A/N: This is it, folks.

XXX

Two Months Later

"It's going to snow!" Sam shouted, perched directly in front of the living room window, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet like a rabbit.

The New Mexico night was deceptively clear out Mary's front window, a still blanket of navy hovering above but for a few grey clouds scuttling across the bright moon and Sam seemed to think this was an invitation for a white Christmas. A tall, handsome pine stood in the corner of the room, packages crammed in haphazardly, an assortment of odd ornaments hanging from its branches. Ranchers on horses, pirates brandishing swords, and ceramic police badges swayed in the midst of the more traditional spherical balls of red and green, white lights twinkling among it all.

"It's going to snow!" Sam repeated, still looking skyward.

"It is not…" Jesse sauntered in from the kitchen as he responded to Sam's confidence, balancing a plate of sugar cookies.

He was in a pair of Sam's old pajamas – green, printed with a pattern of golden lions – but they were still a little big for him and he kept tripping on the hems, nearly scattering the cookies all over the rug.

"How do you know?" Sam turned briefly from his post, pulling back the curtains.

He was wearing PJ pants of lightest blue, printed in cowboys. The shirt, however, didn't match. It was so long it resembled a dress, covering the pants completely. A Marshal logo spanned the chest, once a splendorous navy, the five-point star was faded against what used to be white. The dingy tint of the T-shirt still held the faint residue of dust from a kickball diamond; deep within it scented wheat and Kansas July.

"You're not a weatherman," Sam continued, arguing with his cousin.

"It never snows in Albu-quirky," Jesse informed him, putting the cookies on the end table.

"Albuquerque," Brandi hissed from behind, patting his butt as she made her way back from the bedroom and into the kitchen where Peter was snacking on pretzels dipped in chocolate.

"There's no such thing as 'never!'" Sam called.

It was his new favorite phrase.

"Don't eat all that," Brandi smacked her husband's arm, who grinned impishly, mouth full of pretzels. "Mary will murder you."

"Maybe she'll take the day off for Christmas," Peter wondered, but Brandi shook her head. "Won't they be out soon?"

"I don't know what they're doing…" Brandi waved an exasperated hand. "I swear they have their own language; I can't understand half of what they're saying."

Back in the bedroom, Mary was arguing with Marshall and refusing to leave the quarters until he gave it up.

"You can look however ridiculous you want," she stuck her hands on her hips. "You are not going to drag me down with you."

Her husband had donned his own pair of matching PJ's for Christmas Eve – fire-engine red with holly wreaths and bows detailing the holiday spirit spread all over the fabric. They were atrocious. But what was more atrocious was that he expected Mary to wear a set sans collar but with green and white stripes, complete with red cuffs.

"Sam will get such a kick out of it!" Marshall bargained.

"No!" she was very firm. "I'm wearing my drawstring pants and this sweatshirt," without waiting for him to respond, she picked up said garment off the bed and pulled it over her head.

It was an old one, faded grey with the Marshal logo printed in the corner. Now that Sam was well-schooled in official titles, she didn't bother hiding it any longer.

She thought Marshall's pout had to do with her inability to have fun, but it was his eyes that convinced her it was something else.

"What?" she said sharply, one hand still on her hip.

He shrugged as he reached out and fingered the circle on the edge of the sweatshirt, even tracing the five-point star.

"Nothing."

"It isn't nothing," Mary was prepared to be swift and quick, but she wanted to know. "What?"

He couldn't seem to stop touching the emblem, couldn't seem to draw his eyes away. Mary understood, though she'd pretended not to. Now she saw he was going to need some help.

"I know you miss it," she whispered.

"We shouldn't be having this conversation on Christmas…" he shook his head.

"Christmas is tomorrow," Mary was being smart.

"Whatever," Marshall continued shaking his head, clearly irritated with himself. "It isn't the time. This isn't about me…"

He turned sharply to head for the door and immediately winced and put a hand to his side. It had been two months, but old wounds still acted up. A wrong twist, an awkward shift and it was knives in his abdomen. Mary stole over next to him and her hand went beside his, their fingers intertwined against his stomach. His eyes were still shut even after she got there; clearly still feeling the throb that persisted.

