Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs

It took everything that Tim had in him not to groan audibly as he looked down at the slip of paper he had just pulled from the NCIS cap that was being brought around to each desk. As always, the agency had put together a Secret Santa gift exchange for everyone to participate in. Each person picked the name of one of their colleagues and was supposed to buy a gift for that person to be given at the NCIS Christmas party.

Tim neatly folded the paper and stuck it securely in his pocket, not letting his frustration show. He would get Gibbs, the hardest person in the entire agency to shop for. Abby was no problem, especially with their history together. He knew her like the back of his hand. With Tony, he knew that as long as the gift involved movies, Magnum P.I., or naked women – or especially all three – he'd be fine. Even Ziva was pretty easy to shop for (though women generally were). Gibbs, though, only had two hobbies: his job and his boat.

Tim could, of course, go with a bottle of Jack Daniels, always a safe choice when it came to Gibbs; but he knew that in the past three Christmas exchanges, Gibbs had been given a bottle of Jack and Tim didn't want to look predictable or like he hadn't put thought into the gift.

Maybe he could get something for Gibbs' boat or something to help with the building. The problem was that Tim didn't know much about carpentry and he wasn't completely sure what Gibbs was lacking – if anything – to help with the boat. Power tools were out. Gibbs preferred the feel of the wood while using regular tools and Tim didn't figured Gibbs was already comfortable with the tools he had. Besides, it would be a bit lame to present Gibbs with a ribbon-wrapped drill.

Tim couldn't think of anything he could get for Gibbs that would help him with work. A gun holster? No. A coffee mug? Lame. A tie? Tim shook his head, scolding himself for even mentally suggesting that one. Ties are what you get for your father when you're ten. How often did Gibbs actually wear a tie, anyway?

Tim knew that Gibbs would appreciate anything he gave to him, but Tim didn't just want his gift to be appreciated it; he wanted it to be enjoyed. Tim couldn't bear the thought of buying a sub-par or thoughtless gift for anyone, least of all his boss.

"Ha!" Tony exclaimed as he and Tim entered the elevator. He smugly held up the slip of paper he had grabbed from the hat and showed it to Tim. "I got that cute little blonde who works in the evidence garage."

"Let me guess: Honey dust?"

"We're not that intimate, McGee," Tony said with a snort. "I was thinking of something more the Victoria's Secret route. Maybe one of those cute little slips that are silky to the touch."

"Lingerie? Isn't that a bit personal for a Secret Santa gift?"

"Huh, hadn't really thought that far into it," he admitted. "So who've you got, Probie?"

"It's called Secret Santa for a reason, Tony."

"Ah, so you've got me."

"I don't have you, Tony."

"Right," Tony replied with a knowing smirk. "If you need any ideas, GSM is releasing a special Christmas book of their best Christmas spreads over the years." He gave the younger agent a pat on the back, coupled with a wink, as the elevator doors opened. "Catch you later!"

Tim drudged behind, hands in his pockets. He didn't suppose Gibbs was at all interested in GSM and its Christmas spreads.

The party was well underway, with music and booze flowing throughout. Mistletoe was strung above each door (making them hot spots for couples to stakeout), garland ran along each window, a small, festive, trinket sat upon each desk, and the agency Christmas tree stood tall with the Secret Santa gifts piled up below it. In an effort to include all of the agency workers, a menorah had been placed on one of the window sills and Kwanza décor had been placed upon another one of the windows. Snow fell softly outside, completing the wonderful holiday ambience.

"We're going to be opening Secret Santa gifts, now!" Cynthia announced to everyone. "Grab the gift you bought and give it to its recipient!"

Tim stayed in his place, watching as everyone surged forward to grab the gift they'd brought and gave them out. Hugs and thanks you's were exchanged as each person handed out a gift and each person was handed a gift. Tim's head hung low, berating himself for not finding a suitable gift for Gibbs.

"McGee!" Tim looked up and saw Ziva approaching him with a package in hand. "For you."

He smiled softly and accepted the gift. "Thank you, Ziva."

"How can you thank me? You have not even opened it yet."

"I'm sure it's something good," he told her as he carefully pulled the paper off. Inside the wrapping paper, he found a large book entitled The History of the Murder Mystery.

"It's about famous crime novels through history," she explained. "I hope you do not already have it."

"I don't," he assured her. "Thank you, Ziva." He pulled her in against him for a sweet, yet platonic embrace.

"So why are you not giving a gift to someone?"

Tim sighed guiltily. "I just couldn't find one. I really did try, but I just kept putting it off, figuring I'd find something. I didn't."

"Well, whose name did you pick?"

"Gibbs."

"Ah," Ziva said, understanding Tim's plight. Their boss was not the easiest person to shop for. "Well, you are in luck, McGee. Gibbs is not here."

"Where is he?" Tim asked, his brow furrowing. The party had been going for hours now and would soon be ending.

"He gave me the gift he'd bought and asked me to give it out for him. He said he was not in the mood to come to a party."

"Oh," Tim muttered. "I guess I'm off the hook then." This thought didn't make him feel any better though. In fact, it only made him feel worse. "Ziva, thank you again. I think I have to go now."

Tim pulled up to the house. The lights were out and there were no Christmas decorations up, not even a wreath on the door. The house had a dark, dreary atmosphere about it. Tim almost got back into his car and drove off, figuring Gibbs had made an early night of it and gone to bed. But as he turned, he caught sight of a soft glow coming from the basement paired with shadows of movement. Of course, Gibbs would be working on his boat.

