The two of them were the only ones left in the bull-pen. McGee, of course, had finished his paperwork early, and Gibbs had disappeared to MTAC or the Director's office. Or the head. Tony wasn't quite sure which.

"Doing anything special tonight, Katie?" Tony asked, without looking up from his case report.

"Nothing in particular, no. I might have a bath," she replied, stacking the last of her papers.

"Not going out for a romantic dinner with Dr. Boring?" Tony smirked, now cocking his head toward her.

Kate stopped tidying the rest of the items on her desk. "No," she said, simply.

"Is there no Dr. Boring anymore?" he asked cheekily.

"Please, Tony. Could you not irritate me for one night a year? And of all nights to choose, you'd think tonight you'd be in a more caring mood."

Tony saw the weary look in her eyes and decided not to push it further. He smiled shortly and put his pen to paper once more.

Kate sighed ahead of him, flung her thick coat around her shoulders and flicked her hair out from underneath it. Tony noticed once more the chained yellow glint that was missing from around her neck. The result of yesterday's tussle with the suspected arms dealer.

"You know, why did you even think you could take Sise?" he asked, coming out a little more harshly than he'd intended.

Kate paused, shocked from the sudden onslaught. "I'm fine, Tony. I'm fine," she finally said, a little more to reassure herself than him. She didn't have a choice. She had to be fine.

His eyes met hers and Tony stared at her as if he could see the lie spilling from her mouth. For a second she thought she noticed a flicker of something deeper in clear blue. She'd normally see it every time she looked at him, but it had been noticeably absent since she'd tried to take Sise by herself yesterday evening. She never knew what had been before, though suddenly it came to her.

Faster than it came, though, it was gone. She recognised the look that replaced it, his eyes blank and emotionless, and it stung more than his looks of crestfallen disappointment ever did.

---

It was almost quarter to eleven when Tony finally finished his paperwork.

In the water yard he passed a group of carollers he thought he saw earlier downstairs in the lobby when he went to collect a suspect file. They managed to look cheerful about their predicament: they all smiled and waved at him from behind chattering teeth and turned-up collars as he walked by. Amazing, the spirit, and apparently the endurance, that Christmas seemed to bring out among some.

In the blanket darkness of the night, their voices didn't sound so completely unlike the rich chime of sleigh bells. Their singing reminded him of a time long past, a time when he was small but not so young, a time when his agnostic parents dragged him to church every Christmas Eve until he was just about ready to proclaim himself a Buddhist.

Thoughtful, Tony watched them sing for a few moments. Before he left, he waved back.

But all too soon, he disappeared again beneath the murky waters of his memories. He felt the world slip away, once again a child, once again in his Sunday best, and once again finding himself sandwiched between his mother on his left and his father on his right, neither of whom he knew as well as he wanted to or loved as much as he should've. The pew was hard against the edgy bones in his rear and legs were too short to reach the ground. They grew restless and kicked out on their own.

This inevitably earned him a look of disapproval from his mother. He squirmed beneath her watchful eye. When she finally turned away to bow her head, he was always sure that she was not praying but dreaming up some cruel and unusual punishment for him. Although what could've be more cruel and unusual than this particular family tradition, he didn't know and he didn't think he wanted to find out.

The book his father placed upon the spindly legs of his lap seemed bone-crushingly heavy. But its cover was soft like a spread and the pages fascinated him: they were thin and translucent like flower petals. They were so thin, in fact, that he imagined he could see right through them, all the way back through time to see the faces of the men who had once written this heavy book with their heavy hands and their heavy hearts.

He opened his mouth, but whether it is to ask a question or something else, he never knew, because it is drowned out by the sudden blast of a car horn.

The memory fled from his fingertips like water. In the end, he was just a man in a pair of expensive Italian shoes standing among deserted, iced-over cars in a barren carpark.

