Giving Thanks

by kashkow

Just a little holiday thing. Mostly Lee Crane being Lee Crane at least in my universe , but Chip and the Admiral make an appearance too. Thanks for all the feedback. I really appreciate your comments. Posting old stories from other sites.

Giving Thanks by Kashkow1

Chapter 1

Lee Crane sat in his red convertible, waiting for the stop light to change. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and glanced around at the other cars. There were tons of people on the road, this being the night before Thanksgiving Day. The Seaview had put in yesterday, a week behind schedule, and the crew had scattered to the four winds, desperately trying to make it back to their families before the holiday. Most had, with the able help of the secretary pool at the Institute, been able to get either some form of public transport or a shared ride home. Those remaining had been invited by Nelson to come to his place for an impromptu holiday celebration and football viewing.

There would be total of 8 men, not including Nelson, Crane, and Chip Morton who had been unable to find anyway short of using the Flying sub, currently under repair, to get to Chicago. His mother had sounded sad but, being a Navy mother, was used to deployments that took her children far from her. It was somewhat to Chip's chagrin that she had been just as upset that Lee Crane couldn't come either. He wasn't sure when Lee had become a sibling, but he was as much a Morton as the rest of them it seemed. She had cheered up when she realized that they would not be spending it alone, but would be with each other, and friends.

Each of the officers had been detailed with picking up part of the meal. Nelson had taken charge of the turkeys and ham. Chip had cheerfully offered to do the pre-meal, football-watching, snacks. O'Brien, locked out of Green Bay by the same snowstorm that had Chip grounded, was in charge of potatoes, stuffing, and side dishes. That left the desserts to Crane.

It hadn't seemed like such a problem when he left home. He had managed to find several pies at a local bakery, after shamelessly turning on the charm with the 75-year-old proprietor, who practically begged him to take her last three pies. That had worked out rather well except for the way she had actually pinched his bottom on his way out. He had almost dropped the pies he had been so startled. She had simply smiled and winked at him. He made a mental note not to visit that bakery again soon. He had carefully placed the pies in the passenger seat when his cell rang. He glanced at the number, and almost didn't answer. But as the rings persisted he finally pressed the button and answered.

"Crane."

"Where are you Commander?"

Gee, not even a happy holidays or anything, Lee thought as he clenched his teeth against the urge to wish Admiral Smith, head of ONI, a Happy Thanksgiving. "I'm in Santa Barbara, Sir."

"Good, then you can help us out with a little problem we have. We need a qualified courier to bring some papers from a drop at the airport there, to their final destination at Fiore Labs. The overseas courier will be there in one hour, he will not take the package any further, if he isn't met, he'll get on the plane with it and take it back to where he came from. We don't want that to happen. Will you be there?"

Crane considered for a moment. The airport would be hell, given the amount of people traveling, but he could make it. Then up the hills to the Fiore Labs compound, that would be another hour and a half on the busy roads, then an hour and a half back into town. It was already after five, and he really needed to get some more desserts. He was thinking of some ice cream with a cranberry sauce topping that he had discovered last year. He could pick that up at the store before it closed at 11:00 when he got back to town, plenty of time. After all it was just a courier job, no evil agents lurking in a dark alley, no mad scientists, no weird machines. He would simply get the package, get to Fiore, and return with time to spare.

"I'll be there sir. Do you want to give me the meet information now?" He made a mental note of the information on the courier he was meeting, and where. He repeated the coded recognition phrase. Who made up these things anyway? he thought. With a curt "good-bye" Smith signed off, and Crane looked around at the busy streets and sighed. He then looked down at the pies. He needed to drop those off at Nelson's. He had a key, and he could just slip them into the large double refrigerator and leave. No one needed to know what he was up to; he really didn't feel up to a lecture from Nelson, or a rant from Morton. He just wanted to enjoy the holiday with his "family". They didn't need to know.

Chapter 2

Four hours later Crane walked out of the Fiore Labs Administration center, having dropped off the package to a mousy little man who had clutched it to his chest like gold and scurried off without so much as a thanks. Another sigh. He was already behind schedule. Getting into and out of the airport had been hell. People everywhere, and every one of them grumpy about not getting to where they were going faster. He was beginning to wish they had been even later returning to port, he wouldn't have minded a holiday at sea. But it would not have been fair to the crew. They needed to be able to spend time with their families. HIS family was the crew, but he didn't want to be selfish.

He now faced the prospect of an hour plus down the hills in the dark. At least the traffic wasn't an issue. He had missed the outflow of employees from the lab, and there were few other buildings of any sort out here. He should be able to go as quickly as the road conditions would allow. The clouds that had been threatening earlier had opened up and began pouring a large amount of rain on the area, then stopped and drifted off as if they had never been. He had to be cautious since the roads could be slick. He got into the car, ducking in under the convertible top he had had to put on earlier. Within moments he was waving at the guard as he passed through gate, and heading down the hill. He hoped he could find an all night grocery so he could get the ingredients for the cranberry sauce and the ice cream.

