Hey everybody. It's been a long time! I've been very busy, but I haven't forgotten you if you haven't forgotten me. Here's another long one for you. At this rate, I should get the Thanksgiving chapter up by, well, Thanksgiving. Enjoy!

Rachel tossed yet another dress onto her bed. She had been through nearly every dressy outfit she owned, including a few that had been bought just for the occasion. Tired of standing in her underwear, she went to her closet and pulled out the only garment left. It was a sleeveless little black dress. She remembered how confident she felt when the dress hugged her curves and set off her chest through ruched dip in the front, or how it shimmered a bit when the light hit it. She knew Thirteen would love it. She slipped it on and looked herself over in the mirror. Finally satisfied, Rachel added earrings and heels before giving herself one more look in the mirror. She was ready.

She grabbed her purse, her jacket, and a small velvet box before rushing out the door. Rachel had convinced Thirteen to let her go home and begin their date the "proper" way. "It's not really a date if I'm already here," she'd said. "Then we're just going out to dinner."

Rachel arrived at Thirteen's in no time. She made her way to the door and, though she had a key, very formally knocked. When Thirteen opened the door, Rachel was stunned. Thirteen's dress was blue and of a silky fabric that Rachel already wanted to pull off. "You look amazing," she managed to get out.

"Thanks," Thirteen said pulling her into the apartment. "So do you."

Thirteen leaned in for a kiss, but Rachel quickly jerked backward. "I don't kiss on the first date."

Thirteen raised an eyebrow, "You won't kiss on the first date, but you're okay with shacking and having sex with me everyday before the first date?"

"When you plan the date you can make the rules."

Thirteen shrugged and retrieved a bouquet of small sunflowers from the kitchen. "Since we're being formal and all."

"Thank you," Rachel said. "I have something for you, too." She pulled out the velvet box and opened it. Inside was a dainty silver necklace with a small briolette. The translucent stone seemed simply to be milky silver scattered with hundreds of black flecks, but when it caught the light, it showed flashes of blue, green, and turquoise.

Thirteen beamed with delight, "It's beautiful. What's the stone?"

"Labradorite," Rachel replied.

She pulled Thirteen to a mirror and placed the necklace around her neck. The chain was so delicate that Thirteen could barely notice it against her skin. The flashes in the stone matched the color of her eyes. "It's perfect," Thirteen gasped. "Thank you so much."

Rachel smiled bashfully, "You're welcome. We should get going."

"Where exactly are we going?" Thirteen asked. Rachel's only response was a devilish smirk and a shake of her head.

Rachel led Thirteen out to the car and began to open the door for her before stopping abruptly. "Before we go there's just one thing I want to say," she began nervously. "When you look at the menu you're going to see some very high numbers. I just want you to understand that I'm not trying to throw money at you or impress you. I mean, I am trying to impress you, but just with a nice dinner at a place I love."

"You're cute when you're nervous," Thirteen said. "But, why would I care if you have money?"

"I don't think you do, it's just caused problems before."

"No problems. I couldn't care less care about money."

"Good," Rachel said brightly. She settled Thirteen into the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel and pulling off.

Thirteen watched as they left Princeton behind them. They rode for a while, until they hit the highway and started onto the Turnpike. Curiously, Rachel seemed to be leaving the state altogether.

"Where are we going?" Thirteen asked again.

"North."

"But what's the destination?"

"It's a surprise," Rachel told her.

Thirteen sighed and turned to the window. The plentiful trees began to fade as the scenery became cluttered with the harsh abundance of metal that marked Central New Jersey. Rachel drove until the Turnpike ran out and they crossed into New York. Before long, she was turning onto the Verrazano Bridge. As traffic slowed to a crawl Thirteen threw her head back in impatience.

"Where are you taking me?" she whined petulantly.

"Just because you keep asking doesn't mean my answer will change." Rachel laughed as Thirteen let out a huffy sigh and went silent.

"You do have money then?" Thirteen asked after a while.

"Yes and no," Rachel said elusively. "Now you're curious about the money?"

"Well, I'm just wondering how much I should resent House's salary standards."

"I have enough to give you a fantastic night on the town."

"Don't be so evasive."

"This from the queen of evasion," Rachel said drolly.

"You said money has caused problems before, so this is obviously more than a good tax rebate. You also said you're taking me to a place you love, which means you've been there often enough to really get to know it."

"Or it's a restaurant I save for special occasions."

"No," Thirteen said quickly. "Now either you take all your dates there, in which case I'll be a little annoyed with you, or you go there on your own. Often."

