NCIS: A Christmas Carol (1/6)
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water4willowsAuthor: water4willows
Characters: Gibbs, Tony and Vance, other characters on the show but not at themselves
Parings: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 20,371
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with NCIS and the characters in this work of fiction are the property of CBS
Summary: In honor of Christmas and one of the most beloved Christmas Stories of all time, I give you: A Christmas Carol, NCIS style :)
FYI: In order to pay homage to both Dickens and the characters of NCIS, some creative license has been taken here but I just couldn't help myself. This was begging to be written and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter One
Once upon a time, Director Vance was dead.
It may surprise you to learn this (and you may be contemplating finding my address on the internet to hunt me down and give me your opinion on major character deaths and no warnings in the Summary), but there is a certain magic Christmastime brings and it is important that you know: once upon a time, Director Vance was dead.
He was the meanest Director NCIS ever had seen and he ruled over the men and women under his command with an iron clad fist that brokered no mercy. He was ruthless, efficient, and terrorists and President's alike had cowered at his feet. But as you well may remember, Director Vance was dead, and had left in his place a man who was quickly making a name for himself as more dire than his predecessor.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a solitary man of few words, but those words he did offer were sharp and likely to slice you at the jugular if you weren't careful and none but his lonely assistant Anthony DiNozzo, seemed to be able to handle him without getting maimed by the daggers Jethro Gibbs threw in his ever heated gaze.
Our story begins on Christmas Eve, in the year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Fourteen, and Director Vance had been dead these seven years, to begin with.
In an effort to conserve power in an ever growing energy crisis, Director Gibbs had ordered the power to his office cut off and Anthony DiNozzo (Tony to those closest to him) was filling out paperwork behind a typewriter, bathed in the low glow of several candlesticks dotted around his desk. It was Christmastime, you may well remember, and the end of December, and a cold north wind rattled the window panes behind Tony's desk and set him to shivering. He'd taken to wearing his woolen coat to use against the chill and he pulled the collar up closer against throat and rubbed his hands together miserably. No power to the office meant no heat and his fingers were as icy as the frozen ink ribbon of the typewriter on the desk before him.
Anthony DiNozzo was a cheerful man by nature and the unfortunate circumstances in which he found himself were not the result of karma for a life lived irresponsibly, but rather a product of the hard times the world found itself in at the moment. Mankind was floundering, people were massacring each other, rioting in the streets, and a man kept a paying job when he could come by it. His boss, the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs, had amassed a small fortune over the years in his shady dealings and Tony was paid regularly, if not abysmally. But all of that, every single bit of it, could be forgotten on this particular day and, warming his icy hands over the candle, DiNozzo's face broke out into wide a smile. The little windup clock beside his typewriter showed ten to six and that meant in a little over ten minutes, he would be released from work and headed home to see his wife and kids and begin that most cherished event: the celebration of Christmas.
The Washington DC visible outside his windows was bustling with the merriment of Christmastime and Tony grew excited for his short walk home to the small apartment he shared with his wife Ziva, and their three children: Peter, Emily and, most important of all, his littlest, Timothy, who, more than all of them put together, loved nothing so much as Christmas. But thoughts of Tim (or Tiny Tim as they had nicknamed him for his slight stature from the bones of his body that just wouldn't grow the way they were supposed to and the disease that threatened to take him from the world and the family that adored him before he'd even had a chance to see much of it) always made him melancholy. This year had been especially hard and DiNozzo was going to do everything in his power to make what was likely the lad's last Christmas, one to remember. He would take him to church with him tonight and take him down a special Washington DC street which held the mansions of the doctors who couldn't help him anymore, and more Christmas lights than any one person had ever seen before. Tony would lift Tim's frail little body up onto his shoulder as the child watched the lights in wide eyed wonder. They would sing Christmas carols on their way home from church and stop at the open air Christmas market so DiNozzo could call in a few favors and implement his plan to make Tiny Tim's final Christmas one for the record books.
So wrapped up he was in his Christmas plans that Tony didn't hear the door to his outer office open as a visitor breezed in nearly startling him.
"Merry Christmas Tony!" Came a friendly voice and DiNozzo peered up into the gloom to find Palmer Gibbs smiling over at him from across the desk. The young man was dressed head to toe in his finest, most likely off to some festive holiday party, and even had an old fashioned top hat and gloves clutched in his hands.
"A Very Merry Christmas to you too, Palmer! How's the wife?"
"Brianna? She's fantastic! Waiting down in the car for me actually and thank you for asking." Palmer Gibbs was the nephew of Director Gibbs and he tilted his head towards his Uncle's closed office door with a grimace. "Is he in?"
Tony nodded and rose from his desk. If there was one thing Gibbs hated, it was being disturbed, but there were occasional exceptions to the rule and Tony figured the Director's only living relative was one of them.
