A/N: Nothing like a little holiday spirit to bring our ladies together in the same closet…
With one hand on the steering wheel and one eye on the road, Carmen Sanchez still managed to twist off the cap of her mascara and began to apply a thick coat to her eyelashes.
A quick glance down at the clock on the dashboard confirmed that she was well behind schedule. The gas pedal was already to the floor as she cruised through the pine forests of South Carolina. To the east, the sun was just starting to rise, reminding her that there was a slim chance that she was going to make it to Tallahassee before noon when her family Thanksgiving dinner was scheduled to start.
Her mother was going to kill her.
"How does that woman talk me into these things?" Carmen grumbled as she recapped the mascara and tossed it haphazardly over her shoulder and into the back seat.
Usually Carmen was able to excuse her way out of the annual Sanchez Thanksgiving fiesta at her abuela's house, but this year her mother had put her foot down, all but demanding her eldest daughter's presence at the family gathering.
Carmen hated Tallahassee and had done everything humanly possible to get out of Florida as soon as she was old enough to set out on her own – it was a part of what had led her to enlist in the Marine Corps. They were the first military branch shipping recruits out to boot camp after her high school graduation and that was all Carmen had needed to know to sign the dotted line.
It wasn't that she didn't love her mother – it was just that she most definitely did not love her stepfather and her ever-growing pack of half siblings. She'd always gotten along better with her dad anyway and though she inherited her looks from the Mexican side of her family, everything else came from her father's people.
At the thought of her father, Carmen remembered that she had promised to call him sometime today. It would be near impossible to get privacy at her mother's house, and some quick mental math confirmed that it was a reasonable hour for a phone call where her dad was.
She tapped the number into her phone, turned down the music and waited for her father to answer.
"Hey Daddy," Carmen said when he answered a few rings later. She shifted the phone to her shoulder, holding it in place with her chin. With her now free hand, she groped in the makeup bag on her passenger seat.
With a little digging, she pulled out an eyeliner pen and proceeded to apply a thick line to each eyelid in order to achieve her signature smoky eye look.
"No, I'm just heading down to Mom's place for the holiday," she replied to her father's question, grinning as one of her favorite songs came onto the lightly humming radio.
"Thanksgiving, you remember – no, no, it's an American thing, not a Mexican thing." She rolled her eyes. How many years had her father lived in this country, and he still didn't grasp the concept of Thanksgiving? Carmen winced as her father all but shouted back a reply.
She pulled the phone away from her ear a little, forcing herself to remain quiet during her father's rebuke. She loved him, but the man tried far too hard to micromanage her life.
Finally she was able to get a word in to defend herself. "Well I tried to convince the General that I would be useful, but he said it was a holiday and military business could wait. I'll have to find another way to get to her. Spencer's version of a security detail is a little more… detailed than what the Secret Service traditionally puts together. I haven't gotten a chance to get her alone."
Carmen deftly steered her car in and out of lanes to pass other early morning travelers who were going far too slowly for her liking.
"I know Daddy, but I just haven't gotten a chance to get her alone yet…"Carmen hated hearing the whine in her voice but couldn't manage to keep it away.
"Spencer's proving to be… difficult. I thought that having her come back into my life at just the right time was a gift, you know? That maybe things would be easier for us this time. But I think maybe it's just the opposite. She's not as interested in getting together as I thought she'd be. She's not the innocent girl I trained in Basic – she's battle hardened now, and I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to get back into her heart."
Carmen sighed away from the phone as her father launched into another long-winded response. She wasn't sure why she bothered trying to explain the details to him. All he really cared about was the big picture anyway.
"But Daddy…"
Her father's response cut her short again. She sat up straighter in the driver's seat.
"Yes sir… yes… I know. I understand. I know what you expect of me, I… I will not let you down. I'll find a way."
After a brief goodbye, Carmen disconnected the call and tossed her phone into the back seat. Her father had given her a lot to think about and the five hours left of her road trip seemed like the perfect opportunity to wrack her brain for a solution to the problem at hand.
It was obvious that getting back with Spencer was not going to be as easy as she had initially hoped. Maybe it was time for a different strategy. It she wasn't going to be able to woo her way back into Spencer's heart, she was going to have to come up with a different angle of attack.
Unable to help herself, she belted out the last few lines of the song still playing on the radio. "…'Cause I know that you're living a lie, but that's okay baby 'cause in time you will find: what goes around, goes around, goes around, Comes all the way back around..."
Ashley tried not to fidget too much in front of the dozen or so cameras trained on the First Family as they stood on the North Portico of the White House.
It was a cool, late November morning and she and Kyla were present to watch Christine carry out one of her least favorite of all presidential duties.