"Marshall you have to take it slow…" she reminded him, trying to do it gently. "They rearranged your insides for God's sake; you can't expect to…"

"I know…" he breathed as he opened his eyes, blinking once or twice to get some clarity. "It hits me at the oddest times…"

"I know," she was sympathetic as she repeated him and took her hand off his stomach to caress his back lightly.

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't go back to work after all," he attempted to make it sound like he really meant it, but Mary wasn't fooled.

"I know you miss it," Mary reiterated, exactly what she'd said less than five minutes ago.

"I do…" he admitted. "I know we're gonna try the whole nailed to the desk thing in a few months…" he shrugged. "And in the meantime, Stan's doing a pretty decent job being your partner," he actually smirked.

"Yeah, old man just didn't have it in him to pool all those department funds into hiring another employee…"

Mary knew that wasn't why he'd neglected to bring another Marshal into WITSEC, but she was trying to make Marshall feel better, to make him feel like his position was still open if he wanted it. Partner or not, Mary herself had even taken a backseat in the field as of late. It bothered her too much to be out in the action while Marshall was stuck at home. At the same time, he'd made his choice all on his own. He had claimed he wanted to stay home with Sam while he recovered and maybe even after.

Mary had even been more open to the research side of WITSEC after Marshall came back – history, how to improve it and aide the program in working - which would keep them both out of combat. Stan would have to hire a new set then, but at least they'd be partners again. Bookish, scholarly, nerdy partners not taking such a risk – but partners nonetheless.

"Let's go see what the boys are up to," Mary suggested, clapping his shoulder. "Make sure they're not ripping into the gifts…"

Marshall laughed – a real laugh this time – and followed his wife back into the living room, taking her hand as he did so. Sam was practically doing a jig in front of the window when they entered, Jesse skillfully arranging the cookies on the end table.

"Snow!" Sam chanted. "Snow-snow-snow!"

"You know, some believe that the states of the southwest don't garner any snowfall whatsoever…" Marshall decided to share once they were out of the hallway. "Not true, however…"

He didn't get to finish his thought, because Sam and Jesse whirled around and saw his pajamas. Both of them cracked up, their laugher ringing in the space – tinier due to the room the tree took up. Sam was in stitches and Brandi had choked on one of the cookies she'd stolen at the sight.

"Dad…!" Sam exclaimed as he bolted over, nearly slipping in his socks. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I am merely showing my holiday spirit," he boasted and stuck out his chest in pride.

"You look silly!" Jesse squealed, joining Sam in front of his aunt and uncle.

"Thank-you Jess," Marshall bowed and inclined his head. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"That is quite the sleepwear…" Peter remarked as he and Brandi commenced with the others, Brandi still crunching loudly on cookies and pretzels. "Did you get Mary a pair?"

"I did, as a matter of fact!" Marshall turned to make eyes at his wife, who tried not to look amused. "Only someone isn't feeling very Christmassy…"

"Maybe I just don't feel like humiliating myself," Mary quipped, but she put her arm around him anyway to show she wasn't completely against the idea.

"Mom-mom!" Sam interrupted, still springing up and down like a kangaroo. "Do you think it's going to snow? Jesse doesn't, but I do…"

"I don't know…" Mary glanced to Marshall to see what he thought. "Gonna have to ask the meteorologist over here."

"Meteorologist?" Jesse inquired as the six of them made their way fully into the living room.

Mary and Marshall occupied one end of the couch, Brandi and Peter on the other. It was a tight fit, but Mary passed Marshall a throw pillow out of habit, which he held against his stomach in case he got jarred unexpectedly. It was routine these days.

Sam and Jesse slid onto the floor and scooted over to the tree. Sam started shaking boxes and would kneel up every so often to check the window while Jesse listened to Marshall explain meteorology.

"It's someone who predicts the weather…" he began.

"How do they do that?" Jesse asked.

"They go to school and learn how. It has to do with the sort of stuff they know is in the atmosphere; they figure out based on what's up there what the weather's going to be like down here," he continued, but another word had obviously thrown his nephew.

"What's the atmosphere?"

Marshall laughed this time, and Mary knew he was figuring out if Jesse was really interested or was simply asking to impress Sam. Some things never changed, and Mary guessed it might be the latter on this front – to see whose prediction was going to be correct.

"Mom, you must not have gotten me a horse…" Sam observed, head muffled, for it was buried in the lower branches of the tree.

Mary often wondered if she was the only mother in the world with a little boy, rather than a little girl, that asked Santa for a pony every year.