The thought saddened him and he took a moment to collect himself. His hands groped for a handhold and came to rest on a rear-view mirror beside him. He was surprised to find not metal or ice but the prick of pine needles against his skin.

He looked down. The mirrors were wreathed with garlands that smelled like the deep, dark forests of fairy tales and ribbons so scarlet they reminded him of particular pieces of evidence he'd collected earlier that day.

Tony remembered that it was Christmas Eve.

---

The soft knock at Kate's apartment door was enough to make some of her wine slosh over the rim and splatter against her pants. Instinctively she cursed and reached out for a tissue or a towel, both of which she knew were not there.

One set of fingers drummed against the leather arm of her couch; the other clutched at the now slick wine glass. She made no movement to answer the door. It was probably her neighbour asking, for the fourth year in a row, if she had any spare carrots or lettuce left over, which he'd forgotten to buy for his kids to put out for the reindeer. The answer was yes, but tonight she had neither the energy nor the cheer to fetch it.

The knock came again. She swore under her breath once more and realised that she couldn't even pretend she wasn't home due to beeping oven in the kitchen. Suddenly annoyed, she downed the rest of her wine and dragged herself to the door. The locks and chains came undone under her experienced fingers and she yanked open the door with a practised smile already prepared. It suddenly fell.

"Were you expecting Santa Claus?"

Somehow Kate was surprised, and not surprised, to find Tony, of all people, standing behind the threshold to her apartment on this night.

It was surprising because she didn't really expect to see him, of all people, tonight. She assumed he had better things to do than show up unannounced at her door on Christmas Eve.

Then again, it wasn't all that surprising given the fact that she was used to it by now. He'd done this before: shown up at her door at odd hours on odd days, eyes bright and smile wide. At first she let him in because it came with the territory of being on Gibbs' team. Early morning wake-ups and assignments on self-taken holidays. After awhile, however, every so often, she began to let him in because it came with the territory of being his friend.

"Santa Claus?" she said finally.

Elegantly, and yet boyishly, he shrugged his shoulders beneath the weight of his snow kissed overcoat.

"I hope you're not disappointed," he remarked.

"That you're not a fat old man in a cheap red suit?" she retorted. "Hardly."

He smiled at her. It was an odd, disarming sort of smile, an upward turn of the mouth more than anything else, like watching paper curl as it burns, she thought. She found herself strangely affected by the smile, of the many she knew, so devoid as it was from any real feeling or meaning, and she forgot why she was ever surprised to see him here in the first place.

Giving herself a mental shrug, Kate backed away from the door to let him in. "Come in," she said simply.

Tony nodded his thanks and walked in but made no movement to remove his coat. Kate felt impossibly short next to him and his huge shoulders. She hated that and he always knew it.

Kate raked a hand through her dishevelled hair. "Shouldn't you be at some party sweeping some socialite of her tiny feet?"

"Probably," Tony shrugged, taking in the now somewhat familiar surroundings. He picked up a photograph from the shelf, realising that hadn't been there the last time he'd woken Kate up for an early morning assignment.

"Dr. Boring?" he asked, flipping the photo around to face her.

Kate remembered that she'd never actually introduced Tony and Daniel before.

"Please put it back, DiNozzo," Kate demanded, before heading toward the kitchen.

He didn't see her smile, for the first time, at his pet name for Daniel, as she rummaged through the cabinets to find a couple of mugs and flipped the switch on her coffee maker.

"Don't bother," he called after her. "We're going out."

Kate paused. She turned around. Her eyebrows were practically scraping the ceiling. "Where are we going?"

Looking wholly unperturbed, Tony played with the ends of his scarf until he tugged an end of a thread free. "You're sitting at home by yourself on Christmas Eve," he pointed out. "Does it really matter?"

She stared at him until the mugs nearly slipped from her grasp. She caught them and put them back in their place. "I guess not," she said with a small smile. "Just let me change my pants." Kate pointed at the red stain on her black slacks.

