Hey! It's a new story for Thanksgiving! Apparently my sanity has completely abandoned me. (On that note, if anyone finds it, could they let me know?)

Chapter One: Vince and Orwell

Vince paced around the lair, chewing on his lower lip. Thanksgiving had arrived without him even noticing that so much time had passed. His partner, the vigilante thought, didn't really care. She never seemed to notice anything unless it involved dragging Fleming's name through the mud.

He sighed and flopped down on the couch that Ruvi had helped him drag in a week ago and closed his eyes. This was going to be a very long, miserable week, made worse by the fact that Thanksgiving didn't look like it was going to happen. This time last year, he'd been running all over town as Dana freaked out over not having a particular ingredient that she needed for…something.

The vigilante smiled at the memory. The smile evaporated as soon as he remembered that Trip had mentioned that he and Dana were spending Thanksgiving with Travis and his family. He groaned and pulled one of the pillows over his face, wondering how hard it would be to asphyxiate himself.

"Stop moping Vince," Orwell said, drawing Vince out of his unhappy daze. Vince looked over at the blogger, who was busy with something on her blog. "Don't think I can't see that frown," she added, still not looking up.

Vince sat up, wondering if he had heard his partner correctly. "Orwell…are you actually concerned about me?"

Orwell looked at him over the top of her laptop, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "Vince," she said in her usual exasperated tone, "If you keep moping, anyone who works for ARK will have a decent chance at actually killing you. And if a dead vigilante with your face shows up on a slab in the morgue, guess what happens to your family."

So much for that, Vince thought. He flopped back on the sofa with a groan and pulled the pillow back over his face.

Vince wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up to something that actually smelled like real food. He sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Orwell had cleared everything off the Command Center (somehow), and had set up what looked like a miniature Thanksgiving dinner. There wasn't much in the way of variety, but at least it was hot and consisted of something that wasn't take-out or cold leftovers that never got hot no matter how many times they were nuked.

Orwell looked up from where she had been sitting and smiled. "Happy Thanksgiving, Vince," she said.

Vince grinned and got up to join his partner at the table.

- o – 0 – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Not holiday-ish enough? Drop a line and let me know!