"He is. Right this way, Palmer," he said merrily enough but a little embarrassed that he was showing the man the door bundled up in a winter coat against the chill in the office. He knocked loudly then swung the door open before Gibbs could have a chance to yell at him to go away.
If Tony's outer office was cold, it was an island paradise compared to the Director's inner sanctum. Gibbs had let the fire in his grate go out and was hunched over his desk, squinting at the papers in front of him in the low light of a candle. Tony busied himself with relighting the fire, knowing his boss would stay even after he left, and pretended not to eavesdrop on the conversation carrying on at the other end of the room.
"Merry Christmas Uncle Jethro!" Palmer beamed, taking one of the chairs before the Director's desk without invite. Tony looked over and watched his boss' face grow stormy.
"Humbug," the man grumbled a moment later and looked back down at his work. Palmer, unfazed by his uncle's one word of greeting, pushed on.
"Oh come on Uncle Jethro! It's Christmas."
"Palmer, if I had my way, every man who went about with Merry Christmas on his lips would get suited up and thrown out the back of a F-17 with nothing but his turkey for a parachute. You can take your Merry Christmas and shove it where the sun don't shine."
"Seriously? How can you say that!"
"You celebrate Christmas how you want to, nephew, and leave me the hell alone to do with it what I will."
"By throwing men out the back of planes? Sounds wonderful." Palmer replied sarcastically and Gibbs turned his mouth up into a sneer.
"It's cheaper than buying expensive gifts and throwing ridiculous parties." Gibbs countered and his nephew shook his head sadly.
"Christmas is a wonderful time Uncle Jethro and it's a travesty that you're missing out on it. It's a time full of compassion and love and merriment, when we can be nice to each other for a change and make the world a better place. So I say, God bless it!"
"Here here!" Tony found himself saying as Palmer finished his impassioned speech and the man turned in his seat to beam over at him.
"Thank you Anthony!"
But Gibbs shot him a look so full of venom then that Tony looked away with his face going crimson and busied himself again with stoking the fire.
"You say another word, DiNozzo, and you're finished here," Gibbs said from the desk in a voice that was all seriousness and Tony swallowed thickly.
"Oh leave him alone, Uncle Jethro. A man's entitled to his own opinions."
"Humbug," was all Gibbs replied with and a tense silence fell over the room and Gibbs went back to scratching at his paperwork with a pen.
"Look Uncle, I just wanted to swing by and invite you to Christmas dinner tomorrow night with Brianna and me. There won't be many people there, we expect the baby will come any day now, and she didn't think she could handle a big crowd so close to the due date so you won't have many people you'll have to talk to. Do you think you could make it?" As Palmer spoke his hopeful invite, Tony could tell that Gibbs was fuming. It was in the slight shake of his pen and the way the man kept his eyes trained on the paperwork in front of him instead of trying to level his nephew with that patented thousand yard disappointed stare; a stare Tony had been subjected to every day since he'd started working for the Director.
"Why the hell did you ever get married?" Gibbs asked gravely, reaching for some white out as he attacked a found mistake on the page with a vengeance.
"Why? Well, because I feel in love! The same reason why you married Aunt Shannon." Palmer finished and the room actually got colder despite the fire Tony was trying his best to build back up. The very air went still and Gibbs eyed his nephew with a narrowed murderous gaze that had Tony wondering if he was perhaps going to have to cover up a homicide along with his other Christmas festivities that night. Palmer clamped a hand over his mouth, painfully aware of what he'd just said, but offered no apology.
"Get the hell out of my office and take your infernal Merry Christmas with you," The warning in Gibbs voice was low but acidic and Palmer rose from his seat to stand before the desk.
"I'm sorry Uncle, I didn't come here intending to upset you. Brianna and I just wanted you to know the invitation to Christmas dinner still stands, just like every other year." Palmer's normal energy and exuberance had been doused, a common ailment in the office of Director Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and Tony was almost sorry for it.
"Get the hell out," Gibbs said again and Tony rose from his crouch in front of the now blazing fire to see the man out. As they left Gibbs' office Palmer seemed to peak back up and by the time they were at the outer door, he had the bounce back in his step and clapped Tony on the back before he left.
"A Merry Christmas to you and yours, Tony," Palmer said genuinely and then shook his hand vigorously. "Tell Ziva I said hello," and then was gone from the room. Tony was about to close the door behind him when two figures rushed in before he even had his hand on the door knob.
"Where is he?" One of them demanded angrily, a woman Tony recognized. She had been in and out of Gibbs' office over the past few days organizing a mission with the Director in Pakistan.
"In his office," Tony replied shortly. "Where else would he be?" It was long past 6pm now and Tony's thoughts were on the little boy waiting for him at home to come and take him to church and he had no patience for another interruption.
Instead of allowing Tony to announce them, the woman pushed past him, her wingman following behind, and they both burst into Gibbs' office without even a knock. He went after them and stood in the doorway to offer his boss a sheepish shrug when the man looked over at him angrily for yet another intrusion.
