Title: A Christmas Day Story
Summary: Tony is alone for Christmas. Or is he? Possibly slightly OOC.
Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.
Spoilers: Takes place in season 8, but nothing specific to the season. Spoilers only if you're new to the show.
A/N: Many thanks to GibbsRules for her beta of this story. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.
I was originally going to leave Tony to his sad and lonely Christmas, but my muse had other plans… I hope you enjoy this next part.
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Chapter Two: Gift of Family
I'm awake. And, at first I don't know why, but then my full bladder makes itself known. I slip out of the covers and pull them back up to keep as much of the warmth as possible while I'm gone.
It's still early yet and I've been threatened not only by Leon but by my father to stay out of the office until Monday or there'd be 'dire consequences.'
As I walk back to bed, I notice the time: 0519. It's just a few minutes later than I normally would get up. I'm awake now but not yet ready to face the day, so I slip back under the covers to consider the plans I've made with my father who is probably still asleep downstairs.
Christmas with my father. It's still a foreign concept to me.
Prior to last year, it had been decades since I'd spent the holiday with him and too many years since I'd spent a Christmas with my girls. Memories burst forth suddenly of how excited Shannon and Kelly would get about Christmas.
As a Marine, I only got to spend a precious few Christmases with Kelly during her too short life. The last I spent with her, all three of us picked out a tree to decorate while eating Shannon's sugar cookies and drinking my extra chocolaty hot cocoa.
The memories are bittersweet and my heart begins to ache over their loss all over again. They are the missing pieces of my heart and my life.
I can never replace them and don't want to, but being able to spend time with my father today has lessened the sadness I've been feeling with the onset of the holiday season.
The frustrating thing since I woke up this morning is that I keep thinking I've forgotten something, but can't figure out what it is no matter how many times I go over the list in my head. I'll have to ask my dad later. Maybe he can think of what it is I'm forgetting.
I can't stand lying in bed anymore doing nothing but thinking thoughts that are best left for another day. Besides, I could really use some coffee.
Once I'm ready for the day, I head downstairs and find that my dad is already awake. He's made some coffee and is in the process of making us some breakfast.
"You don't have to do that, Dad."
"I wanted to Leroy. Besides I was hungry and thought I might convince you to join me in having something besides coffee," he states as he carries two plates of bacon and eggs to the table. I grab the coffee pot and fill both our mugs before returning it to the coffee maker and sitting down. We eat in companionable silence while reading the newspaper.
After breakfast and another whole pot of coffee, we decide to open our gifts. I gave my father a new cane made from rosewood and stained a chocolate brown along with a burgundy cardigan sweater that Abby helped me to pick out. My dad gave me several antique wood working tools of excellent quality and a framed photo of Shannon and Kelly that I'd never seen before.
Once I could speak around the lump in my throat, I asked him where and when it was taken. He told me about the last time he ever saw his granddaughter alive and how much fun the three of them had had that day. The photo he gave me is of my girls sitting on a park bench at the end of that long, but fun day. Kelly, looking like she is asleep, is leaning against Shannon who has her arm around Kelly and her cheek resting on top of our daughter's head. I whisper a 'thank you' to my dad and give him a hug for giving me this priceless photo of my girls.
After clearing the wrapping paper, I challenge my dad to a game of chess. I've always loved the game because it requires you to anticipate your opponent's strategy while planning out your own moves far in advance along with possible contingency strategies. In several hours of play, I realize we are pretty evenly matched and contemplate asking my dad if he would like to call the game a draw. Shortly after noon, we take a break for a small lunch and decide that if there is no progress in the game in the next hour, then we'd quit and call it a draw since we still have dinner to prepare. When our self-imposed time limit is up, it's obvious neither of us is going to make a mistake, so we end our game.
It's 1400 hours when we start preparing our Christmas dinner of prime rib with freshly mashed potatoes and other fixings. For some reason, I bought this too large piece of meat – one definitely too big for only two people to make proper dent in it. Maybe I was thinking of leftovers at the time when I bought it…
Once the meat has begun cooking and we're preparing the mashed potatoes, my dad asks me what my team is doing this weekend for Christmas. I tell him what I know and after a small lull, he says, "What about that senior agent of yours, Tony? You didn't mention him at all."
