This is a little Christmas present from me to you. There will be two, perhaps three parts, and I PROMISE it will all be yours before Christmas....if my lovely beta Mokio will be so kind that is.

As with everything I tend to write, this isn't what I planned to write in the first place. It would seem that what was supposed to be a simple holiday story turned into the first story in my Jace Nicholes series. What can I say, she simply would not take no for an answer. She was tired of me not writing about her and insisted she be included in this. Don't worry, though, if you have a fear of original characters. She doesn't show up till round about the second chapter of this, and I promise she will be different, and interesting. I love her, and I hope you all will too.

This story also includes a character from another fav series of mine, and also will be the other show in which Jace includes herself. This story is not what I want to call a cross-over, I am just borrowing this angelic figure for this story. The cross-overs will come later. You will see who the character is later, and he only makes a single apperence.

I hope you all enjoy this...and have a very Merry Christmas!!!

Yes Tony, There Is A Santa Claus

The windshield wipers swept across the glass, doing little to disturb the rapidly building pile of snow that already concealed much of the view.

Not that one could really see anything, he mused. He squinted his eyes and tried to look through the white flurry that the head lights could hardly break through.

Anthony DiNozzo cursed his luck as he thought of the warm Bahama breezes, sandy beaches, and bikini clad bodies that he was supposed to be seeing right now. Were it not for the fact that Director Vance had cancelled all Christmas vacations. A high profile case had the Sec Nav breathing down his neck to get it solved, and of course he had given Gibbs and his team the brunt of the work.

Tony was sure Vance had been the one to suggest that he drive all the way out to Williamsburg, VA (in the middle of the snow storm of the century) to interview the little old lady who found the body of Major Charles Kellington. He just so happened to be the brother-in-law of the Secretary's golfing partner.

The old woman… Mrs. Potts, he reminded himself… was just as he pictured her from her name. Like the Disney character whose image her name brought to mind, Mrs. Potts was short, round and plump, and reminded Tony of a teapot about to whistle. In fact, her voice was high pitched and squeaky, like a steaming pot of water on the stove. She had been unable to provide him with any further information aside from what she had already given.

The body had been found outside her late Husband's, Clarence's, store.

"Clarence, God rest his soul. He left the store to that nephew of his. Well, Marshell…that's our boy, he didn't want it, and I can't say I blame him. But Harry, my husband's nephew that is, jumped at the chance. I feel it my duty to check up on him now and again. Make sure he's keeping it true to Clarence's wishes."

She had served him tea and a plate of cookies on china so delicate, Tony had been afraid to touch it. He had carefully picked up the cup and saucer the way he saw her do it and looked around the room. Mrs. Potts house reminded him of something out of an old movie. All flowery chintz and lace doilies. Like the boarding house in Arsenic and Old Lace.

At the thought of the old classic, and the nefarious past time of the sweet looking old ladies who ran the establishment, he discreetly put the cup down on the table next to him and tried to concentrate on her words as she rambled on.

"Clarence was a good, God fearing man, and wouldn't want any of those dirty magazines among his news stand."

"Dirty magazines?" Tony questioned, pretending to be taking down notes. He didn't think she would have anything further to offer, and if she did he'd be able to remember it anyway. But holding the pen and note pad looked professional and he always was one for keeping up appearances.

"You know…" She leaned in close to whisper, 'Nudie magazines."

"I see."

"Clarence didn't like those at all, and would never stand for them being in his store."

'Sure he wouldn't', Tony had thought. It was his opinion that any man who proclaimed to not like or never having looked at an X-rated magazine was either delusional or a damn liar. He kept his thoughts to himself on the subject though. No need to upset the sweet old bird, lest she try to slip him a cup of poison.

"So, I had gone down to see things for myself, That's where I found him."

"Him?"

"Your young major."

"In the store?"

"No, no, of course not. Out back. Behind the trash bins."

Tony knew this of course, but had to go through the motions of interviewing. "You where looking behind the trash bins for nudie magazines?"

"I thought Harry might be trying to hide them there."

The rest of the interview had been much the same. Clarence, Harry, nudie magazines and all.

Mrs. Potts was a nice, if little old fashioned, lady who kept trying to offer him cookies, which he appreciated, and to set him up with her granddaughter…. a 'professional dancer'…which he didn't.

He had excused himself at the earliest possible convenience.

