The Mighty Ducks and all related characters are the property 
of Walt Disney. No copyright infringement is intended. No 
profit is being made.

This story and all original characters and concepts are the 
property of the author.

This one started out as just another installment in my 'Holiday 
Series' and rapidly became something more. I have no idea at 
what point this story developed a life of it's own, but it did, 
and this is the result. I rather like it, myself, and I finally got a 
chance to flesh out some ideas I've been working on.

The following is rated PG for discussion of child abuse.
________

Giving Thanks



At first, the concept of Phil cooking was an amusing oddity. 
No one thought much of it, really; Phil occasionally cooked 
for himself when he was spending long hours around the Pond, 
so it wasn't unheard of for him to be in the kitchen.

But after four straight hours, it seemed a fair bet that he was up 
to something.

The six teammates were gathered in the main room, each doing 
their own thing. Duke and Mallory were glued to the 
television, Grin was listening to opera through a pair of 
headphones, Tanya was reading a science journal and 
Wildwing and Nosedive were deep in conversation about 
something called the 'fire incident' from when they were kids. 
No one really knew what they were talking about, but judging 
from the amount of laughter coming from that part of the room, 
it was almost certainly one hell of a story.

They had all been wondering what Phil was up to for several 
hours now, but none of them was worried enough to check it 
out. It was commonly accepted that the Pond was Phil's home 
away from home - after all, he spent more time there with them 
than he did in his own home - so they weren't going to give him 
a rough time as long as he wasn't causing major damage. Their 
non-interference was working well until there was a loud, 
startling *crash* from the kitchen.

It caught all their attention, even Grin's, and they turned as one 
to the door leading to the kitchen with apprehension. It was the 
first quiet day in a while, and the last thing they wanted was 
Phil causing a mess *they* would end up cleaning.

"Phil?" Wildwing reluctantly called out. "Is everything all right 
in there?"

There was another crash, not as loud as the first, and Phil 
called back, "Just fine. Everything under control. No need to 
worry!"

"Which, of course, means that we should call the National 
Guard and arrange for an evacuation," Nosedive sighed.

Wildwing grimaced and rose. "I might as well find out what 
he's up to," he said resignedly," before he blows the place up 
and we end up eating all our meals at McDonald's again."

Nosedive looked up innocently. "What's wrong with 
McDonald's?"

Duke snorted and turned back to the television. "First of all, 
kid, it ain't real meat. And second, who wants to eat at a place 
where the mascot is some funky clown running around in a 
yellow jumpsuit and a red rubber nose?"

Nosedive grinned. "Yeah. I guess Wendy's *is* more your 
style."

Duke raised a hand threateningly. "You implying something, 
kid?" he teased. "Maybe I have to knock some respect into that 
thick skull."

"Don't bother," Wildwing sighed. "It's been tried." His words 
were a joke, but something in his tone caught Duke's attention 
and he looked at Wildwing curiously. The team leader met his 
eyes fro a second, then shrugged and turned away. Duke 
frowned slightly, afraid of the implications behind the serious 
look in Wildwing's eyes. "Any way," Wildwing continued. "If 
he's set the place on fire you all have to help clean the mess 
up."

They groaned collectively, as he had expected. "Yeah, yeah, 
yeah," he said good naturedly as he made his way down the 
hall. "Complain all you want. We've only got one kitchen."

The kitchen door was firmly shut, which wasn't a good sign, 
but it wasn't locked, so Wildwing wasn't yet thinking the 
worst. "Phil?" he called as he entered. "What have you been 
doing in here all day?" The automatic doors slid open before 
him as he entered, and he got his first glimpse of the kitchen 
since breakfast.

"What? Did the refrigerator blow up?"

Phil was standing at the counter, wearing his usual suit and tie, 
as well as an apron reading "Kiss the Cook," which Wildwing 
was just going to ignore. He was surrounded by bowls, plates, 
pots and pans, forks and spoons and knives, piles of peeled 
potatoes, frozen vegetables, the works. It was a mess. The 
microwave and stove were both on, the refrigerator door was 
open and there were several pots boiling away on the stove. 
Wildwing shook his head as he glanced around the kitchen, 
finally meeting Phil's abashed gaze. "Do I want to know?"

