The scents of food cooking early in the morning. The unfamiliar sound of softer, female voices in the kitchen. Warm steam wafting throughout the building. That's how you know it's Thanksgiving in the fire house.

Kat stretched in her bed, feeling fresh after the previous day of hard work. She ran a hand through her hair before standing up and stretching. It was still early, the sun had yet to rise above the horizon, and there was a chill in the air that sapped the moisture out of the breath of those who dared venture outdoors. But she was excited. She had never had Thanksgiving with a big group of people. It had always been her grandparents and her. But now she had a whole family to share it with.

Sadness tugged at her heart at the thought of holidays spent with her grandparents, but she did her best to dismiss the thoughts. She needed to enjoy today.

Kat stepped out into the hall, and the scents of food and clatter of dishes greeted her louder than before. She couldn't help but smile as she stepped into the kitchen, a few of the firemen's wives up and cooking. The night crew had yet to leave, and were just preparing to take off when another call came in for them.

"Oh! Are you one of the night crew?" One of the women asked, not knowing Kat. She was probably the wife of a day or evening crew worker.

"No. I'm a resident here." Kat smiled, watching as the woman who spoke cleaned the large turkey they had gotten for dinner.

"Oh!" She repeated. "I'm sorry. My name's Abigail McMeagan. But you can call me Abby. I'm the wife of Richard McMeagan." Kat remembered the tall, gentle Richard bringing in Maneki to the station. The little cat was fast asleep on one of the kitchen chairs, curled in a ball and bathing in the delicious scents of food being prepared.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Abby. I'm Kat." She smiled at the woman, but didn't offer her hand; Abby was up to her elbows in the turkey.

"Mari!" Abby craned her neck and looked at one of the other three women. "Is that stuffing ready yet?"

"Yes," The addressed woman replied, holding a pot in a hand protected by a frilly oven mitt.

Kat stood up again, "I think I'm gonna go work out. . ." She excused herself into the weight room. It was obvious breakfast would have to wait until the kitchen calmed down a bit.

~~##~~

Emerging from the weight room, Kat was relieved to see that after an hour most of the food had been prepped and was waiting for the right time to be cooked and put together. The turkey was in the oven and there was a note from Abby to Richard stuck to the table.

Kat got into the fridge to find a Powerade from the stash the fire station kept and was dismayed at the sudden cleanliness of the firemen's food chest. It had been emptied, scrubbed, and reorganized. She found her drink and closed it, liking the new, cleaner version over the previous jumble of foods. But she couldn't help but think maybe the women had emptied it a little too much. After all, nothing good could happen if someone had thrown out John's homemade chili or Gary's favorite cheese.

Nonetheless, Kat went back to her room and hopped onto the computer, starting to type and email to her friend just as a call came in, dispatch calmly and efficiently giving her the information she needed to join her newly arrived crew in the ambulance.

~~##~~

"How's your wife doing Gary?" Kat asked, sitting in the passenger of the ambulance, beside him.

"Good. She's walking again."

"That's great." Kat nodded, "Really. . ." She trailed off as they pulled to a stop outside a house in a residential neighborhood. All the houses' lawns were trimmed the same way, flower beds sitting pretty beneath the shuttered windows.

Kat hopped out, opened a cabinet on the side of the ambulance, and grabbed the oxygen canister and a mask for it. "What do you think it could be?" She asked Roger as the crew of EMTs walked up to the front door.

"Who knows." Roger shrugged. They had been dispatched on an unknown medical emergency, and that could mean anything from a cardiac arrest to a stubbed toe.

Natasha preceded them to the door, knocking while Gary peeked through a curtained window.

The door was answered by a middle-aged woman not much bigger than a stick. She seemed to tremble slightly, right to the ends of her curly brown hair, and her large doe eyes looked up at the EMTs with a mixture of confusion and dismay. "Can I help you?" She asked, her voice sturdier than her body.

"Did you call an ambulance ma'am?" Roger asked.

"No sir." She shook her head. "No we-I-did not. Please leave." She tried to close the door. Roger placed one large hand on the door and held it open.

