HI! Only posting this to answer a request on LiveJournal. Not sure where this is going, or even if it is going anywhere. I just thought it met the requirements of the request.

I claim nothing. I disclaim everything. If you sue, all you are going to get are a bunch of books, and Wizard of Oz and Phantom of the Opera collectables. Enjoy.

"Remember what I told you?"

Julianna zipped the coat all the way up to the chin of her 7 year old son. Made sure that the scarf around his neck was not too tight, but snug enough to keep his throat warm. He was so susceptible to the cold, and often came down with viruses in the winter time.

"Yes, Momma." He answered, tugging the scarf away from his neck. He hated anything being too close his neck. "Momma?"

"Yeah, baby?" The woolen hat was placed over his light brown hair, so unlike her own blond locks, and defiantly not like the black hair of his 'father'. The bright, green eyes looking up at her though,…those where mirror images of her own.

"Why do I have to go there, again?"

It broke her heart to see those innocent, guileless eyes fill up with tears again. Every time she saw it, she felt the worst kind of mother. Abandoning her son. Leaving him alone in the world.

NO! She reminded herself. Not alone. She was leaving him to the only person she could. The only other person in this world who could possibly love him as much as she did.

"Because he's your Daddy."

The way his mouth thinned and eyebrows grew close together let her know that he was trying to process that sentence. It confused him. Anthony was not often confused, being a very intelligent child for his age.

"But I thought Father was my Daddy."

She knelt down so she was on eye level with him. "No, baby." She said, stroking one cheek with her hand. "A Father and a Daddy are two different things. Your father could never be a Daddy to you."

"Did we have to leave because of me?"

His eye had still not healed. It still bore the slight trace of a purplish bruise, although it was no longer swelled shut. She shuttered each time she thought of how he had cried, how he had clung to her and told her that 'Father' had struck him.

"You didn't do anything, baby."

"But if I hadn't broken Father's glass…"

"He had no right, you hear me? No right to hurt you. I won't let him hurt you ever again."

She'd die first.

It had been the last straw, that basterd hitting her son. After 7 years of hell, she has finally had enough. Armed with enough dirt to bury Anthony DiNozzo Sr. for years to come, she was prepared to do what she needed to do, and go where she needed to go, if only to protect the only precious thing in her life.

Her son. Her Tony.

She was prepared to go to the FBI with all she knew of Anthony's dirty dealings, but first she had to make sure Tony was safe. Even if it meant letting him go.

She slipped the cream colored envelope with a name scrawled on it into the pocket of Tony's coat. Hopefully it would explain all. Well, she was sure it would not, but it would have to do. For now, at least.

"Remember," She said, standing up and taking her son's small, mittend hand in hers. "Only give that letter to Jethro Gibbs."

"Jethro?" Tony's small smile made her heart swell. "That's a funny name."

"Yes," she smirked back down at him. "It is. But don't tell him that. He doesn't find it very funny."

"He's my Daddy?"

"Yes, baby. He's your Daddy."

"Jethro!"

Shannon's voice called down from the attic space, followed by several grunts, groans, and a few words that his mother would have said that ladies should not know.

"I told you I'd get them down, Shan." He called up to her as he pulled the steaming roast from the oven. His father's recipe, and Shannon's favorite. "It's still two weeks till Christmas, you know."

"In my family, we always had the decorations up first thing after Thanksgiving." She entered the kitchen, red hair in a tangle, with bits of dust sticking to the curls here and there. He thought she looked adorable.

"It's a lot of work for stuff that doesn't stay up for very long."

She sighed. "You have no holiday spirit. I blame it on your father."

"Not true." He sliced into the roast, satisfied at the perfect doneness. "Dad was the one who always went out and chopped down the perfect tree every year. Mom was the one who always complained about sweeping up the pine needles."

"Which is why we have an artificial tree." She snagged a piece of meat, narrowly missing Jethro's slapping fingers. "Hmmmm. So good. I love it when you come home."

"I love it when I come home too." He leaned forward to kiss her.

The moment was shattered by the wail of a banshee. Or, he should say, the cry of their daughter. Eight month old Kelly had a good pair of lungs on her.

Shannon grinned and pushed herself away from her husband. "I'll get her. My turn."

"Hey, it was you turn last time."

"Well, if you want to take all the turns your going to have to grow the right equipment."

"My Dad was right. You are kind of vulgar."

She giggled. "I take that as a compliment." She sayshaed, for his benefit he was sure, out of the kitchen and up the stairs toward the nursery.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs grinned as he finished cutting the roast, which mostly fell apart from being so tender, and piled the meat onto a platter.

After being away on maneuvers for two weeks, he was happy to be home. And, as was always the case after being away, he took on the cooking duties. He would be happy to do all the household chores for a while, if it meant he could stay for longer this time. But, with the threats in the Middle East getting worse by the day, he feared it may not be long before he would have to deploy for a good long time.

It killed him, being away from Shannon and their daughter for so long, especially with Kelly being so young. Just a new baby. Okay, just a new baby creeping ever closer to her first birthday.

