NCIS FIC REPOST: Through the Years: Six (1 of 4)
Title: Through the Years: Six (1 of 4)
Author: Matt
Rating: This part- PG
Category: AU Series, angst, romance, hurt/comfort
Genre: Slash
Warnings: Language, discussion of child abuse, dark story
Pairing: Gibbs/OMC
Summary: Marine Jethro Gibbs meets a very young and very damaged Anthony DiNozzo.
Spoilers: None
Notes: This is the first NCIS fic I wrote (beginning back in mid 2005) and I've taken the liberty to tweak it a bit before posting. My thanks, as always, to BC for using her valuable time to beta.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement intended.
The very first time Jethro Gibbs ever heard the surname 'DiNozzo' was during an extended leave while vacationing with fellow Marine and best friend Michael Johnson at the Johnson family's isolated cabin along the shores of Great Neck Bay. It was also during this time that Gibbs' life, though he wouldn't be aware of it until a much later time, was placed on a course leading to great and terrible sorrow but an even greater and lasting love.
The two, young, war-weary Marines thoroughly enjoyed their first three days of rest and relaxation, doing nothing more strenuous than spending long mornings lolling among the pillows and the down comforter on the soft, king-sized bed or lazing away the hot, hazy afternoons by boating the pristine waters of the Bay or, occasionally, playing slow and challenging games of fairly-completive chess in front of the large, stone fireplace as supper simmered on the rustic but reliable range. They found a multitude of activities to keep them delighted and amused, when they felt the need, but nothing pleased them more than simply sitting on the private dock at the water’s edge each night, under the glittering blanket of peaceful, brilliant stars, and consuming bottles of good, cold ale until they both were stupidly drunk.
Their much-respected uniforms, used when traveling to and from their current postings, were hanging in the entry closet near the front door, silent but constant reminders of what they had waiting for them when their days stateside were completed. Until then, they opted for more appropriate gear, allowing their strong bodies to enjoy the sun and the water at its fullest. Shorts and swimwear replaced the stiff, starched, standardized pants that usually covered long, muscled legs, soft cotton t-shirts covered broad shoulders and sturdy backs conditioned to carrying heavy packs and cumbersome weapons, and sneakers protected sure, calloused feet usually confined within high-laced, supportive, black boots.
To Gibbs, the cabin and the Bay were like a small slice of heaven, far away from the day-to-day struggles of combat and the uncertainty of life. Little did he know he and Mike were about to be swept into a nasty little piece of hell.
On the fifth morning of their leave, while still abed, Mike's sister phoned from her home in New York City, rousing the men from slumber. Her tone alone brought Mike immediately awake, the pitch and timbre of her usually sweet voice chilling him terribly and forcing him to abruptly focus and sit up, the sheet slipping to pool forgotten in his lap. Beside him, Jethro stirred and concentrated on his friend, seeing the worry on the face and the anger in the usually warm, brown eyes. He instinctively laid a comforting hand on Mike's strong, bare thigh but wasn't the least bit surprised when the other man slowly rose from the sheets and moved slightly away, standing naked in the morning sun that poured through the wide windows overlooking the tranquil waters of the Bay.
Jethro rolled over, one cheek still pressed into his warm pillow, and watched him closely, immediately knowing this was neither a conscious snub or unintentional rejection. He instantly recognized the action for what it was: when Mike was processing new information or receiving vital intel, he always needed his space, be it emotionally or physically. So, Jethro was content to recline on the soft mattress and bide his time, knowing Mike would return when ready, and share whatever it was that was disrupting their early morning rest. Plus, it gave him a moment or two to leisurely admire his partner's lean, strong body, eyes drifting casually from one point of interest to another.
When Mike finally completed the call, he moved back to the bed and tossed the phone almost-angrily to the nightstand, half-watching as Jethro sat up and waited to find out what was happening. Mike's face was strained and solemn, a deep frown line marring his forehead, but he relaxed a bit when he glanced at the concerned, blue eyes of his companion. Easing back onto the mattress, he sat and stared at Jethro, reaching out to run a hand over the solid, broad chest and then melting into the offered, strong embrace.
"I'm sorry, Jeth," he whispered against the warm, smooth skin. "I don't know what's going on but, if Candace is this upset, it must be bad. She and Jimmy are going to drive up this afternoon so we can hash this…“ he waved a hand abstractedly around, “whatever it is…out. I'm so sorry."
"Hell, Mike," Jethro place a brief kiss to the man's forehead, shifting slightly and bringing their bodies into better alignment, "nothing can mess up this leave. Trust me."
