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Smiling widely, Tony stopped in front of Gibbs' desk. "Caramel popcorn and It's A Wonderful Life in MTAC, Boss."
"I don't want to watch your stupid movie, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped, shrugging into his coat.
"Of course, Boss," Tony said in a subdued voice, his smile completely fading.
Seeing the hurt in Tony's eyes, Gibbs sighed silently. "I'm just not in the Christmas spirit this year, Tony."
"No problem, Boss. Sorry to have bothered you." Tony turned and walked away, muttering, "Don't know why I thought this year would be different than any other."
Gibbs ran a hand over his face before heading to the elevator, wondering how much longer he could keep doing this. It was becoming more difficult every day.
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Gibbs took a sip of bourbon before opening the box where he kept his heart. Pulling out the pictures, he began looking through them, memories of Shannon and Kelly filling his mind.
"I miss you guys," he said softly, running a finger over a picture of them in front of the Washington Monument.
The bourbon in his glass slowly disappeared as he worked his way through the photos and memories. It was when he came to the last photo that he stopped, his heart filling with want but his mind filling with betrayal.
It was the photo he'd taken out of Tony's hands a few weeks ago, the black and white boarding school picture of Tony in his awkward, geeky phase. He had other pictures of Tony taken throughout the years they'd worked together, but this one, with the helmet-head hair and the glasses, was so endearing that it was the one stowed away with his memories.
Women had come and gone since Shannon had died. He'd even married three of them. But Tony had managed to do what none of them had managed, and he hadn't even been trying. Somehow Tony had found a part of his heart that wasn't hardened and closed off.
And that was the problem. How could there be room for anyone in his heart other than Shannon? He'd never been the kind of man who believed it was possible to love two people at the same time, yet he couldn't deny what he felt for his senior field agent. And that, to him, felt like betrayal of Shannon and their life together.
Putting the pictures back in the box, he scrubbed both hands over his face, then finished his bourbon before lying down on his lonely bed on the sofa.
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It wasn't a noise that woke Gibbs so much as a smell. There was the distinct odor of cigarette smoke in the air. Stealthily sliding his hand behind the sofa cushion, he grasped his gun, then quickly sat up, pointing it at the shadowy figure standing in front of the dormant fireplace.
"Lower your weapon, Probie. Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"Mike?" Gibbs questioned incredulously when he heard the rough voice.
"Who the hell else would it be?"
Gibbs gripped his gun tighter and said coldly, "Mike Franks is dead."
"Death is just another state of consciousness."
Gibbs' eyes widened when the fireplace suddenly blazed to life, illuminating the figure standing in front of it. It was, indeed, Mike Franks, cigarette in hand.
"Mike? How is this possible? You're dead. You died in my arms." Gibbs lowered the gun finally.
"I've got what you might call a day-pass, Probie."
"A day-pass, Mike? Why?"
Mike moved closer, sitting down on the coffee table facing Gibbs. "I'm here to act as your guide."
"My guide to what exactly?"
"Your life, Probie," Mike said, putting his hand on top of the box of pictures. "You're gonna have three more visitors tonight, one to show you the past, one to show you the present, and one to show you the future."
Shaking his head as if to clear it, Gibbs said, "I obviously had too much bourbon. Why else would I be hallucinating about one of DiNozzo's movies?"
"Pay attention, Probie," Mike said, smacking him on the back of the head. "I'm no hallucination."
"Damn," Gibbs muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "That's a hell of a smack for a ghost."
"You need more than a smack to the back of the head. You need a kick in the ass, too." Mike stood and walked back towards the fireplace. "You've messed up your life, Jethro. Listen to what your visitors have to say, or you'll die a lonely, bitter old man."
As suddenly as they had appeared, both Mike and the fire were gone. Gibbs looked around. There was no sign of Mike, only a faint lingering odor of cigarette smoke on the air.
Putting his gun back in place, he laid back down and pulled the blanket over him. "No more bourbon before bed."
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"Wake up, Daddy, wake up!"
"Kelly?" Gibbs questioned groggily, opening his eyes to find his daughter looming over him, impish grin on her face. He noticed the fire in the fireplace was once again blazing, picking out red highlights in her brown hair.
"It's Christmas Eve, Daddy, and I have something to show you."
Gibbs got to his feet, resting his hand on the top of his daughter's head, amazed a dream could feel so real.
"I'm not a dream, Daddy."
"You're...one of the visitors Mike said would come?"
"Yes, Daddy. I'm here to show you the past." She took his hand and tugged him towards the fireplace, setting down cross-legged on the braided rug and pulling him down beside her.
"I know the past, Princess. You, me, your mom, we were a family, and we were happy."
"Yes, Daddy, we were." Pulling her sketchbook onto her lap, she said, "Look, Daddy."
Looking down, he saw an amazingly rendered drawing of himself in the basement, putting together a pink bicycle for Kelly's sixth Christmas. As he watched, the drawing came to life and he saw himself working on the bike.
