My Sugar Plum Fairy
by channelD
written: as a gift for a friend
rating: K plus
characters: the cast
pairings: yes, but that would give it away to tell you now
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disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.
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"Aw, spill, Tim! Whose name did you draw in the Secret Santa?"
"I can't tell you that, Abby! That would take away the fun."
"Spoilsport! Well, I'll tell you who I got. I got Ziva. Now you have to tell me."
"Haha. I like your attempt at logic. No."
"Tiiiiiiiimmm…"
"I'm glad I didn't get Ziva. I would have no idea what to get her."
"Ziva?? She's easy! I know exactly what she wants..."
- - - - -
At the NCIS Christmas party gift exchange, Ziva unwrapped the small box that bore her name. Inside was a tiny, pretty, jade-trimmed case, and inside that was a slip of paper. Ziva pulled the paper out and read:
Tonight, no matter where you are
Make a wish upon a star
She smiled knowingly and looked Abby in the eye. "Thank you, Abby."
Abby returned the smile, leaving the others curious. "My pleasure."
- - - - -
"Let me see it, Abs. That's a goofy-looking thing…" Tony reached for the item she held.
She held it back. "Mitts off, Tony! This is old and fragile."
"It's just a stupid nutcracker!"
"I think it's beautiful," Abby said, noticing that Tim had heard and his ears were flaming. "I think it's one of the loveliest gifts I've ever received!" She went over to Tim and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, my secret Santa," she said. Had this been a few years ago, there might have been passion in that kiss. But time moves on. Tim, to her, was a friend, nothing more. Even if he did still harbor some feelings for her, which she suspected he did, she would not return them. She still considered herself too young and carefree to want to settle down.
Tim blushed. He was pretty sure that she did like the gift. It did have an almost gothic appearance; dressed in black.
"Aw, let me see it…"
"Tony!" But although Abby held it away, Tony dodged and dodged, catching her unawares…and snatched the nutcracker figure. "Let go, Tony!"
He didn't, and in their struggle, the nutcracker fell to the floor, breaking in a heart-rending snap. The head was now in two pieces.
Abby sank down beside it, in tears. Tony stammered an apology. Tim said, "Abby, I can probably find a replacement. Don't cry…"
"Ow!" exclaimed Tony, as Ziva gave him a resounding Gibbs-slap.
"How dare you mess with other's gifts!" she snapped.
Gibbs swept in, fresh coffee in hand, and sized up the situation. "Leave it with me, Abbs. It's wood. I can repair it for you tonight." His words for Abby were soft; his look for Tony was cold.
"I know, Gibbs. You can fix anything. You're like a magician." Abby said, still weeping. "Thank you." She accepted his hand up, noticing not for the first time that age did indeed seem to endow him with wisdom and insight. He had been the Santa handing out the gifts (though not in costume; that wouldn't be Gibbs at all), and had done so with almost a flourish, as if he had conjured each one.
"Would you—would you like to pack it in the box it came in? Here; I'll get it for you." She was still sniffling, but almost had herself in control. The nutcracker box was also old and ornate, and she ran her hand over it lovingly.
The gesture was not lost on Gibbs. "Not necessary. I can pack it in newspaper so the parts don't jostle each other." With her thanks again, he was away, leaving Abby in uncomfortable silence as the others returned to their desks.
- - - - -
She had a lot to do, on cases for Gibbs' team and two other teams as well. On most nights she didn't mind working late; on this night, work was a blessing. She didn't want to think about the sweet gift from Tim, who knew how much she loved E.T.A. Hoffman's story of The Nutcracker and the King of Mice, later made famous in ballet form. That Tony—he was a dear friend, as Tim was, but sometimes he behaved like a little boy!
With programs running on her computers for her various tasks, she felt drowsy, and decided not to drive home. She turned off the lab lights, leaving the lights of her 4-foot-high artificial Christmas tree on, unrolled her sleeping bag onto her futon, and curled up inside. The pretty nutcracker box was beside her, where she could look at it in the glow of the Christmas tree lights until she fell asleep.
