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Between one thing and another, it was a very busy November for every Claremont student. It wasn't until the third week of November that Mark Lucas finally made it out shopping with his mother, buying a present for a friend who'd had an especially hard time of it that November. He headed for Erin's room on the evening of the 21st, taking advantage of the warm Saturday, a big box under his arm that hardly smelled of the herb-stuffed and scented pillow he'd bought in the city's art district. It had the promise of a good day...or so he hoped, anyway. Between one thing and another, things had been...unsettling for the scion of the house of Lucas. Erin, despite everything, was one person who he could count on to be herself.

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Erin's schedule was fairly reliable, and as he'd expected, he found her in her room, sitting at her desk with a physics textbook open in front of her. The orange cat in her lap was a new addition, though. He'd obviously made himself at home. Erin was stroking his head absently as she worked, the cat's loud purring the only noise in the room. Both girl and cat looked up as Mark knocked on the half-open door. "Hey Mark," she greeted him. "Alex is out somewhere, she should be back in a couple hours."

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"Hi, Erin," said Mark with a smile, hefting the box in his hands. "I was looking for you, actually, and...oh, you've got a kitty! Hello, kitty!" Mark liked animals, especially cute ones, almost as much as he liked people. He smiled at the cat, kneeling down and reaching out to see if the cat liked petting. "I didn't hear about this. Where did he come from?"

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This cat wasn't going to win any prizes for cuteness; he was a gangly half-grown orange cat with fur that was a little scraggly and bones that were a little prominent, but at least he was personable. Putting his ears forward, he leaned his chin into the caress, giving Mark an encouraging purr. It was actually a very relaxing experience, just to pet an animal and not have it turn into something else or try to take his hand off.

"I found him a few days ago," Erin told him, "right after the invasion, when everything was still so crazy. He seems to like it here. He doesn't have a collar or anything, but I've been calling him Oliver." Erin seemed more relaxed than usual as well, or maybe it was just that she'd been so very tightly wound for most of the month that any reduction in stress seemed like an improvement. She looked over towards the package in Mark's hands. "What have you got?"

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"Oh, you're a sweet boy, aren't you?" Mark petted the kitty's head for a little bit, still talking to Erin. "Well, er, this is actually why I came over. Two reasons, anyway." He smiled and handed her the package, a bulky-but-light paper box wrapped in cheerful Freedom City-themed wrapping paper. "I'm sorry this is so late, Erin, but happy birthday. I meant to get this for you before everything went crazy. Hopefully your birthday kitty was present enough in the meantime."

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Erin blinked and took the package from him, looking it over without opening it for a moment. "Thank you," she told him, sounding a little baffled but not displeased. "I didn't think anybody would remember, after everything that happened. That's really nice of you." She started to reach for the bow, then remembered her manners. "Ah, should I open it now?"

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"Sure, go ahead," said Mark with a smile. "Like I said, it's way late." Inside the box, Erin found a fluffy knit pillow emblazoned with a cheerful smiling sun. Holding the pillow to her face, she could feel the fabric inside crinkle, and smell roses and lemon inside. "It's an herbal pillow," commented Mark, "it's supposed to help you relax. A friend of my mom knits them. If you don't like the stuff inside, the back opens up and you can put in a bag of whatever you want."

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Erin held the pillow up to her nose, smiling a little at the silly picture. "It smells nice," she said, a little bemused. It was probably the least useful thing she'd gotten since she came here, but it was cute in a way, and brightened up the room. And it was the fact that he'd remembered that really meant something, and that he'd cared enough to get a present at all. He'd even wrapped it, or gotten someone to do it for him. Oliver reached up and batted at one of the corner tassels, his face a study in concentration. "I really like it," Erin told Mark. "Thank you."

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"You're welcome," said Mark, glad he'd put a smile on the face of his sometimes dour friend. "I like to take care of my friends. And I thought after this month, we all deserved something special." Sitting down opposite her, he asked, "Hey, there's something else I wanted to ask you. How would you like to come over to my family's place for Thanksgiving?"

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That set Erin back once again, blinking in surprise. "Um, well, Thanksgiving's really a time to just spend with your family, isn't it?" she fumbled. "I mean, it's nice of you to ask and all, but you'll all probably have a better time just among yourselves." In her lap, Oliver yawned and stretched, purring louder as he kneaded her blue jeans. Without really thinking about it, Erin started petting him again. "Especially after what happened the other week," she added.

