Chapter Text
Trapping his cell between his shoulder and his chin, Gibbs poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee and leaned wearily against the kitchen counter. He scrubbed his face with one hand, feeling the roughness of his unshaven jaw. Although it was only 7pm, the house was disturbingly dark and silent; reminiscent of a time when the Gunny lived alone with his sorrow and heartache.
"Where is he now?" Jackson asked.
"In his room," Gibbs replied. "I was just gonna check on him."
"I'll wait."
Placing the cell on the kitchen counter, Gibbs walked quietly up the hall to Tony's room and saw the boy sprawled across his bed, sound asleep. The young face was still blotchy and tear-stained from the altercation that still clawed at the former Marine's heart. Had he overreacted? Was he too harsh? Should he have tried to reason with the kid rather than leaving him in his room to cry himself out?
The severe muscle cramps Tony had experienced in his legs two weeks ago had been diagnosed as neurogenic pain and stemmed from damage to the nerves in and around the boy's spinal cord. A marginal reduction in the swelling compressing Tony's spinal cord had caused the nerves and muscles in his legs to contract painfully.
Despite Doctor McNally's cautious optimism, the reduction in swelling was a particularly hopeful sign. But the former Marine was under no illusion that a miracle cure was waiting just around the corner; Tony had been badly injured and real life rarely had fairy tale endings. But Gibbs had already seen this tenacious little boy endure so much - as long as there was any chance at all, he'd put his money on DiNozzo.
Wandering back to the kitchen he took another mouthful of hot coffee and picked up his cell.
"Still sleeping," he told his father.
"He obviously needs the rest," Jack told him.
"He missed dinner. It'll mess with his Keto diet."
"You can make it up tomorrow. He's not the first kid to go to bed without his supper and he won't be the last."
Jack frowned at the silence on the end of the line. His son was never a big talker but he could tell Leroy had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"You called me, Son," he said. "What's on your mind?"
Gibbs released a heavy sigh that traveled from his boot tops. He was known as a man of few words – concise and straight to the point - vbut he was worried about Tony and for the first time since he was fifteen years old, he needed to share his concern with his father.
He started slowly…explaining how the easy-going kid had become more and more frustrated by the restrictions of his condition. Tony had a streak of independence a mile wide and it exasperated and angered him that he needed help to accomplish the simplest of tasks. As Tony's physical therapist Ziva's role in the boy's recovery was vitally important. But of equal bearing was rehabilitation – helping Tony regain the most independent level of functioning possible. He had worked hard at his fitness sessions to improve his upper body strength and he could now manoeuvre his wheelchair for short distances, without needing assistance.
"I don't understand, Son. Isn't that what we want for him?" Jack asked.
"It's not the mobility, Dad," Gibbs said, struggling to find the right words. "The more mobile he gets, the more reckless he becomes. Kid takes short cuts, thinks he's indestructible."
Jackson huffed a laugh.
"Leroy, the boy's in a wheelchair. How much trouble can he get into?"
Gibbs dropped wearily into a chair and began to tell his father of the events of the last few days.
FLASHBACK
As part of Tony's rehabilitation process, Ziva had taught the boy how to detach the sides of his wheelchair and lift himself onto a chair. Tony was delighted with the small step toward independence and constantly practised transferring from his wheelchair to the couch; the two armchairs; all of the dining room chairs and his lowered bed. It wasn't long before he had the technique nailed but as his confidence grew so, too, did his bravado.
Having successfully shifted his skinny butt from the wheelchair to all six dining chairs and back again, Tony was on his second circuit of the living room when Gibbs looked up from his newspaper. The kid moved on to the next seat and the Gunny shook his head at Tony's dogged determination. Musical chairs continued for another fifteen minutes until the former Marine was at the end of his patience.
"Keep that up you'll wear a hole in the seat of your pants," Gibbs said.
Tony scowled.
"Ziva said if I want to get better at this, I have to practise."
"Pick a chair and sit in it," Gibbs told him. "You're done practising for tonight."
"But Gibbs, I -"
Despite repeated warnings about applying the brakes on his wheelchair, the inevitable happened. With a loud crash the chair skidded out from under him and the boy was deposited to the floor in a crumpled heap. Although the kid was unhurt, Gibbs felt several more hairs turn grey as Tony looked up through long eyelashes and sheepishly flashed the dimples that framed his Hollywood grin.
