Time ceases to hold any meaning as the holidays soldier past. Tony prefers not to look at the date, because he hates to remind himself of Christmas. Sure, there are staff parties where he shows up, boisterous and boastful while wearing a lopsided Santa hat, but it's all an act. Everything he does right now feels like an act.

Tony finds himself hoping that MTAC is deserted so he can take over the giant screen for his Christmas Eve showing of It's a Wonderful Life. The annual tradition is popcorn and mulled wine and friends. This year, he wants Scotch and solitude and time for personal reflection. Gibbs, Abby Scuito and Donald Mallard crash his pity party anyway. Tim, he has plans with his sister.

Christmas is there and gone before Tony even blinks. He may or may not spend it black-out drunk on his couch, but he doesn't remember. He decides not to think about it.

Sometime during that no man's land that is the week between Christmas and New Year's—where everyone is hiding out with their families—the team works a case involving a dead Marine in a Santa suit. Tony postulates that it's, obviously, Mrs. Claus wherever she ran off to. Maybe with one of the elves, he says with a forced laugh. It doesn't matter that the Marine isn't married or otherwise attached. If they find Mrs. Claus and her elf, they'll have their killers.

And so, they end up at Gibbs' house for dinner. There was a lull in the case while they wait for the ballistics and forensics reports from Abby. Brahe called it a night, ducking out before anyone could ask her otherwise. Tony knew he was coming to Gibbs' house and Tim got caught in the chaos with leaving. Tim was probably headed to his car, but Tony slung his arm around the younger man's shoulder and gently guided him to Tony's vehicle. Tim tends to be too polite to tell Tony no these days.

Tony and Tim sit, shoulder to shoulder, on a lumpy couch while Gibbs stokes at a few burning logs in his fireplace. On the coffee table, there is a package of unopened T-bone steaks and a pile of foil wrapped potatoes. Tim's complexion is caught somewhere between milk-white and green. Tony is practically salivating, his stomach already growling at the promise of Cowboy steaks.

Once he seems happy with the flames, Gibbs tosses an old cast iron pot onto the logs. Within seconds, the pot billows smoke into the chimney.

Tim leans over to whisper in Tony's ear. "Is he going to cook them in the fireplace?"

Tony nods. "Oh yeah."

Tim swallows hard. "I thought he stopped doing that…"

"Maybe for a little while." Tony waggles his head. "They've been even better since he found that pot in his garage. Whatever kind of seasoning it has brings out a whole other depth of flavor."

That causes Tim's face to turn even more white. Gibbs didn't discover the pot in his garage. As far as Tony remembers, he has always used it. But Tim doesn't know that and Tony can't resist an opportunity to needle the younger man. He hates to think of all the missed opportunities while Tim was languishing in the sub-basement.

Tim groans loud enough for Gibbs to glare over his shoulder.

Tim smiles weakly. "I can't wait for the – " he barely suppresses a gag " – steak. I'm really, really excited."

Gibbs narrows his eyes before returning to his fire. The flames are licking around the side of the pan and making the smoke grow dark. The whole living room is starting to smell like a house fire and it only makes Tony's stomach growl even louder. Tim gives him a hard side-eye and moves a few inches over. Gibbs tosses the potatoes into the base of the fireplace.

Tony's cell rings shrilly. He scoops the phone from his pocket and silently curses because it's probably Abby with an update on their case. Of course, he wouldn't even get to eat his steak.

The caller ID reads Schuyler Harris.

Harris is back…great. I guess I'm not getting my steak.

Tony mutters to Tim, "I'll be right back."

Tim throws him a baleful look because Tony is abandoning him in this quiet room with Gibbs, who is now muttering curses at his fireplace. Smoke billows out. Tony offers Tim a quick salute before he bolts into the hallway. Tim's protest is too quiet to hear.

He answers, "DiNozzo."

"Agent DiNozzo, it's Schuyler Harris." His deep voice fills the line. "I was hoping you would have a few minutes to talk."

Tony shakes his head. "You know Harris, my friends call me Tony."

"I know they do, Agent DiNozzo."

That makes Tony genuinely laugh. "Should we meet at your uncle's place tomorrow?"

Harris clears his throat. "Actually, I was hoping for now." There is a long, awkward pause. "Are you still at Agent Gibbs' house?"