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"For family and friends," said Mark with a little shrug. "I mean, we've been to Hell and back together, that's got to make us family, right?" He grinned. "Besides, we're teammates, my folks are used to me bringing folks home. And as for the invasion, don't worry, my folks were fine with that. My dad gave me my Christmas present early; he said it was my coming-of-age gift for surviving my first extra-dimensional incursion. Which also means I can pick you up here and take you there, even if I'm not supposed to tell anyone else about the E-s-c-o-r-t till after Christmas."

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  • 1 month later...

Erin chuckled at that, holding up the pillow so Oliver would stretch up and play with the tassels. "I hope that's a Ford Escort you're talking about," she joked. She was quiet for a minute then, thinking about her options. "I'd like to come, if it's all right with your folks," she told him. "But I think I'd be better off driving myself. I might have to leave sometime during the evening, and then you wouldn't have to drive me back." She could run back to the school, of course, but taking the truck did make things seem more, well, normal, for lack of a better word.

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"All right," Mark agreed, trying to be understanding. He knew Erin had some issues being around people, and while he was confident that his family wouldn't cause her any problems, he didn't want to upset her or make her not want to come. That would defeat the entire purpose of everything! "Sounds good," he said. "If you come over around six, there should be time to socialize before Mom takes the turkey out of the oven. It'll probably be just the four of us, but that'll be...more family-like, I guess."

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"That sounds fine," Erin said, a little cautiously. It all still sounded sort of strange and awkward to her, but if she turned down the invitation, she'd be sitting alone in her room on Thanksgiving and probably wishing she wasn't. It was better to try something, she figured. "Should I bring something, like some kind of food or dessert?" She remembered Thanksgivings with her extended family and how everyone always brought something along. She wondered if there were any recipes she could make with pilfered granola bars over Alex's hot plate. Probably not.

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"If you want to," said Mark with an easy shrug, relaxing now that Erin was interested. "My mom really likes to cook, but I'm sure she'd be happy to eat anything you'd want to make." He smiled. "My advice, though, is don't bring anything. My mom...really likes to cook. Like, a lot. I'm going to be eating Thanksgiving leftovers for the next couple of weeks, and so will you if she gives you any. We'll have plenty of food. You'll have a great time," he promised her. "My parents really love superheroing, but they're normal people too. We'll probably play some board games and watch old movies."

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"Okay, that sounds good," Erin said, relaxing a little even as Oliver tried to climb up her shoulder to get the pillow. "I like old movies." Even if Mark was a little weird, he was nice, and his family had to be okay. Alex had seemed to have a decent time when she went to meet him, and this wasn't even going to be some kind of girlfriend audition. Sure, maybe the fact that she was a charity case instead made her a little uncomfortable, but after a year, she was starting to get used to it. "You can give me directions and I'll be there at six. Did you put any catnip in this thing?" she asked, waving the pillow a little as the cat lunged at it.

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"No, but that's not a bad idea," said Mark, scratching his chin. "I mean, I'd have put catnip in if I knew you had a cat, but I bet Oliver would like catnip." He shrugged. "I never had a cat. My folks just had dogs." They talked a little bit about pets, but now that he'd successfully made his arrangements Mark was ready to head off. "Six o'clock! I'll be waiting. Happy holidays, Erin," he said with a smile.

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There was no class on Thursday, obviously, with everyone released for the holiday. Erin kept herself busy most of the day, just so she wouldn't worry so much about the evening. She spent most of her time on the agility course, finishing up early enough to take a shower and put on some of the new clothes she'd gotten for her birthday from Roger and Clarissa. It was easier to think of them that way now, though she wasn't really sure why. They'd sent a gift card instead of clothes this time, which meant that the red sweater and dark slacks actually fit her properly. She was very pleased with them. Oliver had already anointed the pants with orange cat hair, but a little scotch tape had taken care of that.

With map in hand, she climbed into her truck just after five and joined the parade of holiday traffic wending its way through Freedom City. Driving in traffic was still enough of a strange novelty to keep her attention the whole way, so that she didn't even really start worrying again until she turned down Mark's street and pulled into the driveway, a few minutes before six. Erin got out of the truck and stood in the driveway for a minute, just standing and staring and hesitating. It was silly to be so nervous. They were nice people, and she was doing much better with dealing with nice people these days.

