A/N: Ok my little legion, we have reached the end. It is with sadness that I bid Adieu to my fictional family. I must now concentrate on becoming Dr. Neuronerd by the end of the year and teaching a class starting next week to create more little neuronerds. Many thanks to you all who have stuck around this epic installment and even more so to those who have been hanging around since Collins was first unthawed and nameless. Thanks to all who reviewed and added me to your favorites, it was a very encouraging experience. I will miss you! Cheers!

p.s.- There will be no new installments of this story. Don't ask ;) IF I write anymore Trek, it will be a crossover w/Heroes, but we will see…

Chapter 42- Giving Thanks

A few months had passed in relative quiet in the backwaters of the quadrant save for the occasional expedition to an uncharted planet that we had stumbled across and the near panic that ensued when the starboard nacelle developed a leak of some sort when it was struck by a chunk of rock in an asteroid field. Thankfully the other was still functional and it allowed us to limp back into the known sectors of Federation space. We docked at a starbase for repairs, but it wasn't a terribly nice one, so most of the crew stayed onboard although they were free to leave at any time.

"Hey you two." Jim smiled poking his head into the office where I slowly turned my jar of sand, watching the yellowish grains tumble while McCoy rearranged and cleaned his desk yet again. "You look bored."

"How observant." McCoy quipped sarcastically. "What gave it away, the toothpicks holding our eyes open?"

"You guys know that we are kind of on leave, right? You don't have to sit down here like you are on duty. You guys could, I don't know, go do something together." He suggested with a wink.

"Such as?" McCoy prompted dryly as he emptied the contents of a drawer. "I've already been down there, Jim. The place is crawling with centipedes so big you could throw a saddle on one and ride it through the base. Do you know what kind of parasites those things carry? And did you know that they are venomous? If you get bit by one, your flesh would turn black and burn like it was on fire before it rotted and fell off. If you are lucky, it would get to your heart and eat you from the inside out first, but if not you are in for a long night of hell because the ship doesn't carry antivenom and it would take me days to make any."

The whole time McCoy was lecturing him, Jim leaned casually against the doorframe and rolled his eyes. "Well, if you won't pry yourself out of sickbay, I have an assignment for you." He said deviously. McCoy looked at him warily. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

"The day after today." He answered in a flat tone.

"Yeah, but it is a special day." Jim persisted ignoring his friend's passive aggressive protest. "It's Thanksgiving, Bones. You know what that means."

"Shit, Jim. Do we have to go through all that again?" He whined pouring a glass of bourbon for himself and one for Jim.

"C'mon, Bones. You know the crew likes it." He threw back his shot and gestured for another. "Remember keeping up morale and all that. Everyone will get to phone home to their families, but there is nothing like sharing a big dinner together. This year I thought everyone could bring something from their own area. So whatcha' bringing?"

McCoy downed his drink slowly and growled, "What do you mean area?"

"You know," Jim shrugged, "you are from Georgia so bring something unique to southern food."

"You hate southern food." McCoy mumbled giving him an evil eye. "You bitched the whole time when I took you to Backwater Bayou at the Academy."

"Well, yeah!" Jim laughed as though it should have been obvious. "We don't do collard greens and fried green tomatoes in Iowa. I am pretty much a steak, potatoes, and corn kind of guy. I can't believe you talked me into eating grits. It was disgusting; it tasted like paste."

"First of all, you were drunk." McCoy protested waving his finger accusingly, "You had way too many Sazeracs and second, you ate it without putting brown sugar in it like I told you."

Jim gave his crooked smile and replied, "Those Sazzy things were the only good part, and you can never have too many. Anyway- what can I put you down for?" His blue eyes sparkled as he drew a PADD from behind his back and poised his finger over the screen in anticipation.

"Put me down for?" McCoy asked mystified. "You mean actual food? I'm a doctor, Jim, not a sous chef."

"I'll let you think about it and I'll come back to you." He smiled. There was no denying him when he had a plan. "What about you, Collins? What do people in Chicago eat on Thanksgiving?"

"The same as anyone else." I laughed. "I guess I could make rye bread. Chicago has a huge Polish population and they make incredible bread."