He was going over the recipe in his mind, when something deeper, something instinctive, made him wrench the wheel to the left, and the small car went into a skid. It took all his skills to bring it to a halt, just inches from the edge of the road. He looked out the driver's window, and saw nothing. He remembered on the way up in the fading light he had looked out over a deep ravine. Thank goodness for training and good brakes! He looked back over his shoulder, the way he had come, and he once again sent up a thank you to whoever watched over submarine captains. In the middle of the road, standing in the dim light from an open door of a car was a small girl of no more than 3 or 4. Her thumb was in her mouth and her wide eyes were fixed on the car that had almost hit her. Five feet behind her, near the rear wheel of the car was a woman, frozen in horror at the near miss, her mouth open in a soundless yell. As he watched she struggled up from a crouch and ran to the little girl, snatching her up and hugging her tightly to her chest.

Crane turned on his hazard lights and backed up until there was enough room to get out of the car, he hoped he was far enough off the road to not be in the flow of traffic, but didn't know where else to move to. He headed toward the woman and child, and as he approached he saw three other small children, ranging in ages from 2 to 6 it appeared, staring at him from inside the car. The woman, who Crane could now tell was exceedingly pregnant, turned to look at him as he approached. Wariness and appreciation warred on her face; in the end she couldn't hold back the thanks.

"Thank God you saw her. I didn't know she had gotten out of the car." She sniffed back a tear she hadn't been able to hold in, and looked at the strange man who had stopped five feet from her, as if sensing her distrust. From what she could see in the dim light from the car's interior light he was a handsome young man in his early thirties with dark hair and eyes that seemed golden in the light.

"I wasn't sure I saw anything to tell the truth, I just reacted, and there she was. It looks like you could use some help. May I?" he gestured to the tire she had obviously been attempting to change. She had all the right things there, but hadn't gotten beyond removing the hubcap.

She sighed. "Normally I could do it myself, but I'm having a bit of trouble with the lug nuts." She smiled and lowered the child she held back into the car then patted her extended stomach. "I'm just a bit leery about pushing that hard at this time, I don't think I really want to have this baby a month early, on a mountain road, in the dark, with a carload of kids."

"I can understand that. My name is Lee Crane, and while I know it doesn't mean much coming from a stranger, I'm usually pretty nice. I can take care of that and get you back on the road in no time. If you don't mind that is. You are welcome to wait in the car with the door locked. I won't be offended or anything."

She studied his face, and something told her that he wasn't lying. She made her decision and nodded. "I'm Heather Lindquist. I'd appreciate the help. I think the least I can do is hold the flashlight for you. Let me rope the little monster back in her seat, and I'll be right there." She went back toward the car, and leaned in to put the little girl back in the car seat.

Crane approached the rear tire, being sure to make no sudden moves toward the woman or the open door. He could understand her nervousness, and didn't want to increase it in any way. It had been WAY too many years since he had taken that first aid course in childbirth, and he didn't want a hands-on refresher course. He maneuvered the flashlight so that he could see the lug nuts, and began taking them off with the tire iron. He had undone all but one by the time she joined him.

"I gave them some juice and cookies. Say what you will about bribes, but I go with what ever works in a pinch."

He smiled up at her, not knowing how the smile assured her further of his good intentions. No one that handsome could have designs on an 8-month pregnant woman and four kids. Now she on the other hand could have some seriously evil intentions, darn those hormones anyway! All the urges, but the mechanics were beyond her. Oh well. She started to lean down to get the flashlight, but he dropped the lug wrench and picked it up for her. Oh my, a gentleman, too! He then went back to the lug nut. She watched as he efficiently removed the flat and put on the spare she had wrestled out of the trunk. He made it look so easy, and she knew she would still be trying to get the lug nuts loose. He was certainly a quiet one. Heather couldn't stand people who insisted on nattering on when they really had nothing to say. Quietly efficient, handsome, and driving a little red convertible, double "Oh My". If you had to be stranded on the side of the road this was the way to do it!

He was just as quick putting the lugs back on and lowering the jack. He put the hubcap back on, and stood up. "Do you want the flat in the trunk?" She nodded, and went around with him holding the light so he could maneuver it into the crowded trunk. He was just pulling the trunk lid closed, when he looked over his shoulder, and smiled, "Houdini has escaped again." He moved around her and went toward his car.

Heather was puzzled for a moment, unsure what he meant, and then she turned to follow his movement, and realized that once again her car door was opened, and Rachel, the small three year old, was once again outside the car. This time she was walking toward the red car parked across the road, thumb still firmly planted in her mouth. The child was an escape artist! How she had managed to get out of the straps on the car seat? The tall man was halfway to the child when history seemed to be repeating itself. All of a sudden there was the roaring of an engine, not the soft purr of the sports car, but the rumble of a truck or SUV, and blinding lights suddenly flashed over the scene, overwhelming the thin light of the flashlight. Heather could only stand by and watch as the scene played out.

The tall, quiet man, who had just changed her tire, seemed to leap across the space separating him and the child. He paused to scoop the little girl into his arms, and leapt toward the other side of the road which was now closer in a desperate attempt to avoid the oncoming car. She could hear the screams of the frightened child, the sound of brakes being frantically applied. The SUV veered wildly across the two lanes, and for a moment she thought the man would make it unharmed to the other side, but as she watched, frozen in place, she saw the bumper of the car strike his legs as he took one last lunge for the safety of the edge of the road. He never let go of the child as the hit from the SUV turned his smooth leap into a chaotic toss into the side of the small red car that sat on the side of the road. Later, when she reviewed what she had seen, she would realize that after he was hit and he knew that the landing wasn't going to be in his control, the man wrapped himself around the child like a blanket, and made sure that he hit first, protecting the small bundle in his arms.