"Thanksgiving," Christine was telling the Press Corps, "…is a uniquely American holiday. A time where we step back and give thanks for those good tidings the year has brought to us. This year in particular has been a good one for the American people: I'm proud to announce that thanks to the hard work of this administration, unemployment is at an all-time low in the United States of America."
The crowd gave a polite round of applause and Ashley forced herself to join them. If she had to listen to her mother take credit for the current economic upswing one more time, she was going to scream. Christine Davies thought that the world revolved around her and that every good turn of events was merely the result of her all-knowing benevolence.
Ashley would love, just once, for one of those reporters out there to force her mother to come up with a list of three – just three – concrete things that she had actually done to help the economy during her first term. Anyone with half a brain could tell that Christine was just riding out on the coat tails of the economic polices her democratic predecessor put in place before he was kicked out of the office.
She seriously hoped that the American people got their acts together before next November. Ashley wasn't sure she could handle four more years of Christine as her mother – let alone as her president.
"And so, we are reminded that not only is this holiday about celebrating our thanks, but also celebrating the gift of giving." God who writes, these speeches? Ashley wondered. They managed to have her mother speak so much, and yet say so little.
"Today, I will bestow the gift of a pardon upon one of God's most magnificent creatures." Christine was now making her way over to the 'magnificent creature' she was pardoning far too early on this cold Thanksgiving morning – a 45 pound American domesticated turkey. The bird was apparently named Gobbles - if the plaque beneath his cage was any indication.
"I, Christine Davies, President of the United States of America, hereby declare on this Thursday, November 26th Thanksgiving and that the noble turkey Gobbles is cleared of all charges against him and is free to live out the rest of his days as a liberated bird!"
Ashley contained her laughter behind a feigned yawn, try catching Kyla's eye to her left. This was the third Thanksgiving Day Turkey pardon they had been forced to suffer through, and it has not yet succeeded in becoming any less ridiculous.
For her part, however, Kyla looked rather sour. Funny, Ashley thought to herself, that's usually my role.
The one solace that Ashley took from the event was the knowledge that Christine was secretly terrified of birds. Her Chief-of-Staff Kelly had to all but force her to attend this event every year, telling her that the American people would expect her to carry on the Thanksgiving pardon tradition of her predecessors. Even now, Ashley could see Christine's hands slightly trembling as she reached through the bars on the cage to stroke the 'magnificent' creature's feathers so that the Press Corps could get their photo-op.
Please Gobbles, Ashley sent a silent plea to the turkey who looked about as pleased to be stroked by Christine Davies as the president was to be touching him, If you have any self-respect, just turn and bite the woman.
"I know what you're thinking," Kyla muttered next to her, trying not to let her lips move while they were still in front of the cameras. "And stop making that face or you are going to make me laugh."
"Oh please," Ashley replied in a similar covert voice,"It doesn't even have to be hard, just one little peck… a love tap really."
Kyla actually snorted.
"Bless you," Ashley cooed, flashing quick grin at her sister as she covered for her outburst.
Ashley was tempted to blow her sister's façade as a dignified young lady and expose her for the dork she really was, but ultimately decided against it. She didn't want her sister to get in trouble with Christine on one of the few holidays Ashley actually enjoyed.
What was there not to love about a day that began with stuffing yourself with stuffing, continued on with turkey-induced napping, and stayed strong with a late night pumpkin pie pick me-up? Not to mention that Thanksgiving official marked the beginning of holiday shopping season.
After a few more photos, Christine declared the ceremony over and shook a few of the reporters' hands before making a hasty retreat back into the White House. Kyla and Ashley lingered behind, taking the chance to enjoy the cool autumn morning. Across the lawn, Ashley could see that the last hanger-on leaves of the autumn were finally throwing in the towel and surrendering to the impending winter.
Kyla, on the other hand, was focused on the turkey, which was now being carted off back into the White House by a few of the staffers. Her sour look had returned.
"It's just not fair," Kyla grumbled when they were finally out of earshot of the reporters.
"There's a lot that's not fair in the world, but you're not giving me a lot of context to work with," Ashley replied with a smirk. It was almost surreal being on the other side of what promised to be the nonsensical beginning to a Davies rant. So this was what it was like to be Kyla…
Kyla gestured vaguely in the direction the turkey had been taken.
"Every year Mom pardons some poor bird, and then every year without fail she turns around and has it killed anyway once the media has gotten their photos and sound bites and then makes us eat it for dinner."
"It's just a bird Kyla," Ashley pulled her coat more tightly around her shoulders to ward off the chill in the morning air. She personally had no problems with being a carnivore. "Please don't tell me you're trying to go vegan again. We had this conversation this summer – I'm not letting you become a hipster. You can thank me in ten years."
