Thank you so much to Kelly for the help/suggestions!
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"Meeeeerry Christmas!" Gibbs suddenly found himself with an armful of Abby. "You're coming to Ducky's Christmas dinner tomorrow, right?"
"Can't." Gibbs gave Abby a little squeeze and then gently pushed her away as he headed toward his desk. "Got plans."
"You won't," Abby paused. "Be there?"
Gibbs gave her an apologetic look and then reached for the phone on his desk as it rang. It was Christmas Eve and he knew his team wasn't thrilled about working today, but it was either Christmas Eve or Christmas day, and they decided that Christmas Eve was the lesser of two evils. He watched as Abby attacked her next victim, Tony, as he stepped out of the elevator. Gibbs could read the irritation on his senior agent's face, but his features softened in response to Abby's hug.
As Tony made his way toward his desk, Gibbs hung up and pulled out his gun. "Dead petty officer in the park. Grab your gear."
Ziva and McGee had been at their desks for nearly ten minutes already, both having been on the receiving end of Abby's 'Merry Christmas' hug. Gibbs didn't do Christmas, not anymore. The past several years he'd managed to avoid Ducky's Christmas dinner with the team, occasionally breaking down and having a Christmas drink with Ducky on Christmas Eve – only if the team wasn't working. He preferred to spend the day pretending it was no different from any other, avoiding the Christmas movies on TV, and the cheerful holiday music on the radio. He usually spent the day bent over the boat in the basement, sanding away the memories of Christmas past.
His team was aggravated as they made the drive out to where the body of Anderson Lee was found. McGee and Tony sat in the backseat of the charger and their verbal jabs at one another were getting on Gibbs' nerves. Even Ziva had a hard time ignoring their childish behavior. It wasn't until they were back at NCIS that he saw even the hint of a smile cross any of their faces. Then he realized that it was Abby making them all smile. She had produced a red and green cupcake on each of their desks with little black sprinkles on the frosting. With a little sugar in their systems, Tony and McGee seemed to mellow out, telling each other stories of waiting up on Christmas Eve for a glimpse of Santa. Even Ziva listened to their stories. He was surprised that she was taking such an interest, as she didn't celebrate the holiday, but he suspected it had more to do with feeling like a team rather than her interest in Christmas.
Gibbs tried to block out their chatter as he worked the paperwork on the dead petty officer. It had been an open and shut case, his wife had been found with the murder weapon and covered in his blood and had confessed before they even had the chance to ask what happened. Gibbs shuddered – apparently Anderson had been working too much. Gibbs wasn't proud of his track record with wives, but at least they hadn't done him in the way Mrs. Lee had taken out her frustration on her husband.
By early afternoon, Gibbs was tired and needed some peace and quiet to finish up his paper. His team had worked hard today, so he told them to take off early and wished them a Merry Christmas. With the office down to its skeleton crew, Gibbs stretched his arms and refocused on his paper. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a brown bag pushed onto the corner of his desk. He looked up to see Ducky smiling at him. "We'll miss you tomorrow, but should you change your mind there will be plenty of food."
"Thanks Duck. Merry Christmas."
"And to you, Jethro." Ducky tipped his hat. Gibbs waited until the elevator doors closed before moving the brown bag that Ducky had left. It was a bottle of his favorite bourbon; he'd already left a bottle of Ducky's favorite scotch on his friends' desk. It was an exchange they made every year.
Halfway through reading Tony's report, Gibbs looked up to find Abby hesitating a few steps away from his desk. "Can I help you?"
"I just… I'll miss you tomorrow."
"You'll see me the day after. Go home. If you're a good girl, Santa might have something special for you. And have fun tomorrow. You won't even notice that I'm not there."
"Gibbs!" Abby's brow wrinkled. "How could you say that! Of course I'll notice that you aren't there." The whole team noticed that he wasn't there, and once a few drinks had been poured, they always sat around talking about how they could convince him to come the next year. "I always notice."
"I'm busy tomorrow, if I wasn't then maybe…"
"I know. See you on the 26th." Abby hitched her purse up on her shoulder and turn toward the elevator.
