AN I might change perspectives...I'll add in plenty more characters later. And I'm open to ideas. Very, very open to ideas.

PROLOGUE

Captain Smoker didn't like the Holidays. Apparently, that was a common fact known throughout the office. But still, I started bringing him his coffee (black, no sugar) to him in a green and red mug with the words, "Happy Holidays" hand painted around the side a few days ago. He didn't seem to mind it, so I kept testing the water, and finally felt confident enough to ask him what he planned to do for Thanksgiving.

He leaned back in his chair and paused thoughtfully as he stroked his chin. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days, and I wondered then if he was okay. Smoker shrugged, snatched his newspaper up, and grumbled around the cigar that was in his mouth. I didn't mind the smell--even if they were fantastically cheap. "I plan on going through the obligation of that parade." I flushed red to my ears, and I'm sure he saw it. Of course, the police chief would have to participate in the Thanksgiving parade the city was holding... I should have known that, of course. "Then I thought I'd go home, have a sandwhich and watch the game, maybe fall asleep in my chair."

"Oh," I said quickly--and quietly. That was how I found out Captain Smoker really didn't have a family. Prior to that conversation, I'd gone through the trouble of snooping around his desk when he wasn't looking, or when he asked me to get his coat for him, or his hat. Just a quick sweep for any photos of kids, maybe. A darling wife in an upright photo frame with a pleasant smile. But nothing like that existed on Captain Smoker's desk. The only pictures I saw were the ones he kept hung up on his wall. One of a younger him, graduating from the academy, arm-in-arm with his buddies. He smoked then, too. And there were the newspaper articles he had that featured him--framed and old. Typical, really, that a man like him didn't have any personal photos lying around. Not even of a nephew, or of a distant relative, or friends. I wondered why.

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Smoker asked me without looking up from the morning paper. "Buy your turkey yet?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't buy a turkey when it was just me, sir. I'm going to the parade with Sergeant Fullbody to oversee the crowds--" Smoker chuckled and nodded approvingly, the first sign he gave me that he was actually listening, "--and then I was going out to lunch with a friend of mine and, and maybe a movie, sir. I won't have Thanksgiving dinner this Thursday."

He got up and began to put his coat on quite suddenly. I stood there, not sure what to do. "Sir?"

"You're restless. Let's get some lunch."

I think that's why Captain Smoker and I got along so easily, right from the bat. I didn't know it then, but he'd always wanted a daughter, and for as long as I could remember, I'd been looking for a father figure to fill that gap I always had.

---

It turned out Captain Smoker's place of choice was a sandwhich place just down the street. It was really homey inside, very mellow, and everything was cut and wrapped in front of you. I liked the smell of bread when I walked in, and I took off my gloves and looked up at the menu when Smoker nudged me. He must of been a regular here, since he didn't look up to order. He went straight to the cashier, who looked like she even accented the place rather nicely. Her yellow dress matched the tile on the wall. "Barbara," he called her, "Nice to see you. Kids?"

"Excited. I'm taking them to the parade this week." She had a laugh that warmed bones. "I can count on you to be there, right?"

"Course," Smoker said, "I'll have the ham sandwhich. No peppers." He turned and looked at me, and I was a bit mortified to be asked so suddenly, so I went with the first thing I saw off the menu, which happened to be a tuna sandwhich. That was a shame, because I hated tuna, and I didn't have the heart to change my mind so suddenly.

He grabbed to bags of chips and paid her, and she gave two styrofoam cups. "Black, no sugar," Barbara said, "And hot chocolate." I smiled. So Captain Smoker remembered that I always like cocoa over coffee.

I sat down across from him and he pushed my sandwhich over to me. I frowned at it, then decided it was best to start on the chips for now. "Like the snow?"

I looked up at him, then looked outside. The snow looked nice the way it was. All you could see where the footprints from me and the Captain, but besides that, everything looked untouched. I shook my head and looked down. "It's too cold for me, sir." I said, "I like the sunshine a lot more."

He honestly looked surprised to hear that, but he chuckled again. I was beginning to like the sound of his chuckle--even if it was just that. It was a big improvement when you compared it to his usual scowl and grumble. "I don't either, but I thought you were the type to appreciate the scene snow usually gives this time of year."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I do like the view..." I said thoughtfully, "In photographs and books." I had the pleasure of hearing his laugh then.

Once upon a time I really liked the snow. Back when I was younger, around ten, I remembered my mother and my older brother would take my mitten covered hands and lifted me over sloshes, I called them, and they'd walk with me down the busy city street. We usually walked everywhere, and it was always hand and hand. But one day, older brother got old enough to drive, and my mother didn't like that. Still, she bought him a car because he said he needed it, and I watched him drive away one morning, off in the brown, icy snow, and I ran downstairs. My mother and I sat down, she had a coffee and I had hot chocolate, and we talked about Christmas and all the things I would get for being a good girl that year.

I don't really like this part of the story. Where the phone rings, and my mother gets up to answer it, and she sinks down to her knees when they tell her there's been an accident and my brother is in the hospital, dying away in someone's arms because some people can't drive in the snow.

No sir, I don't like the snow. It's too much trouble on the heart.

"Did you hear about that fire, Captain?" Barbara pointed up to the TV, perched in the corner, and I looked to Smoker. He nodded solemnly as I turned to the TV again to watch the news reporter prattle on about the apartment that went up in flames a few days ago.

"It wasn't an accident. Someone started this one again. But it's fine." Smoker said, shrugging a shoulder. "Isn't that right, Tashigi?"

I nodded. I'd taken the liberty of asking around after all. "The witnesses all identified the same boy, running around just before it happened. Tall, lanky, with long, wavy black hair. They said he was maybe in his twenties or younger, pale-skinned and most distinguishing about him were his--"

"Freckles. Whoever this firestarter is, he has freckles across his face." Smoker grumbled, "We'll find him."