Okay. I know I said it would all be done by Christmas. This does not look to be the case. At this point I'm not too hopeful about New Years either. Please forgive me.

I hope you all don't have a problem with reading a Christmas story in late January.

I want this story to be the best it can be.

Thanks again to Moki. Without her invaluable help, I would know what to do with this.


Yes Tony, There Is A Santa Claus

Part two

The inside of Becca's diner had a retro look, but not in the way people today thought a 50's diner should look. There were red, white and black booths to be sure, and the long counter top that separated the kitchen area from the dinning was made of a glassy white laminate, but that is where the similarities with modern 50's décor ended.

The floor was wood, stained a dark back, instead of white and black checker board tiles to popular in retro design. There were no records or Elvis posters up on the walls. Instead, they remained unadorned, and painted in a soft cream tone.

The lack of artwork was made up for by the fact that the entire front wall was all windows. Each one framed by gauzy white curtains embroidered with little red flowers.

It might not be the best decorated place Tony had ever seen, but it was warm, and bright. The smell of burgers on the grill and fries in the vat reminded him he hadn't eaten that day, aside from Mrs. Potts's snicker doodle cookies.

A woman, probably anywhere from 30 to 60 looked up at their entrance. Her eyes lit up, and she rushed from behind the counter to throw her arms around the portly man at Tony's side.

"Nick! Where have you been? We've missed you around here."

Nick laughed as he squeezed her to him. Tony had never seen someone's whole body shake like that when they laughed. Nick seemed to delight in making the sound.

"You know me, Becca. Got lots to do around this time."

"You should always make time for friends, Nick. Who is this?" She asked, taking in Tony with one sweep of her gaze. Her eyes lingered on the cut on his forehead. It had stopped bleeding, but Tony knew there was dried blood on his face. He could feel it cracking as he gave Becca his best, most charming smile.

"Nick was my angel of mercy."

"Tony here had an accident." Nick explained.

"Oh my." Becca stepped forward to see the injury closer. "Are you alright?"

Tony could now see that this woman was not young, but neither was she older. The look of her face was timeless. Her eyes held a tenderness that almost had Tony won over. This woman had a mothering streak in her that ran deep, and he could feel the boy inside of him responding to it.

"I'm fine, ma'am." He said, doing his best to sound like the polite boy his mother had tried to teach him to be. "If you'd show me where the restroom is, I can wash this off, and I should be good to go.

"Nonsense." She said, taking his arm and leading him to a seat at the counter. He could hear Nick chuckling as he followed along behind them.

Becca sat Tony down and reached around the counter, producing a small white box topped with a red cross.

"That's really not necessary." he insisted, suddenly fearing stinging alcohol. "I've had much worse. I'll be fine with just washing my face off."

"Come now. Any injury has the potential of being bad. Shouldn't you know that by now, Tony?"

"Excuse me?" Her question confused him, but she offered no further comment as she opened the box and withdrew a clean, white gauze pad.

"This won't hurt a bit, don't you worry."

He watched through wary eyes as she took a small spray bottle and lightly spritzed the pad with a clear liquid. It was a big departure from the dark, thick, awful smelling iodine that Ducky usually used on his cuts and bruises. Tony suspected the Scottish ME used the old fashioned antiseptic on him as a sort of punishment for all the reckless scraps he seemed to get into.

As Becca placed the pad against his forehead, he screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the burning sensation that usually accompanied the cleaning out of open cuts. But to his surprise he only felt a gentle warming sensation. It was soothing, relaxing. He opened his eyes to meet Becca's gentle brown ones. She smiled at him like a mother would her child.

"This will take all the pain away."

"What is that stuff?" He asked, immediately wanting to turn Ducky onto it. It even smelled nice. An almost spicy scent.

"Just some natural herbs, water. A little secret I've know for years."

"You guys and your secret recipes. You could both be rich if you cared to share them with the rest of us."

"Don't care much for riches, son. Besides, the world already knows all the secrets, most just don't care to look for them." Nick said from his seat beside Tony.

"Sounds very new-age there, Nick."

"Aw. New-Age, Old-Age, all the same to me."

"There." Becca placed a small butterfly bandage on the cut and smiled proudly. "Doesn't even need stitches."

"Thanks." Tony said, his fingers reaching to feel the now bandaged wound. The pain was completely gone. "You must be angel." He said, giving Becca a toothy grin.

