Dec 1: Hot chocolate

"No thanks." McGee shook his head. He'd already had too much coffee.

"Take it." Tony said shoving the cup into his teammate's hand. "Hot chocolate makes everything seem better."

"Nothing can make this better."

"Seem better," Tony repeated leaning against the low wall of the parking garage next to him. "You're right. Nothing can make this better," he said in resignation.

"Had you ever…" Tim hesitated.

"Right after I became a policeman, there was a mass shooting at a school in a small town. They needed help. Processing evidence and doing legwork." Tony forced down the visions of the small victims. The minute the call had come in about a mass shooting at a local PX, he knew the nightmares would be back.

"How do you forget it?"

"You don't. You can't not remember. It's important to remember."

"All those people. They were Christmas shopping. The kids were waiting for Santa…" Tim bit back a sob. "Remembering doesn't make it better. The shootings, the murders, nothing makes it better."

"We do." Tony said definitely. "Every arrest, every case we crack… We make it better. Today was…today was horrendous. But what we do is important, McGee. You have to focus on that… and the good in the world."

"Good?" McGee said incredulously. "What good?"

"The men who stopped the shooter today. The people who pitched in helping the victims. Those heroes who threw themselves on top of those kids. Those who came to help. That is what is good. Well, that and hot chocolate."

McGee gave a wry laugh. Tony had his own way of looking at things. He had to admit the hot drink felt good in his cold hands. The smell of hot chocolate was teasing his nose, washing away the smells of blood and gun powder. Unable to resist, he took a sip.

"So biggest Scrooge… Gibbs or the Grinch?"

Against his will, McGee gave a small laugh picturing his boss as the iconic miser. Tony was right, hot chocolate did make things seem better. That and good friends.