"Not this year, sheriff," Marshall conceded.

Sam wasn't deterred. He had come to expect this. He continued shoving boxes aside to look for his name on the packages.

"Santa might still bring it to you," Jesse offered. "When he comes tonight."

"Yeah, I guess…" Sam didn't sound overly hopeful as he finally withdrew his head. There were pine needles stuck to the flannel on his pajamas.

"You really think there is a Santa?" the older boy asked his cousin. "I've never seen him. We don't even have a chimney. How's he get in here?"

Realistic Sam had been pondering this aspect of Christmas ad nauseam over the last month. It was one of his biggest head-scratchers to date because it combined two things he stoutly believed in – imagination and the truth. Mary had been cautious, but had resolved to let him believe. He was little. He wouldn't be forever.

"I thought I saw him one time," Jesse was saying. "Or I heard him – like a thud while I was sleeping."

Mary distinctly saw Peter raise his eyebrows at this. She knew it had been him last year who had stubbed his toe on the sofa trying to navigate his way to the tree in the dark.

"Yeah, but reindeer can't fly…" Sam protested, shaking his head. "No animals can fly except for birds."

"Actually Sam, there are several species of wildlife that are said to fly…" Marshall chimed in.

"Here we go…" Mary muttered under her breath.

"The flying squirrel can glide up to three hundred feet and remain airborne but not for very long," he dictated. "And I know you didn't forget about bats."

"Oh, yeah bats!" Sam bounced up another time to see if there was any precipitation out the window and then sat back down. "But still – nothing the size of a reindeer could stay in the air," he decided.

"Well, humpback and sperm whales surface the water and forty percent of their bodies go into the air," Marshall wasn't giving up. "They're up there, even if it's only for a minute."

"Sperm whales?" Mary had to get in on that one, biting with disdain. "Seriously?"

"My boy likes his facts," Marshall clearly wasn't sorry as he shrugged.

Peter and Brandi chuckled politely at their rapport and decided this was the moment to interject the boys' conversation before it got into murkier waters and Sam convinced poor Jesse there was no fat man in a red suit bringing him gifts in the morning.

"Listen you two…" Brandi leaned forward on her knees as she spoke to her men. "You better pick out your Christmas Eve gifts so you'll get to bed on time," she reminded them. "Santa definitely isn't coming if you don't go to sleep."

"What if I can't sleep anyway?" Sam asked as Jesse dove for the packages to see which fated one he would open the day before the big day. "Because I'm too busy meteor-ologing to see if it snows."

"It'll come if it comes Smush," Mary said, a little more disciplinary this time. "You watching's not going to hurry it up."

"I want this one!" Jesse declared, plucking a square box from the mess on the floor, wrapped in plain blue foil paper.

Sam nudged him out of the way with his butt looking for a gift of his own and he fell over sideways.

"Sam, come on," Marshall scolded while Jesse giggled. "Watch where you're going."

Peter and Brandi chuckled at this, obviously amused that both of them weren't diverting from their original selves even on Christmas Eve. They never missed an opportunity to hone Sam into a decent individual.

"Can I open this one mommy?" Jesse held it up for Brandi to see once he'd righted himself.

"Sure honey; if that's the one you want," she told him.

"Jess…" Mary hissed across to him, but now he was eyeing Sam's choice of present and didn't hear. "Jess…" she murmured again.

He turned, blonde hair swinging around his face.

"That one's from me," she whispered, indicating the blue package in his hand, which made him grin.

"Okay, I found one," Sam interrupted them, holding a box of his own while Jesse made himself comfortable crossing his legs on the rug. "But you know when we go to Grandma's for Christmas I'm the only one who gets to open a present on Christmas Eve."

"Yeah, we're not doing that greediness here," Mary cut in, but without malice and a little tease.

Sam shrugged, obviously just not having been able to resist pointing out the detail.

"Do you think she misses us?" he asked.

Brandi and Peter got up to find a gift apiece and Brandi appealed to Mary to see if she wanted her to grab a pair for her and Marshall. Mary nodded, but was careful to indicate the one she wanted Marshall to have. Brandi caught on as Marshall answered Sam's question.

"Yeah, I think she does bud," he admitted. "I miss her too. But we'll talk to her tomorrow and she understood why we couldn't come."

"Because you're still hurt?" Sam questioned and Marshall nodded.