Crane felt the bumper of the SUV strike his legs as he made one last desperate attempt to get out of its swerving path. His planned course toward the side of the road was shot to hell, and he knew the landing was going to be rough. His only concern was for the little girl, screaming in his arms. He wrapped as much of himself around her as he could, and prepared for what he suspected was going to be a painful trip down the side of the ravine. He was spared that fate, but he wasn't sure that he got a better deal or not. Just as he figured they would be sailing over the side, their flight was interrupted as he slammed into the side and hood of what he realized must be his car. He both felt and heard the bones in his forearm snap as it took the brunt of their weight hitting the car. Then as his head also hit the car, everything went black.

The SUV slid to a halt, five feet too far down the road. Reaching a hand around to slam the car door, she didn't want the other children out too, Heather moved as quickly as she could toward the still forms that she could barely see in the light of the flashlight, and the brake lights of the SUV. As she approached she could hear the quiet whimpering of the little girl, and sent up a prayer of thanks that she had survived. She was trying to awkwardly lower herself beside Crane's still form when the driver of the SUV came up beside her.

"I didn't see him! I swear! Is he dead?"

Heather glared at the pompous little jerk. He looked like one of those scientists from up at the Labs, right down to the thick glasses and bow tie. She lowered herself to her knees, and reached tentatively for Crane's pulse. He was very pale in the light of the flashlight, but as she touched his throat, he moaned and moved his head. She let out a sigh of relief.

"He's alive!" she said to the man hovering over her shoulder.

"Should I call an ambulance?" he asked brandishing his cell phone.

"No!" came weakly from the man on the ground. "I'm fi….OK. I don't need an ambulance."

Heather looked back down at Crane, surprised at his answer. The golden eyes were fixed on her, with an almost pleading expression. She had seen that look before, in the eyes of her 6 year old as he desperately begged to stay up just another 10 minutes. She frowned down at him, and started to scold him about needing an ambulance, when he began to sit up. She immediately noticed his left arm was hanging at a strange angle below the elbow, and she had to fight down nausea as she realized that it was broken. At least no bones were poking through the skin, she couldn't have handled that, and she hurriedly gave him what help she could. He unwrapped his other arm from the little girl, but she clung to his chest and cried. Crane pushed himself into a sitting position against his car, and squinted up at the little man standing over them.

"Hello again Dr Richards," he said and awkwardly patted the crying child with his right hand, as if not sure exactly what to do.

Heather shook her head. Men! She pried the child off his chest, and held her. Crane cradled his left arm, and gently shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs. He needed to get to a hospital, and waiting for an ambulance to come out here, on Thanksgiving eve, in the middle of nowhere was not going to do it, that was if the cell phone would even work out here. She decided that she needed to take charge since the men seemed content to just sit, or stand, as the case may be, and let time go by. Well she didn't have time. She had kids to get to bed, food to prepare for tomorrow, and puffy ankles to get propped up somewhere.

"You, stay there, and don't move," she said, pointing at the tall man. Her stern demeanor dropped as she saw amusement flash in his eyes, and she couldn't help but smile at him. Putting back on her stern face, she looked at the other man, "Dr Richards is it?" He nodded. She stuck her hand out toward him, "Help me up, and then we'll get him in my car. I'll take him to the hospital, it's near my brother's house."

"But…but what about the police, and insurance, and ..and," he stuttered as he pulled her to her feet.

She waved her free hand at him, "Forget it. It wasn't your fault, and I doubt if you even dented a fender. As to the medical charges, I'll take care of it." Heather started toward the car, the little man following in her wake, casting glances back to Crane who sat, amusement still in his eyes, watching them. Heather extracted the child from her chest, and placed her back in the car seat. "You stay here. You were very bad, and your Mommy and Daddy will be very unhappy if you get hurt. Do you understand?"

The little girl nodded and lisped a very small, "Yes."

"Good," she said. Heather looked around at the other children, who looked like they were all ready to nod off. Lovely, that would make everything much easier. She turned around and looked at the scientist. "All right, I'll open the passenger door, you help him get over here, and we'll get him into the car."

He nodded and scurried, there was not other word for it, across the road. Heather had a vision of yet another car coming around the corner, but she shook it off, and waited as the two men made their way over to the car. Crane seemed to be making it under his own steam, the little scientist wandering uselessly behind, muttering to himself. As he approached the car, and moved into the light of the open door, she could see a large bruise forming on the left side of his face. It looked very painful, as did the broken arm, but as he cautiously lowered himself into the car, there was no wince or indication of pain from the man. She motioned to Richards to do up the seat belt, as there was no way she could fit in there to do it.

"What about my car?" Crane asked. He had been amused by the way the woman had taken over. She reminded him of Chip in full XO mode, getting things done in the most efficient way, and not taking any guff from anyone. Maybe he ought to tell Chip he'd make a good mommy some day, that would go over well. He grinned to himself, and then listened as the other two adults discussed what to do with his car. A decision was reached, and his keys were commandeered. Dr. Richards disappeared into the darkness and the woman went around to get into the car. It seemed he was to have no input, so he just kept quiet. He wasn't going to get on herbad side. He suspected he would be in enough trouble with Nelson and Morton. That thought gave him pause. What was he going to do about the food? He was responsible for getting everything for the deserts, and he wasn't done. He still needed the ice cream and sauce fixings. He turned his head to look at the woman beside him who was getting herself comfortable before starting the car.