"Please ma'am. Are you sure you don't need help? If we don't do our job, we get in trouble." Roger pleaded. The woman hesitated momentarily, and then swung the door open.

"C'mon then." She ushered them inside, and the EMTs instantly took their chance and entered her home. The house was warm in atmosphere, shawls and crocheted blankets draped across chairs and on couch cushions. Lacy curtains fell over the windows, useless in attaining privacy.

In the middle of the floor lay a middle aged man the complete opposite of the woman wringing her hands behind them. Overweight and round-faced, his white hair acted as a symbol of the complete contrast between the two.

"No pulse," Kat reported, removing her fingers from the man's carotid artery.

"Wait!" The woman yelled as Roger and Kat got into position to do CPR. "Don't. Please. He didn't want this. . ."

"Do you have a DNR ma'am?" Natasha asked hopefully. The last thing that a team of EMTs needed was to have to rescusitate a victim who didn't want it, and have their family screaming for them to stop behind them.

"Yes," The woman replied, "Yes." A police officer walked in the door, and the woman disappeared into an ajoining room.

Gesturing to the man on the floor, unconscious, the suspicious officer frowned at the stationary EMTs. "What's the deal?"

"DNR," Roger stated. "That's why she wouldn't let us in. I bet she called when she realized he was having distress and he passed out before we got here."

The officer nodded. "I'll witness it for you."

"Much obliged."

~~##~~

On the way back to the station, another call came in.

"Gunshot wound, parking lot on East Avenue. . ." Gary flipped on the lights and sirens, turning the ambulance around in someone's driveway and speeding towards the incident.

"Gunshot wound?" Kat commented in the back. "What the hell?"

Natasha shrugged. "There's been weirder. Why does this surprise you?"

"It just. . .gives me a weird feeling is all."

Roger laughed. "Oh no. The last thing we need is for Kat's intuition to tell us when we're in the presence of a murderer."

Kat stuck her tongue out at the older paramedic. "And the last thing I need is for you to tease me!"

The scents of food cooking early in the morning. The unfamiliar sound of softer, female voices in the kitchen. Warm steam wafting throughout the building. That's how you know it's Thanksgiving in the fire house.

Kat stretched in her bed, feeling fresh after the previous day of hard work. She ran a hand through her hair before standing up and stretching. It was still early, the sun had yet to rise above the horizon, and there was a chill in the air that sapped the moisture out of the breath of those who dared venture outdoors. But she was excited. She had never had Thanksgiving with a big group of people. It had always been her grandparents and her. But now she had a whole family to share it with.

Sadness tugged at her heart at the thought of holidays spent with her grandparents, but she did her best to dismiss the thoughts. She needed to enjoy today.

Kat stepped out into the hall, and the scents of food and clatter of dishes greeted her louder than before. She couldn't help but smile as she stepped into the kitchen, a few of the firemen's wives up and cooking. The night crew had yet to leave, and were just preparing to take off when another call came in for them.

"Oh! Are you one of the night crew?" One of the women asked, not knowing Kat. She was probably the wife of a day or evening crew worker.

"No. I'm a resident here." Kat smiled, watching as the woman who spoke cleaned the large turkey they had gotten for dinner.

"Oh!" She repeated. "I'm sorry. My name's Abigail McMeagan. But you can call me Abby. I'm the wife of Richard McMeagan." Kat remembered the tall, gentle Richard bringing in Maneki to the station. The little cat was fast asleep on one of the kitchen chairs, curled in a ball and bathing in the delicious scents of food being prepared.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Abby. I'm Kat." She smiled at the woman, but didn't offer her hand; Abby was up to her elbows in the turkey.

"Mari!" Abby craned her neck and looked at one of the other three women. "Is that stuffing ready yet?"

"Yes," The addressed woman replied, holding a pot in a hand protected by a frilly oven mitt.

Kat stood up again, "I think I'm gonna go work out. . ." She excused herself into the weight room. It was obvious breakfast would have to wait until the kitchen calmed down a bit.

