A/N: Part 2 of Thanksgiving dinner at Casa de Sinclair. This chapter starts in the middle of the action, Mac just dun…dun…dun spotted Cassidy in her hall. Hope you enjoy what is probably one of the most awkward holiday dinners poor Mac has ever experienced. I love hearing from everyone, thank you so much for all the reviews, follows & favorites. Also, a big thank you to my fabulous & patient beta cainc3! Happy reading!

Obligatory disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Veronica Mars & the VM 'verse, that's all on Rob Thomas and the gang. I like to play with it though.

Chapter 10—Not Yet Lost All Our Graces

"Not at all, sweetie," Ellen was saying to Dick. "I'm glad you brought your brother. I hate the thought of you boys spending this day all alone, eating cold pizza." She then switched her focus to Dick's brother. "I'm Ellen, by the way. I'm happy that you're joining us."

"Actually, cold Chinese was on the menu for today," he corrected. "I'm Cassidy. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Sinclair." He extended out his hand, which Ellen shook, then he handed her the bottle of wine he'd evidently been hiding behind his back.

"Again, call me Ellen, and this is Robert. You both know my daughters, Madison, and Lauren, I believe. Thank you so much for the wine. This is a wonderful varietal."

It was a Bordeaux according to the label Mac took a peek at, obviously taken directly from the Casablancas' family collection. It probably set Big Dick back close to a hundred dollars and she was sure it wouldn't even be missed.

A chill overtook her as her eyes had locked onto Cassidy's. She swore she could see the evil inside him this time around.

Mac had been thinking a lot the past couple of days about the butterfly effect, also known as the chaos theory. It was something her Physics teacher, Mr. Humphrey, had been lecturing about before Thanksgiving break started, and it wouldn't stop circling around her head. The basic tenet was one small ripple of butterfly wings could cause catastrophic changes in weather patterns on the other side of the world. That part seemed a little simplistic really to her mind, but still Mac had wondered how, if at all, it could ripple into her strange predicament. The human embodiment of a big part of what she'd love to change in her own past was now standing in the hall giving her bio-mom a bottle of expensive, stolen wine.

Once the obligatory greetings and salutations were out of the way, Mac regained the powers of speech the shock of seeing Cassidy in her home had stolen from her.

She remembered the conversation she and her mom had had the previous week about Betina Casablancas leaving town yet again, giving zero thought, as always, to her boys.

"Hey," Mac said quietly, finding her manners. "Welcome to my humble home for the traditional Thanksgiving breaking of bread. The Tofurky is in the oven."

"We actually have a real turkey and also a ham for the more carnivorous eaters among us," 'Dad2' assured his guests.

"Gotta eat enough to earn that jog, huh, dad?" Lauren teased.

"Et tu, Brute?"

"English, please."

"That's Latin, where English gets its roots," 'Dad2' explained to his younger daughter. "You sound like your sister, giving me crap for my traditional pre-dinner exercise routine."

"She just recognizes truth, that's all," Mac stepped in on Lauren's behalf.

"Studies have actually shown that exercising on an empty stomach before you eat is a good way to prevent those extra pounds," 'Dad2' continued.

"Let's not rehash the traditional Sinclair family post- verses pre- meal exercise debate," Ellen said. "I know our guests don't want to listen to this topic bandied about the entire day."

"Who are we to mess with tradition, Mrs. S…err, Ellen," Dick said, grinning at her.

Mac gritted her teeth at Dick's show of charm towards her mom. She bore in even harder at her mom's return smile, she suspected by the end of the day she wouldn't have any teeth left, they would be ground down to her gums.

Ellen herded them all into the formal living room, down the hall and to the right. There were more seating options for the guests in there. Other than peeking in once or twice in her quest to get acclimated to her new surroundings, this was Mac's first official time in the room as a denizen of the Sinclair abode, rather than just a guest, or party-crasher.

She plopped into one of the matching flower-print chairs running perpendicular to the large white sofa and matching loveseat. Dick eased his lanky frame into the other chair. She watched Cassidy settle on the far end of the couch, sitting timidly on the edge, seeming out of place in the whole scheme of things. Then she looked down at her hands folded on her lap. She couldn't really bear to look him in the eye, yet he'd placed himself in her viewing range.

It was ridiculous, she knew it, but it felt like he'd come back from the grave to antagonize her. He seemed to be mocking her for caring about him, for having thought she loved a guy she didn't truly know, a guy capable of raping her best friend and killing countless classmates, a guy who stole her clothes and left her terrified, huddling in a hotel room. Maybe she deserved to be mocked for being so naïve.