"Let's go, Daddy," Kelly said, holding out her hand.
"Go?" he questioned as he enveloped her small hand in his larger calloused one. "Where are we going?"
Once again, she graced him with that impish smile. "You'll see."
"Kelly!" he called in a panic, clasping her hand tightly as they were sucked into the drawing.
Suddenly he found himself in the basement, next to the first boat he'd ever built, the one his girls had helped with. On the other side was his younger self, whistling Christmas carols as he assembled the bicycle, oblivious to the two standing across from him.
As he watched, the bike was finished, his younger self hefting it over his shoulder and trotting up the stairs. And suddenly he and Kelly were in the living room just in time to see the gleaming pink bike put in front of the merrily decorated Christmas tree with lots of twinkling lights.
"She's going to love it, Jethro."
"Shannon," Gibbs breathed.
As he watched she emerged from the kitchen, gleaming red hair streaming over her shoulders. His younger self swept her into his arms, hugging her close and placing a kiss on her temple.
"I wish it was more."
Shannon leaned back in his embrace so she could see his eyes. "Jethro Gibbs, how can you say that? The only thing Kelly asked Santa for was for her Daddy to come home for Christmas. You're the best present we could have ever gotten."
A lump formed in Gibbs' throat as he watched them kiss, then curl up on the sofa with a bowl of caramel popcorn, feeding each other and sharing sticky sweet kisses as they watched It's A Wonderful Life.
"You loved that movie, Daddy. Why won't you watch it anymore? Tony asks you every year."
"Because that was what I did with your Mom. It wouldn't seem right to watch it with someone else, Princess."
"But you hurt Tony, Daddy. Is that right?"
Gibbs shook his head. "It's complicated."
Kelly harrumphed. "That's a word adults use when they don't want to talk about something."
Gibbs couldn't help but smile. His daughter had always been precocious.
Kelly tugged on his hand. "Come on, Daddy, we have one more thing to see before you have to be back."
She squeezed his hand, and he felt like he was flying, even though he hadn't moved from that same spot. The difference was that it was Christmas morning and Kelly was leading him and Shannon downstairs, dropping their hands and squealing when she saw the bike.
His younger self and Shannon laughed as she climbed on the bicycle and began making motorcycle sounds. Soon they were all three sitting on the floor in front of the tree, opening their meager presents, dispensing hugs to one another and sticking bows on each other. They hadn't had a lot, but their love of each other and enjoyment of the season had made up for that.
"Where did your Christmas spirit go, Daddy?"
"It died with you and your Mom," he answered huskily.
"But it didn't, Daddy. Mommy and I still live in your heart, and so does your Christmas spirit. You just have to find a reason to let it out."
As quickly as it had begun, it was over. His vision of Christmas past was gone, along with Kelly. But Mike was there, propped against the fireplace, wearing a white suit and a necktie that spelled out MERRY CHRISTMAS in blinking lights.
Striding across the room, he wrapped his hands in the lapels of Mike's jacket and jerked him upright, getting in his face.
"Why, Mike? Why her? How could you do that? You know what my daughter meant to me."
"It's not my call, Jethro. The Powers That Be decide what you need and who needs to show it to you."
Gibbs growled and shoved Franks away. "I don't need any of this. All I need is to be left alone."
"So you can stew in your misery, living a solitary life, pushing everyone away until you're truly alone?"
"Yes," Gibbs hissed. "I had my chance at happiness, and I lost it."
"The role of martyr doesn't suit you, Probie." Mike straightened up, brushing the wrinkles out of his lapels where Gibbs had grabbed him. "You better buckle up, Marine. You've got two more visitors, and it 's going to be a bumpy ride."
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He hadn't meant to go to sleep, not wanting to continue this weird, painful dream, but his body took over and he was soon dozing.
It was the sound of Joy To The World being melodically, softly sung that woke him.
"Shannon?"
"Merry Christmas, Jethro."
Gibbs sat up, blinking against the sudden moisture in his eyes. "Shannon." She was so beautiful in the glowing firelight.
"Time to get up, Sleepyhead. We need to go."
He grasped her extended hand and stood, wondering how the hand of a ghost could feel so soft and warm. "You're beautiful, Shannon. Just like the last time I saw you."
"Oh, Jethro," she said softly, smiling gently. "Of course I look the same. I'll never grow older."
"It shouldn't be that way. We should be growing old together, spoiling our grandkids. It isn't fair that I lost you so soon."
Shannon brushed her fingers over his cheek. "Life is rarely fair, Jethro. What isn't right is that you buried your heart with Kelly and I. You have too much love in your heart to wall it off the way you have. There are people who need you. People you need."
"You and Kelly were the only ones I ever needed."
Tugging on his hand, she said, "Let's go. My time here is growing short, and there's something I need you to see."