"First off, I hate going to restaurants by myself. Second, I've never taken anyone there. It's a place my brother and I go a lot." Seeing that Thirteen wasn't going to let up anytime soon, Rachel gave in a bit, "I make enough that I've been able to pay off my med school loans."

Thirteen furrowed her brow, "I thought your father was some sort of big shot in business."

"If you're gearing up to ask me if I had a trust fund or something–"

"No, I was just wondering why he didn't pay for your education."

"I didn't want him to," Rachel said simply. "Also, I would have had to tell him where I was going."

"So, did you have a trust fund?" Thirteen asked pertly, trying to change the subject.

"Not exactly. My mom's assets were put into accounts for my brother and I. Combine that with the–shall we say expense account–my father gave me and I had plenty of financial security before I really started working. Still have, I should say."

"Does that mean I get to be a kept woman? Can I quit my job and stay home and bake?"

"Do you bake?" Rachel asked. "Ever?"

"I could learn all kinds of things if I had a benefactor."

"I'm not your benefactor. I'm your girlfriend."

"Where's the fun in that?" Thirteen cracked.

"The fun is right here."

"In traffic?"

"In the flowers, and dinners, and gifts, and hundreds of other attempts at being romantic!" Rachel blurted in exasperation.

Thirteen rolled her eyes and shrugged, "We're still in a fucking traffic jam."

"Yes, we're in a fucking traffic jam, but complaining won't change that. Just shut up, stop being so damn impatient, and let me be sweet to you!" Rachel fussed. She couldn't help but laugh as Thirteen mocked her immaturely while she spoke. "You're an ass!"

"How is that sweet?" Thirteen quipped. As she rolled her eyes at Rachel again the cars ahead of them began to move and traffic regained its normal pace. "Finally! Go, go, go! I want my surprise."

"So impatient," Rachel chuckled.

She drove across the bridge and through the tunnel until it let them out onto the local streets. They passed briefly under the Brooklyn Bridge before Rachel parked by the waterfront. She jumped out of the car and opened Thirteen's door, graciously extending her hand. Thirteen smiled and allowed herself to be helped from the car. She paused to take stock of her surroundings.

The sun was setting quickly and it glinted over the bridge and skyline. A breeze blew over the river and chilled the air. Thirteen shivered and pulled her jacket around her shoulders. She frowned as Rachel chuckled to herself.

"What?"

"I just love that you'll put on a posh little dress like that and still cover up with your everyday leather jacket."

"Don't make fun. I love this jacket."

"I'm serious," Rachel replied. "I think it's charming."

Thirteen blushed and looked away, "Where are we going?"

Rachel pointed to a park across the way and grabbed Thirteen's hand, leading her towards it. Thirteen gazed down the park's brick-lined path. It was filled with huge, shade-bearing trees, a lush, green lawn, and flowers at every turn. As they walked, Thirteen entertained notions of a candlelit picnic filled with fancy French food. Although she wouldn't mind the atmosphere, she silently hoped that Rachel knew better than to offer her such stodgy fare. To her relief, they passed through the park rather than stopping.

The park's greenery sprawled even to the restaurant's door. It crept up and obscured everything except a pair of black French doors. Rachel held one open for Thirteen as they entered into the restaurant. The lobby was decorated like the galley of a ship. Its floors were lined with aged teak, paintings of different vessels hung from the walls, and a large model ship sat inside a display case. Rachel approached the host's podium surely.

"Good evening, Miss Galvin," the host greeted. He took Rachel and Thirteen's coats and quickly checked them. "Welcome back to The River Café."

"Thank you," Rachel replied. "I have a reservation for seven."

"Yes, your table is all set," the host said. He quickly scanned his book. "It seems your brother is dining with us this evening as well."

Rachel smiled, "Great. Could we see him before you seat us?"

The host nodded and led the two of them down a narrow terminal. It was lined with steel railings and portholes on each side.

"Are we about to go on a cruise or something?" Thirteen whispered.

"Not exactly," Rachel answered quietly. "The restaurant itself is built on the water."

Thirteen was excited, but she held fast to her last shred of patience as the terminal opened out onto a vast dining room. Its tables were simply set, and some of them flanked the room's huge windows. The sun was finally dipping into the river, and it bathed everything in a red-orange glow. The view was spectacular. Thirteen's eyes widened as she gazed at the skyline. All the buildings were beginning to light up, sending cascades of stars onto the water. Even the Brooklyn Bridge was lit, and Thirteen's view of it was getting even better as the host led them to Evan's table.