Gibbs hated to see her upset. "Abby?" He stood and stepped around to the front of his desk and held his arms out. A slow grin spread across her face as she launched herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely. "Merry Christmas," he whispered into her ear.
"Merry Christmas, Gibbs!" Abby kissed him softly on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."
As much as he tried to avoid Christmas, spoiling Abby was something that he didn't mind. He had been able to get away for a few minutes during lunch and had driven over to Abby's place to hide a present from him among the other presents under her tree. He'd done it for the past several years, and he always enjoyed her excited phone call to thank him later in the evening.
He worked until just after seven and called in a dinner order to a diner he knew to be open on Christmas Eve. He pulled on the new scarf that Abby had made him for Christmas before heading to his car. It was surprisingly toned down for Abby's standard –except for the small skull patch she'd added to one of the ends, though he'd been careful to hide it when he wrapped it around his neck.
It didn't take long for him to finish dinner, and it took even less time to clean up the take-away containers. He grabbed the beer he'd been nursing and carried it down to the basement. He smiled, remembering working all December on a special doll house for Kelly their last Christmas together. It was one of the first things to hit the burn pile after she passed away.
Before he had gotten far on the boat, his phone rang. It was Abby. When he answered, he couldn't help but laugh at the words coming at him 90 miles per hour over the phone. He heard something along the lines of 'thank you', 'love it', and 'shouldn't have', but the rest was lost on his ears.
Setting his beer aside, Gibbs re-focused his attention on the shell of boat in the center of the basement. Maybe, just maybe, this one would make it to water. He wasn't sure yet. He wasn't sure how long he had been working, but the longer he could focus on the wood under his hands, the less he would think about Christmas. When the sandpaper slipped from his grasp, he bent down to retrieve it, and stood up before making sure he was clear of the edge of the boat.
Gibbs winced as he rubbed his fingers over the small lump forming on the top of his head. He took it as a sign that he should head to bed – a quick glance at his watch told him that it was just past mid-night. He brushed the sawdust from his clothes and headed up the stairs, hitting the light switch on his way out the basement door.
He followed his usual nighttime routine in the bathroom before heading to bed. He stripped down and pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and sat on the edge of his bed. Rummaging through the drawer of his night-stand, Gibbs pulled out a faded family photo of three. He trashed his finger over the faces of his late wife and daughter. "Merry Christmas Shan, Merry Christmas baby girl." He put the old photograph back in the drawer and turned off the light before climbing under the covers.
He thought about his team as he lay staring up at the ceiling. He had snapped at them more than once – no worse than usual, but as he thought about it, he was always riding his team hard. They knew what needed to get done, there was no need for him to ride their asses about getting their work done. Occasionally DiNozzo needed a friendly reminder, but he had always put in 110%.
Gibbs sighed, maybe he was too hard on them. He was amazed at how DiNozzo preened on the rare occasion he gave his senior agent a compliment. It wasn't that he didn't like to praise his agents, it just didn't come naturally. It was tough love in the Marine Corps and that's what Gibbs was used to.
Closing his eyes, Gibbs rolled onto his side, his back toward the door. He'd cringed inside at the look of relief he had seen earlier in the day when he let his agents leave. He didn't express it enough, but deep down, he thought of his team as family. He knew they didn't like to work on holidays, but on some level, he was comforted by spending a holiday with his 'family.' Then he remembered the look of disappointment on Abby's face when he told her he wouldn't be joining in on Christmas dinner at Ducky's on Christmas day.
"You're coming to Ducky's Christmas dinner tomorrow, right?"
"Can't. Got plans."
His gut clenched – he hated to see her hurt and knowing he was the cause of it was nearly unbearable. Didn't she realize she was better off without him in her life? He didn't understand how he'd become such an important person in her life. She invited him to do just about everything with her: concerts, church, dinner, and she'd even invite him to parties. He declined most of her invitations, save for the occasional Sunday outing to Church and lunch afterwards, and he always made time to take her for dinner the evening before her birthday. It wasn't that he didn't want to go out with her, it's that by the end of the evening he would want more, and he wouldn't ask that of her.