Which was how he found himself here on an icy, practically deserted road with the snows of Kilimanjaro heading at him full force. He wondered if the current state of the economy had prevented the city of Williamsburg from getting snow plows and salt trucks out for the season. Or perhaps the weather had been so unexpected they had been unable to get anything out fast enough. Whatever it was, it was costing Tony precious time that he knew his boss was going to take out of his hide. Gibbs had been more of a bear than usual lately, and Tony would be wise to give him as wide a berth as possible.

He thought about calling his boss to report in, let him know he'd be late getting in as he was barely creeping along at 25 MPH, and might not make it back for the scheduled 7:30pm meeting. He was positive neither Gibbs nor Vance would cut him any slack. Vance would simply chalk it up to another DiNozzo screw up, and Gibbs…well hell, Gibbs would never let anything like bad weather keep him from being anywhere on time. He would just glare at the snow so it would move out of his way. Like Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea.

At Tony though, the snow simply laughed. That's what the wind sounded like at any rate. High pitched, maniacal laughter. Taking its amusement from the chump behind the wheel who was afraid to say no to his boss. He shook his head at how sorry a loser he was. One of these days, if not this very night, his eagerness to please was going to get him killed.

A particularly forceful wind whipped through the trees surrounding him, then seemed to change course, barreling down the road directly at him. He could almost make out a face in the swirling snow. A big, evil, demonic face with black eyes and sharp teeth. He gripped the steering wheel so tight he was sure his fingers where going to lock into that position permanently. The wind rocked his vehicle almost off the wheels as it ran into him. He could hear the sound of it screaming past.

Tony let out a breath, surprised to find out he had been holding it, as soon as the car's tires settled back onto the slick, icy road.

Thank God for 4-wheel drive.

He eased back on his speed, going along now at a pace so slow a crawling baby would be able to beat him in a race. He hated such slow speeds, but he wasn't an idiot. Despite not looking forward to Gibbs's wrath at his being so late getting back, he also didn't want to find himself splattered about the highway. Better to go at a snail's pace and live, than try to beat his best time again and end up wrapped around a telephone pole.

So concentrated was he on the obscured road before him, that the sudden trilling of his cell phone on the seat beside him made him jump.

"Man." He said to the air around him. "You are such a wuss sometimes, DiNozzo."

With difficulty, he managed to unwrap one hand from its grip around the steering wheel, wincing in pain as his fingers straightened out. Not taking his eyes from the approaching tunnel of whirling snow, he reached for the ringing, vibrating contraption. He knew who it would be on the other end, and although he heeded the dangers of talking on the phone while driving in such weather, he also knew that not answering the call would be a much more dangerous prospect.

"DiNozzo." He answered, shocked at the breathy quality in his voice. The rapidly beating heart might have had something to do with it.

"Where the hell are you?"

Ah yes. Gibbs always did like to get the pleasantries out of the way first.

"No idea, Boss."

When he had left the witnesses house, he had headed out on highway 15, but he wasn't sure if that was the road he was on anymore. He hadn't seen a road sign for almost an hour.

"You were supposed to be back here an hour ago."

"Yes, well, it seemed Old Man Winter had another opinion on the subject."

He could hear Gibbs mutter a swear word under his breath. When he spoke up again, all gruffness was gone from his voice. "Pretty bad out there, huh?"

Tony grinned at the understatement. "Ever seen Day After Tomorrow?"

"What?"

Of course he hadn't. "Day After Tomorrow. Great flick. Dennis Quaid plays a guy who tries to warn the government of an approaching ice age. Of course they don't listen to him and half the country freezes. Awesome storm scenes."

"DiNozzo."

"I know you only like Harrison Ford movies, Boss, but there's only so many times you can watch Witness."

"DiNozzo."

"Now, to be fair, Kelly McGillis is pretty hot, but I thought she looked better in Top Gun."

"DiNozzo, shut up."

"Shutting up, Boss."

He could just picture Gibbs rubbing his fingers at that spot on the side of his temple. It wasn't that he meant to be a nuisance, but right now being able to annoy someone gave him a rest from fearing for his life.

"Anywhere you can stop till this blows over?"

Tony grinned. Gibbs might not come right out and say it, but he cared. "That would be a great idea, Boss, were it not for the fact I can't see two feet in front of me. I might have passed hundreds of hotels by now. No real way to tell."