Thirteen looked over to see a man a few years older than herself. He fiddled with his fork, adjusted and readjusted the tie he seemed unaccustomed to wearing. Rachel cleared her throat and his head shot to attention.

"Rach!" he cried. Evan jumped up and wrapped his arms around her. "How are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm great. I'm actually here on a date," Rachel told him. She stepped aside to reveal Thirteen. "Evan, this is Remy Hadley."

"Wow," Evan said, pulling his jaw from the floor.

Thirteen let out a small laugh, "Hi. I've heard a lot about you."

"Same here." Evan pulled Thirteen into a hug, taking her by surprise. "I'm so glad things worked out. Things are working out, right?"

Rachel nodded, "Very well."

"Would you mind if we joined you?" Thirteen asked.

"No, but, uh…" Evan trailed off as he looked past the pair. "There's just one problem."

Thirteen and Rachel turned to see what or who Evan was looking for. Then they saw him. A tall, older man who bore a strong resemblance to Evan. His head and beard were closely shaven, and he wore an expensive-looking power suit. By the way she drew closer, Rachel could tell that Thirteen suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Oh, hell," Rachel murmured.

"Who is that?" Thirteen asked.

"My father."

"It's too late to turn back now," Evan mumbled behind them. As their father got closer, Evan stepped forward to greet him. "Dad. Good to see you."

"You too, son," Mr. Galvin said, shaking Evan's hand. He turned to Rachel and looked her over. "I'm surprised to see you here, Rachel. It's been quite a while."

"Dad," Rachel uttered stiffly. The word sounded strange and foreign as it stumbled off her tongue. Standing tense and guarded, Rachel suddenly remembered Thirteen was standing next to her. "This is, uh–this is Remy Hadley, my girlfriend. Remy, this is my father, Richard Galvin."

Thirteen smiled nervously and extended her hand, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Galvin."

"Nice to meet you, Remy," Mr. Galvin said. He smiled politely and shook Thirteen's hand. "Shall we all sit? I'm starving."

A waiter swooped in and made his rounds. "Can I start you off with a drink?" he asked, reaching Rachel.

"A gin and tonic, light on the tonic," Rachel said. As the waiter started off Rachel grabbed his arm. "If you could keep them coming all night, I'd really appreciate it," she whispered.

"So, Remy, how long have you and my daughter been together?" Mr. Galvin asked.

"About a week," Thirteen replied.

"One week and she's already calling you her girlfriend? You always were impulsive, Rachel."

"We've know each other for much longer," Rachel replied. The waiter returned quickly, and she began nursing the first of many cocktails.

Dinner passed by very slowly. Occasionally Mr. Galvin would ask Thirteen a question–where she was from or what school she had gone to –but mostly there was uncomfortable silence. Evan and Rachel had taken to locking their gazes on their plates, looking up only if necessary. They picked at their plates tentatively, as if they had lost their appetites. The waiter returned to bring Rachel another drink–her third, Thirteen counted. She flicked her eyes back and forth between them, unsure of what to do. She was seated across from Mr. Galvin and it was getting harder to avoid eye contact. Even having Rachel by her side didn't bring her any comfort.

Mr. Galvin continued directing questions at her, "Where did you meet Rachel?"

"At the hospital. I work in the diagnostics department."

"Diagnostics, that's impressive. You should be smart enough, then, to recognize that my daughter is not a safe bet," Mr. Galvin started. Evan sighed heavily and Rachel bottomed out her drink, but he continued. "She's not one for commitment. She was married. Did she tell you that?"

"She did."

"She had been married less than a month when she ran out on him. I don't think I need to tell you how that turned out."

"I already know, and I think I know your daughter a lot better than you do," Thirteen shot defiantly.

"You're an idiot if you stay with her," Mr. Galvin said.

"Don't talk to her that way," Rachel protested.

Mr. Gavin ignored her. Evan began to interject, but he was quickly cut off. "Don't you start. You're supposed to keep her out of trouble. If she wants to run her own life into the ground that's one thing, but don't let her screw up anyone else."

Rachel slammed her fist onto the table, "Stop it! Take all the digs at me you want, but you will not speak to either of them that way. You do this every time, you know. You barge in and trash everything that I have anything to do with. Most people would consider my life to be pretty successful."

"Most people don't know your past," Mr. Galvin replied.

Rachel shook her head furiously, "It wasn't my fault."