He was fairly certain she wouldn't stop him if he did make a move. She'd made it clear on more than one occasion that he was more than welcome into her personal space, and while at work, where nothing could happen, he'd gladly play with fire – outside of work, he just didn't trust himself. His track record with women was less than satisfactory and he wouldn't put her through that.
Thinking about Abby calmed him – even if it was about his frustrations, thinking about her calmed him. He briefly wondered what she'd be doing had he stayed away in Mexico, only he knew he couldn't stay away. His eyelids grew heavy and as he drifted to sleep, he wondered how different her life would be now if they'd never met.
Just as he was about to let sleep claim him, Gibbs heard the floor board just outside his door creak. He reached blindly for his gun, but froze when he heard a female voice.
"Don't bother with your gun, Jethro. You can't hurt us."
Gibbs was out of bed in a flash. "Jen?" His eyes darted between the two women. "Kate?"
"Hi Gibbs, good to see you." Kate spoke softly. "We didn't mean to frighten you."
"You're both dead, what… are you doing here?"
Jenny rested her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, then nodded towards his bed. "Have a seat; we've got a few things to talk about."
Gibbs narrowed his gaze, but made no move to sit back on his bed.
"We don't have time for this. Come on Jethro, I never had a problem getting you into bed before."
Kate stifled a laugh and Gibbs glared at her.
"Alright, alright, I won't air all our dirty laundry, but sit down. We don't have all night." Jen motioned for him to sit and after a brief hesitation, he sat.
"I know this is a bit of a shock, but we're here to help you. You wished that you hadn't interfered with your teams lives. We're here to give you that chance." Jenny explained. "If you really wish to never have existed, then we can grant you that."
"So everyone will wake up and have no memory of me?"
"Something like that." Jen shrugged.
"You'd still be alive, both of you." Gibbs sighed.
"Not exactly," Kate moved forward. "Remember the case when we first met? When you hijacked Air Force One?"
Gibbs smirked at the memory. "Yeah. You put up a good fight, but in the end helped me stick it to Fornell and the FBI. That's when I knew I wanted you on my team."
"If you hadn't worked that case I would have stayed with the secret service."
"You never would have been involved with Ari. You'd still be protecting the President."
"I would have died protecting the President from Ari. Ari would still have helped the terrorists; he still would have shot me. I just wouldn't have known his name. It was my time, Gibbs. There was no way to save me."
Gibbs' fingers moved to the scar he'd received from his first meeting with Ari. He hated that bastard – he would have followed him to the end of the world and back to put a bullet through his brain for what he did to Kate. To Abby. To his team. "And you?" He turned his attention to Jen. "You would've still gone down in a gun fight in California?"
"No." Jen answered. "No, I never would have made it to director of NCIS without you. Everything I learned, I learned from you. Without you I would have had Cynthia's job."
"You'd still be alive?"
"No. I was sick and dying. That wouldn't have changed. I chose to get myself into that situation in California. I chose to get myself killed like that. I couldn't let myself waste away into nothing. I was going to die, I just rushed the process."
"How long did you have?" Gibbs wanted to reach out to her, to hold her hand. They weren't meant to be, he knew that, but there would always be a special place for her in his heart. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"With the way I was living my life – six months or so. If I slowed down, quit NCIS – maybe a year." Jen sat beside him and picked up his hand. "I didn't need nor want your pity."
"Pity?" Gibbs was surprised at the warmth of her hands, he expected them to be cold. "I thought, beyond that madam director crap, that we were friends."
Jen reached up and cuffed him lightly on the back of his head and smiled at the look her gave her. "What? I learned from the best. And you're right, we were friends. But deep down Jethro, you're a softy."
"We'd better get going," Kate interrupted. "We've got quite a bit of ground to cover."
"Going?" Gibbs questioned.
"Going." Jen confirmed with a nod.
Before he could ask where, Kate tossed him his USMC sweatshirt and his bedroom walls faded away. The familiar sight of Ducky's house appeared. They walked up to the front door and Gibbs wondered if they were going to knock.
