Written for a prompt.
Helena had never celebrated Thanksgiving. What with being born in England and then the added inconvenience of being frozen in bronze for over a century, she'd never really felt the need or found the time.
After rejoining the Warehouse, American-specific holidays hadn't exactly been at the forefront of her mind, and so she was somewhat taken aback when she arrived downstairs for breakfast one morning to find Pete dressed as a Pilgrim. Big-buckled hat, period shoes, the works.
Thanksgiving was apparently a big deal to the inhabitants of Leena's Bed and Breakfast. Though, not really for the traditional reasons – a so-called 'historic' event that involved the peaceful breaking of bread, something Helena had very smartly and swiftly cut into without hesitation – but rather in honour of the 'being thankful' side of things. Which was something Helena could definitely support.
After all, she had a lot to be thankful for these days.
"You doing okay, H.G.?" Claudia asked as she made her way into the kitchen and Helena turned to glance over her shoulder at her approach.
"Marvellous, darling." She turned her attention back to the mound of potatoes she'd offered to peel and resumed her methodical skinning. Claudia hopped up onto the counter on the opposite side of the sink from Helena, liberating a carrot from where it was lounging in a bowl of cool water with its brethren. "You'll spoil your dinner," Helena chided, flicking a damp hand out in an unsuccessful attempt at slapping Claudia's away from the food.
"Hey, I cut them. I deserve to munch." Claudia chose to prove her point by biting off the end of the carrot and crunching on it loudly. Helena let out a breathy chuckle and gave a gentle shake of her head.
They remained silent for a while then, listening to Pete – still dressed as a Pilgrim – joking with Leena, Artie and Myka in the living room. Helena could hear them laughing, could hear Trailer barking his excitement.
"You look happy," Claudia said, then appeared to rethink her words when H.G. turned her head to look at her. And it was somewhere in the middle of that motion, that Helena realised she was wearing a smile. "Wait. Is that a totally weird thing to say? Should I take that back? I'll take it back." Claudia's nervousness pulled a low, tinkling peel of laughter from Helena.
"Please don't." She looked back down to concentrate on her task as she continued. "I was just…" Helena sigh. "Listening. I was reminded of similar times spent with my parents and brother. I used to help my mother peel potatoes in the kitchen, while father and Charles did whatever boring thing men did while the women worked." Helena's lips quirked up into a small, rueful smirk. "I loved helping her."
"You must really miss them." Claudia sounded pained, upset for H.G.'s loss.
"Yes." Helena nodded, finishing off the last potato and lying the peeler down beside the sink. She lifted the hand towel from where it was draped over the handle of the oven door and patted her hands dry, looking wistful as she gazed through the doorway into the room beyond.
Gazing, Claudia realised, at Myka.
"And though I shan't forget any of them, ever, this century has somehow seen fit to deliver me into a new family." In the living room, Myka seemed to sense her gaze and turned her head to meet Helena's eyes with a smile. And they held on another's gaze for a long moment, until Helena decided to finish drying her hands and return the towel to its rightful place. "And that," she flashed Claudia a bright, but slightly tremulous smile, "is certainly something I can be thankful for."