He had missed so much already. Kelly was crawling now, able to grasp her bottle on her own. He wanted to be there for the other important things. Her first step, her first word. So, he had insisted on being home for what would be her first Christmas. He planned on spoiling her rotten with presents.

The chiming of the door bell tore him from his thoughts.

Who in the world could be here on a night like this? He looked out the kitchen window to see the heavy flakes of snow coming down. Big and round, and piling up quickly. They had said on the news that it would be the heaviest snowfall in the DC area in years, and that people should stay in as much as possible.

With a frown, he wiped his hands on a towel and headed for the front door. The clock in the living room rang out at 1900 hours. 6pm to those not used to using military time. He yanked open the door without bothering to check who it was through the window first.

He was certainly not expecting the small boy that stood on his doorstep. The child was bundled up against the cold. Shoulders hunched, and chin ducked into his chest. Gibbs had to blink the surprise away.

"Hello." He said. "Can I help you?"

The boy sniffed, and looked up at him. He could see the boy was crying. The green eyes where bright with tears, and he was shivering.

"Hey." Gibbs said, kneeling down in front of the boy. "Hey now. It's okay. Are you lost? Are you hurt?"

His only response was the shake of his head.

"Well then." Gibbs looked around behind the boy, hoping to see another adult around, someone to whom this child belonged, but the street was empty. "How did you get here?"

"My Momma brought me." The voice was soft and quite, broken by the small sobs still shaking his shoulders.

Gibbs felt a shiver go through him that he felt sure had nothing to do with the cold air. "Where is your Momma?" He asked, tipping the child's chin up. He noticed the slight bruising around one green eye, and felt his stomach knot.

The boy's shoulders went up and down in a shrug. "She said I had to come here."

"What? I don't…"

"Jethro, who is it?" Shannon came up behind him. She gasped at the sight before her. "Jethro, what are you thinking? Get that child in out of this cold." She stepped forward that gently took the child's arm, and pulled him in through the doorway.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" She asked, as she began to unwind his scarf and unzipped his coat. "Goodness, it's so cold. What where you doing out there on a night like this?"

The boy simply sniffed, and tried to stop anymore tears from escaping.

"Oh, you poor thing. Jethro, go make some hot chocolate. That will warm him up. Do you like hot chocolate?" She asked the boy.

He nodded a little. They could now see that his hair was a light brown, and a little on the longish side. Underneath the winter outer wear, he had on only a pair of khaki pants and a black and white striped sweater. They looked like expensive clothes. Too expensive for a child of that age to be wearing.

Gibbs guessed he had to be six or seven years old, although he was small. Short, and skinny, with big eyes that looked pleadingly at Shannon. She had melted quickly at their gaze.

"What's your name there, sport?" He asked, repeating Shannon's question. He had to find out who the boy was, if they had any hope of finding his parents. He must be lost, it was the only explanation. He didn't want to think too much on the bruise around his eye.

"Tony." Came the quite response.

"Hello there, Tony." Shannon smiled at him. "I'm Shannon. And that guy over there," She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb in Gibbs's direction. "Is Jethro. Don't let him scare you too much. He's really just a big, ole softie."

"Shan."

"Shhhh," She playfully put a finger to her lips as she leaned closer to the child. "Don't tell anyone. He likes to present a gruff exterior."

Tony smiled slightly, and stepped closer to her. She smelled nice. Not like Momma. But nice. Like butterscotch pudding. "My Momma gave me a letter."

"A letter? For who?"

"She said it was for my Daddy."

"What's your Daddy's name?" Shannon took Tony's hand and led him to the sofa, where she lifted him up and set him down on the cushions. "Do you know what your telephone number is?"

Tony nodded. "Uh-huh. I know all my numbers. But, Momma says I can't call home."

"Why is that?"

"She says I can't so Father can't come find me."

Gibbs's defiantly did not like the sound of where this was going. "Hey now," he said, settling down on the other side of the boy. "Why don't you tell us why your Mom would drop you off here. What's her name? Do we know her?"

"She said my Daddy lived here."

Shannon looked confused. "But I thought you said she didn't want you to call your Daddy?"

"No." Tony shook his head, shaggy hair flying back and forth. "He's not Daddy. He's Father. A father and a Daddy are two different things. Momma said so."

"I see." Shannon said, shooting a worried look at her husband. He could tell she was thinking the same thing he was. Someone was trying to protect this child. But why drop him off here? Jethro could feel his anger rising at the thought of not only the person who had harmed this child, but also the one who left him there without so much as an explanation.

"She put the letter in my pocket." Tony pointed to where his coat now hung on the back of a chair in the hallway.

Shannon got up and searched the coat. Pulling a thick, cream colored envelope from the right pocket of the coat, she looked at it, then froze.

"Jethro, I think you need to see this."

He patted Tony's knee and got up to join his wife. She handed him the envelope.

Written in a flowing script in black ink was his own name:

Leroy Jethro Gibbs