Lauren was sitting between Cassidy and her mom.

She heard her parents try to involve Cassidy in conversation about school, and grades, very parental topics of conversation. Dick then took the opportunity to talk to Lauren, mainly teasing her about potential boyfriends. As her little sister blushed and Cassidy causally chatted with 'Mom2', hiding his psychotic tendencies, a skill he had perfected, Mac sat there longing for dinner to be over before it had even began. Fortunately the doorbell rang just then, putting a momentary pause on the pre-meal chatter.

"Madison, will you get the door?" Ellen delegated.

"Sure mom," she agreed, getting up off the chair, glad to get away, even if it was just a temporary reprieve.

As she went down the long entry hall to the front door she mentally called upon acting chops she wasn't sure she actually possessed to improv her way through the meet-and-greet of guests she had never actually met before.

Fortunately, the old woman standing on the other side of the door was an easy guess. She let out a whoop of excitement and squeezed Mac in a bone-crushing hug, or rather what would have been bone-crushing had the lady been fifteen years younger, now it was merely bone-bruising.

"Madison Grace, I've missed you darling. Give your grandma a kiss."

Mac extracted herself just enough from the iron-grip hug to give her grandma a kiss on the cheek. She smelled like lavender, and she felt instantly at ease with the woman. It was the same perfume her mom—Nat—wore and that gave her some comfort.

After being granted her freedom from the bruising hug, the grandma pulled back slightly to inspect her. She apparently passed.

"You look beautiful, dear. I hear school is going really well for you and Lauren, I can't wait to hear all about it." She linked arms with Mac as they walked back to the living room.

Ellen met them at the doorway and enthusiastically hugged and kissed her mom before guiding her to the couch, placing her on Cassidy's other side.

'Dad 2' got the next two rounds of arrivals, his second in command at Sinclair Enterprises, who was a big guy named Ed, and Aunt Alice and Uncle Bill. Mac listened in as introductions were made to Dick and Cassidy, mentally taking notes for her own edification. Based on the fact that Lauren jumped up to greet Ed even more enthusiastically than Grandma Cole, Mac assumed that he was an honorary Sinclair.

Just as Mac was mentally preparing what to say to an aunt and uncle she didn't even know, they embraced her and started talking about two girls named Tara and Maggie, who were evidently sisters. She assumed they had to be her cousins. Evidently one had just started a new high powered job in town, but Mac didn't catch any specifics. The other one was in Virginia on a farm or something like that. Mac was just relieved to have something to focus on other than the fact that her dead, murdering, rapist ex was sitting in her living room. Not surprisingly her headache chose to drill in once again.

As everyone reconfigured the seating arrangements to accommodate the growing group, Ellen walked around playing hostess, taking drink orders. Growing up her mom (Nat) was never even seen until every last dish found a home on the dining room table, host duties were taken over by Sam, who loved playing honorary bartender. One year he jokingly passed around a hat for tips, which got him in trouble with the boss, but underscored to Mac what a loveable goof her dad could be. She was fairly certain this dad—though he had a fun side, too—would never think to joke about money. It was a sacrosanct subject in the Sinclair household, not to mention he appeared to have a healthier fear of his boss than Sam did of his.

At Ellen's gentle verbal nudging, 'Dad2' got up to get a platter of appetizers to go with the beverages his wife was handing out. When he came back in, he had a large silver platter overflowing with an assortment of meatless Hors d'oeuvres in one hand, and a stack of small china plates in the other. Mac was pleased to see Lucille hadn't lumped the veg head and meat dishes together in one big, indistinguishable mass, doing so only cancelled out the benefit of providing both meat and meatless options.

The second the tray hit the table Dick was out of his chair, grabbing two plates and filling them to capacity. He handed one to Mac with a flourish, then sat back down to tuck into his own food.

"Thanks," she replied.

"You are welcome, enjoy the wheatgrass and sprouts. Bunny's would be jealous."

"Well, good thing there aren't any rabbits here," Mac said, "though I might have to share with Fritz."

Right on cue, the cat ambled in to further investigate the situation, letting out a meow. Ellen started to get up though and he quickly made his exit. Evidently he knew his presence wasn't allowed in this room, either.

"I had a pet rabbit once," Dick began. Then he briefly looked up at Cass sitting across the way.