~~##~~

Emerging from the weight room, Kat was relieved to see that after an hour most of the food had been prepped and was waiting for the right time to be cooked and put together. The turkey was in the oven and there was a note from Abby to Richard stuck to the table.

Kat got into the fridge to find a Powerade from the stash the fire station kept and was dismayed at the sudden cleanliness of the firemen's food chest. It had been emptied, scrubbed, and reorganized. She found her drink and closed it, liking the new, cleaner version over the previous jumble of foods. But she couldn't help but think maybe the women had emptied it a little too much. After all, nothing good could happen if someone had thrown out John's homemade chili or Gary's favorite cheese.

Nonetheless, Kat went back to her room and hopped onto the computer, starting to type and email to her friend just as a call came in, dispatch calmly and efficiently giving her the information she needed to join her newly arrived crew in the ambulance.

~~##~~

"How's your wife doing Gary?" Kat asked, sitting in the passenger of the ambulance, beside him.

"Good. She's walking again."

"That's great." Kat nodded, "Really. . ." She trailed off as they pulled to a stop outside a house in a residential neighborhood. All the houses' lawns were trimmed the same way, flower beds sitting pretty beneath the shuttered windows.

Kat hopped out, opened a cabinet on the side of the ambulance, and grabbed the oxygen canister and a mask for it. "What do you think it could be?" She asked Roger as the crew of EMTs walked up to the front door.

"Who knows." Roger shrugged. They had been dispatched on an unknown medical emergency, and that could mean anything from a cardiac arrest to a stubbed toe.

Natasha preceded them to the door, knocking while Gary peeked through a curtained window.

The door was answered by a middle-aged woman not much bigger than a stick. She seemed to tremble slightly, right to the ends of her curly brown hair, and her large doe eyes looked up at the EMTs with a mixture of confusion and dismay. "Can I help you?" She asked, her voice sturdier than her body.

"Did you call an ambulance ma'am?" Roger asked.

"No sir." She shook her head. "No we-I-did not. Please leave." She tried to close the door. Roger placed one large hand on the door and held it open.

"Please ma'am. Are you sure you don't need help? If we don't do our job, we get in trouble." Roger pleaded. The woman hesitated momentarily, and then swung the door open.

"C'mon then." She ushered them inside, and the EMTs instantly took their chance and entered her home. The house was warm in atmosphere, shawls and crocheted blankets draped across chairs and on couch cushions. Lacy curtains fell over the windows, useless in attaining privacy.

In the middle of the floor lay a middle aged man the complete opposite of the woman wringing her hands behind them. Overweight and round-faced, his white hair acted as a symbol of the complete contrast between the two.

"No pulse," Kat reported, removing her fingers from the man's carotid artery.

"Wait!" The woman yelled as Roger and Kat got into position to do CPR. "Don't. Please. He didn't want this. . ."

"Do you have a DNR ma'am?" Natasha asked hopefully. The last thing that a team of EMTs needed was to have to rescusitate a victim who didn't want it, and have their family screaming for them to stop behind them.

"Yes," The woman replied, "Yes." A police officer walked in the door, and the woman disappeared into an ajoining room.

Gesturing to the man on the floor, unconscious, the suspicious officer frowned at the stationary EMTs. "What's the deal?"

"DNR," Roger stated. "That's why she wouldn't let us in. I bet she called when she realized he was having distress and he passed out before we got here."

The officer nodded. "I'll witness it for you."

"Much obliged."

~~##~~

On the way back to the station, another call came in.

"Gunshot wound, parking lot on East Avenue. . ." Gary flipped on the lights and sirens, turning the ambulance around in someone's driveway and speeding towards the incident.

"Gunshot wound?" Kat commented in the back. "What the hell?"

Natasha shrugged. "There's been weirder. Why does this surprise you?"

"It just. . .gives me a weird feeling is all."

Roger laughed. "Oh no. The last thing we need is for Kat's intuition to tell us when we're in the presence of a murderer."

Kat stuck her tongue out at the older paramedic. "And the last thing I need is for you to tease me!"