The last thing she saw before she slipped into the darkness of her bedroom was the thread breaking as Tony gave it a venomous yank.

---

For a moment, Tony regretted ever coming there in the first place. He closed his eyes and imagined that things were different. He pretended that he was really not about to take her where he knew they needed to go tonight. He told himself that they were, instead, going out on something other than a wild goose chase. Something normal. Something like a date. A normal date.

Somehow, he didn't think that idea would fly with either her or her tall, dark, Ukrainian boyfriend, who probably knew exactly how to dissect him without leaving a shred of medical evidence.

So he stuck to his original plan and he stayed in spite of the fact that he was having second, third, even fourth thoughts, all of which were telling him to go. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and fiddled with the fingers of his leather gloves, as he grew increasingly nervous. He was not exactly sure what he was looking to accomplish with this little trip back down memory lane, if he was looking to accomplish anything at all.

He couldn't leave, even if he had a flimsy excuse for being here. Even if a little voice in the back of his head kept telling him that he should be with someone else tonight. Even if that little voice reminded him that the only reason she was with him on this sacred night was because she was on loan.

But he forgot to feel guilty when she appeared. She was just wearing jeans, a work shirt and a sweater but her eyes were dark with curiosity and her hair – short as it was – framed what he thought was a beautiful face.

Suddenly, he found breathing very, very difficult.

Kate didn't notice any of this as she pulled on a coat and threw a scarf around her neck. "This better be good," she warned him. She didn't know that she'd just reduced him to a shrivelling pile of nerves. Not that he planned on ever telling her.

---

It took only twenty minutes to walk from her apartment to wherever they were going but Kate slipped almost four times. The sidewalks were slick with ice and she was walking twice as fast as he was to keep up with him.

Tony knew this. He knew he should slow down and he knew she wouldn't ask him to. But he also couldn't bring himself to forfeit this chance to catch her each of the four times she slipped. He was sure she thought nothing of it, but his mind always flew blank when she looked up to reward him with one of her rare and infrequent smiles.

"I didn't think you'd be home," he commented, helping her right herself after slip number three, "I thought you'd still end up going out with - "

"We had a fight." She rolled her eyes. To his amusement and secret delight, she didn't sound sorry. "Didn't feel like dealing with him tonight."

"But it's Christmas," Tony teased her. "Have a heart."

Kate glowered at him. "Don't feel like seeing him. It's better this way." She was surprised to find that she really meant it.

Nodding, he didn't expect her to launch into a tirade against her clueless boyfriend. And she didn't. Instead, she focused – for once – on him. This must've been his lucky day.

She peered up at him. She looked adorable all rugged up in her scarf. "You sure you don't have anything better to do tonight?"

"I'm sure," Tony said. His hand rested lightly against the small of her back as they scooted by a crowd of very drunk, very loud teenagers. "Do you?"

"No," Kate sighed. "Where are we going again?"

"It's a surprise," he said truthfully – sort of. He was afraid that if he told her where they were going, she'd laugh, turn on her heel and run from him like a bat out of hell. He didn't think he could take that. Not tonight.

"I'm freezing my ass off," she complained.

"You complain too much," he said automatically. "Be happy. It's Christmas."

She grumbled, but didn't reply. He smiled into his scarf.

When they finally stopped in front of their intended destination, Kate gave him a look that said, plainly, are you crazy, followed by another look of amazement.

Tony gave her what he hoped was his most charming smile.

She was incredulous. "You're taking me to church?"

Methodically, he extracted each finger from his gloves, one by one. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he said calmly.

She continued to look in awe.

"I thought it was something you could be in need of tonight," he suggested. "Believe it or not, for once, I'm for it too."

Kate sidestepped a crowd of bible-toting churchgoers, eyeing their hymn books suspiciously. "Are you sure?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. "Why?"

"It is pretty cold tonight," he pointed out reasonably, knowing that she knew it wasn't his reason.

This earnt him a smile. He couldn't help but smile back.