Mac looked up and saw the cold way Cassidy appraised his brother, eyes narrowed, and something akin to fear fluttered across Dick's face. Or maybe it was repulsion. Before she could properly examine and label it though he'd shut down operations and stuffed a mushroom popper in his mouth.

"They fuck like bunnies," he said through a mouthful of food. At least, the word sounded like fuck, though it was hard to tell for certain as he chewed his mushroom.

Ellen interrupted her family gossip session with her mom, sister and brother-in-law to look over at Dick.

He had the wherewithal to look sheepish.

Uh oh, caught out by the manner police, Mac thought snarkily. Though she wasn't sure if it was more that he talked with his mouth full of food, or the casual way he dropped the f-bomb, it was probably a mish-mash of both factors.

She was just weighing topics of conversation to somewhat diffuse the tension that had started simmering between the brothers, when she looked up and saw Cassidy engaging Lauren in a debate on white versus dark turkey meat. She had to take a deep breath; it wasn't cleansing enough to wash away the desire to launch herself between them screaming 'no, stay away from that murdering psycho.' She put a hand to her temple.

"Headache back again, Mad?" Dick leaned over and whispered in her ear. It tickled a little.

"Sort of," she admitted.

"Sort of? You either have one, or you don't, no need to half…butt it, no need to half-butt it," he caught himself, obviously not wanting to offend his hostess again.

"I do have a headache," she said more firmly this time. She just needed this dinner to be over, and it hadn't yet begun. "It's a full-on headache, no half-butt about it."

Finally, Lucille stuck her head into the living room announcing everything was ready and waiting for them in the dining room.

Saved by the dinner bell.

Mac's relief died a quick death though when she saw the fancy little placeholders arranged artfully on top of each plate. The name was written in calligraphy. There was one setting though that noticeably lacked a tag, and the fact that it had been squeezed in between a more narrow spacing gave tell to the fact it was an 'after the fact addition'. Obviously that was meant to be Cassidy's seat. Her heart sank when she realized he'd been squeezed in between her and Lauren. Dick was on Mac's other side.

"Would you two rather sit together?" she asked Dick, trying and failing to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice.

Ellen stopped her hostess duty of guiding the guests towards their seat to raise her eyebrow at Mac.

"No, it's okay, your mom obviously has a plan," Dick said. He must have been back to this campaign to charm Ellen into favor once again.

"Brown eyes aren't a good look on you," Mac whispered in his ear. "Suck up!"

"You know I have blue eyes, like the Neptune sky, isn't that what you always say?"

"Yes, for now, but you're so full of sh-"

"Poop," Dick interjected before she could finish the sentence. "Cuss words are illegal in '09'er dining rooms, it's against the Neptune charter."

"So are clichés," Mac added. "But my point still stands about you being a butt-kisser," she smirked at him.

As soon as everyone sat down at the table Lucille started the parade of food. She watched as the big platter of Tofurky was set in front of her. Unfortunately the Turkey was placed next to the vegan roast, which meant the scents of both intermingled, merging with her headache and the Cassidy-induced nausea that hadn't yet fully abated. Mac didn't want to seem ungrateful for the special effort Lucille went through for her—though it was probably a scenario repeated every year in this realm—but she really didn't know how she'd be able to choke down much food right now.

As each non-meat containing dish was passed her way Mac took a kid-sized scoop, arranging her plate so it looked like she was taking more than she really was. She did end up spearing a bigger portion of the Tofurky though, out of obligation. She did notice though that Cassidy took a piece, too, but he rested it on top of the strips of ham taking up most of his plate's real estate, cancelling it all out.

Once everyone had filled their plates, a quick prayer was said. She assumed it was some traditional Episcopal prayer, one she wasn't familiar with, but she muttered along quietly banking on the fact no one was listening to her verbal stumbling. She'd been in a church maybe seven times in the past ten years, and a third of those times were for weddings or funerals. Her mom (Nat) went occasionally, but she'd been successfully bailing on her since she was eleven.

She tracked her gaze to Cassidy as she was muttering along with the prayer. She was surprised his eyes weren't glowing red and his head wasn't spinning.

The serious business of eating began as soon as 'Amen' was said.

Though her stomach was now this hardened rock of a place, Mac managed to pick her way through her meal, eating just enough to satisfy the watchful eyes' of Ellen, who was sitting across from her at the massive so-called Farm Table. There was nothing about the spread that said rustic or down on the old homestead to Mac, though. Conversation was filtering around her, but it was happening mainly in fits and starts, no one saying anything beyond remarking how delicious everything was, or proper stuffing technique.