"Now I'm done," he quipped.
END FLASHBACK
Jackson chuckled as he imagined the look on the boy's impish face.
"That's not so bad," he said. "You've told me yourself that the kid's tough as old boots."
Gibbs shook his head silently before citing another example.
FLASHBACK
The boy was watching one of his movies in the living room while Gibbs prepared their lunch in the kitchen. The sound of a dog barking several houses away caught the boy's attention and he looked out the window to see what was causing the ruckus. His eyes lit up when he saw the USPS van slowly making its way down the street. Arnie Johnson was a portly man who had been delivering mail in this neighbourhood for over twenty years. He always greeted Tony and Gibbs with a friendly smile and an ever-hopeful word about his beloved Washington Wizards.
Tony wheeled his chair to the front door and, finding it ajar, pushed it open wide enough to squeeze his chair through. He eyed the ramp warily at first then, with a deep breath, he pushed the chair forward and hung on tight as it picked up speed. The chair hit the bottom of the ramp and continued along the level path until it had slowed enough for Tony to regain control and steer it toward the mailbox.
"Hi Mister Johnson," he said brightly.
"Well hello there, Tony," the mail carrier replied.
"I've been waiting for you," the boy told him. "Guess what?"
"Hmm, let's see…you're running away to join the circus."
"Nooo," Tony laughed. "I'm going to watch the Wizards play the Grizzlies tomorrow night."
"You don't say," the man said, sharing Tony's delight.
"Director Vance, that's Gibbs boss, he's got tickets for him and Jared and me and Gibbs. It's only a pre-season game but I've never been to real game before - it's gonna be crazy good!"
"I'll be watching the game from home so, if you see yourself on the big screen, make sure you give me a big ol' wave."
"I will," the boy nodded. "Do you have any mail for us today?"
"I have one for Agent Gibbs," he said, handing Tony a single envelope. "Looks kind of important…but I think I can trust you to make sure he gets it."
"I'll take it to him right now," Tony said earnestly. "Bye, Mister Johnson."
As the mail carrier went happily on his way, Tony wheeled himself back down the path to the foot of the ramp. Getting down had been relatively easy – a little scary but fun. But from where he sat the gentle slope now looked like Mount Kilimanjaro. Tucking the letter into his shirt, he used both hands to ease himself painstakingly up the ramp. He was almost at the top when he pulled on the brake to catch his breath.
After taking a few deep breaths, Tony released the brake and gasped loudly as the chair rolled quickly back down the ramp in reverse. Unable to slow his descent, the boy tensed as the chair slid sideways; the left-side wheels hit the bottom of the handrail and abruptly stopped. The chair lurched backward and Tony was thrown heavily onto the path.
He laid there for a moment, listening to his heartbeat pounding like a jackhammer. A familiar voice called his name and, suddenly, Gibbs was there; rushing down the ramp and hurdling the fallen wheelchair to kneel beside him. The man's strong hands held either side of his face as he frantically checked the boy for injuries.
"Tony, talk to me…are you hurt?"
The boy blinked his eyes rapidly and then, with a crooked smile, he held up a crumpled envelope.
"You got mail, Gibbs."
END FLASHBACK
"You think this is funny, Dad?" Gibbs said as his father's raucous laughter echoed through the cell.
Jackson cleared his throat and tried to contain his laughter.
"Sorry, Son" he gulped, not sounding very contrite. "Was he hurt?"
"Couple of grazed elbows," Gibbs muttered, "but that's not the point. The kid doesn't see the danger until he's in the damn thick of it."
"He's a boy, Leroy! It goes with the territory," Jack said. "Relax, after a scare like that, I reckon he's learned his lesson."
"Ya think?" Gibbs replied.
FLASHBACK
Tony had been much more accepting of the standing frame since McGee had likened it to a Transformer. Gibbs had added the push-rims and casters that allowed him mobility around the house and with the apparatus in the standing position, the boy could now take himself to the bathroom and use the hand basin without suffering the indignity of having someone help him.
With the boy in his standing frame finishing his homework, Gibbs attended to some household chores. As the Gunny carried a basket of wet laundry to the clothesline, the house phone rang. Placing the basket on the outdoor table, he re-entered the house to take the call. It was several moments before he returned to the landing and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the kid, now juggling the heavy basket of wet laundry and teetering at the top of the ramp in his standing frame.