Tony's blood suddenly runs cold. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess and uh…I might already be outside."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Tony swallows hard. He figured there would be another meeting with Harris, but he hadn't expected his secret life where they were working together to collide at full speed into his normal one like a runaway train.

Tony opens the front door.

"Tony?" Tim calls out.

"I'll be right back, Probie! You better not eat my steak!"

Without giving Tim a chance to protest again, Tony slips out into the darkness. The air hovers just about freezing and Tony suddenly misses the coziness of Gibbs' smoky, warm house. The only light is the twinkling Christmas lights from the neighbors' houses and the gaudy inflatable Menorah across the street. Rudolph is suspiciously missing, having vanished a few days after Tony watched Gibbs' neighbor try to put him up.

Still hard to believe Gibbs didn't witness anything.

Tony stands on the porch, eyes roving the darkness for any sign of life. He tucks his hands into his armpits and wishes he brought his coat outside.

"Agent DiNozzo!" a familiar voice calls.

Tony isn't surprised to find Schuyler Harris standing in the middle of Gibbs' walk. Even in the low light, Tony notices how the former Marine stands at attention. He wears a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket so stylish Tony wonders who made it. He might have to see if he can get one of his own. It would look fantastic on Tony. As Harris approaches, Tony catches the patch of a tiny flaming skull on the left breast pocket. Harris must notice because he covers it with his hand.

"Don't ask," Harris warns.

"I wasn't going to," Tony says.

The look in Harris' good eye calls Tony a liar, but he offers a half-smile. It might be his attempt at a full one, but he comes across as bearing his teeth.

"Nice jacket, Easy Rider," Tony says, grinning.

Harris laughs. "Is that the best you've got?"

"It's the holidays." Tony shrugs with one shoulder. "I'm on vacation."

Harris smiles again. "'Where ya from, man?'"

On reflex, Tony answers, "'Hard to say.' How did you know I would be here?"

"Like I said, it was a lucky guess. And Martin the security guard might've told me you were heading to Gibbs' house." Harris pauses for a moment. "I have news."

The cold air is slowly seeping into Tony's bones. He should've grabbed his jacket on the way out the door, but he didn't expect Harris to actually be outside. He thought it was a prank, but he should know Harris well enough to know the man doesn't joke about things like this. Somehow, the cold doesn't seem to be affecting Harris. Tony glances down the darkened street before he notices there aren't any new cars than the ones that usually park there.

Oh yeah, Harris doesn't drive at night.

"Do you want to come inside?" Tony jerks his head towards the house. "We can talk in there."

Harris tries to peer in the window. "I might as well. If Agent Fornell didn't already update Agent Gibbs, he'll likely tell him soon. Is Agent McGee here as well?"

Tony nods. "Yeah."

And Tony turns back to the house before realizing that Harris isn't following. When he turns back, Harris stares up at the house with a strange expression on his face. The low light catches Harris' facial scar making it look like a spiderweb in shattered glass.

Harris starts, "Does Agent McGee know about…"

It doesn't take much for Tony to understand he is asking whether Tim knows how Ziva could rip his life away in a single breath. Of course, Tony never told Tim. If he even could figure out the right words to say, he knows Tim would do something rash like turning himself in before Ziva could play her hand. Tony doesn't like secrets, but some are better kept.

"No," Tony replies. "And I'm never going to."

Harris nods briskly. "Right."

Tony changes the subject. "Did you drive yourself here?"

Harris' lips turn downward. "Uncle Chuck dropped me off, but he had to run back to the bar. I'm going to call him when I'm done."

Tony doesn't bother telling Harris that he'll be expected to stay for cowboy steaks and movie night. Gibbs might've picked the steaks, but Tony always chooses a John Wayne classic for their rustic movie nights.

Tony leads Harris up the rickety porch steps. As soon as they're back inside, Tony rubs at his hands to get the blood flowing again. Right now, Gibbs' house is so homey and full of life that Tony wants to stay here for days. Even with the smoky smell, it's better than his cold and sterile apartment.

Harris keeps his expression neutral as he soaks up the sagging furniture and the ancient decorations and the threadbare rug in the hallway. Tony feels like a little kid having his new friend over for the first time. He doesn't want them to be disappointed because he still wants to show them his life.