Shortly after two o'clock, as Candace and James DiNozzo were pulling their green SUV up the rocky drive toward the lakeside cabin, Jethro remained on the front porch, leaning casually against a rough post and watching as Mike walked the short path to where they were parking. Mike easily swept his petite sister into a brief but tight embrace when she exited the vehicle, lifting her slight body off the ground and swinging her briefly in a partial arc. It was a graceful, almost-practiced move, and Gibbs couldn’t help the indulgent grin that broke across his face as he watched the siblings interact. As they moved slowly apart, they walked, arm-in-arm, to the front of the Jeep and joined Jimmy, the young Marine extending a hand to his brother-in-law in greeting. The trio remained by the front of the SUV for several long minutes, conversing quietly, but Jethro was too far away to hear what was being said. He could tell by the posture that Mike was, once again, processing information, his eyes moving quickly between Candace and Jimmy as they took turns speaking. It wasn't until Jethro saw Mike's body tense and the usually calm eyes grow hard that he knew things were about to go bad.
Mike was suddenly turning away from the visitors and moving to stand next to the Jeep's rear passenger window, bracing one palm on the vehicle as he peered intently inside. Jethro watched as the hand on the window frame clenched into a hard, tight fist and his friend go deathly still. He knew that posture…all too well. When Mike turned to look back in Candace‘s direction, the usually warm eyes were cold and hard and Jethro was moving before he even realized he‘d stepped away from the post.
Descending the steps quickly, he approached Candace and Jimmy but kept his eyes trained solely on Mike, silently acknowledging the couple's presence as he stopped close to them. He gently laid one hand on Candace's shoulder, lending his support without words. He'd met the woman once before and immediately like her for her sweet sassiness but he knew nothing of her husband, so chose to ignore him for the moment. His whole being was focused totally on the man standing tensely by the Jeep‘s window.
"What's going on, Mike?" He inquired quietly, trying to ease into the mix.
Mike grimly shook his head, pressing his lips tightly together, and continued to look only at Candace. Something dark and silent seemed to pass between the siblings.
"Jethro," Candace slowly covered the hand on her shoulder with one of her own, trying to gain his full attention, letting her gaze drift to the tall man now at her side, "I'm so sorry to be bringing this problem to you and Mike, especially during your leave, but we just didn't have any other choice. We had to get Anthony away from that sorry excuse that calls itself a family."
"Candace..." Jimmy warned his wife without any real anger, his voice low but steady.
The woman dropped her hand and turned to look squarely at her husband. "You know this isn't a slur against you, sweetheart, but you *know* I'm right about this."
James DiNozzo started to speak, seemed to think better of it, and reluctantly nodded his agreement with her assessment, a deep sorrow shading his kind eyes. "Yeah, I know."
Jethro continued to look toward Jimmy, waiting for something more. When both he and Candace remained silent, Jethro once more turned his frustrated gaze back to his friend.
"Mike,” he sighed softly, still very conscious of the underlying tension, “I'm asking you. What’s going on?"
"I think we need to take this inside," he finally met Jethro's eyes. "If this goes the way I think it will, we need to be sitting down."
Instead of moving away from the Jeep, Mike opened the rear door and reached part of the way in, working with something on the seat, and emerged carrying a small, sleeping child. A mop of unruly brown hair obscured the face that rested under Mike's chin and a thin, lightweight blanket covered most of the little body, only one sneakered toe managing to peek out at the opposite end.
"This is Anthony," Mike stated simply as he stood in front of his companion, ignoring the surprised expression flaring in the depths of the blue eyes.
"He yours?" Jethro swallowed his surprise but managed to ask without judgment.
"No." The sharp, clipped response was the only reply.
Mike stepped past the others and headed back toward the cabin's front door. He covered the ground quickly, hearing the crunch of footsteps finally starting not far behind. He moved through the compact interior, toward the cabin’s only bedroom, and gently placed the still-sleeping child in the middle of the large mattress, making sure he was well away from the edges and taking a moment to carefully tuck the blanket around the slight body. Stepping back, he paused briefly to look down at the slumbering boy, wondering how someone this undersized could be the cause of so much family turmoil. Shaking his head, he quietly went to join the other adults.
Less than an hour later, the two Marines were finally beginning to understand the problem and all it entailed. The four adults all sat around the kitchen's heavy, wooden table, the coffee Jethro had brewed had long grown cold and unwanted in their individual mugs, and discussed the horrible, gut-clenching life of little Anthony DiNozzo. There had even been a brief moment when Jethro had thought he was going to have to excuse himself to avoid puking in front of the others but he’d quickly hammered back the rising bile and remained seated, staring down into the dark, bitter liquid in the cup grasped tightly between his two hands like it held all the answers of the universe. If Mike could sit there and endure, so would he.