She led him through the living room into the kitchen, but when he crossed the threshold, he found himself outside DiNozzo's apartment, and his hand unconsciously tightened on hers.
"Why are we here?"
"Because this is where you need to be, Jethro."
"Why?"
"Because you need him, and he needs you." Still holding his hand, Shannon led him to the window. "Look at him, Jethro. See how Tony spends his Christmas."
"I don't need to see DiNozzo and his latest flavor of the week," he said harshly.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because it's DiNozzo. He's always got some woman on the hook."
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Shannon said sternly. "Don't you have a rule about assuming?"
Gibbs had the good grace to be abashed at her scolding.
"Things are not always as they seem, Jethro. Just look," she prompted, sweeping her hand in front of the windows and parting the curtains.
He didn't want to look, didn't want to see Tony and some anonymous woman, but he couldn't seem to help himself. But what he saw was nothing like what he expected.
Knowing Tony's love of Christmas, he expected the apartment to be decked out for the season, but that wasn't the case. The only tree was a small one on the dining table, it's branches drooping from the decorations. It reminded him of the sad little tree in A Charlie Brown Christmas, one of the cartoons Kelly had made him watch every Christmas.
There were a few presents under the tree, but there was one, a small box wrapped in blue and silver, that held Tony's attention. He ran a finger over the name tag, then picked it up and put it in the sideboard drawer, his expression sad.
"What's with the present?" Gibbs asked.
"That's for the person he loves. Every Christmas for the last four years he's brought that present out, hoping for a sign that it's the right time to give it, but every year he's rebuffed and he puts it back in hiding, along with his feelings."
Gibbs' gut clenched. He didn't want to ask, wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but the words were out before he could stop them.
"Who is it for?"
Shannon looked at him and smiled gently. "Who do you think, Jethro?"
Gibbs shook his head, refusing to answer.
"Look at him, Jethro."
Tony had gone into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, pulling out leftover Chinese and a beer. After putting the carton of Chinese food in the microwave to heat, he opened the beer and took a sip, staring into space until the microwave dinged.
Taking the reheated food and beer into the living room, he sat down on the sofa to eat. Pointing the remote at the widescreen TV, he turned it on and flipped through the channels until he found Home Alone. Gone was the cheerful mask he wore at work. Even through the window, Gibbs could see he looked lonely.
"Why isn't he out with a girl or at a party?"
"Because that's not who he is anymore. He's looking for a relationship, something lasting."
"Wendy..."
"He tried that again, but his feelings for someone else got in the way."
Gibbs shook his head, negating her implications. "Why are you showing me this, Shannon?"
She grasped his arm, turning him to face her. "You know why, Jethro. That young man needs you, and you need him."
"No."
"Yes, Jethro. He loves you, Jethro, and I think you know that. I know you love him."
"No!"
"Why are you fighting this so hard, Jethro?"
"It's not right, Shannon."
"Why?"
"Because I love you," he blurted out. "It's not possible to love two people at once."
"Oh, Jethro," Shannon said softly, cupping his face in her hands. "Of course you love me. That will never change. But I'm gone now, and you still have a lot of love to give. Love for Tony."
"I can't, Shannon," he whispered brokenly. "I feel like I'm betraying you."
"But you aren't, Jethro. Loving Tony doesn't mean you love me any less. Think about how you feel about Kelly and Abby."
"What?"
"Kelly was your daughter. You loved her. You love her still. But then you met Abby, and over the years you began to love her like a daughter. You had room in your heart for Abby, even though Kelly is still there."
"It's not the same, Shannon."
"Yes, Jethro, it is. You didn't replace Kelly with Abby. You merely made room for both. Our time together was short, but it was wonderful. You have the chance to have that again. Tony is the first person to make you truly happy in a long time, and he understands you and your job in a way none of your ex-wives ever could."
Gibbs flushed at the mention of his ex-wives.
"I don't understand. How can you want me to love someone else?" he asked in confusion. "How can you want me to love a man?"
"It's because I love you that I want you to move on. It's the love that matters, not the gender. It hurts me seeing you so sad and lonely, seeing Tony so sad and lonely. You two need each other."
Gibbs shook his head. "No, Shannon, no."
Shannon ran the backs of her fingers down the side of his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. When he opened his eyes again, he realized they were back in his living room, standing in front of the fireplace, and he knew his time with Shannon was nearly over.
"Remember what I've said tonight, Jethro. You have to let go of the past so that you can move on to what you need. I will always be in your heart, but so will Tony, and he would never expect you to stop loving me. He doesn't want my place in your heart, he wants his own. And it's there, Jethro. You just keep it so tightly locked and hidden that it's going to end up breaking your heart if you don't let it out. And it won't just be your heart broken, Jethro. Tony's heart will be broken, too, and he will never know what it's like to be loved. Let me go, Jethro, and move on with your life. You owe it to yourself, and you owe it to Tony."
"Shannon!" Gibbs called as she began to fade, reaching out for her, but it was too late, she was already gone.
