A/N: hey, i did manage to get a halloween fic out there ! not my usual smutty homage, but oh well. i was going to write a fic sort of like this, so i just decided to set it at halloween time. enjoy!

On a crisp, October day popularly known as Halloween, Tony had to leave work early due to a short, curt phone call from his son's second-grade guidance counselor. She hadn't told him what the problem was, just that Anthony wasn't sick, but he was being sent home for the day, and she wanted to speak with a parent in person.

Frustrated, Tony tried calling Ziva – they should have called her first anyway, she had the more flexible job – and then, when he couldn't get ahold of her, packed up his things and muttered an apology at Gibbs.

"Kid okay?" Gibbs asked, waving off his apologies and promptly assigning Bishop to the rest of Tony's work.

DiNozzo gave Ellie an apologetic cringe and then shrugged, shaking his keys around.

"Not sick," he grunted.

Gibbs looked at him a moment, then smirked.

"Fighting," he said.

"What?"

"Must've been fighting," Gibbs said again, turning back to his files. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Gibbs, c'mon, he's seven."

"Fighting," Gibbs repeated firmly.

Tony grit his teeth, and ignored him. He was willing to bet some idiot teacher had showed a movie too scary for second graders, and Anthony was ready to get out of there – despite how loud, rambunctious, and blustery Anthony could be, he was not a kid who tolerated anything dark or creepy.

DiNozzo started to leave, and then he turned around, leaning over the bullpen.

"How'd you know if it's fighting?" He asked Gibbs, troubled in spite of himself. "You had a girl – she get sent home for fighting a lot?"

Ellie Bishop stared at him like he was insane – no one brought up Kelly in the middle of the bullpen, much less in front of others.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said patiently. "First time you got sent home from school, what was it for?"

Tony paused.

"…Fighting," he muttered.

"How old were you?"

Tony paused even longer.

"…Seven."

Gibbs gave him a look, then pointed at McGee. He looked up, looked startled, and then cleared his throat.

"Oh, uh – eight," he confessed. "Punched a kid who thought James Earl Jones didn't do the voice of – "

"Oh good God, McNerd," DiNozzo groused good-naturedly. "Of course you did."

"Nine," Ellie piped up.

Gibbs gave her a mildly surprised look.

"Hey, I'm from Oklahoma. I have several brothers," she said, laughing. "I knew how to make other kids eat dirt."

With all that in mind, Tony sighed, and waved again, ready to head off.

"See you after trick-or-treating," he said – though mostly to McGee and Gibbs, because Gibbs' house was where they always brought their kids after trick-or-treating, for a fire and Halloween stories, and Ellie and her husband – younger, and childless – were usually at some young party.

DiNozzo left, sending Ziva a text to explain to her the situation – he was going to pick up Anthony early, so she didn't have to get him; all she had to do was get Elijah from Maxine McGee's when she left work.

When Tony arrived at the elementary school, he could see his son sitting moodily in a chair on the other side of the principal's office. He had a scratch on his cheek, and his knees were skinned up. DiNozzo signed the appropriate things to remove Anthony, and then followed a counselor into the back. He sat in a room with his son right outside, waiting.

"Mr. DiNozzo, unfortunately Anthony has been – "

"Fighting?"

The woman looked startled.

"Why, yes, he – is this a habit?" she asked suspiciously. "Is he often violent at home, as he is at school?"

DiNozzo tried to keep his cool.

"You say that like you've sent him home for fighting before," he said testily. "Neither his mother nor myself have ever been notified of behavior like this."

"Well," the counselor said, sitting down on the edge of her desk. "We like to try and handle these things in house, but Anthony's aggressions have gotten out of hand," she said frankly.

DiNozzo rubbed his jaw, glanced at his son, and then leaned forward. He held his hands out.

"What do you mean?" he asked tensely.

"This is the fifth incident of Anthony instigating a small fight with another boy in his class," she explained. "This time, however, the other young boy needed stiches."

"Stiches?" DiNozzo grunted. His jaw hardened, and he shot a look at Anthony again – who still sat with his arms folded, staring at his feet.

He swallowed tensely, his stomach dropping – had he really been called into the principal's office to be told his son was … a bully?

"Is the other kid okay, besides the stiches?"

"He'll be fine, yes," the counselor answered. "I'm worried that Anthony's behavior here is an expression of something wrong at home."