Candace and Jimmy were relentless in their description of the boy's sad existence, never glossing over or deleting anything they thought the two men should know, explaining how they‘d finally gotten involved and why they‘d found it necessary to bring the boy with them, away from the city. Their tale seemed to go on and on and Jethro finally had to stop listening, his stomach threatening to make itself known if he finally didn‘t just tune them out. How in the world had a six year old boy survived in a world where no one seemed to care about him?
Six years old.
The child Mike had held in his arms hadn't even look six years old. From what Jethro had seen, he was just too small, too underdeveloped, too everything. He took a deep, shaky breath and looked directly at Mike.
"Did you know about this?"
Mike shook his head sadly. "No."
"What good would that have done if you had known about it, Mike?" Candace frowned at her brother‘s obvious displeasure. "Jimmy and I have been involved a little less than a month, just since we moved back from Miami. You were out of the country and, quite honestly, I was hoping the other relatives would be able to convince Frank DiNozzo to step up and take responsibility for his actions.” She shook her head mournfully at the thought. “Boy, was I ever wrong."
Frank DiNozzo. There was now a name for the monster in this nightmare.
"Most of the DiNozzo's are 'managed' by Frank, either working directly for him or relying on an allowance to maintain their lifestyle. Anyway," Jimmy sighed before continuing, trying to pick up where his wife had left off, "we knew we had a bigger problem when Child Services wouldn't even investigate. The woman we talked to said there was absolutely no truth to anything we’d ever heard about Anthony‘s treatment, that she knew the DiNozzo family personally and could vouch for his wellbeing. Yeah, right."
"You can see our dilemma," Candace continued, eyes dancing back and forth between the two Marines. "We can't take Anthony into our home until we can be assured Frank won't ever be able to get his hands on him again or..."
"Or?" Mike prompted at her hesitation.
"Or until we can contact and explain the situation to Anthony's maternal grandfather," Jimmy finished quietly.
"Where's he?" Jethro asked, seeing their discomfort but needing to know.
"Washington. He's...a senator.," Jimmy seemed almost embarrassed as the words left his mouth and ran a shaky hand through his thick hair.
Jethro sat back hard in his chair. A *senator*. An elected official. A man who got where he was because people went to the polls and voted for him. A man who now had an abused grandson that needed help. Jesus.
The younger men looked at each other, each knowing this was a very bad situation. Jethro was the first to look away and pose another question to the couple.
"Isn't someone going to be looking for him? I mean, you obviously want to hide him here for awhile."
Jimmy gave a short, angry huff. "That's the real kicker. Frank gave Anthony to his good-for-nothing step-brother three years ago, making him a guardian and paying him real well to keep the boy out of sight and well away from others in the family. The dumb bastard just up and left the day after he put Anthony into the hospital. Took off with his latest whore to spend some time in Vegas."
"Whoa, whoa," Mike cut in quickly. "You mean Frank DiNozzo's not even in Anthony's life right now?"
"Well, not directly. He only pays his step-brother, Robert, to 'take care' of Anthony but, from what we've heard, he hasn't even seen the boy in almost year and a half."
"So, how did you get him out of the hospital?" Mike had to know, afraid his sister was about to admit to federal charges.
"My name is DiNozzo, too," Jimmy stated simply, a hard, determined look settling over his face. "I may not be real proud of that right now but there was a time when I was. When we found out Anthony could go home, and that there was no one there for him, I signed the release papers and got him out as fast as possible."
Jethro shook his head in disbelief, his liking for Jimmy ratcheting up several notches. The man certainly had balls. "You signed Robert DiNozzo's name to the release papers?"
"Yeah, so?” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Look, Robert will be gone for a good two weeks, Frank doesn't care if Anthony lives or dies, and anyone else who may know about his abuse will be too cowed to do anything about it. There was no other choice."
"God, I love this man," Candace proclaimed proudly, snaking a hand under the table to pat her husband on this closest thigh.
Silence settled again momentarily and Jethro had to wonder about this poor kid. If what Candace and Jimmy said was true…and there was no reason to doubt them…Anthony DiNozzo had been motherless at birth, abandoned by his only remaining parent, and given to another man who’d used him primarily as a meal ticket…and, sometimes, as something worse. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he made direct eye contact with Mike once more.
"It's okay with me if he stays," he said calmly.
Mike saw the sincerity in the blue eyes he loved so well. He placed a hand on Jethro's closest shoulder a squeezed tightly in silent thanks. There was no better friend than Jethro Gibbs.