The doctors hadn't cleared him to fly yet, too worried about his injuries in turbulence or anything else that might upset them.

"I wish we could do both…" Sam went on in a small voice while Brandi and Peter handed Mary and Marshall their packages and resumed their seats.

"Well, when you invent time travel sheriff, that's the first thing we'll do," Marshall decided. "We'll have two Christmases – one here and one in Kansas."

Sam smiled, "Cool."

"Cool, indeed," was Marshall's response.

"But…" clearly Sam wasn't finished as he glanced around the room, like he'd missed something. "Isn't Jinx coming?" the talk of grandmothers must've reminded him.

"Later," Mary interjected briefly. "She went to dinner with a friend."

"A man friend," Brandi couldn't resist pointing out and both boys descended into giggles.

"All right…" Peter called, shaking his box for excitement to get their attention. "Everybody got a gift?"

Sam and Jesse held up their packages and shook them too, anxious smiles on their faces as they listened for what might be rattling inside. Mary was always fascinated by the phenomenon that the anticipation was sometimes better than the event itself. She distinctly saw Sam take a look at the window before Peter continued his usual, corny-ass spiel.

"On your mark…" he was leaning forward to watch the boys. "Get set…"

Mary loved the way their eyes gleamed, no matter how cheesy this was.

"Go!"

The paper began to fly as Sam and Jesse ripped and shredded to find the confines – bows everywhere, tape stuck to fingers. The adults usually waited until the kids commenced their reveals before doing their single, solitary gift.

Sam's gift was in a brown UPS box with packing tape and he was trying to use his teeth to open it, so Jesse got to his first. He actually bounced up on the spot in excitement, yanking the toy from its packaging.

"What'd you get baby?" Brandi asked as she leaned over.

Jesse about exploded as he held up his prize.

"It's a purple car!"

Listening to Brandi and Peter 'wow' and ooh-and-ahh, Mary reveled in the fact that it was not just any purple car. It was not a Probe model, as she'd searched for, but did resemble the one Jesse liked so much at Alpert's Autoplex. It was also not a Hot Wheels or a standard-size racer but at least the stature of a Barbie corvette with working wheels, a hood you could open with parts you could take out and put back in as well as a pop-up trunk.

"That is awesome…" Peter said as he nodded and got a good look at the vehicle. "What do you tell Mary?"

"Thank-you Mary!" he sounded so sweet, so genuinely grateful as he got up and actually threw his arms around her neck as well as he could with the four of them all crammed together on the couch. "It's my favorite!"

His aunt chuckled at it being his favorite. He hadn't even opened anything else yet and wouldn't until the next day.

"Sure Jess," she rumpled his hair as she usually did, happy to have made him happy.

It wasn't until Jesse was back on the floor, zooming the car around with delight, that Sam finally found what was inside his packing box.

"WHOA!" he exclaimed.

The pair of them, they were such clichés.

"It's a pirate ship…" he turned the model around so the others could see. "It has these men and a flag that you fly on top and this cannon here…" he pointed it out. "It actually shoots these…"

He stuck his head back in the box, Marshall chuckling about the wealth of knowledge concerning his present. He'd pointed it out to them in the store multiple times, had explained every feature in vivid detail. His face was flushed when he emerged from the box with a bag of miniature cannon balls.

"I really liked that Treasure Island set they had, the really big one…" he obviously couldn't resist pointing out. "But this is super cool…"

Mary realized he thought the pirate ship was a substitute for his other choice and was pleased to see he would be surprised. He was getting the Treasure Island set the next day.

She and Marshall then turned their attention to Brandi and Peter and watched them open their presents – a book and a sweater – but the boys were long gone at that point. A new, very strange battle seemed to be taking place against the fastest car in the world and the mighty pirates and their band of merry men.

"Do yours Mare…" Marshall suggested once Brandi and Peter were through, nodding at the box.

"You mean you're not dying to go first?" his wife teased.

"Just go…" he prodded, tapping the casing now with his fingernail.

Mary never knew what sort of things Marshall was going to get her. She was not the easiest person to shop for because she wore bland clothes and had no time to read or watch television or do anything that didn't include WITSEC and Sam. When she thought about it, she was really very boring and she had to give him quite a headache in figuring out presents. She also hadn't expected much from him this year. He'd only come home from the hospital two weeks before.