"That's always the way with you, isn't it? I'm the bad guy and you're the innocent victim. It's your fault your mother was on the road that night. If you hadn't been gallivanting around a nightclub, she would still be here. If your mother were here tonight she'd be ashamed of you," Mr. Galvin spat.

Rachel closed her eyes tightly, reeling from the shock of what had been said. Her hand was balled into a fist and shaking violently. Thirteen reached out to her, but Rachel pulled away and turned to her father. "Actually, if Mom were here, you would be nowhere in sight. We would all be sitting here having a pleasant conversation with her and her new husband. She hated you. She had found someone else and she was going to leave you. When she picked me up she even smelled like his cologne. If I'm at fault for anything that night it's for being a stupid teenager. You're the one that got her killed."

"This is ridiculous! Just pass the blame on to me. You can never–"

"The last thing she said was 'I wish your father were here. Then he could be the one crawling out of bed in the middle of the night.'"

"That's enough," Mr. Galvin ordered.

"She was half asleep when she picked me up–"

"I said that's enough!"

"She was tired because you were never around to help. That's why she didn't see that truck–"

"Be quiet, Rachel!"

"That's why she's dead!"

The tension exploded and settled around them. Other patrons were staring. Rachel was seething and Mr. Galvin was irate.

"I'll pay the bill on the way out," was all he said as he pulled himself from the table and left.

Rachel jumped from the table and marched to the bar, leaving Thirteen and Evan frozen in her wake. When Thirteen regained her composure, she went to the bar to find Rachel downing her fourth, then quickly her fifth drink.

"Let's go home," Thirteen said calmly.

Rachel turned to Thirteen. Her eyes were glassy and the look in them shut Thirteen out. "I'm good here."

Thirteen pulled another full drink from Rachel's hand. "We're going," she said sternly.

"And no arguing this time," Evan said, joining them.

Thirteen drove behind Evan, following him to his apartment. They turned into a quaint old brownstone. Even in the dark, the building's red brick still stood out. Thirteen pulled Rachel from the car and she lolled against her drunkenly as Evan led them inside. The building seemed to have been converted from an old warehouse. As they headed for a freight elevator, Thirteen could see that the first floor held some kind of storefront. Rachel began to lean against her heavily as they climbed to the third floor.

Evan led them to his guest bedroom and quickly disappeared. Thirteen pulled Rachel's arms from her neck and lowered her gently onto the bed. Rachel flopped back with a sigh and covered her face with her hands. Evan returned and handed Thirteen some clothes.

"These should do for tonight. She's got stuff here, but I doubt she could find anything in this condition," Evan said. He studied Rachel with a worried look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Rachel mumbled. "I'm not even that drunk."

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm fine," Rachel groaned.

Evan gave a heavy sigh and turned to Thirteen, "I'm sorry you had to be part of all this."

"It's okay. I'm just worried about Rachel," Thirteen shrugged. "Why don't you get some sleep? I can put her to bed."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

Evan nodded and left them alone. Thirteen pulled Rachel up and began to redress her in the clothes Evan had brought. Every few moments she would stop and brush a stray tear from Rachel's cheek.

"Why does he hate me?" Rachel whispered.

Thirteen looked up at her, "I think he's just hurt. He lets all that pain and anger get in the way of seeing how amazing you are. If he doesn't want to get to know you that's his loss."

Thirteen pulled Rachel into her arms as she began to tremble. She rubbed circles over her back, trying to get her to sleep. Thirteen lay down and Rachel curled into her like a child. After a long while they both drifted off to sleep.

The sound of knocking woke Thirteen. It had crept into the early hours of the morning and she was groggy. She felt around for Rachel but came up empty. As she began to realize where she must be, Thirteen headed out into the hall. There she found Evan knocking on the bathroom door, trying to coax Rachel out.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know. I got up to use the bathroom and she had locked herself in. I've tried to talk to her, but she won't answer."

"Do you think she'd hurt herself?" Thirteen whispered.

"I don't know. I don't think so. Nothing in there is exactly clean," Evan answered quietly. He attempted a laugh, but it came out stifled. "I'm going to have to get some tools."

"Just wait a minute. Let me try," Thirteen said. "Rachel? Please let me in. If you don't, Evan's going to take the door down."

Thirteen waited anxiously. She held her breath, straining to hear any sound that indicated Rachel might let them in. After a few moments there was a soft click. Evan turned the knob and the door finally swung open, giving them access to the bathroom. Rachel was sitting in the tub. She had her knees hugged to her chest and her head cradled between her arms. She turned to face the two of them and the light caught her tear-stained face.