"Stop right there," Gibbs barked.
Startled by the harsh tone, the boy's head spun toward him. The washing basket slipped from his grasp and landed upside down in the dirt below. The Gunny reached the standing frame with two large steps and hauled it away from the ramp.
"What the heck are you doing?" Gibbs asked loudly.
"I'm helping you," Tony replied, with hurt-filled eyes.
"By breaking your neck?"
"I was taking the washing to the clothesline."
"How'd that work out?" Gibbs said, pointing at the upturned basket.
"You made me drop it when you yelled!" the boy said unrepentantly.
Gibbs took a few calming breaths and lowered his voice but his heart was still racing and the terrifying vision of what might have happened, replayed over and over in his mind.
"We've been through this before, Sport. The standing frame stays in the house. You could have been badly hurt."
"But I wasn't!" Tony replied, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin stubbornly.
"Tony, you can't-"
"I can! You don't let me do anything, you treat me like a baby!"
Gibbs frowned as the boy's bottom lip trembled and he swiped angrily at his traitorous tears.
"I can do things myself, why won't you let me?" he sobbed. "Why don't you let me?"
The boy hid his face in his hands and wept – silent, contained sobs that racked his small frame.
The Gunny let the boy cry, knowing he needed the release; he unbuckled him from the standing frame and carried him into his bedroom. Laying the limp form on his bed, he removed Tony's leg braces and shoes before covering him with a quilt. Emotionally exhausted, Tony closed his eyes and turned his face into the pillow; his sobs had calmed and were replaced by frequent hiccuping breaths. Switching on the seizure-alert monitor, he leaned in to place a kiss on the boy's sweaty forehead.
"Get some rest, Sport," Gibbs whispered. "We'll talk later."
END FLASHBACK
The silence on the other end of the line spoke more eloquently than words. After a moment, Jackson cleared his throat of emotion.
"Knowing what that child's been carrying inside him all these months, I can't say I'm surprised. How you gonna handle it?"
"Gonna cuff him to the couch til he's thirty," Gibbs quipped and then sighed audibly. "You got any ideas?"
"Seems to me the boy already told you what the problem is," Jack said. "He told you he wants to do things...I say you let him do them. Give him some chores; something that makes him feel like he's contributing. Tony's got some special needs but he's still a kid; we're all guilty of mollycoddling him."
"Some more than others," Gibbs muttered pointedly.
"Talk to him, Son, you'll know what to say."
Bidding his father goodnight, Gibbs walked down the hall to Tony's room and moved silently to the boy's side as he moved restlessly in his sleep. Carding his fingers gently through Tony's fine blonde hair, he grinned as the bleary green eyes cracked opened.
"Gibbs?"
"Right here, Sport."
"I'm sorry I was bad," he said, knuckling his eyes.
"Frustrated maybe, angry…but not bad."
"It was bad to yell at you."
"People do things they don't mean when they're angry or scared," the Gunny offered.
"Were you angry?"
"Nope, I was scared, Sport. Scared you'd get hurt."
The boy looked down at his wringing hands.
"You always help me, Gibbs, I just wanted to help you back."
Gibbs slipped two fingers under the boy's chin and tilted his head until their eyes met.
"You do help me, Tony."
"I do?"
"More than you'll ever know," the man said, emotion colouring his voice.
"I can do things, Gibbs. I wanna help more."
The former Marine bit back a grin at the kid's determination.
"Could give you some chores? Something you can do by yourself without breaking your neck."
"Really? I can have chores like a normal kid?"
The words stabbed at Gibbs' heart like a dagger as he adjusted the covers.
"Yeah, Sport…just like a normal kid."
Gibbs dropped a kiss on the tussled blond head.
"Hit the rack," he said as the checked the monitor again. "We got a big day tomorrow."
"Gibbs?"
"Tony."
The boy chewed his lower lip anxiously.
"Are we still going to the game tomorrow?"
"Director's expecting us," the man said. "Don't wanna stick him with the tickets."
The boy's smile lit up the dim room as his snuggled under the covers. Gibbs almost made it to the door when Tony called his name again.
"Gibbs?"
"Tony."
"Thanks for taking care of me."