"All right, all right," she said finally, still wondering why Tony, of all people, was the one suggesting church on Christmas Eve.

---

Kate was wearing a sweater – and under that, a suit shirt – but for some reason it felt like there was nothing, absolutely nothing at all, between Tony's hand and the place on the small of her back where he rested it as he steered her down the aisle.

She gave up trying to explain why Tony had taken her here by the time they had picked a pew. By mutual and silent consent, they stuck towards the back.

All around them people bowed theirheads in prayer. The moonlight that spilled through the many stained glass windows in the small church painted beautiful multicolored halos upon the bent heads. The red panes bled, the blue panes wept, and the yellow panes glowed golden like the sun.

Kate followed their suit, before glancing quickly over at Tony. The Bible sat on his lap. His head wasn't bowed. He looked thoughtful, absorbed, distracted. He was neither red nor blue nor yellow but managed to escape all three, his face pale like a swipe of white paint against a canvas of primary colours.

If he closed his eyes, he looked just like one of them, she thought dazedly.

Maybe it was the hushed and hallowed silence of the church, maybe it was the quiet unassuming smiles that people directed his way, but something about this place threw him off balance. When he leant over to whisper in Kate's ear, he was astonished to find himself leaning across the small space to meet her.

---

They were halfway through the service and Tony was still awake. In fact, he looked downright at ease as he listened to the recitations and the prayers and the hymns with the scholarly attentiveness of a med student.

Kate took this to be a good sign.

She also took this time to commit him to memory. She thought it would be a long time before DiNozzo offered to drag her to a church again, if ever, so she snuck quick peeks at him out of the corner of her eye – memorising the pale glow of his skin, the soft slope of his mouth, the curve of his wrist – and she knew that she'd never forget the way he looked under candlelight.

When he caught her staring at him, he did a double take.

"Are you bored?" she whispered.

"No," he whispered back. "Why?"

She hesitated. "This isn't you."

Tony turned to her, with a look in his eyes that she couldn't quite place. His lips were curled up at their edges. But he wasn't smiling.

The choir stood. Tony remembered what brought him here in the first place. Quietly, he settled back in his seat. His feet kicked out without meaning to.

---

People were praying again. Kate was praying.

But Tony wasn't. He didn't believe in prayer.

He was sitting with the Bible still across his lap. Curiously, his feet were still swinging. Really, they were too long to swing. She wanted to make him stop because he was scuffing his expensive Italian shoes in church and earning himself curious stares from their neighbours.

But she restrained herself from doing so and decided to let people watch for a while.

She turned her head back down and sat silently for a few moments. When the prayer ended, she raised it once more and looked beside her.

His eyes were welled.

Startled, Kate forced herself to stare forward. Her heart jacked up against her ribcage. She could feel her pulse thrumming against her wrist as she dragged her eyes back onto him.

His eyes were blank and his cheeks were smeared with red.

She was not even sure if he knew that he was crying. She didn't even know that DiNozzo knew what crying was.

---

The second half of the service flew by much faster than the first. Perhaps because Kate spent most of the time worrying about Tony.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"What?" he whispered back. An attempt at sarcasm edged a smile. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"Ha, ha," she said under her breath. "Do you want to leave?"

He shrugged. "It's almost over."

And it was. The collection plate was coming around. Tony wasn't a regular churchgoer, but he knew the ten in his pocket wouldn't be there when he walked through the doors.

They filed out the door like regular churchgoers and shook hands with the reverend. Strangely enough, he reminded Kate of Santa Claus. She kept that thought to herself and managed to wait until they were out of earshot before she burst out laughing.

It started to snow on their way back to her apartment. All around them were the sights and sounds of winter: the muffled fall of snow, the sky sprigged with stars, the nets of frost covering the trees. Kate found herself enjoying it in spite of the fact that they were about to walk into the middle of a very large snowball fight and she was so cold that she couldn't feel her toes.