I suddenly stop peeling the potato in my hands. He's right. I didn't realize I hadn't mentioned what Tony was doing today and I honestly can't remember him mentioning any plans. Everyone else but him did and I seem to remember him looking really disappointed at not being allowed into the office this weekend.
"Leroy?" my father queries and I get the impression it's not the first time he's tried getting my attention.
"Sorry, Dad," I start only to stop lost in thought again. Is Tony alone today?
"Leroy, what's wrong? Is it something to do with Tony?" he asks before shocking me with his next words. "Did you know he sent me a nice Christmas card again this year with a candid shot of you at what I can only guess is a crime scene inside it? That's how I got the idea for your gift."
"He sends you Christmas cards?" I ask incredulously – having trouble digesting what I've just been told.
"Yes, he does," Dad replies. Then apparently misinterpreting my reaction adds, "Now, Leroy, don't you get mad at him. He's a very nice young man and I appreciate him staying in touch with me – and he's a lot of fun to talk to!"
"He stays in touch?" I can't help but lamely repeat.
"Something wrong with that?" he challenges.
"No, sir," I honestly reply. "I'm just surprised is all."
"Well, alright," he returns looking skeptical. "As long as you don't slap him on the head like I've heard about. He's done nothing wrong. So, do you know what he's doing this weekend or not?"
"I wouldn't head slap him for keeping in touch with you though I'm starting to get the urge to do it now that I know that he's spending the day alone."
"He's alone?"
"I'm almost certain of it and he definitely doesn't deserve that fate today," I say as I reach into my pocket for my cell phone.
"You going to invite him over?" My dad asks as I hit the speed dial for Tony's phone number.
As I wait for him to answer knowing he wouldn't ever break Rule 3, I try to rein in my anger over the fact that though he didn't exactly lie about his plans, he allowed everyone to think he had some. It seemed Tony was spending the day alone, but why?
"Don't yell at him, Leroy," my dad counsels.
"I won't," I promise as Tony answers the phone. "Merry Christmas to you too. And, no, we didn't catch a case." I answer in response to his eager questioning.
Tony sounds off to me and not just because he's unsure of the reason I'm calling. I take a few steps down into the basement and close the door. I don't like having this conversation over the phone, but I need to understand the man's motives.
"Why didn't you say something?" I ask knowing my voice is laced with sadness that a man so often overlooked had been overlooked yet again for Christmas.
After a brief pause, Tony answers in what was trying to pass for an innocent tone, "What do you mean, Boss?"
I grip the phone harder in an attempt to keep my temper under control. I decide to be blunt.
"Are you alone today?"
Tony pauses longer this time, and I'm pretty sure he's trying to think of an answer that will placate me, but then I hear him sigh and mumble a mumble a 'yes' before he says, "It's no big deal. And, besides I didn't feel like being around people today."
I'm positive he doesn't mean that because outside of work, he really only has his frat buddies and his father – both of whom I doubt he wouldn't have minded spending time with today. Then I wonder if anyone actually invited him over or if they thought that Tony had a date with some buxom woman. Even better would have been if his dad had finally stepped up and asked to spend time with his son today.
"Boss!" he says to get my attention.
"Yeah, Tony," I quietly reply as my gut sinks in the realization that neither of those things had happened.
"Thank you for wishing me a Merry Christmas. Is there anything else you needed?" he asks ignoring the issue at hand and as I hear his door buzzer sound. "I have to go," he hurriedly says.
"Tony, wait!"
"What is it, Boss?" he asks as the doorbell buzzes again.
"Pizza?" I ask.
"Just a minute," he says and I hear him fumbling with the door then something else before I faintly hear him say, "Keep the change."
A few seconds later he says, "I'm back."
"Pizza?" I ask again knowing the answer.
His 'yes' sounds so defeated, like it's coming from someone who is reluctant to admit he's been forgotten one too many times and can't stand being pitied anymore because of it. And, I hate to admit that I'm just as guilty as everyone else this year.