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The Lucas house was nestled in a cheerful suburb, snow dusted on the ground and the houses already decorated for Christmas. This was one region of the city Erin hadn't visited during her time on the other world, possibly because it hadn't held anything important. The Lucas yard held a boisterous Santa being held by an inflatable Captain Thunder; the sort of Christmas decoration that most people would have found just a little too tasteless. The Lucas family, though, didn't worry about that sort of thing. Mark was waiting for Erin just inside the door, wearing an orange sweater and brown slacks to fit the Thanksgiving decor.

"Hey, Erin!" he said cheerfully, sensitive enough not to clap her on the back the way he was obviously thinking. "Come inside and meet my folks." Mark's dad was older than Erin had expected, though she remembered he was a contemporary of Mr. Summers. In his early sixties, he looked a lot like an older Mark, his grey hair cut short and a ready smile on his face.

"Hey there!" Rick Lucas didn't hesitate to stick out a big hand in Erin's direction. "You must be Erin. I'm Rick Lucas. Nice to meetcha!"

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Erin shook his hand firmly, careful not to squeeze too hard. "It's nice to meet you," she replied. "I've heard a lot of exciting stories from Mark. Thank you very much for having me over for dinner tonight." There, that was easy enough, she remembered how to do that. It wasn't like she'd never been over to a friend's house before, it had just been a long time. "Um, anything I can do to help get ready?"

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"Glad you asked!" said Rick jovially. "Hey Martha, Mark's friend is here!" A friendly-looking woman leaned out of the kitchen at that, waving cheerfully with a familiar smile on her face. In a flower-print dress with her hair up, she wore the style of a 50s housewife with style and grace. "She wants to know if you need any help in the kitchen!"

"Sure!" said Martha cheerfully. "C'mon in! The boys can finish setting the table," she added in a hint that had Rick and Mark both looking a bit guilty. Inside, the kitchen was nigh-spotless despite the meal being cooked, several covered dishes already sitting on heat racks on the tile-counters. Black and white linoleum was polished bright under the feet of the two women. "I just need someone to keep watching the stove while I take the bird out of the oven."

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Armed with a whisk, Erin carefully stirred a pan of gravy base while Martha carried an amazing-smelling turkey over to the counter and moved it to a tray to cool. It was a very homey chore, the sort that she might have done in the kitchen at home, and between the sights and the smells of the holiday, suddenly far too many memories were pouring in. Erin pushed them away to concentrate on the present, just like Dr. Marquez had drilled into her. "Mark lent me some of your comics," she told Martha. "They're funny. Where do you get your ideas?"

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She laughed. "Oh, here and there. The real excitement is coming up with new things for the book after sixty-five years of Andi. These days I model a lot of it on my family and friends. Some of Mark's friends have even appeared," she confided, "but none of his super-buddies. That wouldn't be right." Deftly, she scooped up a bit of stuffing from the rear of the turkey and sampled it. "So many children these days grow up with just super-stories, I think it's healthy for them to get a little slice of normality too. Here, have a bite," she offered, "the cook always gets first taste of the stuffing." She grinned.

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"Good deal," Erin agreed, "thanks." She took the fork and tasted the stuffing, which was heavy on the sage and rosemary in true Thanksgiving fashion. "It's good," she decided. "I used to get Andi comics sometimes in my birthday presents from my grandparents when I was a little kid. I think my grandpa read them when he was young. It's interesting to meet the person who writes them now. How long have you been doing it for?" Small talk was good, and distracting, and if she wasn't careful she was going to end up with dumplings instead of gravy. She went back to stirring the pot.

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"Oh, heavens, quite a while. I've been in the comics business since well before Mark was born. That's how I met his father. I've been the sole writer for Andi since 1996, and I've been doing the covers since Lee Kirby retired back in 2001." She cheerfully talked about her work with Erin, sharing a few of the more interesting things about writing one of the few non-superhero comics still being published. One thing she didn't do was ask after Erin's family, either through discretion or being warned by Mark.

When the food was ready, Martha carefully gathered up the covered dishes and led the way into the dining room, were the boys had set the table and lit the big turkey-shaped novelty candle on the table. It was cheerful in a slightly tacky way, just like much else in the house. The boys got up to help bring in the food too, and soon the table was full of good-smelling food. They held hands and said a sincere, if oddly non-denominational prayer, before Rick got up to cut the turkey with an impressively-wicked, oddly-colored carving knife.

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