Chapter Six

The following morning, Tony stumbled into the living room, sleep still thick inside his head, and stared at what sat on the coffee table. It vaguely resembled a Christmas tree - stick-like and sparse -swaddled in a dishtowel at its base. One red ornament hung from a branch that drooped sadly to one side. Underneath it was a small box, neatly wrapped in newspaper. Kenny G's Christmas-themed album was playing on low in the tape deck and the thick aroma of brewing coffee cut through the unpleasantly pervasive stink of cigarette smoke and mold.

"Lucky!" Tony yelled. He felt his hands clench and unclench.

Lucky popped a messy-haired, antlered head around the kitchen doorway. "Good morning, Agent Tony!" Lucky greeted with great enthusiasm. His excited smile reached his eyes as he rounded the corner with a mug of coffee, a jug of creamer, and a bag of mini-marshmallows. "You're up early!"

"This is the same time I've been getting up for the past week," Tony argued. He stood like a scarecrow, barefoot on the hardwood floor, and dressed in nothing but a t-shirt, boxer shorts, and a holstered pistol strapped around his thigh. He blinked hard and scratched his belly.

"Oh, well who keeps track of time, anyway," Lucky commented distractedly as he set the mug and the accompanying items on the coffee table. "Please, sit down and enjoy."

"Where did that come from?" Tony asked, pointing at the offending tree on the table.

"I bought it at Walgreens," Lucky answered, eyes gazing proudly at it. "I spent all morning setting it up. Do you like my antlers? They have little bells." He shook his head, making them jingle. It was a happy little sound, but it appeared like Tony was anything but right now.

"You what?" Tony squawked.

"I spent all-"

"No!" Tony was pissed. He ran his hands over his unwashed face, morning stubble grating against his palms. "You left the house, didn't you?"

"Well… yeah?" Lucky answered innocently. "I was quick, I promise! Just popped in and out of the store. Pretty sure no one saw me. It was dead out there. Snowed a little. It's beautiful."

"And you could have been dead, too." Tony gave the tree a dour look. "God, you're an idiot. How am I supposed to keep you alive and useful if-"

"Sorry," Lucky interjected in a tone that conveyed little to no remorse at all. "But Christmas is in two days, Tony, and this place wasn't looking festive at all! Now we have a Charlie Brown tree. It's awesome. And holiday music! And these cool antlers! And I bought you a present. It's a surprise!"

Tony couldn't believe this guy. He really couldn't. He stepped forward suddenly and gripped Lucky hard by the biceps, shaking him sharply. "Do not ever leave this house without my express permission again. Do you understand me?"

Lucky appeared somewhat dazed.

"Do you understand?" Tony's voice cracked, desperate to get through to him.

Finally, Lucky nodded, bobbing his head up and down. The antlers jingled. "Okay. Okay, I understand."

Tony stared at Lucky for a bit longer before releasing him. "Good."

Lucky wrapped his arms around himself. "I made you coffee," he mentioned quietly. "And you can put marshmallows in it, too."

"No one puts marshmallows in their coffee," Tony snapped, before going on to say something he'd regret, "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me!" Lucky hollered, his mood swinging drastically. He shoved past Tony and grabbed the bag of marshmallows, almost upsetting both the full mug and the tree. A few little white marshmallows tumbled out of the bag and onto the floor. Lucky stalked into the kitchen and shoved the whole thing into the waste bin with enough force to knock to lid off.

"C'mon, buddy, I didn't-" Tony attempted to soothe Lucky's sudden rage.

But Lucky breezed past him once more and locked himself in the bathroom.

Tony sighed and shook his head as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. He stared at the room around him. Blinds shut, fireplace unlit, blankets neatly folded on one end of the couch, a lumpy pillow perched nearby, the happy little tree. He thought he heard sobbing coming from the closed door down the hall, but he ignored it. He'd let Lucky's sudden storm of emotion blow itself out, and maybe next time Tony would know when to shut up.

His phone chirped on the kitchen table. He snatched it quickly and shoved it against his ear. "What?"

"You better be awake, Tony," Tim's voice drifted from the phone.

Tony's reply was sour. "Very awake."

"I saw Lucky leave the house at about 3am. He went the five blocks to Walgreens, spent ten minutes there, and then walked the five blocks back," Tim went on. "I was wondering where you were."