"It's dinner," Phil said defensively. "You can't have 
Thanksgiving without a proper dinner!"

"Thanksgiving? That's what the stores have all been going on 
about, right? The turkeys and Indians and people in funny 
hats-"

"Pilgrims."

"Whatever. That's what this is all about?" Wildwing leaned 
against the doorway and shook his head. "Going a bit 
overboard?"

"Actually," Phil admitted, "I've had to go the simple route. 
Canned cranberry sauce instead of the real stuff, frozen 
vegetables instead of fresh. It doesn't make much of a 
difference," he apologized, "but I'm not used to cooking for 
this large a group."

Wildwing took in the chaos. "You're kidding."

"Nope." Phil finished what he was doing, rolling some sort of 
dough into twists, and wiped his hands on the apron. "My 
folks died when I was nineteen. I ended up with custody of my 
three brothers and sisters, mostly because there was no one 
else to take them. Nicky and Janet were almost my age, but 
Cassidy was just a baby, so it was a tough few years until 
Nicky graduated from college and Janet moved out. Most of 
the time we all ended up with microwave dinners or take-out. 
Christmas we went to our cousin's place in Oregon. That was 
Ellie. She wasn't much older than me." He smiled a little sadly, 
leading Wildwing to wonder what had ever happened to Ellie. 
"Anyway, the only time I really had the time to just sit down 
and really take the time to be with them was Thanksgiving. I 
always had a few days off from work, and I'd come home and 
make a big dinner and the four of us would have a few days to 
ourselves." He shrugged and looked at Wildwing. "I know you 
guys have never had a proper US Thanksgiving, so I thought I'd 
cook up dinner for you before I left."

"You spending the holiday with your family?" Wildwing 
asked.

Phil nodded. "Nicky and his wife live in New Mexico now. I 
go down there for Christmas. They usually come up here for 
Thanksgiving, but Kelsey, Nicky's wife, is nine months 
pregnant and really shouldn't be traveling, so I'm going down 
there. Don't really mind," he added. "Nicky and I've always 
been pretty close. And he is the only family I have left."

"What about your sisters?" Wildwing asked. A flash of pain 
and sorrow crossed Phil's face at Wildwing's questions, and the 
younger man regretted asking about what was apparently a bad 
memory for the human, but Phil answered. "Janet was killed in 
a car crash four years ago. Her son died with her. And 
Cassidy..." Phil closed his eyes for a second. "Cassi would 
have been eighteen this year. She was smart, she graduated 
high school when she was sixteen. Got a full scholarship to 
Occidental." He sighed heavily and turned back to the dough 
he had rolled, placing the tray into the oven. "She was walking 
home from a sorority party one night, just a few months after 
she got there, when she was attacked by three men. A few of 
the other girls from the party saw what was happening and 
raised an alarm, scared the guys off, but Cassi had been 
stabbed in the stomach. She bled to death before the medics 
ever got there."

"Oh, stars, Phil," Wildwing breathed, horrified. "I'm sorry. I 
shouldn't have asked."

"S'Okay," Phil told him. "Janet was a few years ago, and 
Cassi... I've had time to deal with it." He snorted as he turned 
back to the counter and began dumping the peeled potatoes 
into a pot of boiling water. "Spending the last year spent with 
you guys, and all the trouble you've gotten me into, actually 
helped me get past it. Talking about it's supposed to be good 
for me anyway. And it might as well be with someone who 
understands."

Wildwing looked at him curiously. "Phil, I don't what you 
mean. Dive's the only brother I've ever had, and he's right here."

"He wasn't always, though, was he?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're completely transparent, you know that? I mean, you 
don't give away details, and neither one of you seems all that 
willing to talk about your past, but if you listen, and you know 
what to look for, it's right there. I figure you were both pretty 
young when your folks died."


Wildwing didn't meet his gaze, focusing instead on the far side 
of the kitchen. "You left the fridge open," he said.