"Bring it with you. I'll see you here in half an hour," I order and hang up the phone before he can say anything. Tony has yet to not follow one of my orders and I doubt he'll pick today of all days to stop.
I briefly wonder if I've made a mistake in ordering Tony to come over. What if he really wanted to be alone today? What if he had plans for later?
I go back into the kitchen to find my dad putting the finishing touches on the potatoes. He sees I'm back in the room and asks, "Is he coming over?"
I nod and confirm, "He should be here in the next half hour."
My dad must have heard something in my voice because he queries, "You okay, Son?"
After that brief conversation with Tony, I have to admit I'm not.
"No, Dad, I'm not," I begin then pause. "We've had to work many of the holidays Tony's been on my team and one year we all got together at Ducky's. I wasn't going to go, but Tony kept at me to come."
"Did you?"
"Yes. I was late, but when I saw Tony's expression, I knew I'd made the right decision to show up. He looked so damned happy to see me." I trail off unsure if I should share what I know and think I know about Tony's past.
"So I gather Tony doesn't have any family?"
"He still has his father and various distant cousins."
"But Tony doesn't keep in touch?"
"More like the other way around. His father was here not too long ago and Tony mentioned that he promised they'd talk more…"
"You think Tony's father didn't keep his promise today."
"Nope," I reply as I bend to check on the meat in the oven.
Dad goes to the refrigerator and pulls out two beers. I take one, open it and swallow several mouthfuls before going to the cupboard to pull out the dishes we'll need. We set the table in silence, each contemplating Tony's situation. Afterwards we sit on the couch and nurse our beers while waiting for Tony to arrive.
"What do you think the kid did today?"
I think for a moment before remembering Tony's tradition.
"He has this tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life. He screened it up in MTAC one year. I missed it because I was wrapping up a case."
"Does your team exchange gifts?"
"We always say we're not going to, but usually the day after Christmas there's a box with a couple bottles of expensive bourbon waiting for me on my doorstep."
"Tony?"
"Probably," I confirm as my doorbell rings. I figure it's Tony, but why didn't he just come in like he usually does?
I must have said the last part out loud because my father says, "Cut the kid some slack, Leroy. He probably feels like he's intruding even though you invited him."
I get up and answer the door just in time to see that Tony had started to leave. I try not to let the frustration I'm feeling leak into my voice as I say, "Hey Tony. Come on in. Why didn't you just come right in like you usually do?"
"I didn't want to assume, Boss."
"Just 'Gibbs' today, okay?" He nods, but I know he'll slip. To him, calling me 'Boss' is synonymous with calling me 'Gibbs'.
As he takes off his coat, he explains the container in his hand. "I thought you might not be serious about the pizza, so instead I brought some of my homemade caramel popcorn. It goes great with hot cocoa."
Something about my expression must have indicated I wasn't too happy with what was just said, because Tony quickly adds, "or coffee."
I smirk at his attempt to correct what he considers a mistake. I know he hates it when I'm nice so I'll have to be careful to not treat Tony much differently than how I do at work. I'll let my dad by the 'nice' one tonight. Besides, I suspect my invite has already unsettled him a bit. We enter the living room and Dad gets up to shake hands with Tony.
"Merry Christmas, Son," he says and pats Tony on the shoulder a couple of times. "Thank you for that hilarious Christmas card and photo of Leroy."
Tony's eyes go wide and I can tell he's worried what my reaction will be. I choose to not react at all and as I head to the kitchen ask, "Beer?"
"Ye – Yes," he stutters out looking confused. He was clearly expecting some sort of repercussion for sending my dad a card and photo.
From the kitchen I hear Tony say, "You're welcome, Jack. And Happy Christmas to you too. How's your hip been lately?"
Hip? How does he know – ? Just how often do they talk? I stop and quickly test the meat's temperature. Not too long now…
My thoughts drift back to the living room as I go to the refrigerator. How do I feel about Tony and my father keeping in touch? My first thought is why would Tony want to keep in touch? Is he trying to get my dad to reveal embarrassing facts about my childhood to use against me at will?
