The First Holidays
Response to the Holiday at FLAG Challenge
By Deona Lindholm
Chapter 1: Thanksgiving, Part 1Over at the Foundation Headquarters, Laura Mariz looked up from a book that she was reading and glanced all around her. She had picked a rather nice spot in one of the courtyards: cool steady wind, lots of shade, excellent view.
All around her, the signs of autumn were in abundance. The leaves were already brown and gold. Plenty of them were on the ground or falling. Blades of grass were either browning or already dead, and very few green ones were in sight.
The book Laura was reading belonged to a friend of hers, and she had managed to ask the girl if she could borrow it, which was agreed to.
"'Call me Ishmael'," she murmured, "Well then, Ishmael, let's see what kind of trouble you get yourself into."
"I beg your pardon?"
The Mexican girl's head snapped to the left, where the familiar, British voice came from.
She saw that the voice's owner was wearing his usual three-piece outfit, although a brown, wool sweater replaced the outer coat. Not elderly but not young either, he looked at her with an expression of curiosity mixed with just-what-are-you-up-to-now.
"Buenos tardes, Devon," she greeted, "Como estas?"
"Just out for a walk, Laura. What's that you're reading?"
"This…?" she replied, "Moby Dick. Marissa said I could borrow it."
The older man nodded, movement a bit distant, even for him.
"Is something wrong…?"
"Hm…?" Devon asked, and then said, "Just…a bit frustrated at how much red tape there can be involving children."
"Ay Caramba. I heard you and dad talking about it a few days after Parkson was arrested. Not on purpose, of course."
He merely raised an eyebrow. Before Devon had even gotten out the door to go to the courthouse, one of the Foundation lawyers had informed him of a stipulation when it came to adoptions…that normally, they took at least a year. After further discussion, Devon went to the courthouse as planned, but with a different reason. It was mutually agreed that at first the Englishman would gain guardianship of Marissa, just in case something came up, with the knowledge that if everything went well, then the adoption would take place.
"I should hope it wasn't on purpose, young lady," was the neutral reply, "Have you seen Rissie?"
"Yeah, she's in her room. When I last saw her, she had some books on her desk as well as a stack of printer paper, the kind you'd see out of Kitt."
He nodded, thanked her, then went on towards his apart—their apartments.
It had been mid-July when everyone had gone to Helena, Montana for the fateful law enforcement convention. During the event, Kitt had found Marissa, and when he did, he began an irrevocable change. The very first difference that FLAG had noticed were that Kitt no longer seemed to have emotions, he did have them, and their existence and variety went beyond actual programming. The second one was that he was now capable of lying at will. That had been taken care of when the Englishman made Kitt take an oath not to mislead or lie to FLAG staff unless under extreme circumstances or under Devon's orders. Even now, nobody knew what other changes Kitt would make, or what the end result would be. All they did know was that Verona Miles, Devon's sister and Marissa's mother, had asked them all to protect and nurture him.
When the AI had slipped up and revealed her presence, it was closer to mid-August, and Douglas Parkson, the man that had murdered her mother and kidnapped her, had been arrested and extradited at the beginning of September.
Now, it was November, mid-November to be exact. In a couple of days, it would be Thanksgiving, the beginning of the Holidays…and Devon had a hunch that this would be his niece's first. After all, she was puzzled when Michael had asked her about trick-or-treating on Halloween.
It became rather apparent that he was deep in thought, for the next thing he knew he was in front of the apartment door and unlocking it.
The moment he closed the door, he heard a little voice call out, "Hi, Uncle Devon. Is it teatime already?"
He looked at his watch, then replied, "That it is. Be a dear and help me get it prepared, please."
"Sure!" was the answer, and a moment later, Marissa was emerging from her room, holding a small stack of printout and reading it.
He shook his head and walked over to her. "What's this that you're reading?"
She looked up, some distraction on her face. "Huh? It's the history of a day. Kitt thought that I should know not only what holiday is coming up, but how it came about."
He nodded and said, "Help me make the tea, then we'll discuss that history," with a little smile.
"Oh! Okay."
She put the printout down and went to get a couple canisters of tea while her uncle got out metal kettle that was larger than the one he normally used. Every day during this time, he had her try different kinds of tea, to see which ones she liked and which she didn't. He already knew that there were two among her favorites: plain ginger tea and cinnamon tea with extra cinnamon.
"Which one today, uncle?" she asked.
He thought for a moment, then replied, "Earl Grey," as he filled the kettle, put it on a burner, then turned it on.