Gibbs lowered his head, not even flinching when a hand grasped his shoulder.
"Damn you, Mike," he whispered hoarsely.
"I'm sorry, Probie. I know it hurts seeing her again, but you need to listen to what she said. She's a smart woman, and she knows what's best for you."
"Just go, Mike, leave me alone," Gibbs said tiredly.
"All right, Jethro, I'll go," Mike said, squeezing his shoulder. "You'll have one more visitor, and then you've got some thinking to do."
Mike disappeared once more, along with the fire. Gibbs laid down on the couch, pulling the blanket over him and curling into a ball. He tried to blank his mind completely, but he wasn't quite successful. All he could see in his mind as he drifted off to sleep was the hurt and disappointment on Tony's face earlier and then the sadness of his lonely Christmas Eve.
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Gibbs awoke to a noise that sounded suspiciously like chains. The figure standing in front of the fireplace was shadowy, but he could tell it was feminine. There was only one other visitor he thought of they could send.
"Mom?" he questioned, sitting up.
"No, Jethro, it's me."
"Jenny? Why would they send you?"
"Because of all those who have passed from your life, I'm the one who knows the most about regret."
Once more the fireplace flared to life, and he could see Jenny clearly. What he saw confused him. He really had heard chains because heavy ones were draped around her neck and attached at both ankles and wrists.
"I always knew you had a flare for the dramatic, but chains, Jen?"
"Not my choice, Jethro." She moved forward, dragging the heavy chains behind her. "I learned the hard way, what you sew in life, you reap in the afterlife."
"So, what, you're having to work off your sins?"
"No, Jethro. There is no Purgatory, no Limbo, only Heaven and Hell, and no chance to cross over after death."
"And what did you do that was so wrong, Jen?"
"I hurt people, Jethro. I was obsessed with La Grenouille, and it made me bitter. I didn't care who I hurt in my quest to bring him down. You, Tony, Jeanne. I killed him, Jethro. I killed him in cold blood and lied about it, destroying Jeanne's life and nearly Tony's, and I didn't care."
"I know, Jen," he said softly.
"Obsession, bitterness, pushing people away, hurting them. If you're not careful, Jethro, you'll end up like me. Let me show you what your future holds if you don't change."
"I'd rather not."
"You don't have a choice."
Gibbs gasped when she grasped his arm. Her touch was icy cold, so cold it paradoxically felt like it was burning him. Her fingers dug tightly into his flesh, and he suddenly found himself in a whirlwind, unstable and tossed about. Not that he would admit it, but he was a bit dizzy when they reached their destination.
"Why did you bother bringing me here, Jen? I've killed in cold blood, too."
"Yes, Jethro, you have. You killed Pedro Hernandez, the man responsible for the death of your wife and daughter."
"If I'm doomed to Hell, then why all this?" he questioned, sweeping his arm out in front of him.
"Because it's not too late for you. Yes, you killed him, but you didn't use other people in your quest for vengeance. You didn't lie when the truth came out. You wouldn't let Abby cover it up. Had it not been for the unasked for intervention of M Allison Hart, you would have faced whatever punishment was meted out."
"I never wanted anyone else to pay for my sins."
"But you've turned your anger inward, you've become bitter. You hurt people, Jethro, sometimes deliberately, sometimes without meaning to, but you do hurt them. It's not too late to change, though."
"What if I don't want to change?"
"Then it's the people who love you who will suffer the most."
Gibbs opened his mouth as if to speak, but he stopped when a light came on and he realized they were in Abby's lab. Abby herself sat on the floor in the corner, arms wrapped around her legs, face buried against her knees. It was obvious she was crying.
"Abby!" McGee exclaimed, finally spotting her and hurrying over to her. "What are you doing here? We have to go."
"I'm not going," she said between watery sniffles.
"You're not going? But, Abby..." McGee was clearly at a loss for words.
"I can't, Timmy. How can I pay my respects to someone I lost all respect for?"
"Oh, Abby," McGee said softly, sitting down beside her and taking her shaking body into his arms.
"Why, McGee, why?" she sobbed, burying her mascara-streaked face against his neck. "And how can I hate someone and love them at the same time?"
"I don't know, Abs," McGee said softly, stroking her hair.
"I don't think I can ever trust anyone again."
Seeing her that way, Gibbs swallowed heavily. "Who?" he asked. "Who is she talking about?"
But rather than answer, Jenny took his arm and again swept him into the vortex, her chains rattling loudly. When they landed they were in a room he didn't recognize. An old man sat at the window, looking out. Gibbs couldn't see his face, but something about him seemed familiar.
"Who is that?"
But even as he asked the question, the door opened, and in walked Jimmy Palmer, a touch of gray in his hair, and beside him a very pregnant Breena.
The man at the window turned his head towards the visitors, and Gibbs gasped. Ducky had always worn his age well, always spry and appearing younger than his years, but this man looked old and downtrodden.