Then, in the next moment, I feel ashamed and want to head slap myself for even thinking Tony would betray me like that. If he was feeling secure in our friendship, he might kid me in private, but he would never use anything he knew against me in public. He's probably just genuinely curious about my life in Stillwater. And, I suspect he wants to know what it's like to grow up surrounded by family and friends. I also suspect that Tony actually likes my Dad for himself and not as a source of embarrassing information about my childhood.
I return from the kitchen to find Tony sitting on the edge of the chair looking definitely not relaxed and very worried, though doing an admirable job at trying to hide it. My father is sitting on the end of the couch nearest to him looking exasperated, but is patting my agent's knee in a comforting way.
I make a noise so that they know I'm there and Tony closes his eyes and cringes in expectation of one of my head slaps. Does he really think I'm such a bastard that I would hit him for keeping in touch with my dad?
I look to my dad who mouths, "Be nice."
If I'm any nicer Tony will completely lose it. I tap the bottle of beer against his shoulder. Tony opens his eyes and looks up at me confused before tentatively reaching for the bottle of beer I'm holding out for him.
"Thanks Bo –," he stops at my glare and then corrects, "uh, Gibbs."
I nod and sit down next to my father. How can I set Tony's mind at ease and get him to relax? What can we talk about? Just about anything Christmas related is a potential mine field of emotions neither of us probably wants to explore.
I'm trying to think of something to say when Tony comments, "That's a new cane, isn't it Jack?" He leans forward to take a better look. "Did Gibbs make that for you?"
"Yes," Dad chuckles out. "How did you know?"
Tony looks as though he regrets ever opening his mouth, but answers with a slightly timid, "I've seen some of his other projects, so I recognize the craftsmanship."
Tony falls silent. He's playing with the beer bottle's label and staring into the fire. I think back and I don't actually recall Tony taking a drink. I can't help but wonder why Tony won't relax and enjoy himself. It's not like he hasn't been here many times before and for a wide variety of reasons over the years. Heck, we've even sat right here on this couch and had cowboy-style steak together a few times. How is it any different with my dad here? The silence is awkward, but I'm not sure how to get Tony to relax like he's done here so many times before.
"So Tony," my dad begins, "did you watch your movie today? Leroy tells me it's a tradition for you to watch It's a Wonderful Life every Christmas."
Tony looks at me with an odd expression on his face and I have no idea what he's thinking right now, though my gut starts to churn a little.
He eventually answers, "Yes, I watched it this morning." He then gets up saying, "Excuse me please, I need to use the head."
Tony leaves distracted enough that he takes the beer with him. I watch him leave shaking my head in disbelief at this overly-polite, nearly-robotic Tony that's come to my house this evening. I wonder again if I've made a mistake insisting he come over.
"You didn't make a mistake, Son," Dad says somehow knowing my train of thought. "That boy of yours just needs to be reminded that just because it's Christmas, he's no less welcome than any other day of the year."
"He came because I ordered him to come, Dad. He doesn't know what we expect from him. And, he probably thinks we're taking pity on him."
After a few minutes without Tony reappearing, I say, "Dad, can you go put the potatoes in the oven to warm? I'm going to go check on Tony."
Reaching the bathroom door, I don't hear any noise so I knock and ask, "Tony, you OK?"
In the next instant, I hear the toilet flush and the sink turn on, "I'm fine, thank you."
"No. You're not." I hear the faucet stop and it's quiet again. I'm really hoping he'll come out, because it seems inappropriate to have this conversation through the bathroom door.
"Tony, how many times have you been to my house over the years?" I pause hoping he'll answer, but when it becomes apparent he won't I continue. "That's OK. I've lost count too."
I shift to lean against the wall next to the door I'm talking to. "Regardless of the number of times, you've been here for many different reasons – including those related to both work and our personal lives. So, why is being here for Christmas any different?"
Once again, there is silence from the other side of the door. Just when I'm about to try saying something else, I hear Tony's disembodied voice say, "Because it's… It's a day for family, and I don't have… I'm not your …"
I find myself fighting a lump in my throat at Tony's declaration. I'd never realized that he felt so alone in the world.
"I know I practically ordered you to come here this afternoon, but at the time I was angry that you made us all think you had these big plans for today and in reality you were spending it alone."
