – contingent upon their former place of employment. And with just cause as the holidays provide, Mary did not feel it was "flaunting one's wealth" to splurge a bit, as having such a festivity at any random time, as Bert had once suggested, would be perceived.

The Banks and Bernards (and Reginald, of course!) were the anticipated guests, but this year brought about the inclusion of two new familiar faces. It was George Banks himself who had requested permission to extend an invitation to a man whom he'd come to call a friend when he learned that the latter's holiday plans had been to spend the day alone with his daughter, as he had done since his wife passed away.

A certain teenaged son of the banker had failed to conceal his joy at such an invitation.

But little did one Michael Banks know that his excitement would most probably take a backseat to the news his former nanny planned to share later that day.

They'd previously arranged a secret gift exchange, so each guest would not feel obligated to provide for all the others, but this didn't stop extra gifts being showered upon the hosts in gratitude, nor did it stop the hosts from returning the favour.

Admittedly, Bert fixed the exchange a bit to ensure Reginald was tasked with buying a present for his more licentious sister-in-law. He wasn't positive as to why his brother requested such, and quite frankly, was a bit afraid of asking after the unceasing unexplained pleads from his baby brother.

Chips are still down as to who was more surprised by Reginald's offering during the gift exchange: Mary or Joy, who hadn't even known of their courtship (perhaps she does care about more than just money?); Bert or Angel when he pulled out a ring and proposed; or Bernadette or Reginald himself when she actually said yes. Regardless, Angel's eyes were transfixed upon her new ring as the group made their way into the dining room for supper. The chatter amongst them upon taking their seats mostly centred around this exciting change, but as dinner was layed and champagne was poured, the hosts exchanged a knowing look.

Bert stood up and cleared his throat to garner the attention of his friends and family, whilst Mary stood demurely beside him, masking her worry in the strong grasp she had on her husband's hand.

"Firstly, I would very much like to thank you all for coming here tonight, and for being such wonderful friends to Mary and I, regardless of how long we've been in each others' lives."

All glasses raised at the commencement of his declaration.

"The holidays are a time for family, and–"

"– and with that," Mary joined in not wanting things to be dragged out, yet looking up at Bert for support.

"I have to apologize for taking the spotlight away from my baby sister," she laughed, tilting her glass to the redhead who'd intentionally put her flute in her left hand so as to continue admiring her diamond as she toasted her sister and brother-in-law. She'd flushed at the stares earned from Mary's comment, and anxiously nodded for her to proceed.

So as to not offend some of the more traditional guests, Bert opted for subtlety in concluding the announcement. He simply removed his hand from his wife's grip and placed it upon her midsection, announcing, "our own little family is going to be a bit bigger before this time next year."

Excitement immediately fluttered amongst the diners, spilling over – not long after – into the drawing room, as the party retired for tea and music. Such refreshments provided them with more energy to keep the talks, of both a wedding and a baby in the future, lively and ongoing.

It was Jane who had assumed position at the piano upon entry, but when Clara offered to practice a four-hand piece, the former used such an invitation to remove herself from the instrument to join the circle forming around Mary. With a sigh, she dutifully played a sombre waltz, which successfully gained the attention of Michael; the youngest of the guests fair rushed to her side to provide her with company as she entertained the rest of the room.

Shortly thereafter, they fell into casual conversation, the music all but forgotten by her, as well as the others.

"What is all this bubble about anyway?" Michael lamented, leaning on the lid as he closed it "gently, or it will slam!" as Clara had chastised, "It's just another baby."

"It's their first child!" she exclaimed in return, "it's such wonderful news. And we'll have another little one to play with!"

The boy scoffed at her excitement. "I forget, you never had siblings."

She responded with a gentle rap upon his arm, "oh you fuddy duddy – you who thinks nothing of children but as nuisances. Well my personal feminine desires – as you'd be most likely to refer to them – are irrelevant, for I know Miss Mary does want them which is why I am excited for her. But you're far too selfish to grasp such a concept I suppose."

"Oh well if you want a child so badly I suppose that makes sense then." Michael flushed a bit as he heard the uncertainty in his tone as he stumbled out his rebuttal.

"That was the part that stood out to you in what I said?" his friend teased, raising her eyebrow at him.

"In that case, perhaps you could escort me over to the others," she continued coyly, boldly (but lightly) brushing her lips to his cheek as she held up an expectant arm. Michael hesitated before taking her, letting the flush he could feel consuming him die down so as to avoid questions from the group, namely his elder sister – or worse still, Clara's father.

Jane was practically in Mary's lap as she (along with Bernadette and Angel, the latter of whom was subconsciously twisting her engagement ring) offered possible names; whilst Winifred and Joy giddily offered advice on everything from taking care of herself now, enforcing the reminder that she'll hardly get any sleep once he or she is born, to offering help on caring for five separate children at once, as though Mary hadn't been a nanny for the last twelve years.

"It is all so much different when they're your children – you cannot just leave when things get difficult." Joy had reprimanded.

Bert came to her rescue as he drew her attention to the slew of names being rattled off by the others. After all, had she not done just that to the Banks family not seven years ago?

"If it's a boy, I think you should name him after me," Michael Banks announced, puffing himself up.