He looked at his PADD and frowned. "Looks like Chekov is doing that. He said Russian rye is better than Polish any day."

"He will probably put vodka in it!" I howled. "Fine. I will make paczki then. Nobody does that better than the Polish, not even the Russians!"

"Ok…" Jim squinted. "I have no idea what that is or how to spell it but I am sure no one else will think of that. Bones! What did you come up with?"

"Hell, I don't know Jim." He grumbled scrubbing at his monitor. "I'm not good at these things."

"How about something easy like sweet potato pie? Or peach pie?" I teased. "I am sure you aren't completely clueless in the kitchen. I am sure you can successfully mix flour, water, egg, and sugar. If not, I can help you."

"….peach and sweet potato pie…" Jim echoed as he typed away on his PADD. "You guys can get your ingredients from the base. This is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever!" He beamed as he quickly turned to leave in search of his next victim.

The provisions depot was a little frightening due to the sheer size and selection of items that I had never before seen. If all of the Earth's open air markets were combined under one roof, it would look like the provisions store. It was a daunting task to locate all of the items required to make our deserts, and I had to advise McCoy on appropriate substitutions when we simply couldn't locate a can of evaporated milk in a store the size of Area 51. I was glad that I didn't get to make the bread, as large as the complex was, they didn't seem to carry prepackaged mixes. Poor Pavel would have to make his bread from scratch and that would add considerable time to his commitment. We stored our items in the ship's kitchen in 10 forward and called it a night.

Bright and early the next morning, McCoy and I went to the kitchen to get a jump on our respective projects only to find the area already packed with people. "Good morning," one of McCoy's nurses greeted while she whizzed by with an arm full of green vegetable matter, "The officer's dinner has been moved to the kitchen on 2." McCoy and I gathered our items and headed to our new locations dreading it because the kitchen on 2 was much smaller.

When we arrived, we were greeted by Jim's enthusiastic face as he stood over a huge turkey. He rubbed olive oil and herbs all over the bare flesh and gave it a slap on the rear for good measure. McCoy shook his head in disgust and kept walking until we found an open counter at the far end next to Pavel. "Good morning." He greeted kneading his dough flecked with seeds. He looked tired already and it was hard telling how long he had been at it.

Spock walked behind us and stopped at a sink to wash a bunch of carrots. "Et tu, Spock?" I asked surprised. "I didn't think gluttony was something to be celebrated for a Vulcan."

He concentrated on scrubbing his produce meticulously. I didn't think it was possible for a carrot to shine, but he came close. "I have unfortunately been required to participate in this holiday celebration." McCoy sniggered at the apron he was wearing. It should have said 'kiss the cook.' Of course Spock noticed, but he didn't dignify the slight with any sort of recognition. He instead took the high ground. "Vulcans do not have any such celebrations, therefore I had nothing to contribute in the way of providing a dish. I have instead opted to assist in the preparation stages. Do you require assistance with cutting or preparation of vegetable matter? I will prepare animal flesh if I must, but I strongly prefer to avoid it."

McCoy's eyes were glazed over and I knew he was lost in all of Spock's verbiage. I also knew that Spock did it on purpose to get back at him for laughing at his apron. "That would be a great help." I answered for him. "You can cut up peaches and sweet potatoes when you have time."

Spock nodded stiffly at me. "I will begin at the moment I finish slicing the carrots for Mr. Scott. He is preparing a mixture he called 'stuffing' that is to be packed inside the carcass of Jim's dead prey." I looked at Jim and Scotty talking over the bird and imagined them chasing the thing around a yard at the depot trying to catch it.

When Spock was finished prepping our supplies, McCoy and I began to assemble our contributions. Just as I had suspected, he didn't need my help. But it stood to reason that if he was intelligent enough to repair a structure as delicate and complicated as my brain that he could easily follow a short list of instructions to make his pies even if he wasn't entirely sure what all of the culinary terms meant.