"You don't happen to know if there is an all night grocery store near the hospital do you?" he asked.

She slowly turned her head and looked at him. She scanned his face with a disbelieving look on her own. "What can you possibly want with a grocery store?" she finally said.

"I need to get some ice cream and stuff for a cranberry sauce for after dinner tomorrow. I can get it after I get out of the hospital."

"And what makes you think that you will be getting out before, or after, dinner tomorrow? You have a broken arm, and a possible concussion. I think they will want you to stay for a while."

He shook his head, cautiously, "No concussion. I've had one before, no symptoms. They put a cast on the arm and a band-aid on my head and I'll be out in a few hours. Plenty of time to get the stuff, and still get to the Admiral's house by 10. I might need some help with making the sauce but…"

"Wait, did you say 'Admiral's House'?" Heather interrupted. When he started to answer she waved a hand. "Wait, I have a feeling this is going to be a long story. Let me get us on the road, and then you can tell me." She started the car and put it in gear. As she pulled slowly foreword, Dr. Richards pulled Crane's car into the space she vacated. It was well off the road, and should be ok until he could get a ride back up here. Richards brought the keys to the window, and handed them through to Crane.

"I'm really very sorry. I've never even had an accident before," he said

"Don't worry about it Dr. I've had enough for both of us. Have a happy holiday," Crane replied.

The doctor smiled weakly, and went toward his SUV. Heather waited until he was inside, and then started down the hill. She drove well, taking the corners with confidence. She had obviously driven the road before. Crane found himself telling her about his job, his crew, his friends, and the Thanksgiving festivities the next day. She listened through it all, and as they were pulling up to the Emergency Room entrance, she reached over and patted his knee. "I know you want to be with your family for the holiday, but believe me, they would rather know you were healthy and safe in a hospital, then have you go against doctors orders, and hurt yourself." She stopped as he snorted, obviously fighting back a laugh.

Heather looked at him as they came to a stop, taking in the pale skin, and the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip. They had already discussed her need to get the children to her brother's house, and that people that were waiting for her, so she was just going to drop him off. She had made him promise to call her in the morning, this morning now, and let her know what the doctors said. "Don't tell me you're one of those 'I don't need a doctor types', just like Bill, my husband," she said, and watched as the cutest little sheepish grin creep across his face. He nodded. "I should have known. You Navy boys are all the same." He husband had been in the Navy for over 6 years, on destroyers. Crane had laughed when she told him, saying that he wouldn't hold it against her. He began to climb out of the car, before she could unbuckle her belt and get out herself. He was outside before she could protest.

"Don't worry about me. I'll call you later today. Drive carefully, and thanks."

"You're the one that gets the thanks. You saved Rachel, twice. I can't thank you enough, and I know my brother and his wife will want to do so also."

Crane shook his head, "They don't need to do that. I only did what anyone would do."

This time she snorted. "I don't think so. I will be hearing from you. Remember, I know where you work, and the name of your boss. Don't make me get tough."

Crane held up a placating hand. "I'll call." He looked into the back seat where all the children were now sleeping. "Happy Thanksgiving." He gently closed the door, and waved as she drove off. He looked at the door to the Emergency Room and sighed. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Time to get out that insurance card again. He was glad it was laminated.

Chapter 3

Chip Morton carefully balanced the tray of spinach dip and French bread he had gotten the day before on top of the three other trays of snacks he was carrying. Three more trays were in his car, but he had to be able to see, so he would have to make another trip for those. He kicked at the door, hoping someone would hear it and help. It was 5 minutes after 10 and Nelson had told everyone to be there around 10:00 a.m., so there should be plenty of hands to help.

He was getting ready to kick again when Sharkey opened the door, and grabbed at the sliding top tray. "I got it, Sir. Is there more in the car?" he said, after setting the tray on a table near the door. At Morton's nod, he headed toward the car. Morton went on inside, calling out greetings to the various men who were seated around the big screen TV watching the Rose Parade. He carried the trays into the kitchen where O'Brien and Nelson were peering into one of the double ovens. Nelson was holding a turkey baster in one hand, and O'Brien was holding a measuring cup with what looked like melted butter. As Morton sat the trays down on the cooking island, O'Brien spoke.

"I think that's going to be a very good bird, Sir."

"Yes, I'll just have to watch for the right time to tent it," Nelson replied, and Morton had to fake a cough to hide the laugh that seemed to want to explode from him at hearing Admiral Harriman Nelson, inventor, genius, Naval strategist, and millionaire, holding forth on the proper turkey tenting time. He looked around for Lee Crane to share his amusement with, but didn't see him. He hadn't been in the family room. Perhaps he was somewhere else in the house, or in the back yard.

Nelson turned from the oven, and saw Chip's smile. "That'll be enough of that Mr. Morton," he said in his best Admiral voice, and was pleased to see Morton wipe the smile off his face and straighten a little. Nelson smiled. Discipline was a wonderful thing for maintaining the ego. He looked around, expecting to see Lee Crane, Captain of his submarine, Seaview, tagging along with the XO, but there was no sign of him. Nelson frowned, "Didn't Lee come with you? I was expecting him before now."