Still, she tore the paper off and lifted the top of the box up – moved the tissue paper aside.

"It's for your desk," he said.

She knew then, even before she could see what awaited her, that it was a throwback to their first Christmas together with Sam. He always did this – she got one every year with some snapshot he must be pulling out of thin air, photos she didn't even know had been taken. Sometimes, he let it wait until Christmas morning but this time he'd obviously wrapped the frame in a department store box to throw her off. He was funny that way.

"I'll have to make room for these…" she said, holding the mahogany wood in her hands.

It was not a single frame, but a dual that bent at the center to reveal two photographs side-by-side. On the left was a shot she'd most definitely never seen of Carolyn and Claire. Claire looked like she was maybe six or seven years old – Sam's age – her hair still strawberry blonde, freckles shining off her nose. She and her grandmother were sitting on the front porch of Marshall's house in Kansas; Claire was drawing on the steps with sidewalk chalk, head bent up to look at the photographer. Mary knew she had not been present for its origination, and yet felt as though she had been.

The picture to the right made her take pause; she remembered it being taken and could hardly believe she'd never asked to see it developed. Marshall, Sam, and Jesse just sitting on the couch – the couch where she sat now – and both boys laughing hysterically as the man held them in his lap, obviously disinclined to let them get away. Mary vaguely recalled games of hostages and tying up and Marshall had taken it to the highest level. Jesse and Sam were about three and four years old, respectively – one blonde, one brunette, one straight, one curly. Some things never changed.

And Mary didn't change either – Carolyn, Claire, Marshall, Sam, and Jesse. Her girls. And her boys.

And Marshall knew it; to put two photographs next to one another, totally unrelated. He knew. He knew everything.

"Where'd this one come from?" she tapped the photo of her mother-in-law and niece.

"Mom sent it a long time ago from that summer we weren't able to visit," Marshall revealed. "Right after…"

He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. It was the June after James had died. She'd still been struggling. And Brandi had been a harassed new mother. A whole string of things had prevented it.

"Anyway, she just didn't want us to feel left out," Marshall continued smoothly.

And he hadn't showed it to her then – why? Just for this moment? Entirely possible.

"Claire's grown up so much," was her response, and Marshall nodded.

Mary looked at her glowing face, the sight of Carolyn's arm around her back even as the younger stretched her neck to look up at the camera. Her eyes strayed to the shot of her husband, son, and nephew. Jesse's eyes were squeezed shut he was laughing so hard. Sam was visibly straining to get out of his dad's arms, but their eyes met each other's and it was clear neither one was willing to let go.

"Well…" she set it aside to avoid becoming sentimental, thanks left for later. "You're up, doofus. Do the honors," and she jerked her head at his package.

She'd been waiting for this. She hoped she'd done the right thing. She always hoped that and always doubted it, but she had decided to be bold on this front. Not doing so at work as of late had brought out the gutsy moves in other areas of her life.

Marshall was grinning curiously as he opened his own box, which was light and flat, Brandi and Peter looking on.

"You sure there's actually something in here?" he remarked, but Mary didn't answer.

She watched him do just as she had done – pull the lid off and grope for what lay inside. She waited for what felt like hours, the boys' games a distant hum, trying to gauge her husband's reaction. He was just staring, gazing like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

When he pulled out the little slip of paper, it was Brandi who spoke first.

"Nice Mare…" she chuckled, but she didn't get it.

Leaning against Marshall's arm, she read the words over again. She never got tired of them.

State of New Mexico…

Certificate of Live Birth…

Samuel Mann Shannon…

October 10th…

Hour of Birth…

4:58 A.M.

And there, somewhere in the middle…

Mother's Full Name: Mary Nicole Shannon

And there next to it. In black and white.

Father's Full Name: Marshall Christopher Mann

You'd never know the difference. You'd never know what had gone on underneath. It was here – it was the living proof. The evidence she'd strived so hard to get.

"You can keep that on your desk too if you want," she offered in a whisper and he chuckled.

Turning to face her, she saw that he was moved maybe beyond words at this point. She just leaned into him and he kissed her cheek. Even after the contact, he still wouldn't pull away.

"I love you…" he whispered.

She nodded against him, his face almost pressed into her.

"I love you too."