The former bad-ass Marine and the scourge of NCIS felt his heart flutter. Turning on his heel he walked back to the bed and drew the boy close. The lesson of the day was loud and clear, if he was going to keep this boy in one piece, he was going to have to grow eyes in the back of his head. He suppressed the urge to hug the stuffing out of the kid and pulled up the covers for the third time that night.
"Sleep tight, Sport."
The next morning over breakfast, Tony and Gibbs devised a set of chores that Tony could do to help Gibbs around the house. As the boy was able to reach the kitchen counters when he was in his standing frame, the first chores he was assigned was setting and clearing the table at meal times and drying the dishes. He was also happy to help unpack the groceries, sort and fold the clean laundry and to keep the living room and his bedroom tidy. Due to Tony's epilepsy, anything involving hot water or electric appliances, such as cooking or ironing, could only be done under Gibbs' close supervision.
"Give me more, Gibbs," Tony stated. "I can do more."
"You got therapy with Ziva every morning, plus home schooling and homework. You're doing enough, Sport."
"Are you sure?"
"I’m sure," Gibbs said checking his watch. "Better get you dressed unless you want Ziva to see you in your shorts."
The man bit back a grin as the boy did a comical double-take and wheeled his chair as quickly as he could in the direction of his bedroom.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
A budget meeting that ran overtime meant that they had arrived at the stadium just five minutes before game time. Although not a capacity crowd, the anticipation and excitement was palpable.
"Wow!" Tony whispered reverently, twisting in his chair trying to take in the whole stadium.
Vance gave the tickets to the young usher, resplendent in a Wizards jersey.
"This way folks," she said, setting off for the stairs. Stopping suddenly she glanced at Tony's wheelchair. "Oh…I'm sorry, you'll have to go back out to the foyer and follow the wheelchair signs to the elevator. You can access the lower levels from there."
"Dad, we're gonna miss the tip off," Jared said.
"Maybe not," the director said turning to Tony. "What do you say, Slugger? You wanna take the elevator or you wanna live dangerously?"
Tony looked at Gibbs and received a nod of approval.
"Live dangerously," he grinned, leaning forward and allowing the director to lift him from the chair.
"You drop him, you face Kate and Abby alone," Gibbs warned as he collapsed the chair.
Looping one arm around Jared's shoulders, Gibbs nodded his readiness to the usher and followed them down the stairs to their seats.
"Court-side, Leon?" he asked as the boys vibrated with excitement.
"SecNav picked up the tab personally. I think he's still hoping I can talk you into coming back to work." Vance held up his hand to ward off Gibbs' objection. "Take it easy, we're here to enjoy the game, that's all."
They stood for the National Anthem and then settled into their seats as the teams took the court. The boys sat together during the game, chattering and cheering wildly. Jared shared Tony's love of sport and, although he was three years older, the two got along famously. During the halftime break, Vance and Gibbs talked quietly together as the boys laughed at the crazy dancing and trick shots of the team mascots.
"So…Agent Gibbs is your guardian, right?" Jared asked.
"Gibbs is my foster dad."
"Is he going to adopt you?"
"I don't know," Tony replied.
"I hope he does."
"Really?" Tony asked. "Why?"
"Cause adoption is permanent, fostering means they can give you back."
"Give me back?"
"Sure…there was a kid in my class last year who was a foster kid. He had allergies and his guardians said he was too much trouble and they sent him back to the children's home. They can't do that if you're adopted."
Tony frowned deeply.
"Gibbs wouldn't send me back," he said firmly. "He's a Marine and Marines don't leave anyone behind."
"I'm glad…hey, maybe we can go to another game sometime," Jared's attention was grabbed by the acrobatic mascot. "Whoa! Did you see that, Tony? That was the best dunk shot ever!"
Tony froze, scarcely able to breathe. Jared's words replayed over and over in his head. What would he do if Gibbs decided that he was too much trouble? Where would he go?
"You okay, Sport?" Gibbs asked, startling the boy from his thoughts. He frowned at the pale face and the hint of tears in the boy's eyes.
Tony nodded emphatically, pasted on an over-bright smile that triggered a feeling of foreboding in the Gunny's infamous gut.
"Tony, you've gotta see this," Jared said, drawing the boy's attention back to the game.
Gibbs continued to watch him and relaxed when the boys laughed at the antics of the mascots.
"Something wrong?" Vance asked.
"Nope…everything's fine."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Gibbs trapped the cell between his chin and shoulder as he wiped the last of the dishes.