Just as he reached out to knock, the front door opened and a frail looking Ducky peered out. He gave a weak whistle and a pair of corgi's came running in from the yard.
"Step inside," Jen urged. "He can't see or hear us, he has no idea we're here."
"What year is it?" Gibbs asked quietly. He hated to see his friend so old a frail looking.
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought. It's still 2009." Kate frowned.
"What's wrong with him?" He wanted to reach out and hug his friend.
"Nothing, it's been a rough couple of years, that's all." Jen explained. She moved over to the large bookshelf lining Ducky's wall. "He retired several years ago because he no longer enjoyed work. He's spent the last eight years caring for his mother without help, without a break. It's taken a toll on him. He's just now moved her into a home. The dogs are all he has left now, he doesn't get out much anymore."
"What about Abby? They get together often, she loves his stories." Gibbs watched as Ducky moved back to his favorite chair. A corgi jumped up to rest with its owner.
"That's a good boy." Ducky ran his fingers through the coarse fur.
"They met once briefly, but not long enough to get to know one another." Kate walked over and knelt beside Ducky's chair. "Ducky loves working with you. You've been such a good friend to him. He enjoys getting up in the morning to go to work each day."
"He's been a good friend to me for many years, but I don't see how I've been much of a friend to him."
"You listen to his stories, and have been a shoulder to lean on. It hasn't been easy for him to watch his mother deteriorate. Even though you don't say much, you are a great source of comfort to him."
Jen moved back to stand beside Gibbs. "He needs you just as much as you need him."
"Gibbs," Kate moved to where Gibbs and Jen stood. "Your team isn't 'your team' without you."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see. Come on, we've got more to show you."
Ducky's house faded from their sight and before Gibbs' vision cleared, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a type-writer. McGee.
Gibbs was shocked at the sight before him when his vision cleared. They were obviously in McGee's apartment, though it wasn't the one Gibbs had been to before. This one was dark and dreary. There were shelves of records lining the wall, and a long desk lining another. McGee was hunched over his desk, typing furiously on his old type-writer. He looked as though he hadn't showered or shaved in days, and his clothes had holes and were stained. Gibbs wandered over to the desk and looked over a stack of books. They all showed Thom E. Gemcity as the author, many more than what McGee had published now. A few even brandished 'best seller' stickers.
"He's a very successful writer?" Gibbs turned to look at Kate. He had read the stories of L.J. Tibbs and although he wouldn't admit it to his team, he thought they were quite good and depicted the team wonderfully.
"Successful writer, yes."
"He hardly has time to write anymore with how busy NCIS has kept all of us."
"He needs a break now and again otherwise he gets pulled too deeply into his mind. His life changed drastically after-"
Before Kate could finish, the doorbell rang and McGee froze. He moved over to the door and, leaving the chain lock on, cracked the door open a few centimeters and peered out. "Set it on the mat. How much do I owe you?"
Gibbs couldn't hear a response, but watched as McGee dug a few bills out of his wallet and slipped them through the small crack. "What's he doing?"
"Remember when he first came to work with us?" Kate asked. "He had zero confidence and it took a while for you build him up into a confident Agent? Well he was never offered a position at NCIS and he left Norfolk after his first book was published. He was doing okay until his sister was convicted for a murder she didn't commit. He lost it then, he jumped head first into this writing, and while he's produced several best-selling novels, he has no social life and he drinks too much. His agent knows he drinks too much, but his depression has created some great books, so he hasn't tried to help him."
Gibbs watched as McGee waited until the delivery boy left before opening the door to grab the bag of food. McGee peered down the hallway and then slammed the door shut and engaged all six locks on his door. He walked back to his desk and tore into the food that had been delivered.
Gibbs didn't understand how McGee could hide away. He had always been the most level-headed of his agents, both Tony and Ziva flying off the handle when certain buttons were pushed.
"So because I didn't give him a job...?"
"And you didn't save his sister, nor did you build his confidence as a person. He has always had the writing skills, and it was his sister that managed to push him into writing, but with her locked up…" Kate raised her eyebrows. "Well, you can see what's happened."
"Come on, we've got more to see." Jen interrupted.
