Title: Let me Go Home
Summary: As Christmas approaches, Tony tenses up at the thought of not working over the holiday, as he usually does. Gibbs gets to the bottom of his discomfort with Christmas.
December 24, 2012 – 2100 hours
Tony stretched in his chair as his report was making its way to the printer. It had been a long week. They'd just wrapped up a kidnapping case. Even Gibbs had started to calm, knowing that the scumbag who'd taken the 8-year-old son of a Navy Lieutenant outside a supermarket was now behind bars. Cases involving kids were always the hardest. As he got up to retrieve his report, he bumped into Tim, who was carrying a cup of coffee back to his desk. The lid popped off and coffee splashed onto Tim's shirt.
"I'm sorry," Tony said, reaching for a tissue from his desk.
"It's okay, Tony. It'll come out."
Tony handed him the tissue and snagged his report from the printer. Before he could staple it, Gibbs snatched it from his hands.
"Go home, DiNozzo. See you on the 26th."
"Boss, I didn't request leave for Christmas."
"I know. Merry Christmas."
"I—Merry Christmas, Gibbs." Perturbed, Tony slowly walked back to his desk and put on his coat.
Tim watched his friend gather his belongings. Tony looked sad. Why would he want to work on Christmas? In years past, Tim remembered Tony gloating over having Christmas off, and grumbling when a case kept them a NCIS through the Holiday. Tim turned and locked eyes with Gibbs. Both of them seemed to be thinking the same thing. He turned his attention back to Tony.
"Is everything all right, Tony?"
Tony's head snapped up from the drawer he'd been rifling through. He was taking his time leaving.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Probie."
"You sure, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, rising from his chair.
"Yes, I'm fine. Merry Christmas," he said, annoyed, as he picked up his bag and headed to the elevator. He boarded quickly.
Tim exchanged a worried glance with Gibbs. Something was off with Tony, and both of them could sense it. Gibbs nodded toward the elevator. Tim nodded in understanding, and grabbed his coat. He wished Gibbs a Merry Christmas, and headed out to find Tony.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony's car was gone by the time Tim made it to the parking garage. He was hoping Tony had decided to go straight home, because that was Tim's first stop.
Tim was relieved to find Tony's car parked in his usual spot. He found a parking place and headed up to Tony's apartment. He could hear the TV blasting louder than it had to be. It was becoming obvious that Tony didn't want to be disturbed. Tim knocked anyway. The TV went off, and seconds later he heard the locks turning. Tony opened the door and was dismayed to see Tim standing there. Tony was still dressed in his work attire, sans tie.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm not allowed to visit you now?" Tim asked, moving to step into the apartment. Tony put a foot in the doorway, blocking Tim from entering. "Tony, what's going on?"
"I'm fine."
"Yeah, you totally look fine. Let me in."
"What don't you get? I want to be alone. Leave!" Tony shoved Tim out of his doorway and slammed the door. Tim heard the locks clicking into place, and he knew he'd get nowhere with Tony tonight. As he headed toward the elevator, he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Gibbs."
"It's bad, Boss. He wouldn't even let me in to talk. I'm not sure if he'll open the door for me again."
"Okay. Go enjoy your Christmas, McGee. I'll take care of Tony."
"I'm not going to be able to enjoy it now," Tim whined. "I'm spending Christmas with Abby, and you know I can't lie to her about why I'm showing up late, and—"
"McGee, just go see Abby, and tell her I've ordered you both not to worry about Tony. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Boss."
Tim hung up the phone and got into his car. He hoped Gibbs could do something about his forlorn friend.
NCISNCISNCISTony groaned when he heard the pounding on his door. He pushed himself off the couch and staggered to the door. He fumbled with the locks.
"McGee, I thought I told you to—" he stopped short when it was not McGee he found at his door, but Gibbs. "Boss, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to see Jackson."
"Nah, not this year. He's met a woman, and apparently I'm not ready to meet her yet."
A small, amused gin formed on Tony's face, but disappeared just as quickly.
"Uh, come in," Tony said, moving aside.