Kyla scoffed and gave her a none-too-soft shove that pushed Ashley off of the paved path they were traversing and onto the lawn. "Shut up, that's not what the issue is here."
"Then what's the issue?" Ashley asked, rubbing her shoulder. It seemed little sister was getting all fired up about another one of her causes.
"It's not just about the bird. It's…it's…" Kyla huffed and ran her hand through her hair, risking a quick glance over her shoulder as if she worried that Christine was lurking somewhere behind them. "It's the principle behind the thing! I know that deep down, mom always tries to do what is best for the American people,"
"That's debatable..." Ashley cut in.
Kyla chose to ignore her, "And that only an idealist would think that a president can always keep her word. The world's a volatile place, I get that - circumstances are always changing and sometimes a promise made yesterday isn't the best course of action for today. But she gave an offical presidential pardon and there is absolutely no reason for her to kill that bird other than the fact that she just can. It's… it's an abuse of power and Gobbles shouldn't have to suffer for it!"
"Sing it sister!" Ashley loved when Kyla got all noble and political on her. Maybe there was hope for the world yet if there were enough people like her sister aspiring to positions in government.
"You can't just make a presidential pardon and then turn your back on it." Kyla finished, blushing slightly and looking adorably sheepish as she realized the length of her tirade.
"Well then," Ashley replied, feeling strangely moved by her sister's speech, "Let's make sure that this bird gets the freedom he was promised."
Kyla kicked at a pebble by her feet and sighed. "I tried talking to mom about it last week but she wouldn't listen. I think she gets some strange satisfaction from eating the bird she is forced to play nice with."
Ashley paused for a moment, noting how defeated and small her little sister seemed now compare to the noble and righteous activist who she had been just moments ago. She made up her mind to bring that version of Kyla back to the surface.
"Well," Ashley said as she wrapped an arm around her sister's neck, "If I've learned anything from mother, it's that if diplomacy doesn't work, get special ops on their ass."
"What's that supposed to mean? What exactly are you suggesting?" Kyla asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm not suggesting anything," Ashley replied resolutely. "I am saying that we are going to rescue the damn bird!" She grabbed Kyla's wrist and dragged her back into the White House.
She hadn't consciously planned it, but minutes later, Ashley found herself knocking on an increasingly familiar door.
If Carlin was surprised by her showing up unannounced (again), she had long ago stopped showing it.
"Ms. Davies," she gave Ashley the smallest of smirks, "And Ms. Davies," – Ashley did not fail to notice the distinctly less sarcastic greeting Carlin gave her sister – "How can I help you?"
"Can we come in?" Ashley asked, trying not to be too distracted by how good the Marine smelled. Judging by her still damp hair, she had just gotten out of the shower.
"Are you actually asking?" The Marine countered, one eyebrow raised.
Ashley rolled her eyes and pushed the rest of the way through the door. Kyla follow meekly behind offering some sort of apology for Ashley's behavior. Ashley made her way over the living room couch and plopped down. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade was playing on the TV.
She offered Corporal Lewis a half-hearted salute as the other Marine poked her head over the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living space of the apartment.
"As much as it pains me to ask, I think that Kyla needs your help." Ashley announced to the Marines.
"Uh, no way, this is completely Ashley's idea!" Kyla tried to cut in.
"…and completely Kyla's righteous fight for avian rights." Ashley retorted.
"Okay…" Chelsea didn't quite seem to be following. "Are you ladies planning on heading out somewhere this morning? Because there wasn't anything on the schedule…"
"Not exactly," Ashley replied. "It's not so much an outing as it is a… let's go with 'mission'."
"A mission?" Carlin asked incredulously. "You are going to have to give us a little more information to go on with this."
"We are attempting to recuse a prisoner of war," Ashley responded in what she thought was a very film-noir kind of voice.
Spencer leaned back against the counter and folder her arms across her chest. "All right. Let's work under the farfetched assumption that you are actually planning something and this isn't just another one of your overly dramatic hyperboles. Rescue operations can be pretty sensitive. Who's the prisoner?"
Ashley couldn't quite tell whether Spencer was being serious or was just playing along. Damn her poker face. But she found that she was oddly touched that Spencer seemed to be totally down, either way. Maybe being friendly with these Marine types wasn't all bad after all.
"He's not so much a prisoner… as a bird," Kyla answered.
"A bird?" Chelsea deadpanned.
"Well, more specifically a turkey."
"Right." Corporal Lewis looked over to Carlin and they seemed to have some sort of silent conversation. It ended with Chelsea pulling off her apron and coming around to rest against the counter next to Spencer so that the Davies had her full attention. "I guess dinner will keep."
This of course drew Ashley's attention over to the kitchen. It was never too early to sneak in a little preview Thanksgiving snack. She popped up off the couch and reacquainted herself with Carlin's kitchen.