As they head into the living room, Tony notices a few more patches on Harris' leather jacket. He hasn't seen Harris for a few weeks, but the man looks older, harder, rougher. His hair is longer now, the curls dipping closer to the nape of his neck. His body is rigid, muscles coiled. Tony wonders exactly where he's been, exactly what he's done.

In the living room, Tim sits on the couch with a plate that contains a steak floating in its own blood. His expression is horrified, and his coloring dips into green. Gibbs is still crouched by the fireplace, cursing and grumbling, as the smoke billows out.

Harris clears his throat. "Hello Agent Gibbs. Agent McGee."

Tim glances up. Barely smiles. "Oh Agent Harris, hey. How are you?"

Gibbs doesn't look back. "Didn't know you were coming for dinner, Harris."

"I'm didn't." Harris shakes his head. "I came to update you on my case."

That leaves Gibbs nodding. Even though the action is simple, it tells Tony more than if Gibbs used words. Gibbs has been working with Harris in his way. And Harris, he played them both all along without telling the other. Though Gibbs probably already knew Tony was helping Harris.

With his steak forgotten, Tim blinks slowly. His eyes rove between the three men. If Tony must guess, he figures Tim understands something is going on here. He might not know exactly what, but he is slowly but surely putting the pieces together.

"I didn't know you were helping with our case," Tim says.

Harris looks taken aback. "I'm not." He looks at Gibbs. "Doesn't he know?"

Gibbs pokes at the steak in the fireplace. Silent.

Tim tilts his head. "Know what?"

When the silence stretches, Gibbs looks back towards Harris. They both stare at each other as if they're waiting for the other to crack first. Tim puts his steak on the coffee table before he stands. His eyes glide between Gibbs and Harris and Tony and back again. He ends up staring at Tony.

"Look, I know I've been working on some personal things lately," Tim says. "But I deserve to know what's going on. If you aren't going to tell me, then – "

"This isn't a you thing, McGee," Tony interrupts gently. "It's more of a Rule Four thing."

Tim makes an aggravated face. "What the hell is going on?"

"Harris has been investigating Director Vance," Tony offers.

Tim's face hangs open before he snaps it closed. "Excuse me. What?"

That makes Harris flinch, but he doesn't look away from Gibbs. "I have been investigating how Director Vance handled your assault, Agent McGee. Things weren't right in his handling of Ziva David. I looked – "

"Hey," Tony interrupts. "I helped !"

Harris pushes a breath through his teeth. "I investigated Vance's dealings with the director of Mossad and found there was more there than meets the eye. A lot more."

That piques Tim's interest because he turns towards Harris. His eyebrows are raised, and his face is surprisingly open. He puts his hands on his hips. Beside the fireplace, Gibbs fishes the still raw steak out before flinging another one into the sizzling pan.

Tim leans forward. "Like what?"

Gibbs speaks up first: "Vance isn't Vance."

Tim wheels around. "What?"

Harris' mouth pinches into a deep line as he narrows his eyes at Gibbs for stealing his thunder. Tony barely bites back his laugh as he moves back towards the couch. Tim's expression looks like a little kid who just learned that Santa Claus isn't real. He desperately wants to still believe.

"How can Vance not be Vance?" Tim asks quietly.

Harris looks at Gibbs. "I assume you already spoke with Agent Fornell, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs nods quickly. "He said you'd tell me the rest."

Suddenly, Tony's stomach rumbles again. Without a second thought, he flumps onto the couch. He covertly slides Tim's steak in front of him and he begins to devour it. The scene currently playing out in Gibbs' living room is far better than the movie they planned to watch tonight. The steak is perfect, raw and oozing inside and still bloody on the outside. Tony tries to break a land speed record while eating it. He even has a show to watch with his dinner.

When he notices Tony eating, Harris wrinkles his nose. Gibbs tries to pass him the second steak, but Harris vehemently shakes his head.

"I'm a vegetarian," he says.

So, Gibbs slides the second steak towards Tony. Gibbs digs around the ashes of the fireplace before he plops a pair of charred, foil wrapped potatoes onto a plate. He hands that to Harris before the Internal Affairs agent can refuse. Harris' good brow furrows at the sight.

Tim blurts out: "Why don't you think Vance is Vance?"

When Harris hazards a glance at Tony, the senior agent shakes his head.