"Ah, Mr Palmer and the lovely Breena. How nice of you to visit me."
Jimmy squatted down in front of Ducky and took hold of his hands. "I thought you might like to go to the cemetery to say your goodbyes."
Ducky squeezed the hands holding his and there were clearly tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Mr Palmer, but there is no need. Our goodbyes were said a long time ago and under some less than perfect circumstances."
"I'm sorry, Dr Mallard."
"No need for you to be sorry, Mr Palmer. Some people would rather push their friends away than listen to the truth. It was, perhaps, a case of tough love gone wrong."
Palmer's mouth tightened and his eyes hardened behind his glasses. "But to have not visited you even once after you were hurt."
It was then that Gibbs noticed Ducky was in a wheelchair.
"That's so selfish," Palmer continued.
Ducky smiled sadly. "Obviously I was mistaken in the depth of our friendship."
"What happened to Ducky?" Gibbs asked, then jerked his arm away when Jenny grabbed it in her cold hand. "What happened to Ducky?" he snarled at her.
"We have to go, Jethro," she said, ignoring his question and grasping his arm again. "We have one more stop before the night is over."
This time their destination was a cemetery where a lone black-clad figure stood next to a freshly dug grave. He had no trouble recognizing DiNozzo, and his chest unconsciously tightened at the sight of his slumped shoulders and tired posture.
"Tony," he whispered. "Who is he mourning?"
As he watched, another figure approached, and he recognized a pissed-off Ziva. Stopping two feet from Tony, she glanced at the casket, and her expression became even tighter.
"Why are you here, Tony?" she asked harshly.
"Someone had to be here, Ziva," Tony answered, turning towards her.
Gibbs was taken aback by the grief on the other man's face. The red-rimmed, sorrow-filled eyes told him that whoever this was, Tony had cared for them deeply.
"My God," she said incredulously. "After all the pain, all the humiliation, you are still in love."
Tony didn't deny it.
"I guess I should not be surprised. Even after all these years I still hear whose name you sigh in your sleep."
"I'm sorry, Ziva."
"Should I take your weapon? You confessed once when you were drunk that you had nearly ended it all."
"No!" Gibbs said in horror. Tony was the last person he would ever think of contemplating suicide.
Tony shook his head. "I would never do that to Antonia."
"At least you have room for your daughter in your heart." Ziva closed her eyes momentarily. "Say your goodbyes, Tony, grieve for your unrequited love, but then you come home to your family. Perhaps now you can be a real husband to me."
With that edict Ziva tossed her hair and stalked away, leaving Tony with the grave that had yet to be filled in. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he surreptitiously wiped the tears from his eyes.
"I loved you, you know," he murmured, looking into the grave where the casket resided. "I would have done anything for you, but all you ever did was push me away. Other than Jeanne, you were the only one I ever loved, but right now I think I hate you for leaving me."
Bending down, Tony picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over the casket before walking away.
Gibbs' tongue felt too thick for his mouth, but he managed to ask, "Who is it? Who is in the grave?" But he was afraid he already knew.
Jenny said nothing, merely inclined her head towards the two workers with shovels who began to fill the grave.
"Poor man," one of them said. "No flowers, and that one guy was the only one who showed up for the service."
"Must not have been very well-liked."
"I heard he was a real bastard to work for."
"Yeah? What'd he do?"
"Navy cop. Some agency called NCIS."
They finished filling the grave, patting down the dirt with their shovels. One of them bent down to place the temporary marker.
"Rest in peace, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. At least one person will miss you."
Gibbs was shaking his head as Jenny returned him to his living room.
"What you showed me. Is that my future?"
"One of many possibilities. It's really up to you, Jethro. Choose your path wisely."
With those words Jenny was gone, along with the fire in the fireplace. Gibbs sank down on the sofa, still not sure he wasn't dreaming.
Could it have been real? Could he have really seen them, those four ghosts from his past? It had all seemed so real, and he could swear he still caught a lingering scent of Mike Franks' cigarette. Kelly and Shannon had seemed so warm, while Jenny's touch had been cold as ice.
It wasn't the first time he'd dreamt about Shannon. Nor was it the first time she'd told him to let her go, to move on with his life. But none of those dreams had seemed as real as this one.
"Hell, Probie, you still think this has all been a dream?" Mike asked in exasperation from his position in front of the roaring fire. This time he was wearing khaki shorts with a blue Hawaiian shirt, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette.
"Damn it, Mike, what does this all mean?"
"You have a choice, Jethro. You can continue as you are, letting your life play out to this possible conclusion, or you can change it. Only you can make that decision."
"Tell me one thing, Mike," Gibbs said anxiously. "What Ziva said about Tony, is it true? Will he think about suicide?"
"Jethro, you should know nearly everyone has the capacity to at least contemplate it at one point in their life. You thought about it right after your family was killed."