Marissa nodded and got down a third container, then put the first two back in the tea cabinet.
"That sounds like a really famous tea where you come from," she said as soon as the containers were put away.
"Yes, it is. How did you know?"
"Well, you have more of this than you do any other tea in the house."
"Too true." He then looked over the printout that was laying on the dining table. "This is certainly thorough."
"It sure is. What gets me is how Thanksgiving got changed from a day to be thankful for things into a day to get drunk and really overeat."
Devon shook his head again, "That, Rissie, is something I never did quite understand either. In your case, though, Doctor Alpert said that you should indulge in the food this year. After all, you are still underweight, but not as much as before."
Marissa nodded, "Yeah, I know…but I wonder if I'll ever not be that way."
He patted her lightly on the shoulder, "You will, but it takes time. Seven years of malnourishment cannot be tended to overnight. Kitt securing food for you for a month was a start."
"Are you still mad at him for lying to you?"
That question caught Devon short, and no wonder. At times, it seemed as though some of the techs, especially Bonnie, were a little leery whenever Kitt answered something that sounded even the least bit like it could be false…and usually it would take him reminding the people about the oath that the Englishman had made him take before they would relax.
"To be honest, dear…no. I'm not. I admit, I was when I found out that he had lied to everyone for a whole month, but…considering everything, he felt he did what was necessary to protect you, and I realize that."
She nodded. "He once told me that he didn't know how you all would react if you knew too soon about me."
"That's all under the bridge now," he remarked, "In a couple of days will be Thanksgiving."
"Uh-huh. Uncle, is there a Thanksgiving where you come from?"
"No, I'm afraid not, Rissie. There are very few holidays that the entire world shares, and this isn't one of them."
"Oh, that's a shame. They should, though."
"And why is that?"
"Because if Thanksgiving was one of them, lots of people would be more grateful and not be so mean to others."
Devon stared at her, silently, while his mind turned over what she had said.
"Uncle…? Is something wrong?"
"No…I was thinking how lucky I am to have a child like you."
Marissa blushed when she heard this.
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"Um, Uncle Devon?"
He looked up from the afternoon edition of the newspaper. He had been reading about a Thanksgiving exhibit that would be displayed at a museum tomorrow.
"Yes, Marissa?"
"I was thinking…well, about something for Kitty for Christmas."
He chuckled slightly and replied, "Bonnie and I already have something in mind…something special for him."
"Oh? Does this have anything to do with something you found out in Montana?"
"Precisely. Bonnie's been thinking about it ever since then."
"That's good—"
There was a rather insistant knock on the door.
"See who that is, please."
"Right away." Marissa got up and walked to the living room, then spoke through the door for a couple of moments.
She gasped and ran quickly back into the kitchen.
"Rissie! I told you, don't run in here, you could easily get hurt—"
"Uncle Devon, that was Cathy. She said Michael's in something called the local O.R. and said something about critical condition."
He turned white and whispered something too low for her to pick up. Devon had learned that if he felt the need to swear to do it in a tone she couldn't hear…especially since he didn't want any child, especially this one, to be swearing. The Englishman then added in a louder tone, "Get your jacket and a couple of books, Marissa. We're going."
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Marissa peered at Bonnie and her uncle. The moment that they had left the apartments, Devon had run into the technician on the way to the parking lot and had told her what Cathy's message had been, as well as which hospital he was in. The reaction had been the same as his, although she forgot to keep her voice low, which had gotten the woman a sharp glare from the Englishman and a reminder about trying to keep Marissa from using profanity.
Now, the three of them were in one of Devon's three-seat vehicles (he did have a couple of those), with the man at the wheel…and going somewhat faster than normal.
In short time, they had arrived. Marissa looked around the parking lot and saw a very familiar vehicle near the doors to the Emergency Room.
As soon as the car had been parked and the doors opened, she went over to the familiar black Trans-am and put her hand on the driver's side door.
After a month of close association, the little girl was able to tell Kitt's emotions by touch, something that Michael and Bonnie both envied. As a result, she had tried to teach both how to detect the AI's mood. The operative had picked up on it quickly, while the technician was not able to.
"Kitt, you're really upset," she asked after a moment, "What happened?"
"It was horrible," he replied as Devon come up behind them, "He was out getting some things for Thanksgiving when the store he was at was held up. He managed to keep the robbers at bay, but when the police showed up, there had been a--you would call it a showdown. Michael got caught in the crossfire."
"What was he getting?"