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She awoke in the night to strange sounds. A pack of mice, large as she and armed with swords, were emerging from the corners, lead by one dressed splendidly who must be their leader, or even a king! From the box beside her, a new nutcracker emerged, and grew tall—six feet or more in height. Toy Marines and sailors she had "guarding" her tree marched out and likewise grew to human size. With their help, the nutcracker started to make inroads on conquering the mice. It took a well-aimed boot from Abby, though, to bring down the mouse king and send the mice into retreat.
When Abby turned around, the Marines and sailors were gone, too…and before her eyes, the nutcracker transformed into Tim, but not-Tim, dressed in royal-looking robes and looking soooo handsome. "Thanks for your help there," he said, smiling, as if his having had the shape of a nutcracker was an everyday thing. "Buh," was all she could say.
"Take my hand," he commanded.
"Why?"
He only smiled. "We're going on a journey. To the Land of Snow." A wave of his other hand and a sleigh and a team of horses appeared, right there in her lab…only the lab was fading away, and they were outside somewhere, in the snow, where it was daylight.
In only moments they were in a deep forest, with large snowflakes swirling around. And there was music—beautiful music that made her want to get out of the sleigh and dance. She remembered now having heard music in her lab as well…but that was feisty, combative music, and she had been a little afraid of the circumstances. This, though, was comforting and sweet. And warm…it was odd that she didn't feel the cold, dressed only in a nightgown and robe and boots.
Tim…if this is Tim…is doing this all for me? Why?
Tim, driving the sleigh, stopped it and smiled again. "We're here," he said, though the wintry landscape looked no different than it had a minute before. "Don't be afraid," he said. "You have nothing to fear from her."
"Her? Her, who?"
"My sugar plum fairy." His smile was dazzling as a lovely ballerina appeared in an all-white costume.
Ziva!
And yet, not…
The landscape had changed without Abby realizing it. Instead of snow, the surroundings were more pronounced by sweet scents than sights. Dancers emerged from some unknown corner, in small groups: dances with the aura of exotic, far-away lands. There was the sinuous allure of Arabia; the whimsical decoration of the Russian tsardom; even the beauty of a field of summer flowers swaying in the breeze. Dances wove one into the other, as Abby watched, entranced.
The nutcracker prince/Tim also watched with pleasure, though his eye was more often on the sugar plum fairy/Ziva. When the last of the theme dancers departed, the sugar plum fairy/Ziva held out her hand, and the nutcracker prince/Tim joined her, smiling. Her white tutu shimmering, lit by light bouncing off tens of thousands of mother-of-pearl sequins, together they danced a pas de deux, each step perfect, each step matched, as if they were born to the dance.
They had eyes only for each other, Abby noticed.
This is what Ziva wanted.
Isn't this what I wanted for her?
The dance finally drew to a close, and the couple paused for a moment in place, as if hearing thunderous applause from somewhere. But Abby heard nothing; nothing more than the applause of her own two hands as the music faded and the world was silent.
Thank you, Abby. Ziva was looking straight at her. Did the fairy/Ziva really say that? Or had Abby stopped hearing, in this now-soundless world, and read lips?
Thank you, Abby. That was from Tim.
She sat, stunned, as the figures before her started to grow faint. You're welcome, she mouthed back, but she was thinking, What have I done? The land started to lose its light, as a sort of twilight set in.
- - - - -
"Abby? Did you spend the night here? Wake up!"
Her eyes blinked open. "Oh! Gibbs! It got late, and…"
He nodded. "Here's your nutcracker. Good as new. I may borrow it later to use on DiNozzo's head. Someday, maybe, he'll grow up."
The figurine was indeed whole once again. Gibbs had glued, sanded, and repainted the damaged area. Abby couldn't even find the break. "Thank you, O Magician!" she said, giving him a strong hug.
"Better get dressed. Vance wants to see us in his office at 9."
"Sure. I'll be there. Dressed." But Gibbs was already gone, as if he had conjured himself out of existence.
She remembered the dance sequence; every bit of it. And she sat down, staring at her reflection in a Christmas tree ornament. Did I just pass up the opportunity for something good? Because I haven't been ready to grow up?
Dressing, she fought back tears.
-END-