AN: Leigh and Katie belong to Sasha1600, though I claim adoptive parent status. The rest belong to other people. Story contains brief mention of spanking. Don't like; don't read. It follows Sasha1600's story 'Rite of Passage'.
Leigh smiled at the familiar scene as she stepped into the house following her early morning run. It was the morning after her family's early Thanksgiving celebration, and the last day of her three day leave. She was due back in Norfolk that afternoon, but for the moment, she was home, and the scene before her proved that more than the building around her ever could. Mama and Katie moved back and forth between the stove and the sink, cooking breakfast—omelets from the looks of it—and debating the various uses for leftover Thanksgiving turkey. Leigh was surprised that her sister, who, though she had given up her vegan campaign after only a few weeks, was still a vegetarian, would even participate in the discussion. She supposed Katie reasoned that the turkey was already dead, and it wasn't like she was going to eat anything they made with it in any case so there was no harm in talking about it. From the looks of it, Uncle Gibbs was finally getting around to repairing the laundry room door that Mama had been bugging him about for ages. Daddy, apparently, was supposed to be helping, but whether he was actually helping remain to be seen. Daddy might be a genius when it came to computers and electronics, but he was hopeless at basic mechanics and home repair. And they all knew it.
"Hey, McGee," Uncle Gibbs said suddenly, wrestling with a particularly stubborn hinge, "hand me your knife, will you?"
Daddy, who clearly hadn't been anticipating the command, fumbled in his pocket for his knife, growing more frustrated by the second as he failed to come up with it. Leigh stuck her hand in the front pouch of her hooded sweatshirt, pulled out her pocket knife, stepped across to where Daddy and Uncle Gibbs were standing, and dropped it unceremoniously into Gibbs' outstretched hand. Gibbs raised a surprise eyebrow.
Leigh shrugged. "Rule number nine," she said casually. She caught his eye and held it, grinning. "I'm of age this time."
Gibbs grinned. That was one of those memories he was sure he would never forget. He hadn't thought anything of it when Abby had called that morning. It was an unusual at all for her to call, and he figured she just needed him to pick up the girls that afternoon or something.
"What'cha got, Abs?" he asked without preamble. The question was one born of years of habit and worked equally as well for family related things as it had for test results.
"Gibbs," Abby said breathlessly, bordering somewhere between frantic and shrill. "You have GOT to talk to your goddaughter. Do you have ANY idea what I found in her book bag this morning?"
"All right, Abby," he said, running a hand over his head. "Calm down, what's going on?" Or more specifically, he thought, what has Leigh done now? Both girls were his goddaughters, but that tone of voice could only mean Leigh.
"Well, it's a good thing I checked the girls' bookbags this morning, or one of us would be having to pick Leigh up from the police department," Abby said, "and it would be your fault. You and your rules."
Gibbs sighed and closed his eyes. What had the girl gotten herself into this time?
Abby made it a habit to check the girls' bookbags after dinner every evening. They were ten now and fairly responsible, but she had learned years ago that this simple habit cut down tremendously on forgotten permission slips and last-minute baking and science projects. However, with their lives and schedules being what they were, occasionally the routine fell by the wayside. The day before had been just such a day. She and Tim had both ended up working late on a case, and by the time they had made it home, it was all they could do to get the girls fed and in bed. She had ended up doing a frantic bookbag check this morning between breakfast and running for the bus. To her utter horror, she found that Leigh, who had undoubtedly assumed she had checked them the night before as usual and wouldn't check them again until evening, had swiped her father's pocket knife and tucked it into her bag.
"And do you know what she said to me when I asked her about it?" Abby demanded. "Do you?" The question clearly wasn't meant to be answered so Gibbs didn't try. Abby didn't appear to notice. "She just shrugged and said, 'Rule Number 9, Mama' as if that explained everything."
Gibbs chuckled. Oh yeah, Leigh might be a McGee by birth, but she was his, all right.
"It's not funny, Gibbs," Abby snapped, incensed. "If the school had found it instead of me, Leigh could be facing a weapons charge right now, or worse yet, what if she had hurt herself or somebody else. Don't you understand how serious this is?"
"Of course I do," he retorted, in a tone that would have shocked anyone else into silence. He hadn't spent the majority of his life in the military and law enforcement without knowing just how dangerous kids and weapons could be. "But, come on, Abs, it's Leigh, not some punk kid with an attitude."
"Exactly," Abby countered, not the least bit phased by his tone, "it's Leigh, my child and your goddaughter, not some random stranger. If anything, that should make this more important to you, not less. Do you really want her making and childish mistake and growing up with that on her record and her conscience, all because of you and your rules?"
He sighed. Suddenly his argument that Leigh was a levelheaded kid and not likely to do anything stupid didn't seem to matter so much. He honestly didn't think Leigh carrying a pocket knife was all that dangerous. After all, it was only a pocket knife; it wasn't like she had commandeered a huge kitchen knife and was hatching plans to go after a schoolmate with it. He'd carried a pocket knife himself since he was only a little older than Leigh. Still, he could concede Abby had a point. Accidents happened, that he knew all too well, and times, circumstances, and laws had changed since he was a boy. Besides, Abby clearly expected him to fix it. Now. And he supposed it was his responsibility.
"Bring her by after school," he said. "I'll talk to her."
"Okay," Abby agreed, appeased. "But I'll warn you, she may not be in the best mood when you see her. I haven't talked to him yet, but I imagine that Tim will want to have his own 'talk' with her about his knife."
Gibbs winced despite himself. He knew pretty well just what that talk would involve, and it wasn't likely to be much talking, except of the 'hand-on' variety. It still amazed him that the terrified kid who had insisted spanking was abuse had turned it into a fairly strict dad, who wouldn't hesitate to reinforce a lesson with a sore bottom. That scared kid had come a long way.