A Christmas Carol

Abby's face lit up as she entered Autopsy. The stainless steel lockers lining one wall reflected the light of a hundred candles, and the big pine near the doors glittered with baubles and tinsel, tiny Christmas lights winking on and off in its branches. The autopsy tables, covered with Christmas cloths, were laden with platters of food; on benchtops at either end of the room, two makeshift bars were doing brisk business. A steady hum of conversation filled the room as agents from the NCIS squadroom teams mingled and chatted.

She swung around to McGee, close by her elbow, and hugged him hard, almost knocking him off his feet. "Cool, McGee! Just what I always wanted – a Christmas party in the morgue! So that's what you were up to all afternoon, you sweety. I thought you went to Norfolk with Gibbs." A petty officer had been found chained and gagged behind a brothel near the base, his wallet and identification missing, and Gibbs had been keen to talk to the man, who had been assigned to a sensitive mission.

"A … Abby", McGee gasped, regaining his balance. "He did. We just got back. It wasn't …" He bit back a yelp as a shadowy figure materialised beside him in the flickering light.

"I do believe that what Agent McGee is trying to say, Abby, is that it was my idea", Ducky said. He nodded at Kate and Tony as they came in. "Yes, I always did like the idea of a celebration of new life in the presence of death. Did you know that in the eighteenth century it was quite common in the houses of the more daring of the Scottish nobility to entertain in the family crypt? As a matter of fact, a laird of the McCallum clan once…"

Kate nudged Tony as Ducky wandered off with Abby and McGee, still talking. "Is that Mrs Mallard over there?"

"Oh, God". Tony winced. "It is. Hide me quick, before she wants any furniture moved". He leered suggestively at Kate. " I hope you're wearing your sensible knickers, missy".

Kate laughed. Across the room, Mrs Mallard could be seen chatting animatedly to Tom Baker, an agent on Jim Fujisaki's team. She seemed to be peering intently at something on the sleeve of his shirt and attempting to hold it up to the light of a nearby candle, despite Tom's half-embarrassed resistance.

Gibbs walked in through the side door. "Ah, Jethro", they heard Ducky say. "I'm glad you and young McGee got back in time. It rather looks as though the snow will be setting in for the night." A small television set on a bench to their left was tuned to the weather channel, its sound muted. They could all see the storm front moving in on Washington.

"Beat it in by a whisker". Gibbs moved over to the nearest bar and poured a drink. He handed it to Ducky and poured another for himself, leaning back against the bench to survey the room. Mrs Mallard's aquiline profile caught his attention through a gap in the crowd. He raised an eyebrow. "You brought your mother?"

"Oh… yes." Ducky sighed. "I really couldn't bring myself to leave her alone in the house with the storm on the way." He took a sip of his drink. "I just hope she behaves herself. So far, so good. If I can just keep her away from alcohol …".

"Too late", Gibbs said, as they saw Tom hand Mrs Mallard a drink. From the colour, it was a particularly stiff Scotch. Ducky started forward, but was held up as someone asked where the CD player was. By the time the music had been changed to a medley of Christmas carols, to a chorus of half-hearted groans from around the big room, Mrs Mallard had downed her first drink in a couple of gulps and headed back to the bottle to pour herself another.

"Oh, dear". Ducky's kind old face creased with worry. Gibbs laid a hand on his arm.

"Don't worry, Duck. Lots of people here, someone will always be near her".

"Yes, Jethro," Ducky said grimly. He shrugged resignedly as he looked across to where his mother was whirling in a circle, apparently under the illusion that Tom was jiving with her. "That's what I'm afraid of. She's become so much worse lately when she drinks that I really don't know …" A sudden crash cut him off.

Mrs Mallard stared down at the plate of canapés she'd knocked off the table. She removed a mini spring roll from her sole by scraping her shoe against the leg of a man standing with his back to her. The Director turned, surprised. He took in the situation at a glance.

The old lady stared at him for a moment. "You're that man who was looking up my skirt before, on the stairs". She shook her fist at him. "Don't try to deny it. You want me, don't you!"

"I assure you, Ma'am …", the Director smiled, but she cut him off. "Did you know I sleep naked? Except for my perfume, of course. That's what Marilyn did, you know. But you know that, don't you! I've seen you looking in my window at night, don't think I haven't."