"He's got a good life," Tony said tensely. "He and his brother get along, his mom's home most of the time, I get home around six, nine if I work late," he listed. He paused. "Look, he's never done anything before – not that I've been informed of," DiNozzo said stiffly. "He's real gentle with my co-worker's kids; babies."

The counselor nodded.

"Okay," she said mildly. "I'm sure this can be easily resolved. Maybe there's something that's bothering him that needs to be talked about." She folded her arms and leaned forward. "It's already been explained to him that he'll have no recess all of next week," she said firmly. "I thought you should know that when you and your wife discuss further action."

DiNozzo winced – he figured that was an acceptable punishment, but damn, what was the poor kid going to do for half an hour during the day while everyone else got to run out their crazy on the playground?

He just nodded, though, and then took the paper the woman gave him with the other little boy's information on it – so he could call their parents if needed – and Tony got up, snapping his fingers at Anthony without a word to make him follow.

Sullenly, the second grader trudged along behind his father, not saying a word, and as they walked to the car, DiNozzo felt angrier – and more confused – but the minute. He knew his eldest son had a strong, domineering personality; he knew he was loud and a little reckless and vivacious, but he'd never pegged him for the bullying type, especially not physical bullying.

As he unlocked the car, he felt a stab of horror that Anthony might be running around bullying some kid that was a future McGee or something, and he winced again, trying to swallow the bubble of anger that tempted him to start yelling.

"Buckle up, son," he said curtly, waiting until Anthony had obeyed to start the car.

He was silent for a while, and then he piped up.

"Daddy, do I have to go to NCIS with you?"

"No, we're going home," Tony said shortly. He paused, and when they came to a red light, he looked intently in the rearview mirror. "What's this about, kid?" he asked. "Fighting?"

"I wasn't fighting!" Anthony protested, making a face. "It just looked like it!"

"The other kid had stiches," Tony ventured.

"I didn't mean to make that happen!" Anthony snapped. "I pushed him too hard and his head hit a rock."

DiNozzo's blood ran cold – how many times had he heard a suspect say something like that, to explain the death of a friend, or an adversary? He swallowed hard, watching the seven-year-old sullenly pout in the backseat, and he got frustrated again.

"What was the fight about?"

"You won't believe me either," said Anthony rudely.

"Hey, c'mon, buddy," DiNozzo retorted. "I'm your Dad, and I know you're not a liar."

"I didn't think I was a liar either, 'cept none of my teachers believe me – they think Trent is perfect."

"Trent the kid with the stiches?"

"Yeah," retorted Anthony, folding his arms sourly.

"What did he do?" DiNozzo asked.

Anthony ignored him, and shrugged. Tony grit his teeth, and when they got home, he turned off the car aggressively and got out, waiting for Anthony. He grabbed his backpack for him, and marched him into the house.

"Sit down on the couch," he ordered, a hint of paternal authority entering his voice.

He checked his phone, and there was a message from Ziva, expressing concern. He texted back one simple word – fighting – and left his phone in the kitchen, turning his attention to the second grader looking stubborn on the couch.

"You tell me what happened, Anthony Leroy."

Anthony shrugged.

"I don't want to," he said nastily.

"You lost recess privileges," DiNozzo said curtly. "You want me to take away trick-or-treating? Mom can take Eli and you can stay here with me and watch the news."

Anthony rocketed forward, glaring.

"No!" he shouted. "That's not fair, Eli can't go without me, his costume would be DUMB!"

"Anthony, you can't fight other kids at school! You can't hurt them," DiNozzo said emphatically. "You're bigger than a lot of boys your age, and fighting doesn't fix things – "

"Well I told him to stop and I told on him and no one believed me!" Anthony yelled. "He deserved to be punched!"

DiNozzo sat back, and frowned.

"Son, you better tell me what happened," he growled authoritatively.

Anthony crossed his arms.

"Trent is the teacher's pet 'cause he's such a smarty pants," Anthony growled, gritting his teeth. "And his Mommy works for some company that donates lots of money to the school. But he's a bully."

"Your counselor thinks you're bullying," DiNozzo answered. "Because you hurt him."

"He's mean to my friend!"

"Which friend?" DiNozzo asked calmly. "Wendy? Sarah?" No answer, so he went on – most of Anthony's friends were girls. "Trisha? Soraya? Brandon?"

"No," snapped Anthony. "My new friend, he just came to our class, from another school," he insisted. "Jeffrey."