A slight movement from the hallway caught his attention and he looked past Jethro to greet the new arrival softly. "Hey, Anthony."
Surprised, the others turned to face the boy who was now standing at the end of the hall, taking in the sleep-mussed hair and the slightly too-large t-shirt that hung precariously off of one slim, pale shoulder. The small, angelic face would have been almost perfect, if not for the dark purple bruise across one cheek and the cut in the slightly swollen bottom lip. The white cast covering most of the left arm almost looked too large for a child that size.
The boy blinked owlishly at the adults and rubbed a fist across his eyes, trying to chase the remains of his nap away. He squirmed a bit and slowly eased the hand down to squeeze gently at the front of his gray sweatpants.
"Bathroom," the sweet voice said softly.
Jethro acted on instinct and was up in an instant, moving toward the child before he realized his mistake. The skittish boy immediately stepped back against the wall and brought his good hand up to protect his face, head dropping low and away. It was clearly a defensive move, honed from long practice, and Gibbs mentally berated himself, vowing to remember what his quick, unthinking actions could mean to a child like this.
Crouching slowly down to the boy's level and trying to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible, Jethro made sure his voice was low and gentle. He could see the small shoulders trembling slightly under the t-shirt and the face remained angled downward.
"I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to move so fast but I thought you needed help. If I promise not to do it again, do you think you could look at me?"
The boy's hand dropped a few inches but he didn't raise his face, merely looked at the man from under a thick fall of brown bangs. The Marine offered a small smile and tried again.
"My name is Jethro...but you can call me Gunny."
"Jeth." He could hear the amused reprimand in Mike's quiet voice and turned his head just enough to glance back at his gently scolding friend. "You aren't a gunnery sergeant."
Jethro smiled slyly and nodded once, swiveling his head back toward the boy. "But I will be soon."
Mike rolled his eyes at the confident statement but Jethro was already refocused on the little figure. The small head had raised a fraction and the hand had dropped to hover around chest high.
"Can you say 'Gunny'?" Jethro asked soothingly, tilting his head to one .
The boy was still pale, eyes wide with apprehension. The small mouth trembled but whispered the necessary response.
"Gunny."
"Yep, that's me," Jethro said lightly, ignoring the fragility of the small voice and the fear still in the stance. "What's your name?"
The boy shifted and looked at Jethro intently, blinking rapidly as he processed the question and the man kneeling before him. The tip of his pink tongue darted out to wet the surface of the cut lip before he formed his answer.
"Anthony," he whispered and raised his face a bit more, "but...you can call me...Tony."
The brave response caught them all totally off-guard and, at the table, Candace and Jimmy exchanged pleased smiles. It lightened their spirits and removed some of their misgivings about leaving him here with these young men.
"Tony," Jethro sounded the name slowly and clearly, rolling it around in his mouth, acting as if he had to consider the request. He offered another smile. "Okay. I'll call you Tony."
They eyed each other for a moment longer before Tony squirmed again, the hand returning to the front of his sweatpants. This time the grasp was a bit tighter than before.
"Gotta pee, Gunny."
"This way." Jethro rose slowly and headed back down the hall without looking back. Tony stood uncertainly for a second and then followed quickly, bodily urges beating down any remaining misgivings.
"Hey, that went surprisingly well," Jimmy smiled as he rose from his place at the table, quietly sliding the vacated chair back under. "I'll go out to the Jeep and get his duffle. He doesn't have much, Mike. We…well, we just weren't sure if you and Jethro would let him stay."
"It's okay, Jimmy. We'll make do with what he‘s got."
Mike watched until Jimmy had closed the front door before turning to his sister. "Do what you need to do to get this straightened out, Candace. Jeth and I have report back on the fourteenth, so that doesn't give you much time."
"It will have to be enough."
Mike's eyes went hard. "Candace, I'm going to only say this once, so listen very carefully."
"Okay," she immediately agreed and focused on her brother.
"I'm only related to the DiNozzo family because of your marriage to Jimmy. Frankly, I don't care about me but Jeth doesn't need to be sucked into a situation that could potentially involve the law and possibly mess up his career plans. I would never do anything to hurt him and, if it means giving the kid up, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Understand?"
Candace smiled and placed a warm hand against his cheek. "More than you realize. I know how much he means to you."
"Candace...don't."
"No," her fingers moved to gently cover his mouth, "you listen to me now. You and Jethro are two of the most honorable, young men I know and that's a rare commodity nowadays. You just do what you feel to be right and I have enough faith to believe it's all we'll need to get through this."
They remained silent until Jimmy reappeared carrying the small duffle and Mike could only wonder what the next days would be like. Candace's faith would have to sustain them all and, for Tony's sake, it just had to be enough.
