Deck the Halls with Boughs of Worry
by channelD

Rated: T
Genre: Action/Adventure/Humor
Written for the NFA Secret Santa story exchange
Setting: Washington DC, December
Featuring: Abby and the team
Pairing: McAbby

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Disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS. A shame.

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Prologue

They were all there when Abby entered the squad room that early-December morning: Gibbs. Tony. Tim. Ziva. Thank God, thank God. All placid; all in reasonable good humor; and most important, all safe and sound. Matsumura's team was out in the field, apparently, since their desks were vacant. But Gibbs' team was here. She felt her anxiety levels go up any time they went out, and it got worse instead of better with each passing year. She'd never get used to this, never; the more she got to know them, the more she worried.

For now, though, everything was good. She kept her face cheerful as she dropped off for Tony the test results for the cold case he was working on, her excuse for getting out of the lab. She smiled, bantered with him for a moment, and turned to go. Tim's voice, over the soft click of his hanging up his phone, arrested her.

"Uh, boss; we've got a tip of a meth lab run by a couple of Marine reservists in Georgetown."

"It'd have to be classy," said Gibbs, grabbing his NCIS coat. "McGee, gas up the van."

"On it."

"Classy, or funky," said Tony, with a grin. You didn't expect run-of-the-mill crime in a historic place like Georgetown.

Abby kept her face turned away and never hesitated in her calm walk to the elevator. Watch over them was her silent prayer. That was all she could do: pray. It had to be enough, but it wasn't.

Part 1

Christmas was in the air at NCIS—in some places, anyway. In the squad room, a rather worn artificial tree glowed benignly in a corner. It had a jumble of lights of all colors, shapes, and rate of blink, and was adorned with glass balls, often scratched so the plain silver below shown through; a real bird's nest; a Washington Senators autographed baseball; and a hodgepodge of homemade castoffs; all loved by the special agents for the ornaments' years of service to the agency. On the balcony to the upper floor was another tree, MTAC's, decorated tastefully in blue and silver fabric balls, silver ribbons flowing from the tree crown like water, and blue lights. Most of the agents derided it as being too frou-frou, and preferred their own tree. That, plus a wreath (artificial) on the door to the Director's office, and some holly (artificial) with a menorah at the building entrance, was pretty much the visible extent of the season's festivity.

There were smaller manifestations, to be sure. Tony kept a stack of candy canes in a jar on his desk, free for the taking. Ziva's desk had a snow figurine family; Snow Father, Snow Mother, and Gender-Unrevealed Snow Toddler. "You'll warp that child for all of its snow existence," Tony kept telling her, "if you don't let it figure out its snow identity." She pretended not to hear this, and cooed to the child whenever Tony was around, just to drive him crazy.

Tim had a red poinsettia on his desk…sedate and tasteful. "You are corrupted by MTAC," Ziva accused. "You should go wild more often." Tim only shrugged; he liked poinsettias, and didn't consider himself wild by any measure.

Gibbs...now, Gibbs did no decorating of his own—not that anyone would expect him to. So, naturally, his team helped him out, whether he wanted it or not. One day there would be a life-size Grinch stand-up figure behind his chair. The next, an Ebenezer Scrooge. Tony had to go farther afield to get stand-ups of Mr. Potter and Uncle Billy from It's a Wonderful Lifebut you can find almost anything in Washington if you know where to look. Gibbs ignored the desk companions, which made things all the funnier when his expression would happen to match theirs.

But let's look in on Abby; a woman who believes that excess and Xmas are cousins, in the nicest way.

Now only eleven days remained before her favorite holiday took center stage. With no one around to see her that morning (yet), Abby felt free to spend a few minutes decorating her lab for Christmas.

A few minutes? Well, judge for yourself…

Strings of fairy lights were draped everywhere, all solid color strings: red, green, yellow, blue, purple and more. Herds of tiny plastic reindeer wandered over and around the equipment, some looking curiously into the depths of containers. In one flask, currently unused but 2/3rds full of water, a reindeer floated upside down while a companion looked down over the brim at him sadly. Christmas was as deserving of a little warped humor as any other holiday, Abby reckoned. Clear glass flasks and vials had been wrapped in red or green cellophane, holly rose up table legs, and mistletoe sprigs, forbidden to be hung due to those pesky sexual harassment regulations, lurked in drawers, waiting to be called into spur-of-the-moment-hold-up-over-one's-head use…which she hoped would happen at least a couple times; interested parties to be named later.

She wore a long-sleeved tee showing a red-nosed skull wearing reindeer antlers, and she danced to music while she decorated. This was an old song from Eartha Kitt, a new favorite.

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree
For me.
been an awful good girl, Santa baby,
so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa baby, a '54 convertible too
Light blue.
I'll wait up for you dear, Santa baby.
so hurry down the chimney tonight

How Abby loved Christmas!

"Abbs…"

She turned at the growl. "Gibbs! I was just going over the Roarke samples, and…" Too late she realized she still had clumps of tinsel in her hands and was standing before a half-tinsel-covered coat rack. "Um…" she put her hands behind her back and grinned hugely. "Got all your Christmas shopping done yet?"