The longer conversation stayed at bay, the longer Mac figured she could avoid talking to her neighbors, and when that was no longer effective and the social portion of the holiday dinner picked up she would try stuffing her mouth full of food, getting as much down into that gravel pit of a stomach as she could.

There, she had a plan, and even a plan B, she could do this—she could get through the Thanksgiving dinner from hell in this dimension, and honestly, probably every other dimension in time, too. She wasn't entirely sure she 100% believed her own pep talk, but it made her feel marginally better.

Mac was thankful when Lauren suggested that everyone go around the room round-robin style and say one or two things they were thankful for.

Lauren kicked things off. "I'm thankful for sisters with hard heads and a big collection of books."

Mac couldn't help the grin that broke through at that comment, and she gave Lauren a big thumbs up sign, too.

The parade of thankfulness moved counter clockwise around the table, so Mac was near the end. It gave her time to think of a reply. A list of things she was not thankful for was easier to dictate at this point—sitting next to her murderous, rapist ex, and worse, knowing he was in touching distance of her sister. The Tofurky sat there like a boulder in her stomach.

She half-listened as her grandma, aunt and uncle listed even more people she'd never heard of. When it was her mom's turn, she said the typical motherly-type thing about being blessed to have her family and friends and how thankful she was for their health. Mac noticed the lingering gaze 'Mom2' gave her at that last part. She appeared to zero in on the still-healing cut on her head.

'Dad2' echoed basically the same thing, but added a family business that was growing and fiscally healthy to his list. It seemed like a typical '09'er thought. Mac saw Lauren stick her tongue out at Ed when he said 'bosses who made delicious Thanksgiving dinners.'

"See, I'm not the only suck up here," Dick leaned over to whisper in her ear. He was well on his way to being a member of the clean plate club. The only real challenge to his earning membership was the pile of soggy broccoli that didn't seem to have lost any of its bulk. "That's a smart man, staying on the good side of the boss."

"Are you taking notes? Cause it looked like you could use some lessons on staying on the boss' good side."

He tapped his head, "it's all on file up here. I have a brain like a computer."

Mac was startled when Cassidy leaned over and added "it's more like an abacas." She hadn't realized he'd been listening in. She gave a weak grin, trying not to remember a time, not that terribly long ago, when she would have laughed deeply, amused by his quick wit. Things now were tainted by a sepia tinge.

Lauren leaned over and pointed to Dick.

When he saw Lauren's signal that it was his turn he cleared his throat and said "Cute girlfriends with maids who cooked really good dinners." He punctuated that statement by rubbing his belly.

Ellen mock-glared at him and everyone laughed.

Next up was Mac.

"I'm thankful for little sisters who have great taste in cartoons and know their Vulcan signs," Mac said. She clapped when Lauren did a perfect hand gesture, keeping the requisite space between her middle and ring fingers. She had obviously been practicing since that first night Mac landed in the Sinclair house.

"Sinclairs' are so weird," Dick teased, again leaning over to whisper in her ear presumably so he wouldn't offend any other member of the Sinclair clan.

"As opposed to the Casablancas' who are studies in normalcy?!" Mac almost choked on her words. That was obviously not true.

"Yup, at least according to our family crest." Dick said, with mock pride.

Lauren cleared her throat and pointed to Cassidy. "We'll end with you."

"I'm thankful for fake meat and pirates."

Mac was certain she went pale at that comment. At the surface, it seemed innocent enough to everyone else, but not her, not when she added in the layers from Mac-life. The rocks in her stomach churned, swirling around mixing with the little amount of food she'd managed to get down. It was surprising that everything was staying down. That could change at any time, she remembered the first time she saw him in this realm, how utterly unprepared she was to face him again.

Conversation drifted around to politics which, judging by the loud groan and exaggerated hands-over-the-ears gesture Lauren made, was yet another Sinclair tradition. Not surprisingly Mac discovered that they were quite conservative on most economical and social issues. Cassidy took the verbal reigns in matters of local fiscal responsibility of Balboa County.

Mac tried to stifle her yawn of boredom. It was not just that she didn't agree with the political agenda of the other people at the table, but she also thought it wasn't an appropriate holiday dinner talk to her way of thinking. Of course the Mackenzie's turkey day chat rating the best NASCAR race tracks—Bristol, according to her dad, where ever the hell that was—wasn't any more stimulating than the pro-incorporation debate currently going on around her.