"Would he get stuck on a planet inhabited only by cats as well?" Jane laughed before adding, "besides, a boy would be named Herbert, isn't that right, Papa?" Nudging Bert as she said so.

Mary smiled, her face revealing that she had been considering the very same option. She turned to her husband, but he anticipated her.

"Don't wanna give the lad too much to live up to," he said smugly. "But Quinton might be nice, after me own Pa!"

"Or," Reginald butted in, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, "you could name him after his favorite uncle."

Mary took Angel's hand and in a conspiratorial tone remarked, "I'll leave that name for you to use," which earned a high-pitched squeal that could have conveyed surprise, anxiety, or excitement – or perhaps all three.

Overhearing this, Joy replied, "so long as she's a better mother than she was nanny."

The redhead's mouth fell agape in offense. "For your information I rather enjoyed being a nanny," was her defense.

"Oh we know," Bernadette joined in, "you just enjoyed the company of men more."

"What of James?" A small yet deep tone offered, silencing the chatter of the crowd – and relieving Angel of an awkward encounter. It was none other than the master of Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane who had spoken it.

"If you have a boy, you should name him after your father, my dear," he elaborated, "we all know you were so fond of him."

"I think that is a positively wonderful idea," Joy seconded, patting her sister's hand.

Mary seemed frozen, her eyes vacant as she played with the idea in her head.

"I miss father everyday," she suddenly said in a meek voice, "I'm not sure I could handle that."

Bert kissed the crown of her head, placing an arm around her, should her shoulders start to tremble, "well we'd have each other, and–"

"–and I'm sure he would be very happy for it," Joy concluded for him.

The conversation flowed easily again after that; and thus it was decided: for a boy, James – and for a girl, Catherine – and the couple continued conversing with their garrulous guests late into the evening. As the distance between the sun and the horizon decreased, as did the distance between Michael and Clara (until her father finally took notice of such as the clock struck eleven times.)

"This was very lovely, my dear." He nodded politely to Mary and shook Bert's hand as a servant led him to his rooms. He beckoned his daughter follow closely and (loosely) grabbed her wrist to pull her away from the object of her attention when she ignored his call.

This first resolution seemed to rub off on the rest of the guests, and more servants were called to escort the remainder of the party to their rooms for the evening.

As everyone slowly retired, Mary and Bert made their way to their own chambers. Although the day had been full of joy and festivity, both were quite relieved to finally have a moment alone.

With the guests finally settled and the servants tidying up, the hosts were able to sit back and simply enjoy the company of each other as they prepared for bed.

They sat in silence for a bit, cuddled together beneath the bed sheets, protecting themselves from the winter chill forming crystals on their windows. Allowing themselves to be enveloped by this moment of calm, Mary let her eyelids fall heavy whilst her husband brushed his fingers through her hair.

"That feels positively delicious," she murmured, consciously taking deeper breaths to soothe herself to sleep.

"For most of my life," she recommenced abruptly. She took the hand which rested on her hip and studied it, running her delicate fingers across the callouses, "things have always been so hard, but you make that all go away – you've always done so, and I know you always will."

Bert's mind had been wrapped up in thoughts of what fatherhood would be, but was presently pulled from such fancies so he could look his wife in the eyes, reassuring that he was holding fast to every word of her latest confession. Every so often he would squeeze her hand as a gentle reminder that he was still fully attentive.

"You've helped me to find a purpose in my life when I thought there wasn't one. You allow me to be myself – the good and the bad – when I'm with you, without judgement or scrutiny. You're so genuine and courteous, and helpful; and I love you so so much," taking a moment to twist around and kiss him passionately, "and I cannot wait to see you shine your brightness onto our children's lives the way you've done to mine."

In conclusion she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could.

"I appreciate the sentiments, my love," he replied after a pause, "but you're th'incredible one, Mar. I may've been there for you though some of the hard times, but I was just bein' a plain gentleman as I'd been taught to be. It is your own strength that truly got you through it – and that is how I know you will make a truly wonderful mother. As you mentioned before: no matter how many charges you've taken on, it's completely different to have your own."

He kissed her forehead, broadening the smile that was already lighting up his visage.

"So long as we're together," Mary assured him, "so long as you are at my side, my world is bright and my life is worth living. That's a promise."

She threw herself into his arms once more, allowing his strong embrace to keep her safe and comforted all through the night. Before finally falling asleep, she admitted

"We may not know what the future holds, but I'm not afraid of it so long as you're with me."

*** FIN ***

Wow! So this fic has taken me through all four years of college and all the tribulations that came with it. Even though I'm not super active in the Poppins fandom anymore (really, any fandom), I am so so grateful for everyone who has taken the time to read this little story of mine – be it from the start, or just finding it recently! – because this story has helped me through some tough times, as well as helped me learn new things about myself. It is also the first chapter fic that my mercurial brain has been able to complete, albeit it taking so long.

I could probably go on and on in thanks for everyone who supported me on this journey, whether you stuck with it or not. If you've made it this far, I've taken enough of your time already – and I thank you so much for spending that time with me.

I wholly believe my struggle in getting this little Epilogue up was my denial that this story could truly be over because of how much it has come to be a part of me. So one last, tidy "thanks for the read" before my final send off!

xx Jillian