"Don't be evasive. I need results by noon, Abby." He turned to walk out, then turned back and handed her a Caf-Pow with a slight smile. The cup was decorated in red and green-dressed elves, and bore the message: Give someone you love the Caf-Powlifetime subscription! 100 gallons a month! Ohhhh, if only…!

Was it her fault if some of the others had a hard time getting in the Christmas spirit? Just wait until she was done decorating, and then they'd come around.

Part 2

It was a long trek from the Navy Yard to the Bankers Pride shopping mall on E Street SW, but Ensign Perry P. O'Brien III didn't mind the walk. Not much different than walking the long deck of a ship at sea, several times. Except that there weren't stoplights, panhandlers, or people walking dogs on a ship. Still, the weather was fine; slightly above freezing, and sunny and calm. Not as fine weather as in his native Mississippi, but it would do for the moment, if he was truly stuck here for Christmas. And it helped to walk off some of that black anger that had engulfed him for the last week.

There'd still be time to send gifts off to Mama and Daddy; to Cindy; to Deanna; to Heather and Lance and their kids; to Gran and Uncle Winslow and Great-Auntie Sheila and…well, everyone. But it wasn't the same as being able to deliver them in person. This would be his first Christmas away from home, and although he was 22, at times he wanted to bawl like a frustrated seven-year-old.

I'm a grown man, and a college grad. I shouldn't let this get to me. But it just seems so unfair. Doggone that CO; won't give me the leave time so I could go home for Christmas this year. I've never, ever, spent Christmas away from the family…

He saw a Salvation Army kettle ahead on a street corner; its attendant's floppy Santa hat bobbing as he rang his bell rhythmically. Give…give…give…the thin-faced man's gentle look seemed to say with the ringing. O'Brien saw people passing without meeting the attendant's eyes; a few, though, stopped, smiled, and dropped in coins or a bill. But O'Brien had no time for this, and hustled on. He had to be back at the base in four hours, and that didn't give him much time to shop.

With the Roarke case samples being analyzed to all extremes by her equipment, Abby made another pass at decorating. Tiny glass ornaments…where could they best go? She snapped her fingers and tied the balls with wire, making long ropes circling the various screens like large light bulbs around a make-up mirror. Her collection of over 200 tiny Santa Clauses…those she put in a line, single-file, that wound around equipment before disappearing into the hole in the wall that Maintenance had never gotten around to fixing.

"Impressive!" said Tony, startling her. "Death March of the Santas? Where do they wind up when they go into the hole in the wall? The great beyond?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "None of them have ever come back to say. What can I do for you, Tony? Would you like a cotton candy candy cane, oh candy cane man?"

It sounded unappetizing, and he looked at it with trepidation. His canes were classic peppermint. "Ah, maybe later. You might put it to better use in decorating."

"Hey, good idea!"

"Anyway," he said, looking again at the cheerful Santas heading off to their fate with courage, "Gibbs has been called to a meeting in MTAC. He asked me to come down and get the Roarke results."

"But surely it isn't noon already? It's…oh. 12:50. Um…"

"You've gotta give me something for him, Abbs. He won't harm you because he likes you, but he'll definitely kill the messenger!"

"Um…how much longer is his meeting in MTAC?"

"Abbs!"

"Okay, okay." She turned to her equipment, her team. Help me out here, gang… Obligingly, one of the machines beeped just then, and she rushed to it. "Tell Gibbs the test for alkaline metals was positive. If I dissolve it in liquid ammonia, it'll turn blue, and—"

"—you'll find a way to use it as a decoration here."

"Well, I could, I suppose, but—no! Tony, take me seriously, would you? I'm really a serious person!"

He looked at her, framed against a shelving unit alive with disgruntled-looking snowmen in the nooks and crannies, some poised reaching out to take a twig-armed swipe at passersby. "Of course you are. Don't worry; I'll tell Gibbs you're, uh, dissolving the metals and will have a complete report shortly."

"By six, for sure! But right now, I'm going to lunch." She grabbed her coat and ran up the stairs, being too impatient to wait for the elevator. A dash up to the Navy Yard gate and into a taxi at the taxi stand. "E Street SW," she told the driver. "The Bankers Pride mall. And please hurry." If she was to get more decorations for her lab, her lunch hour was not a very long time to do it in.

Ensign O'Brien frowned as he considered the items in the mall. The product quality was good, quite good, really; but the prices! He had only $340 to spend on presents for the family; and that included the shipping charges. Sure takes away from the spirit of Christmas…

He considered his options, as his Navy training often had him do: 1) Go some place less expensive. But he didn't have time to do that; not today. If he put it off until his next leave day, packages wouldn't get there before Christmas. 2) Shop online. But he'd never done that before; would he have to establish an account and credit first? He didn't know. All of his online venturing had been to sports, games, and poker sites. Shopping was something girls did; not guys.

No, he had to get his shopping done here and now.

Unless he could somehow convince his CO to give him the time off to make it back to Mississippi…