About an hour after they'd all sat down to eat, though it felt roughly twice that long, Lucille came back to start clearing away the remains of the gourmet meal. It was impressive to Mac how much everyone had managed to eat, with the exception of herself. She was pleased with her skills in meal time subterfuge though, everything had been arranged on her plate so artfully it looked as though much more of it was gone than actually was. Or so she thought.

Dick took his fork and started helping himself to her leftovers. She noticed he studiously avoided the Tofurkey. He grinned at her what the hell look.

"You're not eating it," Dick defended himself. "There are starving children and shit." The cuss word was said softly. Mac grinned as she saw him giving 'Mom2' a side glance, making sure she wasn't listening to curse word rebellion.

"Not very hungry," Mac said. "So have at it. I don't really see how eating my dinner is an altruistic gesture though."

"It's symbolic, really, waste is wrong," he said triumphantly.

"Symbolic?" Mac raised her eyebrow.

"What? I listen to Mrs. Murphy."

"I guess it's hard to avoid since you sit in the front ass-kiss row."

"Can I help that she has a crush on me?" Dick asked with a leer.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Is it working?"

"Nope!" she exclaimed with a smirk, popping the p.

He snapped his fingers in an 'oh darn' gesture.

Lucille came into the room with a big plate of the vegan cinnamon melts she'd made the previous day. The smell of the cookies made Mac's stomach growl, thus contradicting her earlier cover story about not being hungry. It was a selective hunger—there was always room for cookies.

The maid placed the platter in between Mac and Dick.

"Thanks, Lucille."

"You're welcome, doll," she said, smiling warmly.

"Did you eat yet?"

"I had a little plate in the kitchen while you were eating out here," Lucille assured her.

"At least join us for dessert," Mac insisted. She didn't think the banishment was fair when it was Lucille who did all the work.

Ellen looked over at her daughter just then, a look of surprise on her face, and maybe censure, though Mac couldn't entirely identify it. She didn't rescind the invitation her daughter just extended though, that would have been a breach of manners she'd never commit.

"Oh, I couldn't," Lucille started to protest.

At Mac's pleading look, Lauren got in on the begging, too.

"Double teamed, loves? I can't argue with both you girls," Lucille said, then sighed as though in defeat. She held up both hands in mock-surrender. "Let me finish bringing in the desserts, and get some coffee brewing and then I'll sit with you."

Mac caught the look her mom and aunt exchanged. She wondered briefly what they had been chatting about. Except for the round robin about thankfulness that Lauren had instigated, it seemed like this family was more segregated than the Mackenzies were in group settings. There wasn't any shouting from one end of the table to the other, and no one interrupted or talked over each other.

Her gaze traveled around the table, landing on Cassidy, who was learning over to continue to whisper in Lauren's ear. She felt her eyes' narrowing into slits, and her nails bit into her palms. Though it was not 'Mom2's' fault she mentally cursed her for inviting Dick in the first place. It wasn't fair really because she was glad Dick was there, but why the hell didn't he bring a green bean casserole along instead of his murdering little brother? After dessert was finished she'd have to think of a way to separate her sister from Cass. Dick would just have to deal with a chaperone; she could chalk it down to a 1950s throwback.

Her plotting was interrupted by Lucille returning, laden down with a tray full of pumpkin, apple and cherry pies. She saw Dick's gaze follow the pumpkin pie. She grabbed another cookie and watched the pie feeding frenzy ensue. Lauren took a sliver of each kind and still grabbed a few cookies for herself. 'Dad2' brought one of the spare chairs up to the table for Lucille to sit on; he squeezed it between himself and Ed.

It didn't take long before the only trace of the pies that remained was bits of crust that had crumbled off. The vegan cookies didn't have the devoted followers that the pies did, but Mac did her part in thinning that herd. Dick evidently didn't find two pieces of pie filling enough so he grabbed a few cookies, too. On his fifth cookie grab though, Mac slapped his hand away. He reached down and launched his own counter attack for that move, tickling her under the arm closest to him.

She giggled and scooted away. A little voice tucked away wondered when she'd become a giggly teen girl. Again. Though she was pretty confident she had never been the giggly type, she was generous with her hearty guffaws but not giggles.

Ellen looked over and tried to look stern, but it soon morphed into a soft smile. She gave them all permission to leave the table at that point.

Mac recognized the look in Dick's eye as the four of them entered the family room; he was going to pair Cass and Lauren up and get rid of them all in the name of getting some privacy with his girlfriend.. She quickly jumped in with the idea of a sibling versus sibling Halo smack down to get him off track. She really sold it by proposing a side bet. Dick happily agreed.