Unfortunately, her dreams of green beans and sweet potato casserole were crushed by a sad reality.
"This is what you are doing for Thanksgiving dinner?!" She picked up a container of deli meat in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other, scanning the contents of the countertop. "Oscar Myer turkey sandwiches, rehydrated mashed potatoes from a box, and canned cranberry sauce? This is just… sad."
"Feast preparation isn't exactly covered in basic training Ms. Davies," Chelsea responded a little sheepishly. "We learn a lot of skills – cooking just isn't one of them."
"Evidently," Ashley answered distractedly. She would have to do something about this, but first to the matter at hand. "Right… well, let's focus on those other skills for the moment."
"Just so we're clear," Spencer began as she pulled over two of the kitchen chairs to face the couch where Ashley and Kyla were sitting, "We are only doing this to keep you two out of trouble and to maintain the security of the president and the United States."
"Obviously." Ashley replied with a smirk. As if Carlin wasn't practically itching to do something that even vaguely resembled a real military operation after two months of playing babysitter to a pair of college coeds. Ashley didn't know much about the military, but she got the idea that this security gig was a rather unusual assignment for two Marines.
"All right then," Spencer nodded. "Let's talk logistics."
"Well, I can honestly say, this is not how I imagined my Thanksgiving going," Chelsea muttered, "And yet somehow I am not at all surprised that the Davies are getting us into this."
For her part, Spencer had really hoped to spend her Thanksgiving at home with her parents, brothers and grandma. The Carlins hadn't had a real Thanksgiving together since Spencer's senior year of high school and yet here she was again – missing another family holiday.
It was going to be worth it though. Chelsea and Spencer had been given the choice between getting leave for Thanksgiving or for Christmas – they both chose Christmas. It would be their first Christmases spent at home in two years. Spencer was looking forward to spending some quality time with Glen and Clay before they graduated from the Naval Academy in April and went off for active duty or medical training, respectively.
"It had been a while since they got into some mischief, so I guess it was only a matter of time. At least they've started letting us in on their plans instead of making us chase after them in the dark."
Spencer and Chelsea were following a respectable distance behind the Davies sisters as they made their way down the first floor hall acting 'naturally.' For Ashley, apparently, that meant whistling the theme to the Andy Griffith show. Her interpretation of a "covert approach" to the White House kitchens left something to be desired, but she seemed to be having a good time with it.
Though she tended to be somewhat of a perfectionist in her tactical procedures, Spencer allowed Ashley's behavior because she was feeling moved by the spirit of the holiday and definitely not because Ashley was in any way, shape or form adorable.
Anyway, only essential staff (Spencer, Chelsea and the Secret Service included) were working at the White House for the Thanksgiving Holiday, so there weren't very many people around in the first place. Their destination was an overflow kitchen prep area and a quick favored phoned in to Maggie, one of the Marines' new poker buddies, had guaranteed that all the assistant chefs would be away peeling potatoes in the main kitchen for the next fifteen minutes.
Their "mission" promised to be easy-in, easy-out.
"So what's next Sarge?" Ashley whispered when they reached the door to the kitchen prep annex.
Accepting the fact that Ashley was never going to call her by her proper title, Spencer ignored her and instead risked a quick peek through the circular window at the center of the swinging door.
As promised, to the far right of the room sat a large metal cage draped with a dark sheet – presumablely to keep the bird quiet until it was time to meet his maker. And to the left… of course.
So much for easy.
She ducked back into a crouch and turned to face the huddled little group. "Well, our intel was correct. The bird is being held here, but unfortunately there's also a potential witness we're going to have to deal with."
"Who is it?" Chelsea asked, glancing back toward the door as if she could see through it.
"Agent Dennison." It seemed that the Secret Service agent had sneaked down to the kitchen to snag some pumpkin pie filling. Judging by his regular furtive glances toward the door, Spencer guessed that his mid-morning snack was unsanctioned by the White House pastry chefs. "We're going to need a diversion."
Ashley gave her best Davies grin. "This is just too perfect. Denison and baby sister here having been trading puppy eyes for years now."
Kyla turned a rather distinctive shade of red. "Have not," she mumbled under her breath while unconsciously reaching up to smooth her hair.
"Regardless," Spencer cut in, "Do you think you could distract him and get him to turn his back on the cage?" Their window for keeping the assistant chefs at bay was rapidly closing.
"I don't know, maybe?" Kyla, apparently, was not someone who thrived under pressure.
"Let's put it this way: Do you think you could managed to keep him in a conversation for 1 to 3 minutes?" Chelsea asked with a gentle, teasing grin. Apparently this crush of Kyla's was not news to her.
