A/N: Just a silly little idea that was running through my mind. Not centric at all really, just the team (plus Ducky) stuck at NCIS. This is my last complete story for awhile. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Of course, I didn't think up the characters myself. That credit goes to DPB. I own nothing.

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"Well, that's that. We won't be getting out of here for hours," Abby reported glumly. "The roads are all closed and they've even closed down public transit. There's just too much snow."

"I think it's a crime to have a blizzard in the middle of April," Tony complained. "It's supposed to be time for the cherry blossoms to be blooming."

"Cherry blossoms?" Ziva asked with amusement.

"Yeah. You know, April showers bring May flowers and stuff like that."

"Another American tradition?"

"No, Ziva. That's just what happens in the springtime. Snow is not normal."

"I don't know about that, Tony," Tim disagreed, oblivious to Tony's glare. "We seem to get one so-called unseasonal snowstorm every year. That would kind of make it normal, wouldn't it?"

"Was I talking to you, Probie?"

"Um, no."

"Then, shut up."

"Timothy's quite right, Tony. If we define seasonal weather by what generally happens annually, then it would be more logical to expect a spring storm," Ducky said. He was glad he had let Jimmy go home early. This might be a long night, particularly if Tony's bad mood continued unabated.

Tony just glared.

"Did you have important plans, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he walked in from the elevator.

"Sort of, yeah."

"Well, I hope you cancelled them. We have a long time before this blizzard's going to let up. Sit back and relax."

"Great."

Abby turned back from her contemplation of the windows with a big smile on her face.

"What are you so happy about, Abby? I thought you had a date or something."

"It was or something, Tony, and I've figured out what we're going to do to pass the time!"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"We're going to each write a deep dark childhood secret about ourselves on pieces of paper and then try to guess whose it is."

"Abby, I think we're a little old for that kind of game," Tony groaned.

"No, I'm actually intrigued," Ziva said. "How is it done?"

Surprised at Ziva's willingness, Abby said, "It's really simple. You think of something about yourself that no one else knows. Write it down on a piece of paper and then we each pick a story and read out loud. Then, we each have to guess who told the story... and it has to be true!"

"I'm game," Tim said.

"Not writing your sequel?" Tony snarked.

"No. How about it, Tony?"

"I'll play, Abby," Ducky said. "Gibbs?"

Gibbs and Tony looked at each other, each daring the other to back out. With all the expectant faces staring at them, both caved.

"Okay," Tony agreed.

"I'll play."

"I think we'd better type our stories. We've all seen each other's handwriting too often," Abby instructed.

"Besides, Tony's scrawl is impossible to read," Ziva said.

"I think you're confusing my writing with your hen scratches," Tony retorted.

"Simmer down, children. Think of a story to share."

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"Can I write Probie's story? I'm sure I could guess it," Tony said, smirking at Tim. "'I got my first computer at the tender age of three and I've not stopped computing since.'"

"No, you can't, Tony. Write your own."

Tim didn't comment. He just stared at the blank screen. He knew there must be stories he could write down, but he couldn't think of a single one. He wasn't sure if they were even worth knowing. His life was so boring. What could he pick beyond something about computers?

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Ziva thought for a moment. What could she write? She looked around. It appeared that Tim was having the same trouble. He kept looking up at the ceiling. Gibbs was writing at his desk while Ducky typed at another terminal. Tony had already finished and passed the computer over to Abby. So much of her life was a deep dark secret that it shouldn't be hard to pick one memory no one else knew. Then, suddenly, she smiled and started typing.

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Tony looked over at Tim as he sauntered to the printer to get his story. He appeared frozen in place. For a guy who had made a lot of money writing, he sure wasn't getting very far. He looked down at his own story. Ziva might guess it quickly, but he didn't really care. This was a chance to get insight... or maybe ammunition on his colleagues.

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Gibbs finished typing and pushed print. He grinned to himself as he thought of the memory that had settled in his mind when Abby had proposed the game. This was more fun than he had expected.