The Sinclairs' and Casablancas' were pretty evenly matched for most of the first round. By the second, though, the Sinclairs' started pulling slightly ahead. Mac was beginning to think they'd win and then Dick decided to be more proactive.

Mac had the controller in hand and was hunched forward, her gaze firmly on the intended onscreen target, she was about to engage a missile when a pillow was thrown at her. It hit her on the arm—her firing arm, dislodging the aim just enough that she missed.

"Son of a bitch, you asshole," slipped from her mouth as she saw her avatar get taken down.

"Oops, sorry," Dick said in a tone that was anything but apologetic. "What does this mean, Beav?"

Even in her annoyance, Mac couldn't help but notice the anger that flashed in Cassidy's hazel eyes. Dick, however, seemed oblivious to the fact his baby brother hated that nickname.

Through gritted teeth, Cass said that the Casablancas brothers had won fair and square. Mac and Lauren both protested that "fact."

Dick and Cassidy didn't stay long after the game they'd won, with less than honest means, was over. Cassidy went back into the dining room to thank his hostess, while Mac walked Dick to the front door. Lauren stayed in the family room to turn the game off and take the opportunity to hijack the remote to watch a rerun of The Simple Life.

He maneuvered their positions so her back was pressed against the door in a pose reminiscent of the kiss from the previous week and was leaning forward about to brush her lips with his when Cassidy came back into the room. One of them pulled away, Mac thought it was probably her.

He spoke quietly, Mac watched his lips moving and tried not to imagine them back on her lips. It wasn't an easy task. "I expect you to pay up on your bet," Dick was saying. She tracked his tongue as he licked his lips.

"Don't let me interrupt," Cassidy said loudly as though he thought they might not have noticed his presence.

"No worries there," Dick said dismissively to his brother. "How about you pay up next Friday, say 8 O'clock?"

"I'm busy," Mac said snapping her fingers.

"Good, it's settled. 8 O'clock. I'd say tomorrow but Betina is sending a plane to pick us up for a weekend trip in Aspen, or Vail, or where-the-hell ever."

"Mom," Cassidy corrected.

"Betina." Dick asserted.

So that was where that had started. Mac had noticed in her Mac-life that Dick never called his mom 'mom,' she was always Betina.

"Skiing, that sounds like a hardship." Mac intoned.

"But someone's gotta do it," Dick said grinning. "I'll see you Monday in homeroom. Then, next Friday night I own you, per terms of our agreement. No weaseling out, a bet is a bet."

"Except, you know, when the bettor cheats, then the bet is null and void."

"Cheat is such an ugly word. I might have taken the edge I was given."

"Given?" Mac's voice screeched. "Try taken."

"Eh, given, taken, whatever. It's all semantics."

"That means connotation," Cassidy told Dick, apparently thinking his brother didn't know the meaning of the word he'd just used.

"Thanks, dipshit; it was last Tuesday's word of the day." Dick didn't seem appreciative of the vocab lesson and his accompanying finger gesture further sold his displeasure.

"Mrs. Murphy would give you a gold star," Mac defended. "It was in context and everything." She was annoyed, and it was undoubtedly broadcast on her face. She was not blessed in the poker face department, which was okay, overall, except in the rare occasions she wanted to play poker.

Dick signaled Cassidy, and then after nudging Mac gently away from the door they called out one last round of good-byes and thank yous and left.

As soon as the door was shut, separating her from the Casablancas brothers, Mac gave into the swirl of emotions she'd been fighting on and off the whole day. She didn't try to stop the tears that ran down her cheeks, but she did bite her to keep the sob down. She put her elbow on the door and leaned forward, forming a shield of sorts so she could gather herself before anyone from the next room caught her crying jag. She took three deep breaths in a row and then dragged a hand over her eyes, wiping the tears away.

Hoping she was composed enough for the job, Mac stuck her head into the dining room to say goodnight to the guests who were still too full to move. She plead headache and no one protested. She kissed her parents and the grandmother, she didn't really know, goodnight then headed to her room.

Once back in that sanctuary, Mac again allowed herself the luxury of crying, soaking the Egyptian cotton pillowcase in the process.

Sleep slowly enfolded over her, crowding out thoughts of Thanksgiving dinners in other dimensions with murderous exes. It was a welcome escape.

TBC…

***Like it? Hate it? M'eh? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reviews are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! Next up is another Dick chapter!