Gibbs surveyed the apartment. The normal tidiness was replaced by a disheveled mess. There was an open pizza box on the coffee table, and a few empty beer bottles next to it. A half full one sat nearby on a coaster.
"How'd you find a pizza place open on Christmas Eve?"
"There's one down the street open till midnight," Tony said flatly as he resumed his position on the couch, gripping his beer tightly. "They have an excellent buffalo chicken pizza."
"What's up with you?" Gibbs asked, standing over Tony with his arms crossed.
"I prefer a classic pepperoni pizza myself, maybe with some mushrooms,"
"Tony—"
"…banana peppers, oh and sausage!"
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs finally shouted. Tony snapped out of his musings and looked up at Gibbs.
"Sorry, Boss."
"What's going on, and do not tell me you're fine."
"It's nothing, really. It's petty crap."
Gibbs sat down on the couch next to Tony.
"It's not petty crap if you're sitting home alone on Christmas Eve, eating pizza and drowning in beer. What's bothering you?"
Tony gazed at the mini Christmas tree on top of his piano, avoiding eye contact with Gibbs.
"My mother made that Christmas tree. She was really good at crafts and things."
Gibbs looked over at the tree. It was made of red and white garland, adorned with lights and small gold, hand painted ornaments.
"It's very nice, Tony."
"She used to let me put the ornaments on it when she got it out. I got to keep the tree in my bedroom sometimes."
"You miss her."
It was a statement, rather than a question. Tony closed his eyes and nodded.
"My mother used to bake at Christmas," Gibbs said softly, continuing to gaze at the tree. "I haven't found anyone yet who can make an apple pie as good as she could." He sat back on the couch. "I think about her every day."
Tony was silent for a moment, his gaze still locked on the miniature Christmas tree. This wasn't a conversation he thought he'd ever have with Gibbs, and he wasn't sure what to say next.
"My Dad and I tried to have Christmas after she died, but all the Old Man knew was how to make egg nog, and when to send me to bed. It was never the same."
Gibbs took his eyes from the tree and turned to face Tony. He was sitting back on the couch, beer still gripped in his right hand.
"Look at me, Tony."
Tony didn't move. He didn't want to move.
Thwack!
The head slap made him sit up, and he finally tore his gaze from the tree, and turned it on Gibbs.
"What?"
"What would your mother say if she were here right now?"
A small smile formed on Tony's face.
"She'd probably tell me to clean the place up. Then she'd tell me that this was no fit way to spend Christmas."
"She'd be right."
"You've spent Christmases alone. Why can't I?"
"I've learned something over the years, Tony. Blood doesn't make you family."
"You consider me family?" Tony asked, a little shocked.
"You, McGee, Abby, Ziva," Gibbs started. "Do I need to elaborate more?"
Tony noticed Gibbs' smirk as he said it, and smiled.
"No, I understand." He set his beer down on the coffee table and turned to Gibbs, holding out hand for him to shake. "Thanks."
"For what?" Gibbs asked, smirking.
As they amicably shook hands, there was a knock on Tony's door. Perplexed, Tony got up and went to answer the door. He found Tim and Abby standing in the doorway.
"What—what are you guys doing here? You two have been waiting weeks to spend Christmas together, alone."
"Well, I wanted to be alone—ow!"
"What Tim means, is that we couldn't leave you alone on Christmas Eve to sulk. We decided to bring Christmas to you." Abby came into the apartment, her hands full of shopping bags, and headed toward the kitchen. Tim sheepishly came in and shut the door behind him. Gibbs was glaring at him.
"Abby wanted you to have a nice Christmas, Tony. We both do."
"Thanks," Tony said, clapping his friend on the back. He turned to Gibbs. "Why don't I break out the good bourbon?"
"You're not drinking bourbon on Christmas Eve!" Abby shouted as she came back into the living room with a plate of homemade cookies. "Tim and I brought some wine." She glared at Tim.
"I'll go open the wine," Tim said quickly, heading into the kitchen.
Abby sat down next to Gibbs, offering him cookies. Tony watched Gibbs smile as he took one of Abby's famous gingerbread cookies from the plate. It was then Tony realized what Gibbs was trying to tell him. His family had been here all along, and they weren't going anywhere.
END