TBC
Author: Matt
Rating: This part- PG
Category: AU Series, angst, romance, hurt/comfort
Genre: Slash
Warnings: Language, discussion of child abuse, dark story
Pairing: Gibbs/OMC
Summary: Marine Jethro Gibbs meets a very young and very damaged Anthony DiNozzo.
Spoilers: None
Notes: This is the first NCIS fic I wrote (beginning back in mid 2005) and I've taken the liberty to tweak it a bit before posting. My thanks, as always, to BC for using her valuable time to beta.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement intended.
The very first time Jethro Gibbs ever heard the surname 'DiNozzo' was during an extended leave while vacationing with fellow Marine and best friend Michael Johnson at the Johnson family's isolated cabin along the shores of Great Neck Bay. It was also during this time that Gibbs' life, though he wouldn't be aware of it until a much later time, was placed on a course leading to great and terrible sorrow but an even greater and lasting love.
The two, young, war-weary Marines thoroughly enjoyed their first three days of rest and relaxation, doing nothing more strenuous than spending long mornings lolling among the pillows and the down comforter on the soft, king-sized bed or lazing away the hot, hazy afternoons by boating the pristine waters of the Bay or, occasionally, playing slow and challenging games of fairly-completive chess in front of the large, stone fireplace as supper simmered on the rustic but reliable range. They found a multitude of activities to keep them delighted and amused, when they felt the need, but nothing pleased them more than simply sitting on the private dock at the water’s edge each night, under the glittering blanket of peaceful, brilliant stars, and consuming bottles of good, cold ale until they both were stupidly drunk.
Their much-respected uniforms, used when traveling to and from their current postings, were hanging in the entry closet near the front door, silent but constant reminders of what they had waiting for them when their days stateside were completed. Until then, they opted for more appropriate gear, allowing their strong bodies to enjoy the sun and the water at its fullest. Shorts and swimwear replaced the stiff, starched, standardized pants that usually covered long, muscled legs, soft cotton t-shirts covered broad shoulders and sturdy backs conditioned to carrying heavy packs and cumbersome weapons, and sneakers protected sure, calloused feet usually confined within high-laced, supportive, black boots.
To Gibbs, the cabin and the Bay were like a small slice of heaven, far away from the day-to-day struggles of combat and the uncertainty of life. Little did he know he and Mike were about to be swept into a nasty little piece of hell.
On the fifth morning of their leave, while still abed, Mike's sister phoned from her home in New York City, rousing the men from slumber. Her tone alone brought Mike immediately awake, the pitch and timbre of her usually sweet voice chilling him terribly and forcing him to abruptly focus and sit up, the sheet slipping to pool forgotten in his lap. Beside him, Jethro stirred and concentrated on his friend, seeing the worry on the face and the anger in the usually warm, brown eyes. He instinctively laid a comforting hand on Mike's strong, bare thigh but wasn't the least bit surprised when the other man slowly rose from the sheets and moved slightly away, standing naked in the morning sun that poured through the wide windows overlooking the tranquil waters of the Bay.
Jethro rolled over, one cheek still pressed into his warm pillow, and watched him closely, immediately knowing this was neither a conscious snub or unintentional rejection. He instantly recognized the action for what it was: when Mike was processing new information or receiving vital intel, he always needed his space, be it emotionally or physically. So, Jethro was content to recline on the soft mattress and bide his time, knowing Mike would return when ready, and share whatever it was that was disrupting their early morning rest. Plus, it gave him a moment or two to leisurely admire his partner's lean, strong body, eyes drifting casually from one point of interest to another.
When Mike finally completed the call, he moved back to the bed and tossed the phone almost-angrily to the nightstand, half-watching as Jethro sat up and waited to find out what was happening. Mike's face was strained and solemn, a deep frown line marring his forehead, but he relaxed a bit when he glanced at the concerned, blue eyes of his companion. Easing back onto the mattress, he sat and stared at Jethro, reaching out to run a hand over the solid, broad chest and then melting into the offered, strong embrace.
"I'm sorry, Jeth," he whispered against the warm, smooth skin. "I don't know what's going on but, if Candace is this upset, it must be bad. She and Jimmy are going to drive up this afternoon so we can hash this…“ he waved a hand abstractedly around, “whatever it is…out. I'm so sorry."
"Hell, Mike," Jethro place a brief kiss to the man's forehead, shifting slightly and bringing their bodies into better alignment, "nothing can mess up this leave. Trust me."
