Disclaimer: You're a three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce.

Spoilers: Faith.

Summary: Missing bit from the ep about how Tony goes about discovering and obtaining the doll, in three(?) parts. Probably three. One…two…five! Three, sire! Three!

Nursing home smell was the worst. Ointments and antiseptics and unidentifiable mashed-up foods and…this was the room number the nurse in the Peanuts Christmas scrubs at the desk had mentioned. Right. Deep breath, rocking chair by the window, lead with the candy. "Mrs. Bromstead, good morning, my name is…"

"Why, Mr. Van den Hoogenband! You don't have to introduce yourself! We met just last month at the parent-teacher conference. My little girl…oh!" The elderly woman ran an impossibly frail, shaking hand through white wisps of cotton candy covering her head. "Something's happened to Delores, hasn't it?"

"No, no, Delores is perfectly fine."

"The principal of the school does not make visits home over minor matters, sir. As a veteran high school mathematics teacher, I should know!"

"Trust me, Mrs. Bromstead. Everything is just fine." Panic. Wasn't this something Peanuts nurse should have mentioned? Wait, whose anxious breathing was that? Trying to relax, he put on his best smile and extended the box of candy he'd almost forgotten bringing. "I just thought as a, uh, professional, uh, courtesy from, uh, one educator to another, I would bring these…" For all his experience in deception, this was quite possibly the second guiltiest he'd ever felt perpetuating a lie.

The woman's wrinkled face lit up, however, after she had squinted at the box for a few long seconds. "Why, Mr. Van den Hoogenband! You must have talked to Bill Stapleton at St. Ignatius to have brought cherry cordials! I haven't had a treat like this since my Stanley…" she trailed off as her eyes misted over. Was she having some kind of medical emergency? Just before the call button came within reach, her expression cleared and she continued as if nothing had been wrong, "Is there some occasion for you to bring me sweets, Mr…may I call you Peter?"

"Of course." Sure, why the hell not?

"Lovely. And you'll call me Agnes. My, it was so nice of you to bring these, if I could only get them open…"

"Allow me." He easily tore the cellophane wrapping that had been giving her arthritic fingers trouble.

"Such a gentleman. I can see why you're the youngest principal in the district."

"Uh, well, everyone should have a little candy at Christmas. If you can't splurge on the holidays…"

"I can't believe it's Christmas already." She held up a chocolate in its cheerful red foil wrapping. "I'm afraid there won't be many treats this year, what with Stanley hurt and out of work. We may not even get a tree…" The small artificial tree with blinking multicolored lights on the countertop must have been too far for weak eyes to see. "Poor Delores. She knows something isn't quite right, but when you're eight, you don't understand why Mommy and Daddy are fighting, just that…oh. Do you have children, Peter?"

"No." It was probably odd that a school administrator was single and childless. "Not yet. My wife and I haven't gotten around to starting our family yet."

She smiled kindly. "With love like that in your eyes, I'm sure you'll have a wonderful family. I'll say a prayer that you never have to go through trying times. If only Stanley hadn't injured his back…"

The box of cherry cordials was half empty when Peanuts nurse ended the conversation to announce lunch. Eleven o'clock lunch.

Much as the notion disquieted in his line of work, he hoped he would never grow old.

Tony passed a hot cup to Ziva and trudged to his desk to remove his coat, not noticing that she was on his heels, probably complaining about the fact that he was late and bearing lattes instead of on time with tea. He sank into his chair and stared at his blotter for a few seconds. His whole body felt heavy and the gingerbread latte wasn't helping. Some pick-me-up. Maybe Ziva was right about tea. He threw a weary glance around the bullpen. "Gibbs?"

He didn't have the energy to jump when she answered from behind him, "Spending time with Jack."

"Mc…uh, Mc…Gee?" he finished, unable to come up with anything creative while lacking visual inspiration. Ziva's palm was suddenly pressed to his forehead. "What?"

"You seem off." He leaned into her hand, allowing it to hold his head up. "At least you are not hot."