She turned to Tony after dodging a stray snowball. "I didn't know you went to church."

"I don't," he said easily. Snow exploded against his back. He waved off the culprit: a teenage girl who blushed as red as the hair poking out from beneath her hat. Her hand was still frozen in the act of throwing. Kate thought she looked like a life-size action figure. An NFL quarterback, maybe.

Irritated, she brushed the snowflakes from her eyelashes. "What do you call what we just did?"

Tony gave her a shrug as hard as ice before replying. "My parents used to drag me to church every Christmas Eve after my brother died."

Kate stopped fidgeting. An odd, heavy feeling settled into her chest. She didn't even know Tony had a brother, let alone that he'd died. She'd always assumed he was an only child.

"Old habits die hard?" she finally said, attempting to avoid the topic of his sibling altogether.

"I guess," he said. "I go every year."

Not even she managed to get to church every Christmas Eve anymore. She liked to go when she could, but it had become more and more difficult every year, not knowing which country the Secret Service would have her in every December or which marine sailor would be killed by a jealous ex the day before.

She looked sideways at Tony but didn't answer. Instead, she slipped her hand around his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He turned toward her, obviously surprised. Their breaths mingled in the cold air. He looked like he was about to say something. But at the last minute he changed his mind and instead chose to drop a snowball over her head.

---

It was after midnight when Tony dropped her off at her door. Their fingers were cold and wet but their cheeks were glowing warm and they wore matching idiotic grins. Kate insisted that she won fair and square. Tony maintained that he let her cheat and win.

She invited him in for coffee even though they both knew he would decline.

Kate rubbed her hands together in hopes of restoring the feeling in her fingers. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Probably feigning my joy at receiving my fiftieth pair of argyle socks," Tony shrugged into the doorway.

"Poor little rich boy," she remarked.

He clutched his chest in mock hurt. "What about you?" he asked. "Want to shoot hoops with my socks?"

"I can't." Kate looked regretful. "Daniel and I…"

She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. She saw the look on Tony's face as soon as she mentioned him.

She didn't know what that look meant and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

He stood up straight. "I'll see you at work, then?"

"At work," she echoed. "See you."

But then Tony did something she did not expect. Across what little space was left between them, he leant over and, touching her shoulder with light fingers, kissed her on the cheek.

Without thinking about it, she closed her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Tony," she managed with a sigh.

He'd gone. It was not until he had already turned down the hallway and she had reopened her eyes that she realised that he hadn't said it back.

---

It snowed on and off throughout the night. When Kate woke on Christmas Day, the world was sugar-coated white, including the message from Daniel on the machine. She glossed over the usual sickly-sweet apology and concentrated on the part where he suggested breakfast at his place. He offered to cook. She couldn't argue with that.

She didn't notice the small gift-wrapped box by her couch until she was almost out her door and cursing under her breath because she was already running late. But she couldn't leave without her bag.

When she turned around and made a grab for the purse, she found her fingers brushing instead against streams of silver ribbon. She blinked in surprise for the first time since last night.

The gift bore a tag. Even though she was late, she sank down into her couch with the gift on her lap and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She recognised the writing on the tag with its familiar messy scrawl and slants, and she grinned when she read the short note scribbled upon the tag.

Merry Christmas, Kate.

Morning fell upon the shiny silver trim in bright spikes of light. Kate took her time untangling the flurry of ribbons that caged the box. Finally, she tugged the box free. The wrapping fell to the floor unheeded. Unable to fend off her impatience any longer, she lifted the lid.

The sun sparkled off a set of crystal ornaments. They were beautiful against their bed of dark blue velvet and, Kate was sure, very expensive. But that was not what immediately struck her.

Blinking, she used one hand to lift it out of its box. A single golden chain dangled from her fingertips and a heavy cross came to rest against her palm. The light sparked off its cuts and angles and made it look like bright stars caught in the hollow of her hand.