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Abby settled at Tony's desk and typed away. She had only proposed the game because she already knew the story she wanted to tell. Who would guess what she was like before she went Goth? No one was born that way, but they hadn't ever known her any other way. She grinned happily.

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Just one story? Ducky knew that he tended to ramble, but there were so many stories to tell and not all of them were his own. He also knew that he had told many stories from his childhood already. What could he pick. He glanced around the room and noticed that Tim was still not typing anything. He chuckled to himself. The best-selling author had writer's block and about his own life, no less. Ducky sighed and started to type. They'd know it was him, but that didn't matter.

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"Come on, Tim! It doesn't have to be publishable. Just write something," Abby urged. Everyone was staring at him and waiting for him to finish.

Tim grimaced and typed the first childhood memory that popped into his head. Then, he sent his story to the printer. Abby collected everyone's stories and folded each paper into quarters and then mixed them up on the floor. She straightened and handed one to each member of the circle.

"Okay, everyone read the story you got to make sure you can get through it without stumbling. If you got your own, let me know and we'll distribute them again." She looked around expectantly. No one responded.

"I think I got a defective one," Tony complained.

"What do you mean?"

"There's only one sentence."

"Are you sure that's not yours, Tony?" Ziva asked snidely.

"Yes, thank you very much." He read it again and guessed whose it was. This was going to be boring. "I think I'd better go last." He shot a glance at Tim who noticed and went a little red.

"Okay. We'll go clockwise starting with Ziva. It'll be ladies first. Then, you'll be last," Abby said, happily oblivious to Tony's expression. "Ziva, read yours."

"All right." She cleared her throat. "'I recall, one September, when I was thirteen–'"

"Ducky!" Three voices said in unison.

"How did you know? She didn't even get to the story itself," Ducky exclaimed.

Tim laughed as Gibbs answered, "Only you would begin a sentence with 'I recall,' Ducky."

"Point taken."

"Okay, Ziva, finish the story."

"'I recall, one September, when I was thirteen, the neighbor's cows got loose and were running up and down the roads. My companions and I thought it would be great fun to see if we could get them to jump over the hedges lining the road. We gathered quite a large number of rocks and tossed them at the feet of the cattle. These cows were either dumber than most or else smarter. Instead of running and jumping over the hedge, they turned and ran straight toward us. Our only option was to try and jump the hedge on the opposite side. We didn't quite clear it and tore all our clothes off in our efforts to get out of the bushes.' Ducky, did anyone see you?"

"Of course. It was spread all over the school and we were the talk of the class for the rest of the year."

Everyone laughed.

"Okay, I'm next," Abby said. "'I remember once when my mom wanted me to practice the piano that she sat down with me and made a duet out of the little song I was playing. It made what I played actually sound cool, like real music. As long as she played with me, I never complained."

"Tony," Ziva said before anyone else could guess.

"Wow, Ziva. How did you know?" Tim asked.

Ziva actually blushed. "I, um, must have heard him mention that he could play the piano before."

Gibbs just smiled.

"Okay, Gibbs, your turn."

Gibbs read through his story once more silently. He knew who it was. "'I loved playing four-square when I was in elementary school, but my mom always made me wear a dress and that made playing the game harder. I knew that eventually, someone would try to beat me by making me bounce the ball between my legs. I was always the champion so I had to defend my title. Sure enough, someone chose to have the ball bounce between their legs before passing it on. I caught the ball and tried to bounce it under my skirt, but the ball got caught on the hem and my dress flew over my head, revealing my underwear to the entire schoolyard.'"

"That's got to be Abby," Tony said.

"Rats, Tony. How did you know?"

"Abby, there are only two girls in this room, so unless Gibbs or McGee were forced to wear dresses as children, it had to be you because I don't think four-square is a popular Israeli game."

"Fine, you're right, of course. I should have picked a story without definite female associations. It's all you, Duckman."