"Shit."

"That about sums it up. At this point I think the best bet is to keep going."

"Tony, don't…."

There was a loud crackle of static that had Tony turning his ear away, then silence.

"Gibbs?"

The absence of an answer was all the answer he needed.

Crap. Weather must be interfering with cell phone service now. Gibbs would blow a gasket if he couldn't contact any of his team. There was always a chance McGee could track him down through the GPS tracker, but then what could they do? There was no way Tony wanted anyone else coming out in this after him. He was on his own now.

He switched on the radio for the background noise. He couldn't stand silence in the best of times. In the worst, too much quiet tended to distract him rather then let him concentrate on the matter at hand.

He found a classic country station and decided that was better than anything else up for offer. If one must listen to country, better it was the older stuff. Hank Williams,…both of them. Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, with some Kenny Rogers and Alabama thrown in for good measure.

He found as he grew older that he couldn't stand the noise that passed for music these days anymore. Before he would know it, he'd be that old man who bangs his cane on the ceiling and yells at the young kids on the upper floor to turn the noise down.

It wasn't that he feared getting older, it was just all the wondering where all the time had gone to. He knew he wasn't considered old yet, but he wasn't young anymore. Back when he was playing ball in college, he thought when he reached his current age he'd have achieved the American Dream.

Great career, beautiful wife, 2.3 kids.

Oh well. He supposed one out of three wasn't a total wash out.

As Ducky often told him, he still had plenty of time. But he suspected now that it wasn't worth it.

After Jeanne…he just didn't want to set himself up for any kind of heart ache again. Better to go it alone.

Anthony DiNozzo. The lone wolf.

The very, very lonely wolf.

"Stop it, you putz." He muttered. He couldn't afford right now to let his jumbled, disjointed thoughts get carried away.

With squinted eyes, he strained to see beyond the whirling wall of white that had become his world. It might be his imagination, but he could almost swear he saw a shadow. A dark spot among the white. Sure, there wasn't much light out anymore. In another hour it would be pitch black. But this dark spot had shape. This spot was….moving?

Oh…Oh shit!

A universal truth known by all drivers lucky enough to learn to maneuver through snow and ice is to never slam on the brakes. It will not improve your situation. But as others had learned before him, instinct had a way of overriding common sense. Before he had time to mentally head slap himself for pressing his right foot down hard on the brake pedal, he felt the rear end of the vehicle start to fishtail.

The shadow, which had the form of a deer, jumped away into the darkness.

Tony did his best to get the car back under control, but the tires had the luck to find a particularly icy patch, and the government owned car did a pretty impressive spin before slamming nose first into a large snow drift.

The momentum threw Tony forward, his forehead glancing off the edge of the steering wheel before the seatbelt across his middle drove him back.

The passenger side air bag went off.

"Ouch." Tony, said, his hand going to the now painful spot on his forehead. His fingers touched something wet and warm. Drawing his hand back, he looked down to see the blood. "Just perfect."

A look in the rearview mirror showed him he had a small, but nicely bleeding cut in the middle of his forehead. It wasn't serious, but he knew from experience that head wounds always bled like a bitch. Pulling a linen handkerchief from his coat pocket, he held the cloth to the wound.

The handkerchief had been a gift from Abby last Christmas. She'd given him a set of 5, all black of course, with his initials embroidered in red on either side of a white skull and cross bones. When he told her he'd now stained one with his blood she would probably think it was cool.

Injury now somewhat taken care of, he took stock of the rest of the situation. The car was no longer running, although the battery allowed the radio to continue playing. Elvis Presley crooned about a Blue Christmas. He knew the radio would only continue to play for a few minuets longer, and then he'd be stuck out here in the silence. Flipping his cell open, he prayed that a signal would show, but the phone showed no service.

Great. Let's see Anthony, middle of nowhere, wrecked car, injury, deserted highway, and no cell service.

Yep. About par for course. All he needed now was for the aliens, or at least Bigfoot to show up, and it had the makings of a great movie.

He knew his options where limited. He could either stay here in a stalled car and freeze to death, or take his chances of going out in the storm to find help and likely freezing to death. Neither option was very appealing to him.

Gene Autry's voice came through the speakers accompanied by the ringing of sleigh bells.

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus….The radio went dead.