"Yeah, well, you…you look fat in those pants." Her hand snapping his had back woke him more effectively than any jolt of caffeine. Her face hovered threateningly over his. "Hey, you insulted me first!"

"How? By checking to see if you have a fever?"

"Ah." At least he now knew why she'd been touching his head. "Right, well…I thought you meant I wasn't hot hot, not just, uh, hot, like, temperature hot and I didn't know why you were denying my hotness, which, when you really take the time to…" He suddenly realized his head was still being held at an uncomfortable angle. "Right, so, I was just responding to the perceived insult with a stock insult that in no way reflects how you actually look in those pants, which is not at all fat. In fact, you could put on ten pounds and still not look fat, because that's how good you look in those pants." She raised an eyebrow and maintained her hold on his head. "Too far?"

"Oh yes." She shoved his head back into a neutral position. "But I will let it glide as you are the one who made the idiomatic error on this occasion."

He bit back the instinct to correct her and cracked his neck. "Gimme a break. I've had a rough morning."

"You went out for coffee an hour and a half ago and just got back. You were not answering your phone. If Director Vance were not in charge, I would have been worried that you were involved in another undercover mission."

Ouch. In spite of his newfound alertness, he really didn't feel up to getting into that one. "Y'know, normal people worry about things like car accidents when their friends disappear with no explanations."

She shrugged. "I assumed that if you had been in some sort of accident, the police would have contacted us here." She changed her position to the corner of his desk, where she could look down at him disapprovingly. "Why were you gone so long?"

"For your information, I was on an NCIS-related mission, one I accepted when I signed up for the Secret Santa gift exchange…"

"Because you thought you could somehow rig the selection so you could force Agent Kenney to accept a romantic dinner as a 'gift'?"

He pictured the petite brunette analyst. "Huh. I was actually shooting for Marla Roberts from the switchboard, but Agent Kenney…that could have worked too. Would have learned her first name, anyway. But none of that matters, because karma put me with Delores Bromstead, who…" He found it hard to voice the negative after his experience that morning.

"So have you purchased a gift, yes? That is why you were out?" Ziva gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I am proud of you."

He didn't make eye contact and offered her a tight smile in anticipation of the shift from supportive to angry gesture. "Well…I was doing research for the gift."

As expected, her fingers dug into his shoulder uncomfortably. "Tony, you said you would deliver it at six today!"

"I know!" He gave her a little shove off his desk and called up the web browser on his computer.

"Do you have any idea what you are going to get her?" She began to pace as he entered his search terms. "My Aunt Nettie sent me some kind of fruit subscription. Apparently I will receive a different fruit each month for the next year."

"Yeah, cool, fruit-of-the-month club," Tony said absently as he realized he would have to refine his search a little if he wanted to deliver the perfect gift in a few short hours.

"Yes! Perhaps you could transfer that to Delores, or order one for her. People enjoy fruit."

"I appreciate the thought, Ziva, but I…boom!" He stared at the picture on the specialty store's website, praying that this was the right thing. "Phone number, phone number…there it is! Okay, we're going on a road trip if this works out, so I suggest you use the little boys' room now."

For once, Ziva didn't ask any questions until she had returned from the bathroom and he had hung up with the confirmation that what he wanted was available and would be held for him. "So where are we going?"

"Spotsylvania," he replied, hurrying to grab the address of the shop off the printer and his coat.

"How far is that?"

"How fast can you drive sixty or so miles?"

Ziva grinned. "We will take my car, if…"

He grabbed her shoulders and steered her toward the elevator. "I'll explain everything on the way, maybe even about the Civil War battle that took place there if you behave."

"Not much incentive to behave."

He pressed the call button and chose not to comment because she was obviously waiting for him to escalate with a sexy comeback. Tempting, but he had bigger things to consider at the moment. Said issues had to wait as he returned to the bullpen two elevator rides later. No reason to abandon two perfectly good gingerbread lattes that were only half-drunk.