"You can't have it both ways, Leroy,” Jack said. “First you tell me you worried that the boy's too reckless and now you're saying he's too quiet.”
"Something's wrong, Dad," Gibbs told him.
"Well, have you asked him?"
"Course I asked him," the agent answered tersely. "Says he's fine."
"But you don't believe him," Jack stated. "What's got you so worried?"
"Don't know exactly. It's like he's walking on eggshells."
Gibbs had noticed a dramatic change in Tony since the basketball game. The boy was quiet and polite; he did his chores and his homework without protest; he didn't ask to stay up past his bedtime or to stay longer at the park. The mischievous sparkle in his green eyes, his cheeky grin and the flash of dimples was missing and Gibbs was desperate to get them back.
"You think he's sick?" Jack asked.
"Called the hospital; had them double check his blood tests. Everything looked fine."
"Where is he now?"
"In his room. He's doing his homework."
"I'll be down for Thanksgiving in a few days, want me to come earlier?"
"Nah...I'll take him to the park…maybe he'll open up."
"Let me know."
"I will…and Dad? Thanks."
Placing his cell in his pocket, Gibbs called down the hall to Tony's room.
"Hey, Sport, let's go feed the ducks."
He frowned at the answering silence.
"Tony?"
As he strode quickly to the boy's room, the feeling of foreboding in the pit of the Gunny's gut, exploded into unbridled fear as he saw Tony seizing on the floor. Fear gave way to training as Gibbs kneeled beside the boy and gently moved him into the recovery position.
"I'm here, Sport," he said, the calmness of his voice belying the pounding of his heart. "It's a big one this time but I'm right here with ya. Not going anywhere, I'm right here."
Brushing the blonde hair from Tony's face, he winced as he felt the egg size bump on the back of his head. After a few moments the seizure started to subside and Tony's rigid body relaxed. Murmuring inanities, Gibbs drew the exhausted boy into his arms and instinctively began to rock in the age-old comforting motion. He eased his cell from his pocket and pressed the speed dial.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Closing his medical bag, Doctor McNally gestured for Gibbs to follow him from the room.
"He should sleep for a while but he's fine," the doctor said. "Despite the nasty bump on the back of his head there's no sign of concussion. He's one tough kid."
"You got that right," Gibbs said.
"He has an appointment with me on Friday, right?"
Gibbs nodded.
"I'm sure he's okay but bring him in tomorrow and we'll do a few scans, see what's going on in that noggin. In the meantime, if you're worried about anything – you have my number."
"Thanks for coming, Doc."
Gibbs saw the doctor to the door and walked back to Tony's room. In the dim light, he looked at the boy's pale face and the sprinkling of tiny freckles that covered his nose.
"Ya killing me, DiNozzo," he whispered, cupping his hand to Tony's face and checking for a fever that didn't exist.
How long had the kid convulsed uncontrollably before Gibbs found him? He was sickened at the thought of Tony, alone and frightened. Memories of the numerous discussions held with Abby, Ducky and the DiNozzo family solicitor, Alistair Chambers crowded his mind. Reluctantly, he accepted what others had said all along – he could be the boy's guardian but he couldn't care for Tony alone. Worst of all, his reluctance to accept that could have cost the boy his life.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Slowly and serenely, Tony began to emerge from the depths of a deep sleep. He felt warm and comfortable and was in no hurry to wake up. He shifted slightly in his bed and felt an ache from the back of his head. Concentrating his thoughts he remembered falling and knew he'd had another seizure. The fogginess in his head cleared slightly and he recognised his foster father's voice. Still too weary to wake up, he allowed himself to relax knowing that if Gibbs was with him, everything was okay.
Gibbs stood looking out the large window in Tony's room, speaking softly into his cell and throwing occasion glances over his shoulder to check on Tony.
"I understand it's short notice, Alistair," Gibbs said quietly. "Lately I can't take my eyes off the kid without something happening."
Caught between sleep and wakefulness, Tony frowned. Alistair was the name of his father's solicitor. He had helped Gibbs get custody of Tony. He knew he shouldn't listen but he couldn't help it.
"Think they'll take him?"
Tony's heart began to pound and Jared's words rushed back into his mind. 'Adoption is permanent, fostering means they can give you back.' His headache pounded and he tried to stay calm as Gibbs continued.