Tony thought he wouldn't mind if the old guy would show up. A sleigh and flying reindeer would be a step up at this point.

----------------

The thought had barely left his mind when he was blinded by the reflection of a bright light in the mirror. He could hear the rumble of a truck engine behind him.

This could mean a variety of things. His rescue had come like an answer to a prayer, …a transient serial killer had come upon him,…or the head injury was worse then he thought and he was hallucinating.

In the past, with his job, all three had already happened to him.

At the moment, though, he was willing to take what he got.

Wrapping his coat tightly around this throat, he opened the car door just as a large man in a puffy red coat reached him.

"You all right there, young fella?"

The man was older. By the look of him he could have been anywhere from late 50's to early 80's. It was kind of hard to tell. The neatly clipped white beard hid most of his jaw line, and his clear blue eyes where unlined and ageless.

Tony would have made a joke about Santa Claus coming to town or something along those lines, but didn't want to take the chance of offending his possible savior at so early a meeting. The guy probably got that kind of thing all the time.

"Yeah." Tony replied, the black handkerchief still pressed to his wound. "Car's kind of out of commission. You wouldn't happen to have a cell phone on you, would you?"

"Can't say that I do. Don't have any real use for such things."

"Fantastic." He really, really hated being sent out to the boondocks.

"Looks like you got yourself a pretty nasty cut there."

"It's alright." Tony said, removing the cloth and hoping the blood flow had been staunched.

The old man leaned in to take a better look. "Still, it needs looking after."

"I've had worse. Look, Mr.…?"

"Name's Nick."

"Nick. Alright, Nick, I'm Tony. You don't think you could give me a ride to the nearest service station, do you? I need to call someone. It's important." He gave his best, charming, good-guy smile. It had been known in the past to melt the hearts of women everywhere. He was hoping it would have something of a positive effect on grandfatherly old men who showed up out of nowhere in snowstorms like a guardian angel.

"I can do better then that. I'll hook your car up and take you to Becca's."

"Becca's?"

"Runs a diner and motel just down the way. Best place around. I really don't think you'll be going anywhere else tonight, and you look like you could use a good meal."

Tony sighed. Nick had a point. There was no getting back to D.C. in this weather, and he was hungry. And now he had a headache.

"Does Becca have a phone?"

"Well, sure she does, son!" The old man exclaimed, as though it where the mother of all stupid questions.

He really didn't have any other option, and if the guy turned out to be a back woods cannibal, Tony still had his gun and belt buckle knife to protect himself with. He would simply have to take the chance.

"Okay."

"Good! Now you just get yourself on up in the cab. Get warm. There's a thermos on the seat. Help yourself."

"I can't let you…." Tony began, reluctant to let a man of his obvious years hook up the car all by himself.

"Nonsense, boy. Been doing it all my life."

"I…"

"Now, son. The quicker you get in the truck, the quicker we can get going. Can't be having someone like you freeze to death, Tony."

"Like me?"

"Yes, that's it."

Tony felt like his head was swimming, and he knew it wasn't from the little bump he had taken. Nick was something of a whirlwind, it would seem. He felt a hand take hold of his elbow and guide him to the truck cab.

It was a large red tow truck, a big snow plow attached to the front. Tony suspected the man had been out plowing the roads, and wondered at his luck that Nick had come upon him so soon after the accident.

Three lights sat atop the truck's roof. The ones on the left and right shone pure, white light. The one in the middle was red. Out of habit, he glanced down at the license plate. The Virginia issued plate was somewhat caked with snow and ice, but he could make out the lettering. They where vanity plates spelling out R-U-D-O-L-F.

Nick made sure Tony was seated comfortably in the cab, the warm thermos in his hands. He drove the truck around to hook the wreaked car up and drag it out of the snow drift.

Tony sat staring at the ordinary, green thermos in his hands. An everyday, sturdy object. Army issue, if he wasn't mistaken. The heat coming from the inside of it made his hand warm all over, and he wanted to burry the thing inside his coat, against his suddenly chilled skin. How was it he hadn't realized he was so cold before?

He twisted the cap open and pored a helping of the contents into the provided cup. If it where poisoned, he was past caring.

The cup was to his lips, taking a sip, when Nick climbed into the driver's seat.

"All set." He said, brushing snow off his red ski gloves. He smiled at his passenger. "Like that?"