"But Tony isn't like me. He's always been so full of life, always able to bounce back."
Mike set his beer on the fireplace mantle, then used the butt in his hand to light another cigarette, throwing the old butt into the fireplace. "Everyone can be pushed too far." He pointed the hand holding the cigarette in Gibbs' direction. "The trick is finding something to live for."
Gibbs pressed one hand against his eyes, not wanting to even think about a world without one Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. He looked up again, wanting to ask Mike another question, but his former mentor was gone.
"Typical," he said with a sigh.
Unwilling to believe this whole night had been anything more than an alcohol-induced dream, he laid back down on the couch, pulling the blanket over his head.
Being Christmas Eve, it was only natural his dreams would once again center around the holiday and him being happy and in love. This was different, though, and even sleeping he knew that.
This wasn't his younger self reliving Christmases spent with Shannon and Kelly. He was older, his hair completely silver and no longer cut Marine-short. Sitting in front of a fire burning cheerfully in the fireplace, he held a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket with white skulls on it, and he was smiling at the golden-haired, chubby-cheeked cherub who was gurgling happily, hands waving in the air.
"Do you want me to take her, Boss?"
"No, that's okay, Abby. I don't get to spend enough time with our goddaughter."
"Well, that will change now that you've officially retired," Tony said as he entered the room from the kitchen. Sitting down next to Gibbs, he leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Boss."
Turning his head, Gibbs caught his lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. "Merry Christmas, Tony."
Tony's smile lit up his green eyes. Stealing another quick kiss, he then leaned over the tiny baby in Gibbs' arms. "And how is our little Caitlin?" he asked, placing a soft kiss on his goddaughter's forehead, then drawing back in shock when her tiny fist connected with his nose.
Everyone laughed as Tony comically wiggled his nose around as if testing it for working order.
"That's Daddy's girl," MeGee said proudly, wrapping his arms around Abby's waist from behind.
"You certainly named her well," Tony said, touching the tip of her nose with a finger. "I think she really is Kate reincarnated."
Abby smiled. "I like to think she is."
"I wish I could have known her, Junior," Senior said from in front of the brightly but tastefully decorated tree where he stood with his arm wrapped around his wife of a year. "I do apologize for not being able to give you what you needed before. Sometimes it takes us stubborn old fools a long time to realize what is important."
"I know, Dad. The important thing is that you're here now, that we're finally a family."
Gibbs blinked against a suspicious moisture in his eyes as he looked around at all the people around him. "I was so lost in my self-pity over losing Shannon and Kelly that I never realized I had another family around me, loving me."
"We all make mistakes, Son," Jackson said from his place on Gibbs' other side, squeezing his son's shoulder. "The important thing is that we get it right before it's too late."
"Very well put," Ducky said, taking his wife's hand and kissing the back of it as he smiled into her eyes. "Had I not realized that myself, I would have missed out on experiencing my twilight years with my lovely Jordan."
Dr Jordan Hampton-Mallard patted his cheek gently. "I had faith in you, Donnie."
"Just do me a favor, Dad," Tony said, eying his step-mother. "Don't let Mom teach my little brother or sister English."
Ziva's dark eyes sparkled as she rubbed her gently rounded stomach. "I will have more important things to teach my child. Like how to kill a person twenty-three different ways with a paperclip."
Tony grinned. "Learned a few new ways, have you?"
Before she could answer, the front door opened, admitting two five-year-old whirlwinds, followed by Jimmy and Breena Palmer. The blond-haired boys ran straight for the living room, heading for Tony.
"Uncle Tony! Uncle Tony!"
Tony held up his hands, exclaiming in mock horror, "Run for your lives, the Twin Terrors are on the loose!"
Knowing what was next, Gibbs quickly handed baby Caitlin back to Abby just as the twin boys jumped on Tony, each of them grabbing him around the neck. Tony's arms wrapped around them, hugging them close until they began squirming to get down. They didn't go far, however, standing in front of Tony, their little bodies vibrating with energy.
"Can we play football, Uncle Tony?"
"And basketball?"
"Please?"
"Please?"
Tony ruffled their hair. "After we eat and open our presents."
"All right!" they yelled in unison, streaking off to grab Jimmy around his legs. "Daddy, Daddy, Uncle Tony is going to play with us!"
"I heard," Jimmy said, wincing a bit at the volume of their voices. "Your Uncle Tony is a good guy."
"Who relates well to five-year-olds," Ziva said slyly.
"Yes, I do," Tony said, not minding the dig in the least. He adored little Tony and Ed. And he always found it amusing that two people who worked with the dead had produced such lively, rambunctious offspring.
Gibbs looked around, realizing that even though Jack was the only one he was related to by blood, this really was his family, and they had filled a spot in his heart he thought had died with Shannon and Kelly.
Thank you, Shannon, he said silently, for telling me to move on.
You're welcome, my love, he heard like a sigh on the wind, and a smile titled his lips.