Sulu and Uhura came in late because apparently their dishes required little time to prepare, earning them a weary glare from Pavel. Sulu made mashed potatoes, but added bok choy to liven it up and put an Asian spin on the old standby. Uhura made candied yams, but the bulk of her work consisted of watching her pot boil and nagging Jim about the proper method of basting a turkey.

Pavel helped me fill my Polish doughnuts with either pumpkin or vanilla custard while he waited for his dough to rise. I caught him on more than one occasion sampling his work. His defense was that he had somehow messed up and he couldn't very well serve his mistakes to others and he didn't want to see them go to waste, so he had no other choice but to eat them. He made a suspiciously alarming number of mistakes that seemed to be skewed toward the vanilla variety.

When all of the cooking was done, we carried our dishes into a large open area where a round table had been set with fine dishes and stemware full of wine. We all took a seat and passed around our creations until our plates were full. "So as we are all about tradition today," Uhura spoke up, "in my family it is a tradition to go around the table and say what you are thankful for."

"That's a cool idea." Sulu commented taking a sip from his glass. "I guess it would only make sense for the holiday."

Uhura smiled and looked at Jim. "Captain, you should go first."

Jim laughed nervously and smiled. "Uh…ok." He clasped his hands in front of his face while he thought about it. "Alright, here goes. I am thankful that after everything that we have seen and been through over the past two and a half years that we are all sitting here today to enjoy this meal."

From there, things just naturally flowed in a clockwise progression from Jim's right. "Aye. Ah'm thankful that we haven't blown the old lady apart with all the reengineerin' and 'Scotty, we need more power' and such.' Scotty laughed. "We've had some close ones, but we always pull through."

Uhura smiled and said, "I am thankful that I love my job and the people I work with. It makes it seem less like work."

"Hey!" Sulu protested. "You took my answer! I guess I am thankful for the opportunity to explore space the way I always wanted to. It can be dangerous out here, but the risk is well worth the reward."

"I am thankful that I finally have friends." Chekov smiled. "I know you all tease me, but I also know that it means you care. I vill not forget the support I got vhen my brother died. I know who my friends are."

Spock lowered his eyes, obviously struggling with the custom. "Like Mr. Chekov and Mr. Sulu, I am grateful for the opportunity to serve with individuals who can accept my Vulcan heritage as well as the differences that are noted in others. Without this tendency, it would be most difficult to execute our mission." It was a big step for him, but he handled it eloquently.

"I guess I am thankful for the way my life has turned out." McCoy grumbled. "It looked pretty bleak at the start of all this, and even though we face an unknown number of enemies and the future is uncertain, it is a hell of a lot better than I thought it would be and I wouldn't trade it for the world."

All eyes fell on me as I was the last one. I smiled and began, "It has been a very long and strange year for me." Small chuckles broke out around the table. "To think that on this date I was 250 years in the past is kind of mind blowing. But from the moment I woke up until this one, I have come to be thankful for each and every one of you for different reasons. All of you have made a positive impact on me and have helped support and shape who I am now. Without you, I simply couldn't have survived the early days, but you made me feel welcome by inviting me into your lives. You have laughed and cried with me, shown patience and grace, encouraged me to explore who I could be, but most of all just accepted me for who I am; a 21rst century relic. I have come to consider you all my close family and I am thankful for the ways in which you all have enhanced and enriched my life. I can only hope that I can do the same in return."

Everyone raised their glasses and Jim stood to toast. "To newfound friends and family. No matter what awaits us out there in the final frontier, we know we can rely on each other to get through because blood is thicker than water."

The tinkling sound of crashing glasses filled the air and the abundance of food was surrounded by the faces of our brothers and sisters. No matter how different we may have appeared on the outside, we were held together by a sense of loyalty and mutual respect. I thought back to my first days on the ship when I was so despondent and Spock told me about losing his planet. His words never rang more true than they did in that moment, "I have also come to realize since that time that a sense of community or belonging comes not from being with your own kind, but from a shared history with those around you." He and I had both been orphaned, but we had managed by the outrageous slings of fortune to find a new home with a new family.

I glanced at McCoy who smiled back at me with a glowing warmth in his eyes that made me smile. I agreed with him, I wouldn't trade it for all the stars yet to be explored.