Tony forcefully opens the door and takes a step out of the bathroom to face me. "I wasn't alone, I was spending time with my family," he says indignantly though he doesn't quite meet my eyes.
"So what did you and your family do today Tony?"
"We did our traditional thing of making caramel popcorn to eat and hot mulled cider to drink while snuggling up in blankets in front of the T.V. watching the greatest Christmas movie ever!"
"Senior was actually there with you?" I ask amazed and not quite believing Senior would ever 'snuggle' anywhere.
Tony won't look at me, and after a few seconds drops his head to his chest in defeat then lifts it and blurts, "I should go."
He brushes past me intent on leaving, but I catch up quickly and grab his arm to stop him.
"No. Stay. Please."
"I don't want nor need your pity, Boss."
"And you don't have it either Tony," I say gently. "You made us think you had all these plans – why?"
He shrugs his arm out of my grasp and turns to full face me. Finally daring to look me in the eyes, he sadly says, "I may have been physically alone today, Boss, but in keeping my promise, keeping my traditions; I wasn't truly alone.
"Does that make sense?" He asks with pleading eyes. He desperately wants me to understand, and I think I finally get it.
"Your mother."
The relief in his eyes is almost palpable. "Yes," he says just above a whisper.
I begin to regret ordering him to come over.
"I didn't mean to intrude on your day. If you'd like to go, I'd understand, but I and I know my dad would really like it if you'd stay for dinner."
He turns away slightly and takes a deep breath. Turning back, he smiles slightly and replies, "Sure, Boss. I spent the morning with my family, so there's no reason why I can't spend the evening with my friends."
I smirk and place a hand on his shoulder for a moment. I squeeze it slightly before letting go and saying, "Good. Dinner should just about be ready."
All throughout dinner, Tony still acted unsure of himself around my dad and I and he hardly spoke unless directly spoken to first. The piece of meat which I previously thought was way too big transformed to one that was just the right size. Tony didn't eat as much as he usually seemed to, so I decided that I would give him plenty of leftovers. Hopefully the gesture would remind him that people do care about him. Tony has taken care of himself for so long that I think he's forgotten what it's like to have others care for him too.
We finish dinner and I'm just about to get up to clear the dishes when Tony gets up and announces, "Let me Gibbses," he smirks. "You guys made this wonderful meal, the least I could do to thank you for it is to clear the dishes and put them in the dishwasher."
"Alright," I agree with a nod, but grab the platter of meat. "I'll take care of the leftovers."
"And I'll wipe down the table and start a new pot of coffee," my dad declares as he levers himself up from the table.
Together we make quick work of cleaning up and are soon back in the living room with hot, fresh coffee and Tony's caramel corn.
"You're right, Tony," Dad begins, "this caramel corn is great with coffee. You made this yourself?"
Tony dips his head in acknowledgment, "From my mother's recipe."
Dad shoves some more caramel corn in his mouth and compliments, "Don't think I've had better."
"Thank you," my friend says sincerely while smiling shyly.
He seems more relaxed now – at least now he's sitting all the way back in the chair – but as I watch him stare at the fire in my fireplace, I know something is still on his mind.
Without really realizing what I'm saying, I ask, "Where was Senior today?"
Tony winces slightly before answering, "He had business to take care of today."
"On Christmas?" my dad interjects and I resist the urge to glare at him – succeeding only because I know it's my fault for bringing up the topic.
"Not everyone celebrates," Tony quietly replies. A moment later he adds, "He sent a note saying he'd see me at New Year's."
His tone of voice – the doubt in it – tells me he doesn't really believe he'll see his father anytime soon. The accompanying flicker of hurt on his face before he's able to hide it tells me he'd really hoped that this year would be different for him and his father – especially after that last visit a few months ago.
"I hope it works out for you two to get together next week."
"Thanks, Jack," he says sincerely before going back to stare at the fire.
With our bellies pleasantly full and drinking our coffee while munching on the dessert Tony made, I actually am feeling quite content. After so many years, my dad and I finally have a decent relationship again. And, I'm thankful that we could spend this time together.
Now that I'm older and we've resolved most of our issues, I find myself actually wanting to spend time with my father. With that thought in mind, I send up a silent prayer that Senior will someday want to do the same with Tony.