"Okay, how is Trent meant to Jeffrey?"

"He makes fun of him and pushes him and tells him mean things and embarrasses him," listed Anthony. "And I stick up for him, and then I get in trouble, because Trent lies. And he's good at fake crying and I don't cry because crying is for babies."

DiNozzo frowned, thinking.

"That's irritating, I understand that," he said flatly. "But that doesn't mean you can physically hurt Trent. You have to find a way to ignore him, or just avoid him – "

"But he follows Jeffrey around and tires to make him do things like eat dog treats and look up girls' skirts! And then Jeffrey gets in trouble, too, and they say they'll send him back to his old school!" Anthony yelled, raising his voice.

"His old - ?"

"And today's Halloween, so Jeffrey came to school dressed up as a duck, because he likes ducks, and Trent made fun of him all day and said he looked like a girl and a momma's boy and he stole Jeffrey's duck hat so I chased him and punched him and then when we fought he needed the stiches."

DiNozzo furrowed his brow, trying to take it all in.

"Anthony, you could have asked a teacher to give the hat back – "

"Dad, NO!" yelled Anthony. "Jeffrey is scared of Trent, he says whatever Trent tells him, so he'd say he let him have it! The teachers don't believe me because I talk a lot in class and I'm not smarter than Trent!"

DiNozzo sat back, resting his hands on his knees.

"Something's wrong with Jeffrey," Anthony snarled. "That's why they pick on him. Mom told me what it was, but I can't remember. He's like Miss Ellie's younger brother."

Realization dawned on Tony's face.

"Jeffrey's got Down's Syndrome?"

Anthony nodded, glaring at him.

"Trent bullies a kid with Down's Syndrome," he growled. "And, he made my friends who are girls stop being my friends because Jeffrey looked up their skirts because he didn't know and now they hate him and me – so Jeffrey is my only friend."

"Okay," DiNozzo muttered, overwhelmed with information. "Okay – Al, why didn't you tell me or your mom this was going on?"

"Because I'm not a baby!"

"It doesn't make you a baby to ask for help."

Anthony rolled his eyes, and for a moment, he looked just like his mother. DiNozzo resisted the urge to smirk, and rubbed his jaw, trying to figure out what to do. He still didn't think Anthony's aggressive reaction was appropriate – and it scared him still, to hear Anthony say the same thing so many NCIS suspects said.

"And Trent said if all my friends are girls and I don't kiss them, is Jeffrey my boyfriend? And Jeffrey says he's my boyfriend now because he thinks it means just friends and one teacher made him sit in timeout for it. So I got timeout to for 'encouraging' him."

Appalled, DiNozzo sat back. He cleared his throat, and after a moment, he leaned forward again.

"I got your story now, kid," he said. "But Anthony, no matter what, instigating violence is not the answer. It's okay to defend yourself, but you can't go tracking people down – you could have hurt Trent very badly – "

"He deserved it!"

"That's not for you to decide!" Tony snapped, feeling that fear and wariness again. "You can't act aggressively when you're pissed, you'll make bad decisions – "

"But DAD—"

"Anthony, listen to me," Tony said curtly. "You have to be the bigger man. Trent sounds like a bully, but if you start throwin' you're weight around, you're a bully, too."

Anthony glared at him, his face turning red.

Tony grit his teeth.

"I think you need to stay home tonight instead of trick-or-treating and think about that."

"NO!" shouted Anthony, his eyes welling up. "DAD, NO, PLEASE – "

"You have to understand that there are consequences."

"BUT BATMAN – "

"That's exactly why I don't want you going around dressed as Batman tonight," Tony said dryly.

"THEN ELI IS GONNA LOOK SO STUPID, IF HE'S JUST A BUTLER WITHOUT A BATMAN – "

"This isn't about Eli, young man, this is about you!" Tony barked. He stood up. "Anthony, go to your room until your mother gets home," he ordered. "I'll talk with her; she may change my mind."

Anthony stood up, clenched his fist, and bolted, slamming his door loudly. Tony chose to let that slide, and sat down again, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He felt like shit for not letting Anthony get away with it – hell, he'd been sticking up for a bullied friend! – but he and Ziva had discussed things like this long ago, and their decision had been to never, ever let physical violence go unpunished.

She wanted her children raised differently than she was, and he was hell-bent on abiding by that.