"I was sleeping," Tony admitted. "I was in the bedroom. I didn't hear a thing."

"That's not gonna work," Tim stated the obvious.

"I know."

"Sternes knows. She's pissed." Tim's voice was quiet. "She needs Lucky to stay alive, at least until we set up the meet-up."

Tony stayed quiet for a while, before going on to ask, "So that's what she's planning? Is this new?"

"Yeah, as of late last night. She wants Lucky to draw this Snoopy character out into the open. I don't know the angle they're working; I'm just doing surveillance right now. Completely out of the loop."

"No way." Tony shook his head fervently even though he knew Tim couldn't see it. "He'll kill Lucky on the spot."

"Sternes says he won't… Not if he says the right things. Lucky is family to these people. She says we can work with that."

"Bullshit, McGee," Tony hissed. "Maybe you should check out what happened to the last informant on this case. He was supposedly 'family,' too."

"I know, Tony. Believe me, I know. I was there."

"So what's Gibbs got to say?" Tony asked.

"He's mum on it all."

Tony didn't know what to say to that. He sat on the couch and counted the marshmallows spread out on the floor. "You tell him about the ring thing?"

"Of course."

"Good."

"Are you okay?" Tim finally asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Tony assured, voice sharp and agitated.

"You don't sound fine."

"I will be."

"Okay."

"There's a Christmas tree in here now," Tony mentioned.

"Really."

"That's what Lucky got from Walgreens. Idiot."

There was a bit of silence between the both of them.

"I should probably hang up," Tim said. "Just wanted to give you a heads up that Sternes knows about Lucky's little shopping trip."

But Tony had more to say. "I don't know if we can trust Lucky to say the right things. I know I wouldn't. It's not right. He's a bit… off."

"I don't understand."

"I mean, I don't think he's playing with a full deck," Tony tried to rephrase.

Pause.

Tony tried yet again. "He's missing some of his marbles."

A longer pause.

"He's a huge bit cuckoo. Work with me, Tim!"

"Oh! Sorry. I got you," Tim managed to sound abashed. "I was just looking at the IM's on this computer."

"You have a computer in your car?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Okay, this conversation is over."

Tim snorted. "Whatever. Bye."

Tony watched the call disconnect on his phone's screen and then looked again at the lifeless room. Okay, so maybe this squalid little safe house did need a bit of sprucing up. He glanced at the bathroom. The door was still closed, but at least the sobbing had died down. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to Lucky's wild mood swings.

Yanking himself off the couch, Tony picked up the marshmallows and set them on the coffee table. He took a sip of the already lukewarm coffee before busying himself with the fireplace. He wasn't much of a fire starter, but he tried his best, setting up the split wood just so and shoving wadded up newspapers into any available gaps. He lit a kitchen match, and set the newspaper ablaze. Oddly satisfied, Tony sat back on his heels and watched as the fire began crackling to life. A comforting heat wrapped around his body.

He opened the blinds a bit. Lucky was right. It had snowed a small amount overnight, maybe an inch or two. It stuck to the weeds, the street signs, the cracking concrete, and the neighboring rooftops. He smiled briefly at an old man stringing garland over his dilapidated chain-link fence.

After changing quickly into jeans and a hoodie, Tony searched high and low through the mostly barren house until he found a sewing kit that contained thread and needles. He dug around in the kitchen cabinets and microwaved a bag of popcorn. Then he rescued the mini marshmallows from the trash and grabbed a box of Fruit Loops from the cupboard. Gathering up his supplies, he moved all of it to the coffee table.

It was time to get to work.

With a steady hand, Tony threaded a needle, surprising himself with the fact that he could even do such a thing. He sorted out a pile of green and red Fruit Loops. And then, with a kind of quiet patience born mostly from boredom, he began stringing the assorted food into a garland for the little tree.

"What are you making?" a soft voice whispered from nearby.

Tony looked up, surprised to find Lucky standing in front of him. The man was anxiously playing with the hem of his shirt. Tony smiled and patted the space next to him on the couch, scooting over a bit. "It's for the tree."

Lucky sat and watched. "Are we going to eat it?" he asked.

Tony shook his head. The other man was sitting so close that his knee was almost touching Tony's. But he bit his tongue. If Lucky wanted to sit that close, then whatever. Tony really didn't want to get into the whole issue of what was appropriate personal space. "No, we're not gonna eat it."