Phil didn't push the issue, just dropped the last potato into the 
water and went to close the door. There was silence for a long 
moment as he went back to cooking and Wildwing stared into 
space. 

"I was five. Dive was only a month or two old." He sighed and 
crossed his arms in an obviously defensive gesture. These were 
not good memories. "I don't remember them much - for a 
Puckworlder, five is even younger than it is for you humans. 
And Dive, he doesn't remember anything. Only what I've told 
him. Do you know we don't even know our real names?"

Phil gave him a concerned glance. "You're kidding. Couldn't 
you get it from records or something?"

"We tried, but I wasn't legal until I turned twenty, and then the 
Saurians conquered the planet. The family we had been 
adopted by had no legal right to look at those files until I or 
Dive was of legal age and gave consent, so we never knew." 
Wildwing sighed. "We were adopted right out by some friends 
of our parents. The Vanderbills. The most hateful, obnoxious 
people on the planet. We were with them for almost three years 
before Social Services came in and took us both away. The 
Vanderbills went up for emotional abuse and neglect of a 
minor."

"Was there more to it than just emotional abuse?" Phil asked 
softly.

"Not even Dive was so clumsy as to fall down the stairs every 
bloody week."

Phil closed his eyes briefly, knowing that sympathy, or pity, 
was not what Wildwing needed or wanted right now. For now 
he needed to talk, and he needed someone to listen. "But they 
never proved anything?"

"No. Dive doesn't remember a day of it, except sometimes he'd 
have nightmares about stuff he didn't ever remember 
happening. He'd tell me about them sometimes, and it was 
pretty obviously stuff from the Vanderbills." Wildwing sighed. 
"Why am I telling you this?"

"Because you need to. Because you’ve kept it all locked up 
inside for too long," Phil replied carefully. "And you know 
that I understand, at least a little bit. I lost my parents, my 
whole family and all I have left right now is my little brother. It 
doesn't sound like I had it half as bad as you two did, but I'll 
understand you a hell of a lot better than the others will."

"Yeah. You probably will." Wildwing grinned a little. "Never 
would have thought I'd say that."

"I may surprise you," Phil commented lightly.

"You already have." Wildwing gestured toward the counter and 
the piles of food. "Need a hand?"

"Sure." Phil glanced around. "Grab the vegetables and throw 
them in the microwave, will you? There's a ceramic microwave 
thing you can use in that cupboard, over there. Five minutes, 
stir, three minutes. Got it?"

"Sure thing."

They worked in silence for a few moments, until Phil calmly, 
and carefully, asked, "Where'd you go after that?"

For a second he wasn't sure Wildwing would answer, but he 
finally did. "There was a family called the Featheringstons. 
Very old money and very high society. They decided to adopt 
because it would make them look good. Helping out the poor, 
disadvantaged children, you know? They were pretty nice, even 
if they did ignore us more often than not. If that was all, it 
would have worked out pretty well."

"I guess that wasn't all, was it?"

"Nope. They hired some people to watch us when they weren't 
around, which translated to ninety percent of the time. One of 
them was this guy named McBill. Real joy to be around, that 
one. He hated kids, and poor pathetic orphan boys even more." 
The bitter way Wildwing said that made Phil think that the 
words were a quote, something the young man had heard far 
too often as a child. "Was really into the idea of straightening 
us out. 'Spare the rod,' and all that."

"How long before they caught on to what was happening?"

"The Featheringstons never did. Like I said, they were never 
around to see it. One of the maids finally went to the police 
after about six months. She had enough the night McBill broke 
my arm."

Phil shook his head. "I can't understand why anyone would 
hurt a child like that."