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Gibbs awoke with a gasp, bolting upright, the early morning light filtering in through the window, painting the room in a soft glow, making it evident he was alone.
"A dream," he muttered, sitting up on the side of the sofa. "It was only a dream."
But it had all seemed so real. He could still feel the warmth of Shannon's and Kelly's touch and the coldness of Jenny's. He could still smell Mike's cigarettes, and it wasn't the stale odor of long ago. Besides, he had never let Mike smoke in the house.
So why, then, was there a cigarette butt in the fireplace?
"What the hell?" he muttered, looking closer.
Yes, there really was a cigarette butt in the fireplace. Not only that but there was also a beer bottle on the mantle, and it was Mike's brand, not what he currently had in his refrigerator.
Gibbs thought his heart would burst out of his chest it was beating so hard. It had been real! There was the physical evidence in front of him. He really had been visited by ghosts from his past.
But what about the future? Could it possibly be what he'd dreamt? If what he'd been shown was true, then the future happiness of everyone he cared about depended on how he treated them now.
Could he do it? Could he open himself up that way? Opening yourself emotionally to other people left you open for hurt. But wasn't he hurting now? Hadn't Shannon been visiting him in his dreams for years, urging him to move on with his life? Deep down he'd always known Shannon would not have wanted him to bury his heart with her.
He'd thought he had buried his heart with her, but instead it had merely been walled up, and three women had been hurt in their attempts to breach those walls. No one had managed to scale those walls until he'd met a brash young detective in Baltimore.
Tony was definitely one of a kind, and maybe, just maybe, that was why he'd succeeded where the three ex-wives had failed. Not being a pale imitation of Shannon, Tony had managed a sneak attack on a heart he'd thought long-dead. He really did love Tony, and if there was even a remote chance that he might have a future with the younger man, then he had to reach out and take it.
Just the thought of it made him shaky, but he was tired of being alone. It was time to reach out for what he wanted.
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Gibbs stood outside the door to Tony's apartment, finger hesitating each time it got near the doorbell, as if he was expecting an electrical shock from touching it. In his other hand was a large red and gold gift bag. In the bag was a piece he'd made a couple of years ago specifically with Tony in mind, but he'd never thought the time right to give it to him.
Now the time was here.
"Suck it up, Marine," he muttered under his breath, stabbing the doorbell sharply. He couldn't help but smile when Tony answered the door dressed in OSU sweats, his hair sticking up in tufts, his eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep.
Tony's eyes widened. "Boss! Did we get a case?"
"No, I, uh..." Gibbs cleared his throat and held up the bag. "I just came by to say Merry Christmas, and I'd hoped we could talk."
Tony was clearly confused, but he held the door open. Gibbs entered the apartment, setting the gift bag on the dining table. He wasn't even surprised to see it was the same little tree he'd seen when Shannon had brought him here. The cigarette butt and beer bottle had been proof positive that what he'd experienced had been real.
His nose suddenly twitched. "Do I smell coffee?"
Tony grinned. "I bet you could sniff out coffee in a perfume factory."
"It's a gift."
Tony snorted. "More like a junkie looking for his next fix."
"That, too."
Tony's expression said he clearly wanted to ask questions, but he refrained. "Come on, Boss, and I'll pour you some coffee. I was just going to make an omelet, if you're interested."
"Sounds good."
Tony was momentarily taken aback by Gibbs' smile. He stared at the older man until he finally remembered how to blink. "There's a closet in the hallway if you want to hang up your coat."
"Thanks."
Gibbs turned towards the hallway, and that seemed to release Tony from the spell he was under. Shaking his head ruefully, he went back to the kitchen and poured two mugs of coffee, black for Gibbs and with sugar and hazelnut creamer for himself.
Lifting the steaming mug to his lips, he closed his eyes as he savored the first flavorful sip, unaware he was being observed.
Watching Tony in that unguarded moment, seeing the genuine pleasure he took from something so simple, released the last lock on the guarded part of Gibbs' heart, letting what he felt for Tony fill him with light. It reminded him of another Christmas cartoon Kelly had been fond of, the one where the Grinch's heart grew three sizes.
Tony opened his eyes, visibly starting when he saw Gibbs staring at him from the other side of the doorway. Hoping to cover the sudden flush of color to his cheeks, he nodded towards the table where a mug of steaming black coffee sat.
"Have a seat, Boss, and I'll get started on the omelets. What do you like in yours?"
"Whatever you're having is fine," Gibbs said as he sat down, picked up the mug and took a sip. His eyes widened in surprise. "Damn, this is good."
"You get what you pay for," Tony tossed over his shoulder as he began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator.
"You need any help?"
"I'm good. You just enjoy your coffee."
Tony began the process of getting everything ready to make the omelets. He could feel Gibbs' eyes following him, and he had to admit to still being confused, but he wasn't going to question it too closely. He had a mellow, friendly Gibbs in his kitchen, and he wasn't going to question this Christmas miracle.