Lucky rubbed at his eyes, red and puffy from crying. "I overreacted," he said.

Tony shrugged. "It's okay. Just… don't go out alone again."

"I won't."

"Good." Tony went back to his work. He made sure to evenly space the different items. Four Fruit Loops, alternating from green and red, and then a marshmallow, more Fruit Loops, a piece of popcorn… He found he was enjoying this creative exploit more and more. It was oddly calming. The tight bundle of nerves in the pit of his gut slowly began to unfurl.

"Can I try?" Lucky was asking.

Tony pushed a pile of things to string towards Lucky's end of the table. He picked up a new needle and another piece of string. "You ever do this before?"

"No." Lucky watched Tony's hands.

"This was something my mom and I did. Every year."

"Are you close with her?"

Tony handed Lucky the string and needle before answering simply, "We were."

"What happened?"

Tony avoided the two brown eyes that were currently locked onto him. "Uh," he shrugged, picking out some more green and red Fruit Loops. "She passed away."

"You don't like talking about it," Lucky said as he dug around for two marshmallows. He ate one and strung the other.

"You're right. I don't."

"Do you think about her often?"

"Sure."

"Do you cry because she's gone?"

Tony stared at him, taken off guard by the strange question. "It's been a long time, Lucky. I'm too old to cry because she's gone."

"No one's too old to cry," Lucky stated with certainty. "I heard of a guy who never cried. He died."

"Sounds like a good story, Lucky," Tony huffed out a half-laugh.

"You don't believe me? I've seen it. So what was she like, your mom?"

Tony felt a bit agitated by this prying, all-too-personal interrogation, but he pushed it away. Lucky was only curious, and this quiet line of questions was certainly better than his usually meaningless jabber, or his explosive meltdowns. "She was great, but what about you? Don't you have a mom out there somewhere?"

"My mom hated Christmas," Lucky was quick to answer, head shaking, "but she would always buy us presents. She had a hiding place for them in the house, and I would always find it and open all of them days before Christmas. I had to know what they all were."

"Sounds fun…"

"Yeah. She would get mad, though. And then one year, she caught me in the act, and she hit me in the face with an iron."

Tony blinked and stared at him.

"Oh, don't worry. It wasn't on or hot or anything."

"Did she hit you often?"

Lucky shrugged. "She was a busy person. Didn't have much time for us kids, or much money. She drank a lot. Smoked a lot. Shot up a lot."

"Did she make a habit out of hitting you?" Tony asked again.

"It wasn't all that bad."

"You know that's not normal, Lucky."

Lucky shrugged it off yet again. "It was normal for us. She was frustrated with me, especially. My sisters and brother were easy, but I had-" he gestured around himself, "all of these issues. I was terrible in school, failed classes, got into fights. I repeated the fourth grade. Twice. She took me to the doctor, got me on some meds. They made me sick and miserable. When she caught me doing… you know… with my best friend… who was a guy. Yeah, well, she'd hit her limit. She didn't know what to do with me anymore."

"Ah," Tony raised a brow and slowly nodded. "Gotcha."

"I left home at sixteen," Lucky went on. "Laid low until eighteen. Freedom, Agent Tony. It was great. I wasn't kicked out. I chose to leave on my own. I met friends who weren't so lucky; they were just plain unlucky."

"But was it really a choice?" Tony asked.

"I took my stuff, and I left. She didn't have to ask me."

"And is that about the time you met Julian Arrizubeata?"

"I'd say so. It's hard to be homeless, you know. Riding the trains and sleeping under bridges is fun and exciting and all at first. But then winter comes. Julian promised me a lot; he gave me a lot. But now I know what a bad decision that may have been." Lucky fixed a hard look on Tony. "He's a dangerous man. I know that. And I'm enemy number one right now. I know everything about what he's done and who's involved."

"They want you to meet with him again," Tony said.

Lucky studied a nearby pile of Fruit Loops. "Do I have a choice?"

"You do. But they also know you ran drugs for him for years," Tony explained truthfully. "That's a few years in prison."

"There's that."

"I don't like it, either," Tony admitted.

Lucky looked at him briefly, before declaring, "I'm not afraid of Julian or his thugs. Or Mister Q."

"You probably should be," Tony warned.

"You've done this before, right? This informant thing?"

"More than once."

"Then everything should be okay, right?"

"It'll be okay."