He knew the door would be unlocked – not to mention knocking would be useless as Gibbs wasn't about to budge from his basement unless it was for more whiskey – so Tim simply walked in and followed the sound of sanding. "Boss?" he called out uncertainly, just outside the door. He peeked into the basement and saw Gibbs looking up at him.

"What are you doing here, McGee?"

Tim tentatively stepped into the basement and stood at the top of the stairs. He felt strange intruding and didn't want to overstep his boundaries by walking down the stairs. "Well, ah, you weren't at the party and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"It's not the first time I've skipped one of those company functions, McGee. I prefer to do my job and leave it at that."

"Well, yeah, I know that. It's just…well…it's Christmas. I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Gibbs looked at Tim, eyes uncertain. With a shrug, he told the agent, "I'm fine. Go back to the party."

Tim stepped down the first two steps. "But you missed the gift exchange."

"I gave my gift to Ziva to hand out for me."

"But someone…" Someone what? Someone had bought a gift for Gibbs? Tim knew that wasn't true. "Someone had your name."

"They can keep whatever they got me. I don't really need anything. It was probably a bottle of Jack anyway, and I'm pretty well stocked right now."

"Actually, boss, I had your name," Tim admitted. "But I didn't get you a bottle of whiskey. I…I didn't get you anything." He hung his head shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Tim. Like I said, I don't need anything. Now go back to the party."

Tim stepped down a few more steps. "It was kind of wrapping up when I left. I just thought you might want some company. I mean, we don't need to talk…unless you want to talk, of course. Or, I could just help you with the boat…by watching, because to be honest I don't know much about building boats."

"I don't need your pity, McGee."

"It's not pity, boss. It's just that it's the holiday season and you should be with people during the holiday season."

Gibbs gave a slight smile and he beckoned to Tim. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Tim descended the last couple of steps and took a seat. "Ah, sure. I'll take whatever you've got."

Gibbs grabbed a bottle from his work bench and poured a substantial amount of a dark liquid into a coffee mug. "I hope you like your bourbon strong." He handed Tim the mug, grabbing his own mug from of the table, and held it out to clink it against Tim's. "Happy holidays."

Tim didn't immediately drink it, opting instead to circle the mug around and watch the liquid slosh about inside. "So are you doing anything for, uh…for Christmas?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I usually just stay around the house. Maybe I'll go catch a movie."

"Oh," Tim replied awkwardly. "Well, I'd invite you for dinner or something, but I'm flying home tomorrow."

"I'm fine, McGee." Gibbs took a large swig of his drink. "Christmas is like any other day for me." Tim wasn't sure how to respond, so he just nodded mutely as though he understood. "I guess it was much more exciting and important before."

Tim's head snapped up, eyebrows raised. He knew what Gibbs meant when he said "before" and he was surprised to hear his boss mention his first wife and daughter so freely. He didn't want to pry, but he couldn't think of a good, neutral response. So he sat there, silently, looking at Gibbs with a mixture of pity, sympathy, and curiosity.

"I remember our first Christmas as a family," Gibbs continued. "Shannon had made stockings for all of us to hang over the fire place. I thought it was pointless as the two of us were too old for Santa Claus and Kelly wasn't old enough to even understand what was going on. It was just the three of us in our little apartment with a pathetic looking tree and a small meal."

"Sounds like it was nice," Tim commented, not wanting to stay silent any longer.

"Oh, it was. Kelly, of course, slept most of the day and Shannon insisted on watching It's a Wonderful Life. We didn't have so many bells and whistles; just each other." Gibbs took another large swig. "For me, Christmas isn't about the decorations and the gifts and the TV specials. It's just about spending time with a family. Without one…well, I really have no reason to celebrate much."

"At the risk of sounding corny, you do have a family. I mean, I like to think of the team as my other family."

Gibbs gave him a small grin. "And so it is, McGee. So it is."

Tim stayed for a good hour, listening to Gibbs recall stories of past Christmases, with Tim even recalling some of his own Christmases with the McGee clan. By the time he readied himself to leave, he'd forgotten all about showing up to both the party and to Gibbs' house giftless. "I'm not going to see you until after Christmas," he said as he wrapped his scarf around his neck, "so I hope you enjoy your holidays, boss."

Gibbs shocked Tim by pulling him in for a hug. "You too, Tim. And thank you for the gift."

"Boss, I didn't get you a gift, remember?" Tim reminded him sheepishly.

Gibbs smiled in response. "Not all gifts need to be bought and wrapped, Tim." Tim furrowed his brow, not sure what Gibbs was getting at. "Sometimes the best gift you can give someone is your time and your company," Gibbs explained.

Tim's cheeks reddened. "Oh…well, you're welcome, boss."

When Tim's car pulled away, Gibbs went to one of the drawers of his work table. Buried beneath the tools and nails was a single Polaroid picture which he pulled out and placed on the table. The picture depicted a man and a woman posed before a small Christmas tree. In the woman's arms was a baby girl, not even one year old, dressed in a red velveteen dress with silver bells sewn on. Written on the strip of white below the picture was "Kelly's First Christmas."

Gibbs grabbed a piece of tape and walked to the basement window. He taped the Polaroid up with the picture face him. That was his Christmas decoration, the only decoration he needed.

He grabbed his mug, toasted to the picture, and downed the entire drink. "Merry Christmas," he whispered softly to the picture."

The End