"Think of Gobbles Kyla, you're his only hope!" Ashley whispered gravely, poking her sister in the side to emphasize every word.
Apparently the weight of three expectant gazes was enough to convince her "Okay, okay, I'll do it!" She raised from her crouch, smoothed out her dress, squared her shoulders and pushed her way through the swinging door and into the kitchen. Spencer was going to pretend she didn't catch the girl doing a quick breath check on the way in.
"Okay," Spencer turned back to her remaining two squad members. "We'll give her twenty seconds to get him turned around and distracted, and then we move. Since Agent Dennison is already familiar with the kitchen environment, we cannot simply remove the cage without raising his suspicions. Ms. Davies, I am going to need to you take one of the boxes of napkins from the lower shelf behind the cage and cover it with the cloth once Corporal Lewis and I get secure the prisoner. It won't be a perfect match for size, but hopefully it will be enough to avoid catching his interest. We're going to need to operate under near perfect silence – this is a very sensitive operation and the slightest noise or sudden movement could set the turkey off and alert Agent Dennison to our presence in the kitchen. Any questions before we move out?"
Chelsea gave a crisp shake of her head. Ashley looked like she was dying to add some sort of commentary, but managed to hold her tongue.
"All right, we move on my signal." Spencer popped her head up into the window one more time, assuring herself that Dennison was properly distracted before sending in her people. Kyla was anxiously twirling a loop of hair in her hand and Aiden was rubbing the back of his neck but they appeared to be pretty well absorbed in one another. It was good time.
Spencer flashed the all clear hand signal and silently opened the door to the kitchen. Chelsea followed closely on her heels with Ashley straggling just a bit behind.
"So it always struck me as strange that pumpkin pie is only made around Thanksgiving," Kyla was saying.
"Yeah… yes, it always struck me too – about the pie, that it's… seasonal." Spencer held back a snort. For such a pretty boy, Dennison apparently had absolutely no game.
While Kyla and Aiden managed to continue their riveting conversation about pie, Chelsea and Spencer reached the bird cage and were carefully lifting it down off the table, trying to keep any jostling to a minimum. The thing was surprisingly heavy.
Maybe it was because she had never seen a live turkey up close, or maybe it was the heat of the moment, but Spencer wasn't expecting the thing to be so big… or so mean looking. The bird was practically glaring at her when its face was uncovered. It looked like it was just waiting for the right moment to strike and reap sweet vengeance for its captivity.
"A-and, what are your thoughts about rhubarb?" Kyla was managing to keep the conversation going, giving a loud throat-clearing at the end of her question to cover some of Goggles' soft… gobbles.
"Rhubarb?" Dennison asked awkwardly, "Ah, it's totally Rhu-diculous. Like really good. Do you like it?"
Ashley had manage to find a good sized box, and with a little effort, hefted onto the table where the cage once sat. She hastily pulled the dark cloth over the box, then rushed over the hold the door open as Spencer and Chelsea carried the bird back into the hallway.
The trio did not pause to rest until they were down the hall, around the corner, and out of auditory range of the kitchen just in case Gobbles decided to get a little rowdy. Mercifully, aside from his initial soft vocalizations, the turkey seemed to be a man of few worlds.
"Hey, we actually did it!" Ashley remarked breathlessly and with surprise.
"It does give you a little bit of a rush, doesn't it?" Spencer asked, grinning as she felt her muscles tense and relax from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Despite the inherent danger in her profession (current mission aside), there was nothing quite like the rush of going behind enemy lines and doing a job that no one else had the nerve or the skill to do. This obviously wasn't a real mission, but it reminded Spencer just what it was she loved about this job of hers.
She gave herself a little shake to gather back her focus. "We're not home free quite yet. We've still got to make it to the rendezvous point. You know what you gotta do Chels."
"On it Spence, see you in ten." Chelsea gave her a quick salute before dashing off down the hallway ahead of them to make sure that their path to their exit point was clear of prying eyes.
"Guess it's just you and me Sarge," Ashley smirked. "Funny how it worked out this way, it's almost like you can't get enough of me."
"Funny," Spencer deadpanned. "But if you still want to rescue this bird for Kyla, maybe you'd better save your breath. You're helping me carry this thing," She pointed at the cage, being careful to avoid eye contact with the ever more-demonic looking turkey.
She and Ashley each grabbed a side of the awkwardly large cage and began to shuffle their way down the thankfully still deserted hallway. They made it down a few lengths of passageways before Ashley's innate inability to not be talking kicked in.
"Do why does it have that dangly looking thing hanging down off its head?" She asked out of the blue, slightly rasping from the exertion of lugging the heavy bird.
"I have no idea." Spencer refused to admit that she had just been wondering the exact same thing. It was pretty funny looking.
Ashley scoffed. "Some hick you are."