Ziva got home with Elijah at about four o'clock, and Eli came running to hug Tony and chatter about his day with Maxine and his 'cousins' as he called the McGee children.

"Aba, guess what they're bein'?" he demanded loudly.

"Hmm, sour patch kids?" guessed Tony dumbly.

Eli gasped.

"How did you know?!"

"I'm psychic," he said.

Really, it was inevitable – every time McGee's wife had a new baby, she reused her infant sour patch kid's costume and dressed the older – in this case, the older two – in one colour to make a collection. Her newest baby was three months old, so it was a safe bet that they would be sour patch kids – and it was why Tony and Ziva were going with Kit and Matilda and McGee, and Maxine was meting them at Gibbs'.

Elijah scrunched up his face and got a snack from his mother, darting off to watch TV.

"Where's Al?" he shouted through a mouthful. "He's missin' it!" he added, gesturing to their favorite afternoon cartoon.

"Your brother's in his room," Tony answered curtly, and then turned to Ziva.

She folded her arms and arched her brows.

"You know some kid named Jeffrey in Anthony's class?"

Ziva nodded.

"He has down's syndrome," she said. "His mother has spent a lot of time with him getting him ready to be integrated in schools with other children."

"Well, he's lucky he's got our kid," Tony said dryly.

"What is all this about?" Ziva asked warily.

DiNozzo hesitated.

"I think you should talk to 'im," he said grudgingly. "You hear his side, tell me what you think."

He paused.

"I took away trick-or-treating, Ziva," he admitted. "The other kid needed stiches."

Ziva looked perturbed, and worried, and DiNozzo leaned forward and kissed her on the corner of her mouth before grabbing a snack for himself and going to join Eli. He sat down on the couch, watching from the corner of his eye as Ziva quietly went to discuss the day's events with their eldest.

Eli sat next to him and leaned over, talking about the show they were watching.

"Dad, Maxine asked how come I was being Albert and not Robin … how come? How come Anthony is makin' me be the old guy …"

Tony stood in the doorway of their bathroom, watching Ziva put the finishing touches on the costume she'd worn for the past eight years. He grit his teeth.

"You could've talked to me before you overruled me," he muttered.

"Yes," she agreed. "I am sorry – but I didn't want him sitting in there miserable while we talked more," she said softly.

"He needs punishment from us, too, Ziva. Not just the school."

"I do not totally agree with that."

"Ziva, we always said – "

"I know what we always said," she interrupted, turning to him. She met his eyes with her large, soft brown ones. "Today, my son told me he chased down a bully and hurt him, more out of an angry accident than malicious intent, to protect a little boy who can't protect himself. Forgive me if I cannot take away his Halloween for that," she added a little tightly.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Ziva!"

"Don't spout platitudes at me," she retorted a little tensely. She stepped forward, tucking a piece of crimped hair back. "It is important to me to raise children who abhor violence, but Tony – what Anthony did wasn't an act of manic aggression … I don't like the violence I grew up around, but a lot of that violence created a cycle that could have been stopped if someone had stood up for the oppressed," she said vaguely.

"So now we're teaching them that violence is okay if you think it suits the situation?"

"He's seven years old," Ziva said crossly. "He isn't interpreting anything on grand ideological levels. We can impress upon him that he was wrong to act in blind anger, and wrong to be so aggressive, but I want him to know that I will always, always be proud of him for standing up for other people."

She turned back to the mirror, adjusting her veil, and running a finger along her eyebrows.

"I think you want that, too," she added.

Tony frowned guiltily, letting her words sink in. He nodded slowly, and then reached up and rubbed his jaw.

"That Jeffrey kid is callin' Anthony his boyfriend, Anthony only hangs out with girls," he muttered. "You think he's…?" he paused pointedly. "Ziva?"

"He's in second grade," Ziva answered airily. "I think he's a compassionate kid who doesn't like people knowing he's got a good heart."

She turned, and exited the bathroom, flipping off the light. She stopped and caressed Tony's cheek wryly.

"Like his father."

Tony grinned at her, and bent to kiss her, careful not to push the veil or the flower crown from her hair.

"Why do you always go as the same thing?" he asked.

"You ask me that as if you do not go as one of the Bonds every year," she retorted.

"Hey," he said, turning on his heel and following her out of their bedroom. "I'm not goin' as Bond this year, I'm goin' as someone who fits with you."

"Jesus Christ?"

"Ha," Tony snorted. "No."