Harris sets his jaw, nods. "It came up during my investigation. I have reason to believe that the man you know as Vance's real name is Tyler Owens. But Tyler Owens is dead. I managed to hunt down his medical records. Leon Vance had a detached retina that caused him to be discharged from the armed forces."

He waits for a long moment as if he is trying to determine whether Gibbs will beat him to the punch again. The only noise to fill the room is the sound of Tony sawing through his second steak.

"The director of NCIS," Harris says, "has nearly perfect vision on his hiring physical. There are no notes in any of his personnel files about a detached retina or any past vision problems. A repaired detached retina would have prevented him from being hired by the agency."

That makes Tim gasp quietly. Even Tony stops eating.

Harris continues: "When I pulled Tyler Owens' autopsy report, that man had scarring evident on his retina. Scarring that was in line with a healed surgery to repair detached retina."

At that news, Gibbs perks up slightly. Tony abandons his steak. When he catches Tim's glance, the younger man's eyes are huge. He must be remembering the same thing Tony does.

"And there's more," Harris continues. "There was a note in his Tyler Owens' autopsy report that he had high levels of a sedative in his system. However, it was never investigated because the death was ruled an overdose. The case was pushed aside."

When Harris looks at Tim meaningfully, the remaining color drains from the younger man's face. Tim rubs at the back of his neck. His shoulders heave with a world-weary sigh.

"Wasn't that the case where you and Ziva went to Chicago?" Tony asks. "It was years ago now."

Tim nods. "Yeah, Ziva and I investigated Tyler Owens' death. Director Vance told Ziva and me that his friend had a drug problem." He remains quiet for a long moment before he licks his lips. "Director Vance didn't want the news about his friend getting out. Since the ME thought Owens died from an overdose, we kept it as quiet as we could. I thought we were doing Tyler Owens a favor."

Harris smiles humorlessly. "You were, Agent McGee. Just not in the way you think."

Tony pushes his steak aside. "Are you saying that Leon Vance killed…Leon Vance?"

Harris laughs. "No, I'm saying that Tyler Owens killed Leon Vance."

"But Director Vance was still at the Navy Yard when we left," Tim says.

Harris waggles his hands out. "That man, I believe is Tyler Owens. I suspect Leon Vance and Tyler Owens switched places at some point. Think like The Parent Trap but without them being actual twins or Lindsay Lohan and – "

Tony makes a strangling noise.

"What?" Harris asks.

"Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap," Tony says. "Seriously? That role only ever belonged to Hayley Mills."

Harris looks at him blankly. "I haven't seen that one yet."

Tony chokes on air again. "We're watching that one next."

"Fine." Harris' good eye narrows at Tony. "It's like I was saying. Leon Vance and Tyler Owens switched places at some point in time. Leon Vance remained in Chicago to live his life as Tyler Owens while the real Tyler Owens climbed the ranks at NCIS until he became director. At some point, I suspect Vance grew tired of seeing where Owens had taken his life. When Owens confronted Vance, I believe Owens had the real Vance killed. Possibly with some help from Mossad. And by doing so, Tyler Owens was able to keep his life as the Director of NCIS and the man you all know as Leon Vance."

The ensuing silence is deafening as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Gibbs sits on the floor beside the fireplace, steak on a plate in his lap. Tim crosses his arms before collapsing onto the couch next to Tony, who just stares at Harris. If he has to admit it, the whole thing makes Tony's brain ache. It's more convoluted than the plot to some of his movies.

Tony breaks the silence first. "And that's why Vance kept helping Ziva? Because she knows his secret?"

Harris clips a nod. "I suspect her father aided Tyler Owens in disposing of the real Leon Vance. And by extension, Ziva was granted nearly a free rein in the agency."

Beside Tony, Tim groans and buries his head into his hands. That makes Gibbs' face twist with anger. He lumbers to his feet as if he could run back to the Navy Yard and arrest the director.

"Fornell didn't tell me this." Gibbs nearly spits the words. "Why haven't they arrested him yet?"

Harris grimaces. "We're still waiting for the DNA confirmation."

Tony's eyes widen. "You were able to exhume Tyler Owens' body?"

Harris waggles his head. "Well, the FBI was. Tyler Owens' mother believes her son is still alive. When I spoke with her, she was more than willing to sign the paperwork to exhume the body because she doesn't believe it's her son in that coffin."