"Hick?" Spencer asked, not sure if she should be insulted.
"You said you were from Ohio, isn't that somewhere in the middle with all the farms." Ashley waved her free arm wildly, as if gesturing at an imaginary map.
Spencer laughed – it wasn't an altogether inaccurate description of most of Ohio. "I'm from Cleveland, we're not so big on the animal husbandry in the Cleave."
"Huh - well I guess I just assumed your wholesome all-American self was born with a milk pail in one hand and a John Deere tractor in the other."
Spencer almost snorted. "My mother is a naval surgeon and my father works for the Ohio Department of Jobs and Family Services. We're not really country folk." Though they both kept their voices low, their conversation still echoed lightly in the empty corridor. Spencer had to guess that they were maybe five minutes from their destination.
"So it's your mom's side of the family with the big military tradition then?"
"Yeah," Spencer was little caught off guard by how much Ashley seemed to remember about her. Apparently the girl actually listened when she asked questions. Regardless, despite the relative innocence of the topic and surprising ease of the conversation, something gave Spencer the impression that she should not allow herself to be so candid with the First Daughter. It felt like she was sliding down some sort of slippery slope, but she didn't know what was at the bottom.
Ashley, on the other hand, seemed to harbor no such reservations. "So how did…"
"Shh!" Spencer interrupted, freezing on the spot and holding up her hand in an attempt to tell Ashley to pause for a moment. She could have sworn she heard something coming from around a turn in the corridor in behind them.
There it was. The faintest hint of a voice. Someone was coming their way and fast.
Eventually Ashley seemed to catch on to what Spencer had heard. "Shit!" she whispered. "What do we do?"
That was an excellent question. Going backwards was not an option, and trying to outrun them dragging the cage wasn't looking all that promising either. Luckily, there was a door coming off the hallway just a few feet in front of them. There was no light pouring out from under the crack, suggesting that it was probably empty on the other side. "There."
Spencer led Ashley and Gobbles over to the doorway and was relieved to find it unlocked. It turned out to be a rather abandoned looking custodial closet, judging by the rolls of ancient yellowed paper towels and dried out buckets of mops.
"In here," Spencer whispered. Together the girls pushed the cage into the small closet and crowded in behind it.
Spencer was just able to close the door behind them before the voices in the hallway became clear enough that there were likely within sight of where the girls had been with the turkey just moments earlier.
The voice became clearer and was paired with the clicking of at least two pairs of heels. "…and this of course is the service corridor of the first level leading to the kitchens, launders and Secret Service training facilities."
Spencer tensed. That voice definitely belonged to the President of the United States. One glance at Ashley confirmed it.
This was definitely not good.
What was even worse was that the president seemed to have stopped right in front of the closet where they were hiding to continue giving what sounded like a formal White House Tour.
As it turned out Gobbles was equally displeased with this unexpected turn of events. Apparently the sudden darkness of the supply closet was just one environmental change too many for a turkey who had experienced an understandably eventful day. Though thankfully the bird remained quiet, he did express his distaste by reaching his jiggly neck through the bars of his cage and proceeding to nip at the hem of Ashley's trousers.
The bird must had struck flesh at some point because Ashley barely muffled a shriek and darted forward out of the bird's reach and – because of the close quarters of the closet – right into Spencer's arms. Of their own accord, the Marine's hands reached out to steady Ashley as she huddled close against Spencer chest, eyes squeezed tight against the terror of the demon bird.
Apparently the president wasn't the only Davies with ornithophobic tendencies.
As if the universe decided that this situation as not already awkward enough, Spencer heard the distinct hurried cadence of someone running down the hallway toward them. She could feel Ashley's breath against her neck pick up its pace.
The new arrival suddenly slowed their running and skidded to a short stop – likely right in front of the president and whomever her guest was.
"Oh, mom, hi! Hello!" Kyla was struggling to catch her breath. She must have gotten caught up with Aiden and was hurrying to meet the rest of the group at the rendezvous point.
"Oh, Kyla dear!" President Davies' surprise was almost enough to cover the annoyance in her voice. "Whatever are you doing down here at this hour?"
"Oh, uh…" Kyla was clearly scrambling for an excuse. Spencer tensed, willing the girl to remember the cover story they had prepared for her if anyone questioned them. "I was just… hungry? I was coming down to the kitchen to see if I could sneak a little stuffing to hold me over until dinner."
In the dim light of the maintenance closet, Spencer watched as Ashley rolled her eyes at her sister. Up close, Spencer could see that there was none of the animosity that Ashley usually harbored against those on the receiving end of her eye rolls. Instead there was rather a sort of affectionate acknowledgement of her sister's inability to tell a convincing lie.