Shortly after two o'clock, as Candace and James DiNozzo were pulling their green SUV up the rocky drive toward the lakeside cabin, Jethro remained on the front porch, leaning casually against a rough post and watching as Mike walked the short path to where they were parking. Mike easily swept his petite sister into a brief but tight embrace when she exited the vehicle, lifting her slight body off the ground and swinging her briefly in a partial arc. It was a graceful, almost-practiced move, and Gibbs couldn’t help the indulgent grin that broke across his face as he watched the siblings interact. As they moved slowly apart, they walked, arm-in-arm, to the front of the Jeep and joined Jimmy, the young Marine extending a hand to his brother-in-law in greeting. The trio remained by the front of the SUV for several long minutes, conversing quietly, but Jethro was too far away to hear what was being said. He could tell by the posture that Mike was, once again, processing information, his eyes moving quickly between Candace and Jimmy as they took turns speaking. It wasn't until Jethro saw Mike's body tense and the usually calm eyes grow hard that he knew things were about to go bad.
Mike was suddenly turning away from the visitors and moving to stand next to the Jeep's rear passenger window, bracing one palm on the vehicle as he peered intently inside. Jethro watched as the hand on the window frame clenched into a hard, tight fist and his friend go deathly still. He knew that posture…all too well. When Mike turned to look back in Candace‘s direction, the usually warm eyes were cold and hard and Jethro was moving before he even realized he‘d stepped away from the post.
Descending the steps quickly, he approached Candace and Jimmy but kept his eyes trained solely on Mike, silently acknowledging the couple's presence as he stopped close to them. He gently laid one hand on Candace's shoulder, lending his support without words. He'd met the woman once before and immediately like her for her sweet sassiness but he knew nothing of her husband, so chose to ignore him for the moment. His whole being was focused totally on the man standing tensely by the Jeep‘s window.
"What's going on, Mike?" He inquired quietly, trying to ease into the mix.
Mike grimly shook his head, pressing his lips tightly together, and continued to look only at Candace. Something dark and silent seemed to pass between the siblings.
"Jethro," Candace slowly covered the hand on her shoulder with one of her own, trying to gain his full attention, letting her gaze drift to the tall man now at her side, "I'm so sorry to be bringing this problem to you and Mike, especially during your leave, but we just didn't have any other choice. We had to get Anthony away from that sorry excuse that calls itself a family."
"Candace..." Jimmy warned his wife without any real anger, his voice low but steady.
The woman dropped her hand and turned to look squarely at her husband. "You know this isn't a slur against you, sweetheart, but you *know* I'm right about this."
James DiNozzo started to speak, seemed to think better of it, and reluctantly nodded his agreement with her assessment, a deep sorrow shading his kind eyes. "Yeah, I know."
Jethro continued to look toward Jimmy, waiting for something more. When both he and Candace remained silent, Jethro once more turned his frustrated gaze back to his friend.
"Mike,” he sighed softly, still very conscious of the underlying tension, “I'm asking you. What’s going on?"
"I think we need to take this inside," he finally met Jethro's eyes. "If this goes the way I think it will, we need to be sitting down."
Instead of moving away from the Jeep, Mike opened the rear door and reached part of the way in, working with something on the seat, and emerged carrying a small, sleeping child. A mop of unruly brown hair obscured the face that rested under Mike's chin and a thin, lightweight blanket covered most of the little body, only one sneakered toe managing to peek out at the opposite end.
"This is Anthony," Mike stated simply as he stood in front of his companion, ignoring the surprised expression flaring in the depths of the blue eyes.
"He yours?" Jethro swallowed his surprise but managed to ask without judgment.
"No." The sharp, clipped response was the only reply.
Mike stepped past the others and headed back toward the cabin's front door. He covered the ground quickly, hearing the crunch of footsteps finally starting not far behind. He moved through the compact interior, toward the cabin’s only bedroom, and gently placed the still-sleeping child in the middle of the large mattress, making sure he was well away from the edges and taking a moment to carefully tuck the blanket around the slight body. Stepping back, he paused briefly to look down at the slumbering boy, wondering how someone this undersized could be the cause of so much family turmoil. Shaking his head, he quietly went to join the other adults.
Less than an hour later, the two Marines were finally beginning to understand the problem and all it entailed. The four adults all sat around the kitchen's heavy, wooden table, the coffee Jethro had brewed had long grown cold and unwanted in their individual mugs, and discussed the horrible, gut-clenching life of little Anthony DiNozzo. There had even been a brief moment when Jethro had thought he was going to have to excuse himself to avoid puking in front of the others but he’d quickly hammered back the rising bile and remained seated, staring down into the dark, bitter liquid in the cup grasped tightly between his two hands like it held all the answers of the universe. If Mike could sit there and endure, so would he.