Gibbs was on his second cup of coffee when Tony slid a plate in front of him with a fluffy, fragrant omelet and perfectly toasted and buttered twelve grain bread.
"Never knew you could cook, DiNozzo."
"Enough that I won't starve. We took turns in the frat house. Contrary to what some people believe, I don't live on pizza and Chinese takeout." He tapped one finger on the table. "Now dig in before it gets cold."
Gibbs cut into the omelet. Filled with cheese, crispy bacon and freshly sauteed mushrooms and spinach, it made his mouth water. But the spinach and mushrooms made him raise one silver eyebrow questioningly.
"Veggies?"
Tony looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Don't tell Ducky. He likes playing mother hen, especially since his mother passed away. He needs someone to look after, so I just let him fuss."
"I never thought of it that way," Gibbs said thoughtfully as he took his first bite. Once again his eyes widened at an unexpected taste. "Damn," he said reverently. "This is...this is...damn."
Tony chuckled. Gibbs might not talk much, but he'd never seen him actually at a loss for words.
"What kind of cheese is this? I've never tasted any quite like it."
"Kasseri," Tony said, dishing up his own food. "It's Greek, made from sheep's milk."
"Greek? Not Italian? Your ancestors must be rolling over in their graves."
"One of my frat brothers was Greek," Tony said as he seated himself across from Gibbs at the pub-style table. Pushing a jar across the table towards Gibbs, he said, "Try this. Homemade cherry preserves. My neighbor makes them."
Gibbs scooped a spoonful out and spread it on a piece of toast. He closed his eyes and moaned when the tart-sweet taste burst over his tongue. Tony's tongue felt too big for his mouth as he swallowed, wishing he had been the one to put that look of bliss on Gibbs' face.
"Damn, DiNozzo, with food like this, you could make a regular breakfast-eater out of me."
Tony choked on the bite of omelet he'd just put in his mouth, thinking Gibbs surely couldn't have meant what that phrase implied. Eyes watering, he took a sip of coffee.
"You okay, Tony?" Gibbs asked in concern.
"Fine," he wheezed. "Just went down the wrong way."
"Hmm."
Gibbs wanted to ask if it was because of what he'd said, but he decided to wait. Letting food this good go to waste would be a shame. It brought to mind what his mother had always said about the importance of a good breakfast.
Tony's confusion grew as they ate. Here was Gibbs, having shown up out of the blue, present in hand, eating his food and making small talk. Small talk! Who knew the functional mute was even capable of it?
When his plate had been cleaned, Gibbs sat back with a sigh. "That was great, Tony. Thanks for feeding me."
"Anytime, Boss."
"You cooked," Gibbs said, standing and gathering up the plates, "I can clean."
"They can wait. Just put them in the sink."
"You sure?"
"Positive." Tony stood. "You go make yourself comfortable. I'll put on another pot of coffee and then join you."
Gibbs put the plates in the sink, then headed towards the living room. Tony put another pot of coffee on to brew, then made sure all the perishables were back in the refrigerator.
He was standing in front of the sink, waiting for the coffee to finish, when Gibbs entered the room again. He didn't make any noise, but Tony knew he was there nonetheless. Right now he was hyper-aware of Gibbs' presence in his home.
"Gibbs?"
"Yes, Tony?"
"Why are you here? I mean really here?"
Gibbs sucked in a breath, then blew it out. "You know I'm no good with words."
Tony turned around to face him, holding on to the counter behind himself. "I think you need to try."
"Fair enough."
Gibbs came further into the room, his steps almost hesitant. Tony watched every movement, the look in his eyes unconsciously hungry.
"Maybe," Gibbs said softly, stopping mere inches from Tony, "I should just show you instead."
Gently grasping Tony's chin in one hand, Gibbs leaned in until their lips met softly in the briefest of kisses. Brief or not, it made Tony gasp and told Gibbs everything he needed to know.
"Boss?" Tony whispered. "What does this mean?"
Staring into confused green eyes, Gibbs released Tony's chin as he said, "It means I'm no longer hiding behind my past, no longer lying to myself about what I want. But what about you, Tony? Is this what you want?"
Grin splitting his face, Tony grabbed Gibbs' head in both hands and laid a kiss on him so hot the air around them felt like it was sizzling.
"Wow," Gibbs said, stunned by the intensity. "I take it that means yes?"
"Oh, hell, yeah! It really is a Christmas miracle."
"You have no idea, Tony. No idea at all. And someday I will tell you all about it, but not right now. Right now is just about us."
"You're a smart man, Gibbs. That's why you're the Boss."
Gibbs smiled. "Merry Christmas, Tony."
"Merry Christmas, Boss. And God bless us everyone."
That was too much for Gibbs.
"Boss, why are you laughing?...Boss?...Seriously, Boss, why are you laughing?...Boss?"
THE END