In that moment, Spencer realized how much Ashley really cared about her sister - how in so many ways her ridiculous antics tended to be for her younger sister's benefit. Even if Ashley would never admit it, Spencer wouldn't be surprised if the real reason Ashley put up with Christine and hid her sexuality from the public was not so that she could retain access to her family's money, but rather so she could stay and look after Kyla.
This of course would mean that this ridiculous scheme had nothing to do with a bird and everything to do with making her little sister happy. Ashley could pretend to be a bad-ass all she wanted – she was really a softy at heart.
Ashley managed to catch Spencer's eye and give her a co-conspiratory wink.
The Marine felt her heart gave a responding flutter.
It was in that moment that Spencer Carlin realized that she had somehow allow herself to fall for Ashley Davies, the First Daughter of the United States and the last person who should make Spencer's heart race the way it was.
This was so not good on so many levels.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Spencer dimly heard Kyla continue though the daze of her personal revelation. "I can see that you have guests… a-and cameras… but I was wondering if you happened to see Ashley around anywhere…?"
Spencer wasn't quite able to stop herself before she was holding onto Ashley just a little bit tighter.
President Davies gave an audible sigh. "I cannot be responsible for keeping track of that girl. Somehow it's easier to run a country…but I was just in the middle of giving Ms. Winfrey a Thanksgiving themed tour. We really must be moving on if we are to keep on schedule. Certainly nothing exciting in this corridor." And then, thankfully, her voice and heels began moving off further down the hallway.
"President Davies," the president's tour companion finally spoke, "Can you tell us more about what's it's like to live in such a historic home?" It was odd, that voice almost sounded familiar.
"Oh my god," Ashley breathed, her face lighting up like it was Christmas morning. "Is that Oprah?!"
"Shhh!" Spencer hissed, pressing her palm over Ashley's lips. Despite Ashley's responding glower, Spencer kept her hand firmly in place. She was trying to ignore the heat of Ashley's breath and lips against her fingers, but now that was pretty damn near impossible.
One turkey bite, two close calls and five minutes later, Ashley, Kyla and the two marines had loaded the increasingly agitated turkey into the trunk and had pilled themselves into the back seat of the First Daughters' Secret Service SUV.
No one spoke for a moment until the driver, Willy, finally broke the ice.
"Ms. Davies," he asked Ashley, "Is there a reason why there is a live turkey in the back of my car." Ah William – blunt as ever.
"Come on now Willy, I know Kyla missed out on the better half of the Davies genes, but you really shouldn't call her names."
"Ash!" Kyla squealed from beside her.
"You have tactfully avoided answering my question Ms. Davies." Willy's low baritone and New York accent always made Ashley feel like she was being driven around by a member of the Soprano family, "Sergeant Carlin, perhaps you care to explain?"
Carlin cracked a smile at him through the rear view mirror. "I wish that I could Agent Myers, but this defies all logic. Corporal Lewis and I are obliged to go where these ladies go, and so here we are."
Ashley scoffed, "As if you weren't in it from the beginning. I see how it is…"
Willy drummed his finger on the steering wheel. "And where exactly are we going with this large bird?" They were still parked in the White House underground garage.
"That is another excellent question Big Willy. I'm going to popcorn this one off to Kyla. Kyla: where does one take a presidentially pardoned turkey to live out the rest of his days in peace?"
Kyla hesitated, "… well I really hadn't thought that far ahead with this…" Ashley rolled her eyes. This was the perfect illustration of why Kyla was the least spontaneous person Ashley knew. The girl had no imagination.
It seemed like this one was up to Ashley. She thought for about a half a second before making up her mind.
"All right Willy: Hop on Connecticut Ave, I think I might know a place."
By the time Ashley finally sat down to her mother's formal White House Thanksgiving dinner early that evening, she was salivating like a Pavlov dog and ready to feast. She was secretly a little disappointed to be missing out of the key player of turkey in her Thanksgiving dinner, but the look on Kyla's face as she had watched Gobbles run to freedom this afternoon more than made up for it.
The things she did for that girl.
Christine, upon surveying the spread at the table when they sat down, looked more than a little displeased to notice the conspicuous absence of a nice, golden glistening turkey.
"Stephan," she asked through gritted teeth when she finally managed to wave the head White House Chef over to her chair. "Is there a reason why we are eating pot roast instead of turkey for Thanksgiving Dinner?"
Ashley suspected that the only reason she was keeping her voice controlled was because they were hosting Argentinian dignitaries for the meal.
"My sincerest apologies ma'am," Stephan replied, ringing his white hat anxiously between his hand.
That was an excuse – not an explanation. Had this man never worked with Christine Davies before? She was not going to accept that. Why did he look so surprised to see her death glare?