"Decorations," Kitt's voice trembled as he replied, "Rissie, I'll be honest, Michael didn't look too good when the ambulance arrived."
Devon took a shuddering breath when he heard this, then asked, "Are you going to be all right, Kitt?"
"Yeah, maybe I should stay out here with you, Kitty."
"I…I would appreciate that…if that's all right with you, Devon."
"Yes, of course. Rissie, Bonnie and I will be just inside those doors. If either of you need anything—"
"Okay, uncle."
"Thank you, Devon."
"And Kitt…? Keep Rissie out of trouble, please."
"Devon, Marissa is never trouble!"
He smirked sadly, then went inside the emergency room with Bonnie.
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Marissa opened the driver's side door and got in. As soon as she was inside, Kitt closed the door and adjusted the seat for her.
"How are you feeling, Kitty…? Other than upset…"
"I'm worried, very worried…although maybe a better word would be scared."
"How come?"
"This is the first time a situation like this has happened after…my change."
"The first time? Michael's been in the O.R. place before?"
"O.R. stands for Operating Room, Rissie. It's where people that have been hurt very badly are taken…and most of them would not survive if the Operating Room did not exist."
"That's why Uncle Devon looks so upset."
"Yes."
Marissa nodded and hugged the steering wheel. She knew that Kitt wasn't human but he definitely had the emotions of one. This was the best she could do to try to comfort him. When she felt the wheel grow warmer, she chuckled. "How about a prayer?"
"That wouldn't hurt right now." After a long moment, he added, "Need a nap?"
"Yeah…think I do. Kitty, mind if I sleep in here?"
"You go right ahead," he answered and opened the door.
Marissa got out, then waited as Kitt lowered the driver's seat, pausing only until the little girl was in the backseat before raising the seat, closing the door and blackening the windows.
She snuggled in and chuckled, "You're still cozy, just like before."
"To be honest, I've missed this. You get some rest, little one, and I'll keep an eye on Michael. If anything new happens, I'll let you know."
She made a small, affirmative sound, then within a few minutes, she was asleep.
Kitt had to admit that her presence in the backseat, sleeping, was quite a comfort to him.
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Devon came outside just at sunset and started looking for the familiar black Trans-Am…and found it in the same place it had been before, just at the doors to the emergency room. He peered through the windows and found Marissa in the backseat, talking and gesturing to the printout from earlier.
"…would find things, generally, such as turkey, cranberry jelly, stuffing, rolls and sweet potatoes. There is also dessert such as pumpkin pie and Indian Pudding."
"I heard that the grownups drink wine at those kinds of dinners. What about kids?"
"Well, in your case, little one, it would be more like juice, water or one of those sodas that Michael likes so much."
"Hey, I like it too, you know."
"Yes, I do know. Hello, Devon."
Her head snapped around and she saw him standing over the driver's-side door with a bemused expression.
"Um…hi, uncle."
"Hello, you two. I thought I would see how you're both doing."
"Oh, I'm ok…and keeping my fingers crossed."
"I am functioning within normal parameters, Devon."
"Ah, perhaps I should have asked how you're feeling."
"…worried…and scared. He didn't look too good when the ambulance came."
The Englishman nodded, "Good to see you're being honest even about your emotions. I have some good news."
"What is it?" Marissa and Kitt asked at the exact same time.
"Michael got out of the O.R. a few minutes ago. The injuries have been taken care of. He…he will be fine."
"Devon…you had me take that oath against lying, but perhaps you need one too?"
"Kitt, how rude!" Marissa gasped.
"You're both right," he admitted, "His heart stopped twice during surgery, but they were able to bring him back. As I said, though, he will be fine. However, the doctor has said he can't be out of the hospital until the first of December."
"Aww…! That means he can't be home for Thanksgiving?"
"I'm afraid so, my dear. I'm just thankful that he is alive."
"That is a relief. Thank you, Devon. When can we talk to him?"
"You two can tomorrow," was the reply, "Want me to relay any messages?"
"Sure, to get well soon…and not do something Kitt called AMA, whatever that is."
"Likewise, Devon."
The older man nodded, smiling a little wryly, "I'll see what I can do," then went back into the hospital.
After a long moment, Marissa said, "That stinks…Michael's stuck in there for Thanksgiving, with hospital food."
"I admit, it is an unpleasant thought."
She thought for a moment, then asked, "This is a Foundation hospital, right?"
"Yes, it is. Why?"
The little girl grinned and said, "I've got an idea."