"Not exactly." She said, walking back to her place behind the counter. "We're a different breed, aren't we Nick?"

"Yep." Nick answered, sipping from a steaming cup of tea that Tony hadn't noticed he had before. When in the world did he get that? "I'd say we're more like Saints, wouldn't you?

"You are at least."

"Saints?" Tony said, a laugh escaping him as he shed himself of his heavy wool coat. It was nice and toasty inside the diner, and he began to feel better than he had all night. "So, Saint Nick, where are the flying reindeer?"

"Oh, I don't need them much anymore. Sleigh became obsolete about 50 or so years ago." The way he delivered the lines was so serious that it took Tony a minute before he could see that Nick was pulling his leg.

"Right."

"Stop teasing him, Nick." Becca placed a glass in front of him and poured a finger full of amber colored liquid into it. "Try that." She said.

Tony could have kissed her. He drank down the smooth scotch with one swallow. He felt the burn all the way down to the pit of his stomach. "Damn, that's good."

Becca grinned. "Ought to be. I've had that bottle sitting around for years. Nick here brought it for Christmas one time. How old is that stuff again, Nick?"

"Bout 100, give or take."

"100?!" Tony blinked. "I just drank 100 year old scotch?"

"Don't sound so shocked, boy. It won't kill you."

"I know, its just. Wow." He turned the glass that previously held what could have possibly been the world's greatest alcohol he'd ever had in his hands. "My boss would love that stuff."

"I'm afraid that was the last of it."

"Figures."

Tony thought of the bottle of Gentleman Jack with the red bow stuck to it sitting under the tiny, cheaply decorated tree in his apartment. It was his normal gift to Gibbs, and the older man always accepted it with thanks, but just once he wanted to really wow his boss. See those cold blue eyes widen in surprise. Have the man he secretly viewed as a surrogate father smile at him with genuine appreciation.

"Think a lot of him, don't you?"

"Huh?"

Nick now had a thick slice of perfectly golden, warm apple pie in front of him. Tony looked up and down the counter, but could see no dessert display. Becca must be the fastest worker on the planet. He never even saw her bring the pie.

"Your boss."

"What makes you think that?"

"It's in your tone of voice. You say 'Boss' like you're talking about the Almighty Himself."

Tony smiled. "Well, Gibbs can put the fear of God into people better then any fire and brimstone preacher I've ever known."

"Sounds like an interesting man."

"That's one way of putting it."

Becca appeared again from behind the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She placed a laminated menu in front of Tony. "I change the menus everyday." She said, wiping down an already clean spot on the countertop. "Sort of like only serving the specials. I think having a set menu can be a little boring, don't you? Although I will fry you up a burger, if you prefer."

"I'd go for the fried chicken, son." Nick said, looking over Tony's shoulder at the offerings. "Nobody cooks it like Becca can."

"Stop it with the flattery, you old coot."

"Fired chicken sounds great. I'm starving."

"Coming right up."

"Oh, wait." Tony couldn't believe he had almost forgotten. He needed to call Gibbs. His boss was likely doing all but climbing the wall right about now. Not being able to keep in touch with those on his team was Gibbs's biggest pet peeve. If he could not reach who he wanted at any certain time, he tended to bellow at anyone else around him. He needed to save Ziva and McGee from his wrath.

"Can I use your phone? I need to make an important call."

"Sorry, sweetie." Becca said with an apologetic shrug. "Storm took out the phone lines about an hour ago. Nobody can get through."

"Damn." He reached into his pocket to take out his cell. 'Bra-less' as Ziva would say. Crap, he was stuck. And Gibbs would rip him a new one by the time he actually got home. He sighed. You're doomed, Tony….doomed.

"Don't worry so much." Nick clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You'll be alright."

"It's not the here and now I'm scared of." Tony said, staring at his cell phone screen as if his very gaze could make it work.

"Tony, you don't have a thing to be worried about. Everything will work out as it should."

"It might work out with me not having a job."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Nick stood up and stretched out his back. Tony could see that although he was a bit on the chunky side, he was also solidly built, and strong. This was a man used to hard work. "Now, I have to visit the boys room. Keep an eye on the door, Tony. Always keep an eye on the door. You never know what might come through it."

Tony watched the man walk toward the restrooms on the other end of the diner. Nick was certainly a strange man.