"It's just that… well… the turkey is missing in action ma'am." That hat of his was going to be unrecognizable by the end of this conversation. Ashley caught Kyla's eye and risked a cheeky grin.
"And pray tell, Stephan, how a 45 pound turkey goes missing on the grounds of what is supposed to be the most secure building in the country?" Christine asked in a whisper, drumming her fingers lightly against her wine glass.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but no one seems to know where it is and by the time we noticed it was missing, it was too late to go out to try to find another quality turkey on Thanksgiving Day and still get it cooked in time for dinner. It must be… misplaced." The poor guy was literally trembling in his boots.
Ashley might not have liked his burgers, but she felt a little bad that the chef was taking the heat for something that was essentially her fault. "I like the pot roast better myself," she interrupted. "Less clichéd." She stabbed her fork into a particularly large piece and held it up to take a very un-lady-like bite for emphasis.
"Turkey is not a cliché Ashley, it is an American tradition," Christine glowered.
"I like the pot roast too mother," Kyla offered, taking a bite of her own, "This is excellent! Very… moist!"
Everyone at the table hurriedly dug into their substitute main course, trying to sway the wrath of the president away from the poor exhausted chef who indeed had done quite an excellent job with the spread – lack of turkey aside.
As it turned out, Argentinians were big fans of red meat and were actually quite pleased with the turn of events with dinner.
If her mother actually got these Argentinians to sign to the trade agreement she was negotiating this week, Ashley was going to go ahead and give herself the credit for setting up an atmosphere of good will.
Not bad for a day's work.
Later that evening as Spencer moved to answer her apartment door, she wondered vaguely if she would ever open it to find anyone other than Ashley Davies standing on the other side.
Now she also had to wonder if her stomach would ever stop doing flip-flops whenever she anticipated being close to Ashley.
It had to, right?
She had spent the last few hours contemplating the new feelings she had discovered in the supply closet and had decided that it had to have been the result of a stressful situation.
Spencer also had spent the last few hours trying to ignore the small voice in the back of her head reminding her that she had been in hundreds of high-stress situations over the last three years – often in the presence of women that she worked closely with – and she had never developed remotely similar feelings for any of them.
That voice was less than helpful.
Sure enough when she opened the door it was Ashley, again in the company of her sister.
"Hello Ms. Davies, Ms. Davies. Back again I see."
"Well, we wanted to thank you for your help with the mission this afternoon," Kyla said, apparently using the term 'mission' in complete seriousness now.
"And to deal with that poor excuse of a Thanksgiving dinner you two have going on in there," Ashley added.
Each of them pulled a heaping plate of the White House's finest Thanksgiving dinner from behind their backs. Ashley handed hers to Spencer and Kyla gave hers to Chelsea who had jumped off the couch at the mention of good.
"This looks great Kyla, thanks!" Chelsea exclaimed.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just loaded it up with the stuff I liked and figured you'd survive," Ashley explained to Spencer, gesturing to the plate.
Spencer looked down to the food in her hands surprised to find that it contained only her Thanksgiving favorites and none of the dishes she hated.
Spencer convinced herself that it was a coincidence.
"Thank you," she gave Ashley a hesitant smile, "This was… you didn't have to do this."
Ashley shrugged but returned her smile. "I never do anything I don't want to, if I can help it."
They sort of stood there in the doorway staring at each other for a moment before Spencer heard herself say, "Chelsea and I were just sitting down to watch a Christmas Story – it's sort of a tradition of ours – did you maybe want to join us?"
Ashley looked over to Kyla for confirmation before nodding. "That'd be really nice."
The four girls made their way back into the apartment and over to the living room.
Spencer found Ashley settling in next to her on the couch as Chelsea hunted for and set-up the DVD.
"You know," Spencer said between bites of her green bean casserole. "I think I helped you commit a felony today."
Ashley scoffed. "There were no felonies of any kind. That turkey had a presidential pardon, so basically everything we did today had a presidential seal of approval."
"I'm not sure the President would agree to that interpretation of her national decree… or federal law."
"Look," Ashley pulled her legs underneath herself and turned to fully face Spencer. "Technically the grounds were open - even if we did sort of sneak in the back way. And it's not like we stole anything, we just – shifted national property from one place to another. In fact I'm going to go ahead and say that we just added to the national collection."
Spencer laughed. "Really. So you don't think anyone is going to have a problem with the fact that there is suddenly a turkey in the otter exhibit at the National Zoo?"
Ashley shrugged. "Well the otters seemed cool with it." Apparently that was enough to satisfy Ashley's conscious.
Spencer had to muse that even though it wasn't the Thanksgiving at home she had been missing for so long, she really couldn't complain with how the day had turned out.
A/N: Whoops! Well that chapter took a little longer than I expected. Thanks for your continuing patience!