He was kissing her again, across her cheek, up and down her neck, hand running through her hair. There, in front of Peter and Brandi, her son and theirs on Christmas Eve. It was the most sappy, sugary sweet scene Mary had ever been a part of but knowing that they very nearly had not had this time together, she really couldn't have cared less.

He was breathing hoarsely in her ear once his lips left her skin and even out the corner of her lids, she saw his eyes flick sideways.

"It's snowing," he reported in an undertone.

Of course it was.

Knowing this was the best distracter they could ask for, Mary placed her hand in his lap but he scarcely moved from his post against her.

"Sam…?" she called, almost feeling Marshall smile against her.

"Yeah mom?" he looked up briefly from his spot where he was playing with Jesse.

Marshall's method seemed the best way. Plain and simple.

"It's snowing."

"It's snowing?" he about ruptured and sprung up off the floor, Jesse following suit.

Both of them saw the fat flakes spinning down from the sky, blanketing the brown leaves out front. Mary knew it wouldn't stick, knew it might be gone by noon the next day, knew that the Sandia Mountains beyond her window already had drifts more, but it was clear neither Jesse or Sam cared about this one bit.

"It's snowing!" Sam shrieked, saying it for the third time.

He and Jesse bolted to the window, pressed their fingertips and noses against the glass, smudging it and creating clouds with their breath but it didn't matter. Brandi and Peter laughed and joined them at their post, leaving Mary and Marshall alone on the couch. Mary was content just to watch them – even just their backs – watch her son point and gaze, her nephew bounce around trying to get a good look, her sister tousle the hair of the boys and whisper sweetly in their ears.

After a few moments though, Sam whirled around.

"Mom, come see!"

His eyes were bright with happiness of a new wonder – a blank slate, a fresh world of never-ending possibilities. Just seeing him in that shirt made her smile. Although he didn't know it, he'd as-much-as worn it once before. Murmurings in Mary's chest had her remembering the feel of tiny toes against the ridge of her round belly.

"Come on mom!" Sam pressed.

In the back of her mind as Mary nodded and said she'd be right there, a hope ballooned in her chest. There was nothing to take away from her husband, but her son hadn't asked for his dad. He'd asked for her.

"You coming too?" she asked Marshall, wiggling to the edge of the couch to stand up.

"I wouldn't miss it," he claimed.

And as Mary extended her hand and helped to pull him off the sofa, anchoring him with her arm as they stepped to the window, she reflected over his last words and felt a lump in her throat but was determined to swallow past it.

He hadn't missed anything. He hadn't missed this.

That was enough.

"I changed my mind," Sam jabbered as she and Marshall joined the other four at the window. "I'm glad we stayed home this year."

Looking at Marshall, Mary saw snow and pictures and memories, signatures and seals, a swirling spinning whirlwind of the last few months that showed her she'd cemented something she'd been striving for since the age of seven.

Home.

Her voice was just a whisper as she responded to her son.

"Me too Sam."

A/N: Oh my goodness fellow readers, I can't believe this is it. Although I certainly wrote this with 'the end' in mind, so many of you have requested that I continue. It is because of you all that Sam and the gang have made it as far as they have. It was just supposed to be a tale of Mary aiding a friend in need during a time of more vulnerability than she usually possesses, and how the lure of family and togetherness makes her realize she wants to raise her flesh and blood with Marshall. The fact that it has spanned into all this amazes me still.

Anyway, as I said this was written with 'the end' in mind, but I admit I have been considering, at the requests of a few reviewers, a more Jesse-centric tale. I can't promise anything; the ideas aren't formed yet, but I may give it a try. I also have a couple one-shots in mind of some of Sam's years that we missed (since he jumped from eighteen months to seven years.) Nothing's definite yet, so don't be too disappointed if none of this comes to pass! But I am thinking about it, if anyone is interested.

And now I must thank ALL my loyal reviewers from top-to-bottom – jekkah, Enfleurage, Husky2014, JJ2008, exoticanimal, Jayne_Leigh, Dog In The Manger, JMS529, carajiggirl, Don'tCallMeBones, warrior-chic, merciki, CSIViami, bk-1205, BrittanyLS, cobalt6233, jrfanfrommo, cool cat, usafcmycloud, henrylover94, and Shorty22133. Whether you dropped me a comment everyday or just once, I am so grateful for all of it. You make my day and I am certainly not just saying that – hugs to every single one of you for being so loyal!