Candace and Jimmy were relentless in their description of the boy's sad existence, never glossing over or deleting anything they thought the two men should know, explaining how they‘d finally gotten involved and why they‘d found it necessary to bring the boy with them, away from the city. Their tale seemed to go on and on and Jethro finally had to stop listening, his stomach threatening to make itself known if he finally didn‘t just tune them out. How in the world had a six year old boy survived in a world where no one seemed to care about him?
Six years old.
The child Mike had held in his arms hadn't even look six years old. From what Jethro had seen, he was just too small, too underdeveloped, too everything. He took a deep, shaky breath and looked directly at Mike.
"Did you know about this?"
Mike shook his head sadly. "No."
"What good would that have done if you had known about it, Mike?" Candace frowned at her brother‘s obvious displeasure. "Jimmy and I have been involved a little less than a month, just since we moved back from Miami. You were out of the country and, quite honestly, I was hoping the other relatives would be able to convince Frank DiNozzo to step up and take responsibility for his actions.” She shook her head mournfully at the thought. “Boy, was I ever wrong."
Frank DiNozzo. There was now a name for the monster in this nightmare.
"Most of the DiNozzo's are 'managed' by Frank, either working directly for him or relying on an allowance to maintain their lifestyle. Anyway," Jimmy sighed before continuing, trying to pick up where his wife had left off, "we knew we had a bigger problem when Child Services wouldn't even investigate. The woman we talked to said there was absolutely no truth to anything we’d ever heard about Anthony‘s treatment, that she knew the DiNozzo family personally and could vouch for his wellbeing. Yeah, right."
"You can see our dilemma," Candace continued, eyes dancing back and forth between the two Marines. "We can't take Anthony into our home until we can be assured Frank won't ever be able to get his hands on him again or..."
"Or?" Mike prompted at her hesitation.
"Or until we can contact and explain the situation to Anthony's maternal grandfather," Jimmy finished quietly.
"Where's he?" Jethro asked, seeing their discomfort but needing to know.
"Washington. He's...a senator.," Jimmy seemed almost embarrassed as the words left his mouth and ran a shaky hand through his thick hair.
Jethro sat back hard in his chair. A *senator*. An elected official. A man who got where he was because people went to the polls and voted for him. A man who now had an abused grandson that needed help. Jesus.
The younger men looked at each other, each knowing this was a very bad situation. Jethro was the first to look away and pose another question to the couple.
"Isn't someone going to be looking for him? I mean, you obviously want to hide him here for awhile."
Jimmy gave a short, angry huff. "That's the real kicker. Frank gave Anthony to his good-for-nothing step-brother three years ago, making him a guardian and paying him real well to keep the boy out of sight and well away from others in the family. The dumb bastard just up and left the day after he put Anthony into the hospital. Took off with his latest whore to spend some time in Vegas."
"Whoa, whoa," Mike cut in quickly. "You mean Frank DiNozzo's not even in Anthony's life right now?"
"Well, not directly. He only pays his step-brother, Robert, to 'take care' of Anthony but, from what we've heard, he hasn't even seen the boy in almost year and a half."
"So, how did you get him out of the hospital?" Mike had to know, afraid his sister was about to admit to federal charges.
"My name is DiNozzo, too," Jimmy stated simply, a hard, determined look settling over his face. "I may not be real proud of that right now but there was a time when I was. When we found out Anthony could go home, and that there was no one there for him, I signed the release papers and got him out as fast as possible."
Jethro shook his head in disbelief, his liking for Jimmy ratcheting up several notches. The man certainly had balls. "You signed Robert DiNozzo's name to the release papers?"
"Yeah, so?” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Look, Robert will be gone for a good two weeks, Frank doesn't care if Anthony lives or dies, and anyone else who may know about his abuse will be too cowed to do anything about it. There was no other choice."
"God, I love this man," Candace proclaimed proudly, snaking a hand under the table to pat her husband on this closest thigh.
Silence settled again momentarily and Jethro had to wonder about this poor kid. If what Candace and Jimmy said was true…and there was no reason to doubt them…Anthony DiNozzo had been motherless at birth, abandoned by his only remaining parent, and given to another man who’d used him primarily as a meal ticket…and, sometimes, as something worse. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he made direct eye contact with Mike once more.
"It's okay with me if he stays," he said calmly.
Mike saw the sincerity in the blue eyes he loved so well. He placed a hand on Jethro's closest shoulder a squeezed tightly in silent thanks. There was no better friend than Jethro Gibbs.
A slight movement from the hallway caught his attention and he looked past Jethro to greet the new arrival softly. "Hey, Anthony."