"Yeah, well. He didn't like kids much, like I said, and he hated 
that he had to play nanny to us because he was broke and 
really needed the money. He was in a violent mood that night. 
His wife had threatened to leave him." Wildwing was silent 
and contemplative for several minutes as he finished with the 
vegetables, and silently accepted the duty of basting the turkey. 
"I really should have seen it coming," he finally continued. 
"After six months I'd learned to read his moods pretty well. But 
I figured it would just blow over. We avoided him, like we 
always did, but not enough apparently. Dive did something to 
set him off - maybe he was breathing too loud or something. 
With McBill you could never know. But that night - that night 
was worse than it had ever been before. I thought-" he took a 
deep breath, a faint shudder the only sign of how horribly the 
memory affected him. "I thought he was going to kill him. He 
was bleeding when I got there and not moving and all I could 
think was that I was *not* going to lose him too. I jumped 
McBill, hit him, kicked him. Here I am, barely nine years old, 
taking on a full grown man. I was dead and I knew it."

Phil didn't look up from the yams he was slicing. "Couldn't 
very well let him hurt your brother, could you?"

"He'd already hurt my brother, Phil."

"Couldn't let him get away with it then. What happened?"

"He threw me down the stairs." Wildwing smiled humorlessly 
as he began to mass the potatoes, softened by the hot water. 
"Idiot. I grabbed his arm just as he pushed me. Brought him 
down with me. That's when I broke my arm. He was stunned, 
just about unconscious, but he was furious too and he came at 
me again. But we'd landed right in the middle of the living 
room, and the butler and chauffeur were both there. They 
pulled him off me while the maid called the police and a 
doctor. I was kind of out of it, I must've hit my head 
somewhere along the line, cause the next thing I know, I'm 
lying on the couch and the doctor's taking care of my arm. I 
muttered something about Dive, and the maid went to get him. 
Next thing I know she's screaming for an ambulance, and 
they're dragging us both to the hospital. I didn't know it then, 
but later I found out that McBill kicked him in the stomach a 
few times before I got there. Internal bleeding. They almost lost 
him. *I* almost lost him."

"What happened to McBill?"

"Prison. With all the staff testifying against him and all the 
medical records it was more or less a predetermined victory."

"And the Featheringstons?"

"I never saw them again. They were charged with gross 
negligence. Nothing big, and they got a lawyer to get them off."

"Hardly seems right. Does it?" Phil asked softly.

"Just cause it's right, doesn't mean it's what's going to happen," 
Wildwing said quietly. "Dive was in the hospital for a long 
time after that. They placed me with a new home just a month 
later. The Adrins. They only wanted one kid, and Dive was still 
hurt, so they split us up. That lasted almost a year. Turned 
out," he said wryly, "that the Adrins, who only wanted free 
labor, were the best pair of foster parents I'd had yet. I worked 
a lot. Got the bare minimum as far as food and stuff went, but 
they weren't cruel and in their own way, I think they cared. But 
I hated every second. I spent an entire year wondering where 
Dive was, what was happening to him, if he'd been placed in a 
family with someone like McBill." He added the salt and butter 
to the potatoes and finally set the bowl aside on the stove, 
where it would stay warm. "I think that was worse. At least 
with McBill and the others, I *knew* and I could try to help 
him. But not knowing killed me. For all I knew he'd died the 
day after I left. The Adrins never bothered to find out, no 
matter how many times I  asked. Said I should look to the 
future, instead of trying to live in the past." He turned to Phil, 
bewildered and confused, and Phil got a glimpse of the little 
boy he must have been all those years ago. Just a brief glimpse 
before his shields slammed into place again, but enough to let 
the human see how much this one event, appearing so small 
compared to some of the things he had heard so far, had 
affected the younger man. "He was the only family I had left, 
Phil. I had no one, nothing, except for him. How could they 
say I was trying to live in the past? How could they tell me to 
forget him and get on with my life?"

"Because some people are fools," Phil said flatly, but gently. 
"They didn't know any better. Some people just can't  
understand that sort of thing. Love, friendship. It's not what 
they are."

"I don't think they ever did," he said softly. "Things didn't work 
out with the Adrins," Wildwing continued. "They ended up 
with twins the same year they took me in. It was unexpected, 
and they couldn't afford to keep me plus their real kids, so I got 
sent back. I was back in the system for three months, then 
Dive's newest family, the Billingtons, were brought up on 
neglect and Dive got sent back." A smile graced his features. "I 
swear, Phil. I don't think I've ever been happier than when he 
walked through that door and I finally knew." 