"I haven't seen him since last night when we made the plans. He took off after pies and stuff, and I thought he'd be here. I tried to call him last night but there was no answer at his apartment or on his cell."

"I'm sure he'll be here soon. He knows when the games start, and he has several bets down that I know of, and won't want to miss anything. Speaking of which, I think that the time has come for snacks. Mr. Morton are you prepared?"

"Yes, Sir. Sharkey's bringing in the last three now, that is if he made it past the hoard by the TV." As he spoke they heard Sharkey growling at the men to leave the food alone. The three officers were smiling as the Chief came into the kitchen.

"I hope you're ready to hand out some of this food, Sir. The natives are getting a little restless, if ya know what I mean."

"Go ahead Chief, take out the trays. Might as well keep everyone fed, things might get ugly otherwise."

The Chief nodded, and removed the tops of the trays and started taking them out. O'Brien took two more.

"Six trays Chip? Do you think we'll be able to struggle by?" Nelson asked sarcastically.

"I got chips and dip in the car, Sir, I think with that and the popcorn we should be good for a few hours at least," Chip said seriously. If there was one thing the XO knew, it was snacks.

Nelson smiled and shook his head. He wasn't sure how the XO managed to stay fit with the amount of food he ate, but he was prepared to bow to the expert in these matters. He frowned again as Lee Crane's continued absence niggled at the back of his mind. He crossed the large kitchen to the phone mounted on the wall, and punched in Crane's apartment number. There was no answer, so he tried the cell number. Still no answer. The only thing left was the beeper that all the command crew carried, but that was supposed to be for emergencies. This didn't seem to qualify. Nelson had not set a particular time, only suggesting 10a.m., since the games started at 11:00, and that way everyone could sleep in. Since his captain was a notoriously early riser, even when not required to do so, he had expected Crane earlier.

He turned from the phone, and shook his head at Chip's questioning look. "No answer. We'll wait a while longer and try again. I suppose he got tied up with something."

"I bet he's looking for a store that's open so he can get that cranberry sauce stuff. He actually ate two helpings of that at the restaurant in Vermont. I don't think I 've ever seen him take seconds of anything before. I still don't believe that old battleaxe of a cook gave him the recipe."

"Just goes to show you the persuasive powers of the Captain. Beware them. I'm sure you're right. He wouldn't miss the opportunity to make that sauce, and I don't believe your regular gas station convenience store is going to have the ingredients," Nelson said, willing to go along with the idea. He tried to believe it himself as well, but there was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that things were never that simple. He determined to wait another hour, and then he would start making some calls.

"Let's go get some of that food before it all disappears, shall we?" he said to Morton, and they headed toward the family room. He noticed that Morton threw a glance at the phone as they left the room; evidently he wasn't the only one with that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Chapter 4

An hour later Nelson came into the kitchen with an empty tray, and looked at the clock. It was now after 11 and still no Lee. He was starting to be concerned. Even if Lee had been trying to locate ingredients, he would have called to let them know what was going on by now. Something else was going on, and he was sure he knew exactly what it was.

He went to the phone, and with a quick flip through his mental address book, came up with the number he was sure would yield the best information. There were two rings, and then it was picked up.

"I knew you'd be at your desk today. Don't you have anything to be thankful for?"

"Shouldn't you be harassing someone else on a holiday Harry? You know that intelligence never sleeps, or eats as the case may be," Admiral Smith of ONI said, recognizing the voice.

"Humph," Nelson grunted and cut to the chase, "I want to know if you have Lee Crane working on something for you."

"Gee Harry, you've got to quit beating around the bush, just come right out and ask. Don't be shy," Smith joked, then went on. "I expect you won't accept the 'top secret' thing."

"When have I ever? I have the clearance, or I can get it. Can I take that as a Yes, and that you do have him doing something?"

"Well not now. He took care of it last night. I got confirmation from the lab that the information arrived on time and intact. He left there around 9 last night I'd guess."

"What Lab?"

"Fiore"

"Fiore! That's 25 miles up into the hills. Surely you could have found a better courier than one of your best agents, and on a holiday eve."

"As I said Harry, the intelligence business doesn't stop for holidays. We needed the information moved, and the person that was supposed to do it couldn't be there on time. Crane was the only agent with the proper clearance who was available. We use the resources that we have."

"Perhaps if you looked at your people as more than 'resources' you wouldn't have to take my people to get your job done."

"Let's not rehash old arguments Harry. We've had that conversation way too often. Now, since you're calling about him, am I to assume that you've misplaced your Captain?"

"Yes, dammit. He was supposed to be here over an hour ago, and he's not answering his cell phone, or the phone at his apartment. We are getting worried, and I see now that I might have reason to worry. Didn't your office follow up with him after the drop? I thought that was SOP."

"Hang on, let me check with the duty officer. They should have followed up."

There was a pause, and then Smith came back on the line. "Uh Harry… it seems that someone dropped the ball. They couldn't reach Crane, so they put a note for the next duty officer to try to reach him today, they weren't able to get him either."

"What! I hope to hell this isn't how your staff handles all of your agents! I need to know exactly where he had to go and when he was there. Then I'll do your job for you and make sure he isn't lying dead on the side of the road somewhere, or in a morgue. Heaven help you if he is!" Nelson yelled into the phone, and then slammed it down on the hook. He turned to find Chip, O'Brien, and the Chief standing in the doorway; behind them were the rest of the crew.