Surprised, the others turned to face the boy who was now standing at the end of the hall, taking in the sleep-mussed hair and the slightly too-large t-shirt that hung precariously off of one slim, pale shoulder. The small, angelic face would have been almost perfect, if not for the dark purple bruise across one cheek and the cut in the slightly swollen bottom lip. The white cast covering most of the left arm almost looked too large for a child that size.
The boy blinked owlishly at the adults and rubbed a fist across his eyes, trying to chase the remains of his nap away. He squirmed a bit and slowly eased the hand down to squeeze gently at the front of his gray sweatpants.
"Bathroom," the sweet voice said softly.
Jethro acted on instinct and was up in an instant, moving toward the child before he realized his mistake. The skittish boy immediately stepped back against the wall and brought his good hand up to protect his face, head dropping low and away. It was clearly a defensive move, honed from long practice, and Gibbs mentally berated himself, vowing to remember what his quick, unthinking actions could mean to a child like this.
Crouching slowly down to the boy's level and trying to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible, Jethro made sure his voice was low and gentle. He could see the small shoulders trembling slightly under the t-shirt and the face remained angled downward.
"I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to move so fast but I thought you needed help. If I promise not to do it again, do you think you could look at me?"
The boy's hand dropped a few inches but he didn't raise his face, merely looked at the man from under a thick fall of brown bangs. The Marine offered a small smile and tried again.
"My name is Jethro...but you can call me Gunny."
"Jeth." He could hear the amused reprimand in Mike's quiet voice and turned his head just enough to glance back at his gently scolding friend. "You aren't a gunnery sergeant."
Jethro smiled slyly and nodded once, swiveling his head back toward the boy. "But I will be soon."
Mike rolled his eyes at the confident statement but Jethro was already refocused on the little figure. The small head had raised a fraction and the hand had dropped to hover around chest high.
"Can you say 'Gunny'?" Jethro asked soothingly, tilting his head to one .
The boy was still pale, eyes wide with apprehension. The small mouth trembled but whispered the necessary response.
"Gunny."
"Yep, that's me," Jethro said lightly, ignoring the fragility of the small voice and the fear still in the stance. "What's your name?"
The boy shifted and looked at Jethro intently, blinking rapidly as he processed the question and the man kneeling before him. The tip of his pink tongue darted out to wet the surface of the cut lip before he formed his answer.
"Anthony," he whispered and raised his face a bit more, "but...you can call me...Tony."
The brave response caught them all totally off-guard and, at the table, Candace and Jimmy exchanged pleased smiles. It lightened their spirits and removed some of their misgivings about leaving him here with these young men.
"Tony," Jethro sounded the name slowly and clearly, rolling it around in his mouth, acting as if he had to consider the request. He offered another smile. "Okay. I'll call you Tony."
They eyed each other for a moment longer before Tony squirmed again, the hand returning to the front of his sweatpants. This time the grasp was a bit tighter than before.
"Gotta pee, Gunny."
"This way." Jethro rose slowly and headed back down the hall without looking back. Tony stood uncertainly for a second and then followed quickly, bodily urges beating down any remaining misgivings.
"Hey, that went surprisingly well," Jimmy smiled as he rose from his place at the table, quietly sliding the vacated chair back under. "I'll go out to the Jeep and get his duffle. He doesn't have much, Mike. We…well, we just weren't sure if you and Jethro would let him stay."
"It's okay, Jimmy. We'll make do with what he‘s got."
Mike watched until Jimmy had closed the front door before turning to his sister. "Do what you need to do to get this straightened out, Candace. Jeth and I have report back on the fourteenth, so that doesn't give you much time."
"It will have to be enough."
Mike's eyes went hard. "Candace, I'm going to only say this once, so listen very carefully."
"Okay," she immediately agreed and focused on her brother.
"I'm only related to the DiNozzo family because of your marriage to Jimmy. Frankly, I don't care about me but Jeth doesn't need to be sucked into a situation that could potentially involve the law and possibly mess up his career plans. I would never do anything to hurt him and, if it means giving the kid up, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Understand?"
Candace smiled and placed a warm hand against his cheek. "More than you realize. I know how much he means to you."
"Candace...don't."
"No," her fingers moved to gently cover his mouth, "you listen to me now. You and Jethro are two of the most honorable, young men I know and that's a rare commodity nowadays. You just do what you feel to be right and I have enough faith to believe it's all we'll need to get through this."
They remained silent until Jimmy reappeared carrying the small duffle and Mike could only wonder what the next days would be like. Candace's faith would have to sustain them all and, for Tony's sake, it just had to be enough.
TBC