Suddenly I realize I haven't asked my traditional question.
"What extremely useful, but ultimately incredibly impractical gift did your father send you this year?"
Tony smirks then snorts a laugh at my question.
"What's so funny?" my dad inquires.
"Every year Senior, my dad, sends me these great gifts. The trouble is they are hardly ever appropriate or useful to me. Gibbs saw me open one of his gifts at work my first year at NCIS. It was an ice cream maker." Tony laughs then rolls his eyes at the memory before continuing, "I ended up giving it to a college buddy of mine who has three kids.
"I don't think I've ever kept any of the gifts he's sent me over the years," he concludes smiling broadly. Then nodding his head towards me says, "Every year since then Gibbs has made it a point to ask what Senior's gift to me was."
"Well?" I ask with a grin on my face.
"It's a "Mr. Coffee Mug Warmer" that's supposed to be able to 'keep your coffee or other hot beverage warm for as long as you need it to be'. Essentially it's a mini hotplate for your coffee mug."
"Why can't you use that? Don't you drink coffee all the time?" dad asks sounding honestly curious.
"Yes, I do, but I have nowhere to plug it in at home and for safety reasons we're not allowed to have anything like that at work."
"That's too bad. Sounds like a great gift to me," dad remarks almost wistfully.
Tony looks at me then very slightly tips his head in my father's direction. He's asking if it's OK for him to give my dad his gift from Senior. I give a slight nod in return and try not to smirk. Tony's face is outwardly calm, but his eyes are laughing. I have a feeling a case of bourbon will not be the only thing sitting on my doorstep in the morning.
Tony stands, "Well, thank you so much for dinner, but I should really be heading on home now."
"You sure? You're welcome to stay longer," I assure as my dad and I also get to our feet.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks," he says and then head towards the door to collect his coat.
I go to get Tony's leftovers from the refrigerator as my dad helps him with one of his sleeves before pulling him into a hug.
"Merry Christmas, Son. I expect to hear from you soon."
"Yes, sir," he cheekily says as they part.
He turns to me and I hand him two large containers of leftovers. He pauses unsure of what to say finally getting out, "Uh – wow! Uh…thanks. You don't have to –"
"Just take them," I gently order.
He takes the containers from me, smiles shyly and discloses, "You may have ordered me to come, but I'm glad you did. I had a great time. Thank you."
He opens my door and as he steps out into the cold night, he waves good-bye saying, "Happy Christmas."
I start to shut the door, but then a thought occurs to me which makes me smile. I step out my front door and call out, "Tony wait!"
He stops and turns with a quizzical expression on his face.
I catch up to him at the curb and say, "Tony, I want you to know that you have a standing invitation to have Christmas dinner with me every year."
Tony looks surprised, but genuinely pleased. He swallows heavily, then finally manages to quietly reply, "Thanks Gibbs."
He sticks out his hand and says, "Merry Christmas."
I grab his hand intending on shaking it, but surprise myself by pulling him into a brief hug.
"Merry Christmas, Tony," I say into his ear.
I pull back and Tony looks a little freaked out by my display before grinning and saying, "You know I hate it when you're nice, Boss."
"Well then, it's a good thing I'm not your boss tonight," I retort before lightly smacking him on the head. "Be careful driving home."
"I will Gibbs. G'night."
"Night," I say as I watch him get into his car. It starts right away despite the cold and after a minute, Tony drives off.
Freezing now, I head back towards the house thinking that I'd made the right decision to extend Tony's invite to the following Christmas – and all the ones after that, if I have any say in the matter.
Spending Christmas with my father may have lessened the sadness of my family's loss this year, but I realized today that Tony's presence actually lessened the ache of that loss in my heart.
Tony's father really doesn't get what he's missing out on by not being in Tony's life. I may not be his father, but I know now that he's family to me. And, I'll do my best to take care of this gift of family that I received this year for Christmas.
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tbc…
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Thanks for reading!
Merry Christmas!
Here's a little bonus quote that I find appropriate for not only this chapter, but today as well: "Each day provides its own gifts." – Martial