"Lee was doing something for ONI?" Chip asked. His pale face and serious blue eyes leaving Nelson no doubt they had heard most, if not all, of what he had said to Smith.

Nelson nodded, "A courier job, up to Fiore Labs. They managed to verify that the package got there intact, but after that they dropped the ball. They didn't follow-up correctly, and they can't reach him either."

"Well, if he got there ok then there wasn't any reason for anyone to bother him, or anything, right, Sir?" said the Chief, his usual hangdog look magnified by worry about the young captain.

"We're talking about Lee Crane, the man could become involved in an international plot to take over the world in a supermarket," Chip said, using sarcasm to cover the worry that was boiling up inside. He looked at the Admiral. "What do we do now, Sir?"

"Smith will be calling back with information on exactly when and where Crane was last seen. I know the general area, so I think it would be best if we checked with the police, hospitals, and…" he broke off, he didn't want to add the final place. The place he desperately did not want to find his friend.

"I'll take the police stations." Chip said, pulling out his cell phone; he had heard the unspoken word, and felt even worse.

"I'll do the hospitals, Sir," O'Brien said, getting out his cell as well.

"What about us, Admiral?" the Chief asked

"Nothing right now Francis. We'll make the calls first, and then we'll see if other action is necessary. Go back to the game. We'll let you know."

"Aye Sir," the Chief said, not happy that there was nothing to do. He turned to the men, and shooed them back toward the family room. "You heard the Admiral. Back to the game, there's no need for you knuckleheads to be cloggin' up the kitchen."

Nelson lowered himself to a stool by the phone. The day had started out so well. He had been looking forward to spending time away from the sub with his friends. With his family. And now this. Lee Crane was more than just his Captain, more than a friend. He was the brother that his parents had never given him, the son he had never had the opportunity to have. He had lost too many people in his life. His parents back when he was a teen, friends, Edith, such a short time ago, and now possibly, Lee. What would he do if Lee were to… He couldn't think of it even.

After Edith's death, Nelson had come to realize that even if she had lived and had children, he had already found the perfect heir to the legacy that he had built in Lee Crane. The sea was Lee's true home, and the crew and personnel of NIMR were his family. He would take Nelson's ideas, his research, and his ideals and make them live long after Nelson himself was gone. Nelson had come to count on that fact, though he had not informed Crane of his plans. He would only protest, and since he was already helping with the day-to-day running of the Institute anyway, it wouldn't be a large burden when the will was read. Lee would have Chip, and the crew, to help him, and Nelson knew Crane would not let him down.

This plan for the future was one of the reasons that Nelson wanted Crane to stop taking ONI jobs. Life aboard Seaview was dangerous enough, for one reason or another, and this latest escapade showed that ONI was not going to take care of Crane the way the crew of the Seaview did. The man needed a keeper. Nelson was determined that Crane would live to take over the Institute, though some days it was a close call. Today was not going to be any different.

As the phone on the wall rang, he snatched up the receiver. "Well?" he said, knowing whom it would be.

"He was at the lab at 9:16 p.m. last night. He left at 9:23 p.m.. That's the last anyone has seen or heard from him. There is only one route in and out of the lab, Millington Canyon Road. We did a quick scan of police and 911 calls in the area, and there was nothing in the area that had any connection to Crane." Smith paused. "I'm sorry Harry, you know I don't want anything to happen to him either."

Nelson sighed. "I know Bob. I'll keep you posted." He hung up the phone. He turned to give the information on the name of the road to Morton and O'Brien who were working from a cleared spot on the cooking island. Both were on hold, and acknowledged the information. Nelson sighed, it was time for him to begin making a few calls of his own. He picked up the phone, and had dialed the first 3 numbers when the back door opening caught his attention.

Chapter 5

Crane shifted his weight in the seat of the taxi. He had called the cab from the hospital less than an hour ago, and was anxious to get moving. The red light seemed to be lasting forever, and his arm was aching in the cast that the doctor had put on. His head was pounding in counterpoint, and his body was generally sore all over. He realized that the pain medicine they had given him at the hospital, which had knocked him out until just after 8 a.m., was wearing off. He had filled a prescription for the pain pills the doctor had wanted him to take before leaving the hospital. Just leaving had been hard enough. He had to sign himself out AMA, against medical advice, and he was sure that he would hear about that from assorted superiors, subordinates, and doctors. The doctor at the hospital had wanted him to stay until tomorrow, but Crane had told him it was out of the question. He had been mad enough about sleeping half the morning away, and wasn't going to miss out on Thanksgiving.

He sighed as the traffic started moving again. It was almost 11:30 now, and he had finally found the ingredients he needed, and the ice cream. After finally escaping the hospital at 10:00 he had tried to phone Nelson on his cell, but had found out that the small phone had not survived the accident as well as he had. It sounded like a maraca when he shook it. He had decided that he would just go get the stuff, and then get to Nelson's house. He would be late, but no one should worry too much.