"Director Gibbs. I just got word that you ordered my troops to advance tonight. I promised them tonight and tomorrow off. It's Christmas for heaven's sake!" The woman spat angrily but Gibbs merely looked her over with a blank face.
"We needed to move on the intel we were given."
"That 'intel' is shoddy at best and you know it! You're sending those men into a danger zone and on Christmas Eve no less. You have to recall them!"
"I have to do nothing of the sort, Colonel Lindstrom." Gibbs replied dangerously. " My sources say the intel is good and I won't waste an opportunity to get my man."
"But what if it's an ambush?" the woman countered desperately. "What if your sources are wrong?"
"Then I'll see you bright an early tomorrow morning to go over a new strategy, wont I? Now, is there anything else I can help you with?"
It was cold, even Tony had to admit it, and both he and the two other people in the office with him stared at Gibbs with varying degrees of outrage and shock.
"I..." Colonel Lindstrom started but Gibbs interrupted her.
"Look Lindstrom, if you're that worried the intel isn't good then maybe you better spend the night in MTAC watching the satellite feeds. You can contact me on my cell if anything goes wrong." Lindstrom looked like she wanted to argue, Tony knew the woman had family at home, but the look Gibbs was giving warning her not to say another word had her deflating visibly.
"Of course. Sir. Whatever you say, Sir," she said quietly yet furiously and led the man she'd dragged along with her but that hadn't said anything from the room.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said as Tony grabbed for the door to pull it shut. "If you let one more person into this office tonight, you're fired. No more visitors."
"You got it boss, but I'm heading out now. I'll lock the door behind me so that no one bothers you." He held his breath then, knowing that with the easiest of decisions his boss could ruin everything he had planned for the next few days by insisting he stay or come in tomorrow. His children's faces swam into his thoughts, Tim's especially, and he prayed to God that his boss wouldn't decide to be cruel.
"I suppose you'll be wanting tomorrow off," Gibbs started, walking over to the fire to warm his hands over it.
"I did request it, Sir and you approved it. It's only the one day and I'll be back in the next morning." He had the feeling he was bargaining which wasn't fair because he'd done everything he was supposed to do to get the time off. If Gibbs made him come in, it would be out of pure spite.
"Christmas is a poor excuse for abandoning your country every December the 25th, DiNozzo. It almost makes me wonder if you take this job seriously anymore.
"Come on boss, my kids," he pleaded and Gibbs looked over at him with something passing over his face that wasn't flickering firelight.
"Just make sure your ass is back in that chair by 0600 the day after. Now get the hell out of my office and make sure you lock that damn door behind you."
"Of course, boss. Merry Christmas!" Tony snapped the door to the inner office shut before Gibbs could round on him and change his mind and proceeded to do a short victory dance before the door, congratulating himself on his good fortune. Tim's face was going to light up when Tony picked him up for church and he gathered up his things as quickly as he could and practically ran from the office.
The DC city streets were alive with flickering lights, Christmas activity and all the sounds and smells of the season and Tony covered his head with a knitted cap Emily had made for him and had been too excited about to wait for Christmas to give to him. It was lumpy and lopsided but Tony wore it with all the pride of a proud Papa as he made his trek home through the snow.
Soft flakes, magical Christmas Flakes as Tiny Tim would no doubt inform him when he arrived at home, were falling down around his shoulders completing the picturesque holiday scene and Tony found himself walking a bit quicker towards the little apartment their family shared with a Polish bakery. Everyone would be gathered there when he got home, even Emily who should have arrived home from college this afternoon while he was at work. Yet even though they were all together to begin the joyful celebration of Christmas, it would be Tiny Tim who would accompany him to Christmas Eve Mass. It had become something of a tradition for the pair, the rest of the family attending the Christmas Day service, and Tony loved it. It made for good memories. And there would come a time all too soon when he would need all the soft, heartfelt remembrances of his young song he could get.
Pushing dark thoughts beyond his control aside, Tony distracted himself by wishing every single person he passed in the street a Very Merry Christmas and arrived on his front stoop half an hour later with ruddy cheeks, a grin plastered across his face, and arms opened to accept the frail little body that jumped into his arms.
"Tim, my man! What are you doing out here in the snow?"
"Waiting for you Papa," the young voice replied and Tony sat the child back down on his one good leg and helped him get his crutch up under his arm. Ziva had dressed him in a neat little suit with an old hat that had been her father's and was too big for the boy but looked good on him all the same, and Tony patted his head.
"Are you all ready to go?" The little boy nodded his head vigorously and offered up a wide, toothy grin that set Tony's heart to melting. He glanced up, spying his wife's form through the frosted panes of the upstairs windows and blew her a kiss before scooping Tim back up into his arms to place the light as a feather little body on his shoulder.
Tim's laughter filled the street and Tony could have sworn the snowflakes falling down around them laughed back at the clear, crystal sound.