Work Text:
Just another Christmas
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS; it is the property of its respective creators.
Timothy McGee was tired. Tired of living in a world that didn’t have the one he needed most in it. She was gone. She had been gone for a long time, but it was always harder this time of year.
People thought that him seeing the children waiting for Santa, watching couples happy together, might help, but all it did was rub more salt into an already irritated wound. He wanted nothing to do with the festivities she had loved so much.
She was gone, they all told him, he needed to move on and find someone else. There was no one else. All he had now was his whiskey, which he drank sitting in the chair she insisted they buy, all those years ago. The chair faced the window to the world outside. It was his connection to it, without being in it.
As the snow fall from the heavens above, where she was, he raised his glass of amber liquor, and saluted her. He smiled a grim smile, as the clock hit 12:00.
“Merry Christmas, Abbs.” He looked over at the picture of them, happy and in love, both alive. He sighed; it would never mean anything without her, it was just another Christmas.