Now here he was, an hour and a half later, two blocks from Nelson's house with melting ice cream, and wondering where all these people were going. There was an amazing amount of traffic. He leaned his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. He really didn't feel good. He doubted if he could eat anything, but he was determined to be there. He liked spending time with his crew, with Chip, the brother he had never had, and Nelson. He didn't really know what to think about Nelson. He was friend, brother, mentor… father. He knew that the feelings were reciprocated, though they would never speak of it. It meant a lot to him to have the respect and regard of a man like Nelson, he valued that above anything else he had ever had. He would do anything for the man.

The cab drew to a halt in the driveway, and Crane smiled at all the cars parked around the entrance. Everyone was there, and he bet they were all around the TV cheering on the Navy in the bowl game. He had placed a large bet with Nelson regarding the final score, and he was glad that he would at least get to see the end of the game. Maybe after that he could lay down for a bit in one of Nelson's rooms, just until dinner. He paid the cabbie, and struggled out of the cab with the two bags from the 24-hour grocery store. He was trying not use his left arm at all since it was throbbing worse than before, but he was sure he was going to have to take at least one of the pain pills. If he just went around to the kitchen door, he could put up the food, take a pill, and slip into the family room. Maybe no one would notice for a while.

He went down the path to the back door, and found himself with a bit of a problem. His right hand was full, and his left partly covered by the cast, another bone of contention with the doctor at the hospital. How to get the door open? He finally decided that he would wrap as much of the fingers of his left hand as possible and see if he could turn it enough to let the door open. That accomplished, he nudged the door gently with his foot, and slowly opened the door. He was not prepared for the reception he got.

Chapter 6

Nelson stopped dialing as the door slowly started to open, paused, and then swung slowly ajar. He almost dropped the phone in relief as he saw the tall, lean figure silhouetted against the light, a grocery bag hanging from one hand. As the figure moved forward, and the glare from the sunlight outside diminished his relief turned to something else. A dark blue cast covered the left arm from elbow to mid finger, and a livid bruise covered the left side of the face of his Captain. Nelson slammed the phone back into the cradle, and stormed toward Crane.

"Where the hell have you been? What happened? Why didn't you call?" he fired out the questions nonstop as he crossed the kitchen to stop in front of a puzzled looking Lee Crane. He caught sight of Chip and O'Brien, phones still in hand, mouths gaping at the spectacle.

Crane took a step back as Nelson approached. He then instinctively straightened to attention, or at least into as close an approximation as current circumstances would allow him. He wasn't sure what had the Admiral's knickers in a twist, but he hadn't been in the Navy, and in the employ of this man, for so many years without having to deal with temper tantrums before, so he gave the standard answer of a subordinate to superior who was patently unhappy. "No excuse, Sir. Sorry, Sir." It was always good policy to apologize, even if you didn't know what for.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chip approaching to stand at Nelson right elbow, with O'Brien taking up a similar position at the left. He was beginning to feel like a plebe in front of forth year students. He hadn't felt that particular feeling since the Academy. He didn't know what was going on, but the grim look in all of the eyes staring at him didn't bode well.

"We've been trying to reach you since last night, but you didn't answer your phone then. It is Institute policy that you answer all phone calls placed from certain numbers, in case there is an emergency. Explain yourself mister."

Crane was even more puzzled, he wasn't answerable to anyone for his whereabouts usually, and as to the phone, "I received no calls, Sir. I was in an area that probably had spotty coverage at best, they didn't come through, and I couldn't check my messages because…" he paused, "my phone isn't working." It sounded lame, but it was the truth. He wasn't going to go into it all now. He'd just tell them he had been in an accident, and leave it there. His mind whirled trying to find some explanation for the interrogation. Was there some type of emergency? Had there been a problem with Seaview? He discarded that thought immediately, none of the people here would behere if there was a problem onboard. Maybe something at the Institute? His beeper, which seemed to be in working order, hadn't gone off, but maybe it was broken too. He hadn't thought to test it beyond looking at the display screen. "I had something to take care of, Sir, I didn't get a beeper call if there was some sort of emergency…" He trailed off hoping for an explanation. He was also hoping it would be over soon, as his arm and head were pounding more and more, and he was pretty sure that the ice cream was going to give up all together soon if he didn't get it into a freezer.

"Yes, we found out from Admiral Smith about your jaunt up the canyon. You left there in good shape, and at 9:30 last night. What happened since then to leave you in this state?" Nelson sounded almost angry.

Crane shook his head, biting back a wince. He was starting to get angry himself. He had simply done a job for ONI, saved a little girl's life, twice, and still managed to show up with his assigned foodstuff for Thanksgiving! He really didn't feel that he deserved the third degree. His eyes narrowed, and he was pleased to see that Chip, at least, noticed and changed his posture to something less aggressive. "I don't believe I have anything to report, Sir," he said, preparing for the explosion.

"Nothing to report!" Nelson bellowed. "I can see a broken arm and a badly bruised face, and you have nothing to report!"

"I am off duty, Sir." he said frostily; he was somewhat pleased that O'Brien seemed to pale under his tan at the tone. "No emergency seems to exist, and since we are not currently under the employ of the Navy, I am not answerable to you for my whereabouts or my physical status until such time as we are preparing to sail and I am pronounced unfit for duty by the CMO. Now, I have ice cream melting in this bag. If you care to continue this conversation on a more civil note after I put it in the freezer that would be up to you." At that he marched toward the freezer, leaving the trio staring after him. He slammed the ice cream into an available space, marched over to the counter, slammed the remaining items down there, and turned to face Nelson and the others. His arm hurt, his head hurt, and he had taken about all he was going to. "In fact, just forget it. I'm really not feeling in the holiday mood. I'll just be going." He started for the door.