"Who else goes with Mary Magdalene?" Ziva retorted.

"A roman soldier!"

"Tony, if you wear a skirt, even a metal one, Gibbs will not let you in his house."

Tony shrugged wickedly, and moved past her, headed to Anthony's room. He was going to go apologize to Batman for acting so quickly on the trick-or-treating thing.

"Hey," he said, pausing. "What did you decide our punishment is?"

"Anthony is going to call Trent and apologize," Ziva said coolly. "And then I will be talking to Trent's mother immediately after. She is a Marine," Ziva said, "and if she knew what was going on, she would be absolutely enraged."

DiNozzo grinned.

"I knew I married you for a reason."

She smirked at him, and went to go help Elijah with his costume, while DiNozzo went to help put the finishing touches on little Bruce Wayne's.

In the basement of Gibbs' house, DiNozzo sat on a stack of wood for the latest building project with one McGee daughter in his lap, and Gibbs sat on a workbench with the littlest McGee baby in his – both kids sleeping, while both men enjoyed the spiced, spiked cider Maxine had made.

"She's gettin' big," Gibbs grunted, nodding at Matilda.

"She's still lighter than Eli," Tony muttered, glancing down at the green sour patch kid.

Gibbs smirked, and shifted his arm, adjusting the way he was holding the baby. He cleared his throat, and gave DiNozzo a look.

"Fighting," he stated confidently, asking about the day's events subtly.

Tony sighed, looking slightly annoyed at Gibbs' expertise.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Ziva told me," Gibbs said gruffly. "Al's a good kid."

"Think I took it a little too far," DiNozzo said. "Got spooked, when he threw out that accident thing – he sounded like a perp."

Gibbs shrugged. He thought Tony had a valid point – in a worse world, a freak accident could have happened; people died from hitting their heads to hard on rocks.

"You 'n' Ziva both got it right," Gibbs said. He paused. "Kelly did get sent home for fightin' once," he said, his voice tired. "She scratched a girl who said only dumb people join the Marines. Gave her a corneal abrasion."

DiNozzo looked smug for a moment, then sad.

"What did you do?"

Gibbs grunted.

"I was in Kuwait," he said.

He was quiet a while, and DiNozzo swallowed hard – that meant … that it must have happened during the Reynosa period, and Gibbs probably hadn't ever seen Kelly again, after hearing about it.

He cleared his throat.

"Her mother took away television for a week," he said gruffly. "But Shannon called the other kid's grandfather – she found out he'd been a Marine in World War 2 – and told him what had been said."

"HA," DiNozzo laughed.

Gibbs shrugged.

"Kids fight," he said. "It happens, you talk to 'em, they learn."

DiNozzo nodded – Gibbs always had wisdom when it came to these things, and half the time, it wasn't even because he'd been a father, but because he just had seen more and done more altogether.

He took a deep breath and finished his cider.

"Why did Al make Eli be the butler?" he asked, arching a brow at Tony.

He stood up, cradling baby McGee, and indicating they should return the kids to the rightful parents. DiNozzo stood, too, balancing Matilda as best as possible on his hip, and shrugged.

"Al?" he asked. "Al's favorite character is Alfred, but he's too much of a little snot to not be the superhero and be the butler himself."

Gibbs looked taken aback.

DiNozzo laughed.

"I guess that kid's always had a soft spot for the little guy, I just never noticed."

Gibbs shrugged – like he'd said, Anthony was a good kid. He let DiNozzo go past him on the stairs, and then stopped, reaching out to head slap Tony for posterity's sake.

"What was that for?" whined Tony.

"You don't take trick-or-treating away from a little kid," growled Gibbs pointedly. "You take it away for sixth and seven graders," he admonished.

Tony muttered, still feeling a little sheepish over that one. Gibbs head slapped him again.

"BOSS!" Tony barked, waking Matilda up.

"Don't ever wear a skirt to my house again."

"It's Roman armor – "

"DADDY!" Anthony came skidding to the top of the basement stairs, cape flowing, mask securely on. "Do you need to be rescued from the evil Gunny?"

DiNozzo looked at him, and grinned – Gibbs and Ziva were right, Anthony had all the makings of a good, honest kid – and none of the tendencies of a suspect – and that was something work trick or treating for.

inspired by: a george strait song, and the fact that i once got in trouble for "fighting" on october 31st myself.

-Alexandra
story #221