"Just Remy," she murmured.

Evan let Thirteen pass and leaned against the doorframe. "I'll stay out here, but I'm not leaving."

"Are you okay?" Thirteen asked. She cautiously climbed into the tub and let her hands rest on Rachel's knees.

"I killed my mom," Rachel sobbed.

"You didn't," Thirteen said. "It was an accident."

"I shouldn't have been there. We shouldn't have been on the road. It's my fault, too."

"It was an accident," Thirteen repeated. "You couldn't have known. You were a kid."

"I was stupid. My mom's dead because I couldn't wait until twenty-one to drink and party," Rachel said. She sniffled as more tears streamed down her cheeks. Thirteen pulled her closer and rubbed her back soothingly.

"It's not your fault. Bad things happen. You can't blame yourself." Sitting against the cold porcelain, Rachel began to shiver. Thirteen stood and pulled her up, "Let's get you back to bed."

Thirteen gently lead her back to the bedroom. She eased Rachel to the bed and pulled the covers around her. Still sobbing, Rachel huddled closely against Thirteen. Thirteen held her tightly and whispered comforting words until Rachel was calm enough to sleep.

Thirteen gasped and her eyes snapped open. Quickly using her hand to shield against the bright morning light, she tried to determine what had startled her. Uninterrupted sleep seemed to be too much to ask for this weekend. But that sound. It was too loud to be a blender or a grinder. In fact, it didn't sound like any appliances that came to mind. It was more like a power tool of some sort.

Slowly, Thirteen untangled herself from Rachel's balled form and crept out of bed. She wandered around Evan's apartment for a while, getting her bearings. There wasn't much–the two bedrooms, the bathroom, a small sitting area, kitchen, and elevator. The offending noise continued, but there were no signs of its source. In the kitchen there was a fresh pot of still-hot coffee. Thirteen poured herself a large mug and made her way to the elevator.

Inside, she found buttons for three floors and a basement. She tried for the second floor and the old elevator lurched into descent. The closer she got to the second floor, the louder the noise became until she could see Evan from the elevator. He stood amidst a shower of sparks. Moving back and forth, he passed his noisy tool over a sizeable piece of metal.

Evan was outfitted with gloves, goggles, a facemask, and hearing protectors. Stepping from the elevator cautiously, Thirteen looked for a way to get his attention. It only took her a moment to find the solution. On the wall opposite the elevator, a large yellow arrow had been painted facing a switch. Inside, the arrow read, "If you must have my attention." Thirteen flipped the switch and a red light began to flash overhead. After a few moments Evan turned off his tool and removed his safety gear.

"Is everything okay?" he asked with a tinge of worry in his voice.

"Everything's fine. I just had to find out what that noise was."

Evan laughed, "Sorry. I'm not used to working with other people around. Although, honestly, I thought you'd sleep through it. You sleep like the dead–both of you."

"It was a long night. What is that thing anyway?" Thirteen asked gesturing to the tool Evan had set aside.

"It's a wheel grinder. I was smoothing out the edges of the metal."

Thirteen looked at the metal again. The piece was as tall as she was and very substantial. As she looked around she saw other pieces. Some were metal, some were wood, and some looked like the beginnings of furniture. "What is all of this?"

"I'm a sculptor," Evan said proudly. "Mostly large industrial pieces. I'm also a carpenter and furniture maker. That's what pays the bills. I have a store downstairs."

"Impressive," Thirteen nodded. "Have you been down here all night?"

Evan shrugged, "Rachel runs, I sculpt. I couldn't get back to sleep. By the way, you, my friend, are dipping into my second pot of coffee."

Thirteen looked sheepishly at the mug between her hands. "Sorry," she mumbled. She took a long pull from it and offered Evan the mug.

Evan laughed and waved her off, "Keep it. You deserve it."

"What did I do?"

"You got to Rachel. And I don't mean the whole ordeal of getting together. I'm talking about last night. She's never let anyone in like that."

"Like what?"

"She's never let anyone that close while she's down," Evan said. "No one has ever made it past the door, so to speak."

"What your father said last night, is that what drove Rachel away before?"

"When we met her husband? Yeah, that was pretty much exactly what he said then. She's never really stopped blaming herself and it doesn't help that he adds to that."

Thirteen shook her head in frustration, "Why would he do that? Why would he put that burden on her?"