"How soon can you arrange a meeting? No, the sooner the better…I appreciate your help."
Tony could hardly breathe. He screwed his eyes tightly closed and turned his face to the wall. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort not to cry. He didn't want to leave; he liked it here…this was his home. He had tried his best to be good, especially after what Jared had told him, but the grand mal seizure had been the last straw and now Gibbs was sending him away. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter; that there would be someone else out there who would want to look after him. But the truth was, he didn't want anyone else, he wanted Gibbs.
"Tony?" Gibbs said gently. "You awake, Sport?"
The Gunny's voice startled him and his almost jumped out of his skin.
"S'just me," Gibbs said, placing his hand on Tony's shoulder. "You feelin' okay?"
Unable to find his voice, they boy nodded.
"We need to talk," the man told him. "Man to man."
Propping the pillows behind Tony's back, he helped the boy to sit up straight
"You know I only want what's best for you, right?"
Tony felt the prick of tears forming in his eyes and he straightened his slim shoulders. He tried to be brave like his father: he had never seen his Dad cry, not even when his Mom had died. The thought of his parents was almost his undoing but her forced all expression from his face and waited for Gibbs to speak again.
"I shoulda been here when you had your seizure. You were alone…you could've been-" Gibbs ordered the thought from his mind. "I just shoulda been here."
"Took me a while to realise but, fact is, Sport, I can't be with you 24/7. There's a real nice place, not far from here, and I think-"
A small gasp escaped and Tony's resolve crumbled. His chin began to quiver and two crystal tears slipped down his pale cheeks.
"Tony?"
Catching Gibbs my surprise, the boy threw himself forward and wrapped his skinny arms tightly around the former Marine's neck. He turned his face into the crook of the man's neck and sobbed.
"I'm sorry, Gibbs. I couldn't help it…I didn't mean to be so much trouble. Please don't…please don't send me away."
"Send you away?" Gibbs repeated, holding the boy's heaving body. "Tony? Tony…listen to me. Are you listening?"
"I'm liss..I'm listening, Gibbs," the boy said, still holding tightly to the Marine.
"You and I are in this together," he said, "No matter what, we got each others backs. You got that?"
"I gotcha, Gibbs."
"Good," the Gunny said. "I'm not sending you away…I'm going with you."
The boy stilled in his arms and for a brief moment Gibbs thought he might have been having an absence seizure. But after a long moment, he pulled back and looked at Gibbs with a mixture of despair and confusion on his face.
"You're…you're coming with me?"
"Yep."
"Where are we going?"
Grabbing a fistful of Kleenex, Gibbs wiped the boy's face and propped him back against the pillows. Sitting on the bed, he produced a brochure from his back pocket and handed it to Tony.
"Here," he said.
Tony looked at the brochure and his face wrinkled in confusion. The front cover featured several Labradors, all wearing the blue vests of service dogs.
"Gibbs, this is a dog school," Tony exclaimed.
The Gunny opened the brochure and pointed to the photos showing some of the tasks a service dog performs. The kid nearly flipped when he saw an image of a large black Labrador opening a door for a woman in a wheelchair and another of a honey-coloured dog standing on its hind legs to switch on a light with his paws. Gibbs explained that the school had considerable success training "seizure dogs" that are trained to bark an alert if a child is having a seizure.
"Wow," Tony said, totally awestruck. "How do they do that, Gibbs?"
"Lots of training, Sport," Gibbs said.
"But why are we going to a dog school?"
"If you're gonna get a new dog, we gotta talk to some people."
Gibbs grinned as Tony's jaw hung open and he blinked rapidly as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I'm…I'm getting a dog?"
"If you don't want one, I'm sure that-"
"I do, Gibbs, I do want one!" Tony exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. "Which one is he? Is it that one or the one that turns on the lights or is it the black one? He looks nice Gibbs, doesn't he? I wonder what his name is…maybe he'll be a girl dog. Can we take him to the park, Gibbs? Maybe he'd like to play with Kort. We have to call Grandpa Jack and tell him we're getting a dog…"
Gibbs let the boy chatter excitedly, thrilled to see the spark return to the green eyes. He shook his head and marveled at how much his life had changed since he'd taken this little boy into his home and into his heart. He wasn't really sure what new adventures they would face together…but he was looking forward to finding out.
The End
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0