"Mother, please …" Ducky arrived at her side, his face crimson.

"Donald, Donald, this man wants to molest me. What would your father say? Get him away from me!" Mrs Mallard clung to Ducky's arm, glaring at the Director.

As Ducky stammered apologies to a poker-faced Director, who was clearly torn between laughter and compassion for his Medical Examiner, his mother's attention was diverted by the sound of "O come All Ye Faithful" playing on the sound system. She struck a pose and began to sing, loudly and off key. After the second verse it turned into more of a strident keening. Ducky retreated to the bench near Gibbs and put his head in his hands.

"Tony, this is awful", Kate whispered. "It must be unbearable for Ducky. It's sad for his mother, too, but she doesn't have to face all these people again tomorrow". The tales from each year's Christmas party were legendary, and this looked set to become a classic.

Surprised by the lack of a reply, Kate turned. Tony was nowhere to be seen. Then she spotted him making his way through the crowd to where Mrs Mallard, increasingly disoriented, was looking about her frantically, still shouting the words. Around her, people had begun to move away in embarrassment. She lunged at the player and cranked up the volume, almost in tears as her voice cracked on the high notes.

Ducky heaved himself off the bench and tried again, but his mother struck out at him. "Get away from me! Get away!" There was no recognition in her face. Ducky stood helplessly, running his hands through his hair.

The final verse of the carol began, Mrs Mallard now half-sobbing and all but whispering the words. In the embarrassed hush which had fallen over the room, she could clearly be heard muttering in between snatches of verse. Then a second voice, this one a clear tenor, joined in with hers, lifting the melody back to where it should have been. Tony stood in front of her, smiling down into her distressed face as they sang.

Others took up the refrain, joining in to swell the voices. Even Gibbs, Kate noticed with suprise, was opening and closing his mouth in what passed with him for singing. She heard the Director's fine baritone somewhere off to her left.

As the opening chords of the next track, a particularly lush orchestral version of "Oh Holy Night", filled the room, Tony stepped forward and took Mrs Mallard in his arms. She struck out feebly but with fierce intent at him. "I know you! You're that Italian gigolo furniture mover! You want my body!"

Tony continued to sing softly, swaying her gently back and forward in time to the beautiful music. The old lady stared defiantly up at him but said nothing more. Gradually the fierce light died out of her eyes, to be replaced by a puzzled wonderment as she listened to him sing. She let her head sink tiredly to his chest, leaning in to his embrace.

Tony danced them through the final chorus, Mrs Mallard humming brokenly along. As the last chords died away, they came to a halt and stood silently, neither breaking the embrace. Then Mrs Mallard lifted her head and looked up into Tony's eyes. "Aren't you that Italian gigolo furniture mover?" she asked, but softly, all the fire gone from her tone.

Tony smiled down at her as he said, equally softly, "At your service, Ma'am".

Kate brushed a tear from her eye. She heard Gibbs clear his throat and saw him look at the ground. Abby and McGee were huddled together silently, watching.

Mrs Mallard nodded as if satisfied and looked about her, suddenly aware. "Why, Donald, there you are. Wherever have you been, I've been looking for you all night. I think I'd like to go home now". She stepped out of Tony's embrace and took Ducky's arm. Ducky turned back momentarily to take Tony's hand in a fierce clasp. Together, he and his mother headed for the cloak room. Gradually the volume of conversation in the room resumed its previous level.

Tony turned to find Kate offering him a drink. "You know, Tony," she peered at him, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a closet softy".

"Nah!" Tony took the proffered glass and sighed as he took his first sip. "I had a grandmother once who …" He let the words trail off. Kate nodded in understanding.

"Come on, DiNozzo!" She grabbed his arm and headed for the door. "I'm taking you out for dinner. Unless you had something else planned?"

"No, Katie, not a thing. But I warn you, I'm reaallllly hungry. Might eat till I burst, then you'll have to take me to hospital. Nurses, uniforms …" His usual cocky tone was back. She wondered who it was she'd seen before, when he'd gentled the old lady like a child.

"Don't worry, Tony." Kate smiled at him sweetly. "After tonight, Ducky's sure to give you a free autopsy". She laughed at his expression and then softened. "Happy Christmas, Tony. You did good. Santa's on his way right now".

She shrugged into her coat and headed out the door before he could reply. Together, they went up in the elevator and out into the falling snow.