"All right, Abigail." Ducky cleared his throat and grinned as he started reading. "'My dad used to take me down to the docks and we'd watch the boats sail out in the morning. He always said that he'd build one of his own someday and that it was something that we'd do together.' I think I know."

"Gibbs, you old softie," Abby said, grinning from ear to ear.

Gibbs leaned back and smiled beatifically.

"Okay, McGee."

"This shouldn't be too hard," Tony said.

"Shush. Let the man read," Abby chided.

Tim gulped. He knew who it was and who was to follow. "'When I was very young, I went on a vacation with my family. I don't remember where it was, but there was a field full of flowers. I ran through the flowers until I was so tired that I fell down. We made crowns out of the blossoms and pretended we were royalty.' That would be Ziva."

"And how do you know, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"There aren't too many choices left, but I can picture it anyway," Tim answered and then it was his turn to blush. He cleared his throat and said, "Okay, so we're done."

"No, McGee. Tony hasn't done his."

"We all know who it is. There's no guessing," Tim walked over to where Tony sat and tried to take the paper.

"No way, McGee. It can't be that bad."

"It's not bad. It's just boring, Abby. I couldn't think of anything."

"He's right. It's boring," Tony said looking at the paper.

Before either of them could stop her, Abby snatched the paper and read it out. As she did so, Tim walked back to his desk and gritted his teeth.

"'My sister and I made snow angels once.'" For a moment there was silence, then Abby said, "You can't just say that, Tim."

"I couldn't think of anything interesting to say."

For the first time since reading his story, Gibbs spoke. "What about the snow angels?"

"Yeah, come on, McGee. There's got to be something more to the story. I have a field of flowers. That's not exciting."

"But it is different, Ziva. It's just something we did."

"Was it something we would consider out of character, Timothy?"

"Not really."

Abby walked over to him and leaned over his desk, piercing him with her fierce gaze. "What did you do, Tim?" Her voice was cheerful, but when he looked at her, her eyes forced him to answer.

"They were on the roof our house. We wanted to make it look like a whole bunch of angels had fallen from heaven and hit our house so we made them in different shapes and did about twenty of them before Mom found us and yelled that we were going to break our necks. We even managed to find some yellow caution tape, and we snuck out of the house at three in the morning and made snow angels on all our neighbors' lawns and put the tape around each angel, as if each place was a crime scene."

"Creative, McGee, and no computers were involved," Tony said.

"Thanks."

"Did anyone find you out?"

"Only Mom and Dad. We were grounded for sneaking out of the house." Everyone laughed.

"That is such a great idea, Tim," Abby said suddenly.

"What?"

"We should make snow angels!"

"Um, Abby, it's a blizzard outside," Tony said.

"So? Your point, DiNozzo?"

"My point is that snow angels are not worth getting frostbite."

"Oh, you're no fun. We could play on the sheltered side of the building." She grabbed her coat and started for the elevator, then stopped and turned around. "Well?"

Tim looked around and then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Abby looked at Ziva and said, "It's not a field of flowers, but you can still frolick!"

Ziva sat for a moment and then grabbed her coat and followed the other two.

Ducky looked at Gibbs and Tony and then sighed. "Oh, all right. I'll get my coat."

Wordlessly, Tony got his coat and gloves as Gibbs followed suit. Together they trooped outside and made snow angels. Tony got bored with that quickly and started a snowball fight. In spite of themselves, everyone had a blast although they'd never admit it later.

As they sat panting and shivering in the bullpen a couple of hours later, Tim said, "I think this is about the best snow day I've had."

"I think it's the only snow day I've had," Ziva said.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, kids, but it looks like the snow day is almost over," Tony said pointing to the television. The storm was over and the roads were being plowed.

"Aah," Abby sighed wistfully. "I've been having so much fun."

"Maybe we'll have another freak snowstorm next week, Abbs," Tony said and grinned when Tim didn't correct him.

Within the hour, the plows had made the roads passable and NCIS was empty for the weekend. Each one had left with a little reluctance and realized how much the day had meant. Even Tony found himself hoping for another storm.