Nelson had been taken aback by Crane's appearance, and he had allowed the worry to show through in his voice. However, it seemed that Lee had perceived that worry as anger. Crane very seldom showed his temper to the Admiral, and even less seldom to the crew and his junior officers, but evidently all bets were off today. His posture as he walked from the freezer to the counter was as rigid as any cadet walking punishment at the Academy, and color had come back into his pale face. Nelson wasn't sure exactly how to get him calmed back down, but he was sure that he wasn't going to let him leave in this state.

He shot a quick look at Chip, who looked as upset as Nelson felt, then he set course to intercept his Captain before he reached the door. He placed himself in front of the taller man, and put out a hand to halt his progress. "Lee don't…" he started, but stopped when he looked into the angry eyes. There was pain in those eyes, and a tiredness that came from dealing with that pain. He took on a more conciliatory tone "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrogate you. We were… concerned when we couldn't reach you, and I let it get out of hand. Please don't go." He hoped that Lee could hear the words he couldn't say. That he had been worried, that he didn't want Lee to leave, that it wouldn't be a holiday with out him, that he cared very much.

Crane looked at him for a moment, and the anger in the amber eyes faded, leaving the pain and tiredness. "I understand. I'm sorry for over reacting, it hasn't been a good night. As you can see I had a little trouble on the way back to town. I'm feeling kind of rocky, would you mind if I laid down for a while on the couch in your study? I should be up in time for the meal."

Nelson felt the lump that had formed in his stomach dissolve. Lee was staying. "Of course. You go ahead, we'll come and get you if you don't turn out before dinner." He watched as Crane started for the study, then changed course toward the sink. He got a glass down from the cabinet, and filled it with water from the tap. With a sheepish look toward the watching men, he disappeared down the hall to the study.

Nelson watched the slim form disappear, and then turned to Morton. "That went well, don't you think?" he said sarcastically. "He's obviously hurting. Who knows what he's hiding that we can't see. I'd like to know what exactly happened, do you think you can get it out of him?" Nelson deferred to Chip's way of getting information out of Crane without pushing any buttons.

"I'll try him after a nap. He seemed ok except for the arm and the bruise, he was moving a little stiffly, but then he always pulls off the Academy posture when he gets angry so who can tell. It's going to be a hell of a story though, he's being too tight lipped." Morton said knowingly, already figuring out how he was going to pry the information out of Crane. Managing his friend and Captain was sometimes a tricky business, but Chip had become something of an expert in the time since Crane had become the Captain of the Seaview.

Nelson grunted in assent, and looked at the two men, "Well we might as well go see what's happening with the game, since the drama in here seems to be over." He led the way toward the living room, and then paused as the phone rang. "You two go ahead, this is probably Smith calling back. I'll take it and then join you." He lifted the receiver, and spoke. "Nelson."

There was a long pause, and then a woman's voice "Can I speak to Admiral Harriman Nelson please?"

Nelson, having been expecting Smith was taken aback for a moment, but then regained his composure. "This is Harriman Nelson."

"Admiral, My name is Heather Lindquist, you don't know me, but we have a mutual acquaintance, in fact that's whom I am calling about."

Nelson raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, and who would that be?" he inquired.

"A gentleman by the name of Lee Crane. He helped me out of a bad spot last night, and he was supposed to call me this morning, but I haven't heard form him. I tried calling… Well, before I go on I guess I should ask if you have seen him yet today?"

"Yes, I have seen him, in fact he got here about five minutes ago, somewhat the worse for wear, I might add."

"Oh there's an understatement I'm sure. The man actually signed himself out of the hospital AMA! I thought the doctor was going to have a coronary on the phone when I called and asked after Captain Crane. It seems he doesn't get on well with medical people, for all that charm he seems to be able to turn on at a drop of a hat. So you know what he did, for me and for my niece?"

Nelson had to smile at a stranger's assessment of his Captain's strange effect on medical personnel. Jaime would be glad to know it wasn't only him. "I'm afraid Lee and I got off on something of a wrong foot, and explanations were shelved pending a pain pill and a nap. Perhaps you could fill me in?" Nelson pulled over a stool and sat down, prepared to hear about Crane's 'not a good night'.

Chapter 7

Chip poked his head into the study about 30 minutes later to find Crane stretched out on the extra long couch deeply asleep lying on his side with an afghan thrown over him for warmth. He looked about 10 years old. Nelson sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa, gazing steadily at Crane's sleeping form. There was an odd expression on his face. As he noticed the movement in the doorway Nelson looked up, and rose to his feet. He pulled the afghan up higher around Crane's shoulders, and then moved to join Morton.

"Is there something wrong, Sir?" Morton asked. He had wondered where the Admiral had gotten off to when he hadn't shown up to watch the game. With the half time show in full swing, Chip had taken the opportunity to go in search of the man.

Nelson shook his head, and led Morton back down the hall to the kitchen. "No, nothing's wrong. I felt like taking a moment and doing what this day is truly for, counting my blessings." He smiled at Morton's puzzled look. He nudged him onto a stool, and sat down next to him. "Let me tell you a story about why when we say the prayer over our meal tonight I will truly be 'Giving Thanks'."

The End