Chapter 25 - How Do You Measure a Year?

Thursday, December 23

This was the day of the NCIS HQ Christmas party. The federal holiday fell on Friday, the 24th this year, so this was the last normal workday before Christmas.

All employees who could be spared from their normal duties gathered in the old former ballroom of the building (which hadn't hosted a ball in years). "Clear away, Ebeneezer! Clear away, Dick!" called one of the older employees, dressed in an old-time style. Younger employees scrambled to move the chairs and tables to the walls, and "Old Fezziwig" himself lead off the first dance, a reel, while a fiddler played madly. More contemporary tunes would come over the sound system later (although Vance had threatened anyone who played the Jingle Bells- barking dogs), but the party always started with the really old stuff. It was tradition.

There was food aplenty: cold fried chicken, deli sandwiches, lasagna, lo mein, salads, fruit, casseroles, soups, and countless cakes, cookies and pies. It was a partly-catered, partly-potluck affair. There were three lasagnas, in fact, by three women who each insisted their recipe was the best, and wouldn't yield to the organizers' pleas to just bring a different dish. "I will eat myself silly," Vance heard one man say. "And I'll like it," he added.

"A good spread," said Kel, suddenly at Vance's side. "Not like the old days. Thirty years ago, management was expected to provide the wine and beer for this party."

"On site?" Vance blinked in surprise.

"On site. It was a different time. Things change," he sighed. "Now, speaking of change…"

"I should have gotten back to you earlier. I know."

Kel gave him a warm smile. "I can read the answer in your eyes. I think I guessed what it would be some months back."

"Then you knew before I did?"

"Oh, you knew. Even though you weren't listening to the voice inside you, you knew what you would decide in the end. For all that you love technology and progress, Leon, you still have a great love of tradition. A shiny new building by itself is not what you want, even if its HVAC is perfect and the roof doesn't leak—"

"Our roof doesn't leak," Vance said stoutly, and then cast a stern look at the ceiling. "Don't you get any ideas," he growled at it.

Kel laughed. "Even if I were to offer to build you a shiny new building here in the Yard on the footprint of this one, I don't think you'd take the offer. You like this one too much."

"It's home," Vance said. "And the location is perfect. Why mess with perfection?"

"I understand. Okay, the Navy can find other use for that space in Quantico. Aha; is that a red velvet cake I see?" He wandered off for the desserts table.

The music had switched to 30s/40s standards. Interested people danced again. Vance saw Leslie lead Abby to the dance floor for a jitterbug. Leslie seemed to only mind a little when an employee called him away to question something about a leave slip she had submitted, and then another asked him for the key to the supply cabinet where the extra party goods were kept. "I'm sorry about this, Leslie…you must hate it when people pull you away from your fun."

But Leslie could see that Abby was smiling his way, patiently waiting for his return. He grinned. "Not at all. I have the best job in the world!"

Vance had no doubt that Leslie meant it.

He was about to say something to Gibbs, when he saw the agent put his phone back on its clip and beckon to his team. "Dead Marine corporal found in the Potomac," he said. "Grab your gear!"

It was a call that could happen at any time to the MCRT. They expected it; it was part of the job. Gibbs, Tony, and now Tim and Ziva, cleared for field duty, beat a fast exit. Tony only stopped to grab a chicken drumstick and a napkin as he left.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes:
How do you measure, measure a year?

The year wasn't over yet, of course. The creaking old 2010 still had 8 days left, but they would go by quickly. Abby would probably decorate HQ again. Because the observed day for New Year's was the 31st, there would be fewer employees coming up with last-minute creative excuses for why they needed to leave work early.

There would be parties everywhere, and maybe this would be the year when he and Jackie would accept one of those invitations. Or at least have some good friends over to ring in the new year.

2011. A year of promise and opportunity. Vance sighed, happy.

Then he called Leslie over to present him with the enormous white chocolate chip muffin Vance had hidden away. It was big enough to share with Abby. And so Leslie did.

-END-