"It easier. If he believes it's Rachel's fault, he doesn't have to face all the mistakes he's made. He doesn't have to acknowledge that he wasn't there for his children or that his wife was with another man. As long as it's Rachel's fault, it's not his."

"But she shouldn't have to put up with that," Thirteen said.

"No, but there's nothing to be done about it. Our father is who he is. We generally keep our distance from him. Rachel's strong, though. She'll be fine."

Evan smiled warmly at Thirteen. It was the same kindhearted grin she always received from Rachel and she returned the gesture.

A sudden burst of creaks and groans from the elevator made Evan snap to attention. Thirteen turned as Rachel pulled up the door and stepped from the car. She was swaddled in a soft-looking old hoodie and jeans. She pulled her hair back into a messy bun as she strode over to them.

"How are you feeling?" Thirteen asked.

"Okay," Rachel said softly, coming to Thirteen's side. "A little dehydrated, a little drained, but okay."

Thirteen pulled Rachel into a tight hug and breathed her in; she was still warm from the shower. As they parted slightly, Thirteen pushed a few stray curls from Rachel's face and kissed her. "Do you want anything? Breakfast? Coffee?"

"I think the better question is does Evan have anything?" Rachel said turning to her brother. "He still lives a little like a frat boy."

"My kitchen is fully stocked, thank you," Evan replied. "Be nice or you'll go hungry."

"Both of you be nice or I won't make anymore coffee," Thirteen cut in.

The siblings clammed up, smiling slightly at each other. Rachel wrapped her arms around Evan, giving him a quick hug before heading upstairs with Thirteen.

When they reached the kitchen Thirteen set to work rummaging through the cupboards to find what she needed. Rachel tried to help, but Thirteen swatted her hands and shooed her away to the island in the center of the kitchen. "Sit," she said.

"I'm sorry about last night," Rachel called. "I definitely didn't mean for our first date to turn into a family drama session."

Thirteen shrugged, "Simplicity has never really been our thing."

"Still, I'm sorry everything was ruined."

"You don't have to keep apologizing. I'm much more concerned about you. Are you sure you're okay?"

Rachel nodded, "It's strange, but I feel sort of free. I don't have to walk on eggshells anymore. Everything is out in the open."

"You were huddled in a bathtub and crying for most of the night. You find that freeing?" Thirteen asked, narrowing her eyes.

"My father has blamed me for that accident for years, and I let him. All the digs, and cold shoulders seemed like penance, they seemed right. I never spoke up about what happened that night, or how I felt about my father's part in it. Until last night. Last night I finally got everything off my chest. I don't think I'll ever be able to completely put it all behind me, but I feel like I can move on."

Thirteen reached over and laced her fingers between Rachel's, "I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried."

"I'll be fine," Rachel assured her.

"So, what can I make you?"

"Tea and dry toast."

"Seriously? Evan's got eggs, bacon, pancake mix."

Rachel chewed on her lip as she chose her words carefully, "It's just that my stomach is a little sensitive when I'm hung-over and it occurs to me that I've never eaten your cooking."

Thirteen pushed her lip into a mock-pout and frowned, "I can't believe you don't trust my cooking skills. Just for that, you're getting eggs with that toast."

"I suppose I could handle that." Rachel laughed at Thirteen's stubbornness before deciding to push her buttons, "Besides, who can't cook eggs?"

Thirteen promptly snapped a kitchen towel at Rachel before busying herself with breakfast.

As the smell of food wafted through the building, Thirteen soon found Evan sneaking into the kitchen in search of a meal. She served three plates full of eggs and toast and sat down. The trio ate hungrily through an easy silence.

"What are you two doing for Thanksgiving?" Evan mumbled through his toast.

"Sorry," Thirteen replied. "I didn't understand that with the crumbs flying from your mouth."

Rachel laughed under her breath, "We don't have any plans just yet. At least not together."

"I don't have any plans at all," Thirteen said. "I'll probably be working."

"Why don't I come down?" Evan offered. "The delinquent doc and I will cook." Evan watched as Thirteen simply nodded and Rachel shrugged unenthusiastically. "Could you muster up just a little excitement? We're talking about the only holiday where you get to gorge yourself."

"Can you blame us?" Rachel asked. "Our first date was mess. Sorry we're not all fired up for our first holiday."

"At least you know it can't get worse," Evan chimed.

Thirteen smirked a bit at his remark. "Thanksgiving together actually sounds really nice. It sounds normal. Maybe we can actually have a simple, relaxing holiday."

"Yeah," Rachel mumbled. "That's not a jinx at all."