"But that'll only show that the body doesn't belong to her son." Tony scratches at his chin. "Won't you need something else to prove the director isn't Leon Vance?"

"The FBI recently came into possession of a water bottle used by the director."

When Harris' good eye skirts back to a surprisingly quiet Gibbs, the gesture tells Tony everything that he needed to know. Gibbs stole a piece of the director's trash and it'll be used to prove his downfall. If Tony had any doubt that Gibbs was helping Harris—which he didn't—it is gone now.

Leaning back on the sofa, Tony exhales loudly. "And you're here because you think that it'll show the Director of NCIS is really Tyler Owens."

That leaves Harris nodding.

Tony continues: "And you think the Director of NCIS had a hand in the possible murder the man who is really Leon Vance."

That makes Harris' expression turn grim. "Agent Fornell requested my presence during the arrest. I'm not sure why he wants me there, but he expects it to happen within the next few days. Once we hear back from the DNA test, we should be good to go."

Tim runs his hands through his hair as if he can't believe a word he heard. He stares at somewhere in the middle distance with a shell-shocked face. Even Tony is slack-jawed. He might not have anything to say, but there is a perfectly good steak that is waiting for him to eat it. He dives back into his second steak.

"Nice work, Harris," Gibbs says.

Harris sets his jaw. "Thank you, sir. I should be – "

"Eating." Gibbs glares at the plate of untouched potatoes on the coffee table.

When Harris shoots Tony a confused look, the senior agent holds up his fork and shoves a piece of steak into his mouth. Harris should know what eating looks like. Beside him, Tim is trying to pretend that he already ate the steak off the empty plate in front of him.

"I'll give you a ride back to Chuck's place when we're done." Tony's mouth is full of steak. "But first, we're going to watch Red River."

Harris' good eyebrow jumps. "Oh, wow! That's one of John Wayne's movies I haven't seen yet."

"Then you're in luck," Tony says. "It's one of my favorites."

After Gibbs heaves himself off the floor, he brings his plate full of steak and potatoes with him. Harris remains awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room. Gibbs takes the plate with potatoes on it from the coffee table and shaves it into Harris' hands.

"Sit," he orders.

And that sends Harris tripping over his feet to the couch. He ends up squeezing beside Tony into a space that's too small for him. As he stares at the plate like he doesn't know what to do with it, Tim passes him an unused fork. Harris mutters his thanks.

Gibbs heads into the kitchen for a moment. When he returns, he has his dinner plate, a coffee mug, and a plastic bag under his arm. Then, Gibbs pauses by the television to start the VCR.

"Wow, VHS." Harris whistles. "Talk about old school."

That earns him a glare, but Harris doesn't back down. Tim chuckles because he is usually the one on the receiving end. When Gibbs heads towards an old armchair, he tosses the plastic bag into Harris' lap. Harris picks it up, confused. He shows it to Tony as discreetly as he can. It's a bag of turkey jerky.

"Does he know this is meat?" Harris whispers.

Tony shrugs with one shoulder. "I'm honestly not sure."

"I'll take that, Agent Harris." Tim smiles. "Thanks."

Tim leans over to snatch the bag from Harris' hands. Then, he gnaws at a piece with gusto. Tony doesn't have the heart to tell him that it's probably expired because Gibbs reasons that jerky can't go bad. And while he might be right, Tony never wanted to test the theory.

When the grainy movie starts on Gibbs' old black and white television, Tony taps his fork against the last bits of steak floating around the blood on his plate. It clink, clink, clinks.

"'There's three times in a man's life," Tony quotes, "'when he has a right to yell at the moon. When he marries, when his children come and…and when he finishes a job he had to be crazy to start.'"

Gibbs looks over at him. "You aren't a wolf, DiNozzo."

Tony releases a low howling noise anyway. Everyone is staring at him like he's lost his mind. Instead of stopping, Tony doubles down with a howl that slowly builds in intensity. Tim is throwing him a curious glance while Harris grins at Tony's antics. When Harris releases his own howl, Tony laughs and matches it. While Harris and Tony howl at each other, Tim leans deeper into the couch as though he could disappear into the cushions.

Gibbs just shakes his head. "This place is going to the dogs."