"It's hot chocolate!" Tony had been surprised, expecting coffee. Strong and black, the way Gibbs drank it. Instead, the smooth taste of chocolate hit his taste buds. It was very good. He could detect the slightest hint of peppermint in there. Like someone had swizzled a candy cane in it while mixing.

"Of course it is." Nick said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Best thing on a winter's night, don't you think?"

Tony didn't answer, not having much experience at drinking cocoa on a winter's night. He wasn't much for hot drinks, drinking coffee only for the caffeine boost it gave him. This was good, though, he thought as he took another sip. Real good. "What kind is it?" He asked, wanting to take a mental note of the brand name in case he ever wanted to pick some up for himself.

"Homemade." Nick said proudly. "Old family recipe."

"Let me guess." Tony grinned at him over the rim of the cup. "If you told me the secret, you'd have to kill me. Right?"

Nick laughed. A deep, rumbling sound that shook his whole body. "Wouldn't go that far."

"So, you live around here?"

Nick handled the icy roads like they weren't even there. To Tony, it felt like they where not even riding on the road, by gliding over it. He peered down suspiciously into the dark brown cocoa. What was in this stuff?

"Oh no. I just come through every so often. My home's farther north. How about you?"

"Georgetown." Tony answered. "I work in D.C.."

"Washington! Got some good friends there myself."

"Yeah, well, I got sent out here for my job. My boss is going to blow a gasket if he can't reach me."

"Worry about you a lot, does he?"

"It's what he does."

Tony didn't know why he was telling Nick, a complete stranger, all this. He only knew that he was, and that it didn't feel strange. The older man's very presence seemed to invite conversation.

"Doing a job so close to Christmas?" Nick shook his head sadly. "That's no way to spend the holiday, son."

Tony's shrug was nonchalant. "I don't mind. Not usually. Except…" he waved a hand at the flying snow."

"Yeah. Unusual weather for around here, this time of year. I don't normally hit this much snow until round about the Great Lakes region. Boy, can the snow fly there. Had a few close calls in Cleveland. What people where thinking building a city on the shores of such a large lake…" He shook his head in the wonder of it all.

Tony stared at him and blinked a few times, not sure what the old man was talking about. He decided to just nod his head in a show of agreement and turn his eyes back to the window.

Nick snuck a glance at his passenger out of the corner of his eye. The young man was starring hypnotically into the tunnel-like effect of the snow. "Do you like snow, Tony?"

"Yes." He answered. "I mean... no. It's cold."

"Kind of has to be, son. Can't have snow without cold. Sure is pretty. I remember the first time I saw snow. Thought I'd found heaven."

"It isn't so bad, I guess. When you're not trapped in a car buried nose first in it."

Another rumbling laugh. "True, true."

"Is this what you do?" Tony asked. "Rescue stranded motorists?"

"No. I…do a lot of things. Seem to travel a lot. This time of year is usually busy for me."

"You a truck driver?"

"Sometimes. I do make more then my fair share of deliveries."

"Sounds lonely."

"Not at all. I meet lots of nice people. Look at tonight. I met you, didn't I?"

"What makes you think I'm nice?"

"You can't hide what you are. It shines out of you. You are a light, Tony. You draw people to you. Mark of a good heart, I'd say."

Now it was Tony's turn to laugh. "I'm sure a lot of people would disagree with you."

"Including you?"

The question stopped Tony short. He was suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the ride. "I…don't understand."

"Oh. You do. Every once in a while, Tony, you should look at yourself from someone else's eyes."

"No offense, sir, but you don't know me, and I…"

"Not true. I know you. Been riding together for a full 15 minuets now, haven't we? In my life, that makes us old friends."

"You must have a strange life."

"You have no idea, son. No idea at all."

The truck came to a stop, and it took Tony's eyes a full minute until he could see a faint glow through the snow and darkness. They where several feet away from a low, square shaped structure. A red sign was lit up near the doorway, proclaiming the establishment to be 'open'.

"Here we are." Nick said, preparing to climb out.

"Just keep your head down and walk straight. I'm sure Becca will get you warmed up in no time. She likes the 'little lost boy' look."

"I'm not lost." Tony said. He climbed out of the truck, pulling the collar of his coat around his face as he headed for the door.

"Oh yes you are, Tony. More so than you realize." Nick spoke to the air as he watched his new charge head for the building. "This is going to be an interesting one."