"I can only imagine."

"After that it wasn't so bad. We were paired with a family 
called the McDrakes. They didn't have any kids of their own. 
Couldn't. They decided adoption was the best choice. They 
originally picked Dive. Adored him," Wildwing said fondly. 
"Even then, my baby bro was wrapping people around his little 
finger. But they thought it would be cruel to split us up, so 
they took both of us. I loved them for that."

"McDrake is the name you use now," Phil observed. "You 
stayed with them?"

"Almost ten years," Wildwing confirmed. "They were like 
something heavensent to us, Phil. They never, hit, they rarely 
raised their voices, and neither of us ever wanted for anything. 
I 
spent a year trying to figure out what they were softening us up 
for before I finally accepted that they were being honest." He 
grinned. "That's when I met Canard."

"Well then," Phil said brightly. "Sounds like this is your day."

Wildwing looked at him curiously. "Thanksgiving," Phil 
reminded him. "And I think you have an awful lot to be 
thankful 
for."

"I do," Wildwing admitted. "Thank you, Phil."

"I was glad to help. Now go get the others. Turkey's ready and I 
want to make sure you all are settled before I leave."

Wildwing grinned as he started down the hall, wondering how 
Phil would manage to get the kitchen clean in that short an 
amount of time, then deciding he didn't care. It was a holiday 
right? They could clean up after dinner.

He paused in the doorway of the living room for a long minute, 
watching his teammates. Dive and Tanya were discussing some 
modifications to the Migrator, and Duke and Mallory were 
firmly absorbed in the movie they were watching. Grin still had 
his headphones on. Wildwing glanced at the clock and was 
surprised to see that he'd been gone for more than an hour. 
Dive looked up and saw him. "Hey, bro."

"Hey yourself." Funny, how that was all the greeting they'd 
ever used. All they'd ever needed. Even after they were 
separated in the prison camps back on Puckworld, then 
reunited by chance, that was all they'd needed. Phil had been 
right. He did have a lot to be thankful for. And most of it was 
gathered in this room. "Guys," he announced. "Phil has 
prepared Thanksgiving dinner for us." He grinned at their 
wary looks. Phil was a good cook, but sometimes his dishes 
could be a little strange. "It's fine, I promise. Nobody's dying of 
food poisoning today."

Despite their initial complaining, they made pretty fast tracks 
toward the kitchen. Wildwing shook his head at them as they 
went by. Duke hung back for a moment, pausing at Wildwing's 
side. "Listen, Wing, about what I said before. You know I 
didn't mean it don't you? I wouldn't hurt the kid for anything."

"I know," Wildwing assured him. "You just took me by 
surprise. Brought up some old memories."

"I kind of figured as much. You ever to talk..."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that one day."

Duke nodded, not pushing the subject and followed the others 
down the hall.

"How much did you tell him?"

"Phil or Duke?" Wildwing wasn't surprised to hear his 
brother's voice behind him. Dive never could sneak up on him.

"Either. Both."

"I told Phil a lot. No gory details or anything. But I did tell him 
about McBill." Wildwing met his brother's gaze and held it. 
"Do you mind?"

"It was a long time ago and I don't remember a thing about it," 
Dive said quietly. "And you were hurt too. It's your right to talk 
about it as much as it is mine."

"He understood. There's a lot about Phil we don't know. He 
was 
right though."

"About what?"

"About this. Thanksgiving and all." Wildwing smiled 
affectionately down at his little brother. "I do have a lot to be 
grateful for."

Dive grinned and started down the hall. "Yep. You got the best 
little brother on the planet."

"Which planet would that be?" Wildwing asked lightly.

"Any and all."

"You know something? You're right."

"I know. I'm perfect."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would."

"You *would.* You have no shame, do you?"

"Not an ounce. What're you gonna do about it?"

Wildwing gripped Dive's shoulder tightly for a moment. "Not 
going to change a thing, baby bro."




end

Don't worry, we haven't seen all of Dive and Wildwing's past. 
There are quite a few secrets and surprises left, for all of us. 
For more on their family history, read Blood of Ancients.