Sorry for the long wait. I hurt my hand playing rugby so typing wasn't an option. But I'm back now with a new chapter! Happy reading!

Chapter 6: Emergency Caring

4:15 PM

NCIS Break Room

Washington D.C.

Tony sauntered in to find Cory at a table, hunched intently over a worn sketchpad, an assortment of pencils fanned around him in a jumbled rainbow. A half eaten vending machine sandwich sat long forgotten by his elbow. The boy was a picture of concentration, sketching away with careful precision.

Dorneget, hovering by the door like a skittish hummingbird, saw Tony first. "Can I go now?"

Tony heard Cory's sketchbook close with a brisk snap, though he kept his eyes on Dorneget. "I dunno know, Probie. Can you?"

Ned cleared his throat, though he remained still. "Uh, I have assignments," he replied tentatively.

"Go ahead," Tony suppressed a laugh as the young agent practically catapulted for the door. "Wait!"

Dorneget froze, knees knocking like maracas. "Sir?"

"Give him his phone."

Ned frowned. "I don't…"

"Not you," Tony snapped impatiently. "Cory, hand it over."

The boy kept his eyes on his sketchpad. "Don't have it."

"Bullshit. Hand it over."

"Seriously, I don't. Hones—"

"Don't even. Really? Jacking a federal agent, on federal property? FYI, federal judges don't do parole. You'll do the entire bid in YSC. Is a phone worth it?"

"Fine," the boy snapped and rolled his eyes. Retrieving the phone from his backpack, he tossed it at flustered a Ned. "It's last gen, anyway."

"Thanks," and with an embarrassed glance at Tony and a parting glare for Cory, Ned made his exit.

"I was gonna give it back," Cory insisted when Tony sat across from him.

"Like you were gonna give Lindsay Baker's phone back?"

Cory reached for his sandwich, eyes shining smugly. "Dunno what you're talking about," he denied around a mouthful of tuna salad.

"No? How about the phone you were selling in Anacostia Park last night?"

Cory's eyes dimmed a bit as he put his sandwich down. "Last night? I was at Mac's house."

"And before that?

"McNevin."

"McNevin? That's weird, 'cause your roomie—Ricky? —Yeah good 'ol Ricky said you snuck out after curfew and get this: left an iPhone to play your name in fifteen-minute intervals during bed checks. Nice plan, by the way."

"Uhm, Ricky's a meth head. That was probably the crank talking."

"Nah, he looked sober to me. So did Michael Manning, the guy you were selling Lindsay's phone to, when he ID'd you to my fellow agents. Oh and you wanna know who else was sober? My lab tech, when she pulled your prints off that same phone we found smack dab in the middle of a crime scene."

"So?"

" 'So', we've got you for felony theft in the first degree and we can place you at the crime scene."

"Whatever," he jutted up his chin and folded his arms, though the cocky gleam in his eyes was fading. "YSC doesn't scare me. I survived the last time."

"Do you think MacDonald could survive prison?"

The arrogance plummeted off Cory's face. "What?"

"Obstructing justice is a crime, kid."

"Prison?" the boy sputtered, clearly flummoxed. "Listen, he only hid…"

"Why was he hiding you?"

" 'Cause I literally begged him! He didn't want to, but he thinks he owes me."

"He does owe you, right? Because he took so long to report the abuse…"

"I wasn't abused!" Cory slammed his fist on the table, rattling his colored pencils and surprisingly, Tony's nerves.

Those eyes, hazel and blazing, stirred something deep in Tony's memory. He'd been all about the case, but now those swirls of green and brown consumed his focus. A pang of recollection pulsed against his skull. A face glimmered, but Cory blinked and the memory evaporated.

Tony shook his head and pressed on. "Then why does he owe you?"

"He doesn't," Cory growled. He dropped his fists in his lap and sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice was impassive. "He doesn't owe me anything."

"But you owe him, right? That's why you're helping to pay for his retirement home."

Cory's jaw muscles were working overtime, his lips white from his efforts to keep them shut.

Tony opened the folder and pushed it towards Cory. "Government assistance covers most of it, but MacDonald pays the difference. Apparently he pays via automatic billpay from a pre-paid debit service. We checked the recent deposit dates against Craigslist ads for iPhones. Three of those ads came from a computer with an IP address near McNevin. The cash deposits came from an ATM two miles away from there. It's all here."

Cory thumbed through the stack of papers. He dropped his head, peering vulnerably at Tony through his bangs. "What do you want from me?"

"You said nothing in life is free. Okay, then. How about a trade? You tell me what you saw and I'll see—"

"—Sorry for interrupting. An Agent Dorneget told me I could find Cory here."

Tony scowled at the newly arrived Chad Westlake. "Actually you—"

"C'mon in, Daddy Chaddy," Cory grinned cheekily, all traces of vulnerability scoured from his face. "Agent DiNoodle here was just entrapping me into being a snitch. Isn't that illegal?"

"You should've waited for me," Westlake admonished.

"Doesn't matter," the kid stood and began stuffing his art supplies into his backpack. "Let's go."

"You're not going back to McNevin, Cornelius."

Cory froze. "They can't make me snitch!"

"That's not up to me," Westlake swished his wrist dismissively. "This is your third time running away from the center. You know—"

"No!"

"You know the rules."

"No!"

"I'm sorry," Westlake continued, sounding anything but. "You're going into emergency care until an adequate—"

"No," the boy's voice rattled. "Screw that! You send me back and I'm gone! I mean it," he cut his eyes at Tony. "Let's see you make a witness outta me then!"

"Westlake," Tony interceded. "Maybe now isn't the best—"

"I'm not going!"

Tony moved toward Cory, but the boy kept backing up until he was against the wall. His fists were trembling as he clenched and released as if trying to resuscitate them. His eyes, wide and feral, scrambled about the room in search of an exit.

"You're okay," Tony inched forward, palms up and visible. "Everything's fine."

Cory's breath leaked out in rapid spurts. He slid down the wall and drew his knees against his chest. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he rocked himself back and forth.

Undaunted, Tony stooped down on one knee. "You're safe," he soothed. "Do you know where you are?"

Slowly, Cory's eyes unclouded and swept the area. "Break room," he croaked. "At NC…whatever…"

"That's good. Can you stand up? Maybe have some water?"

"Water's good," he said, although he remained on the floor.

Tony took the bottle Westlake had retrieved and sat it at the boy's feet. He stood once the boy popped the cap. "We'll be outside for a bit."

Westlake waited until the door closed to speak. "You're good with him. I'm sure you've worked with traumatized kids before."

Hunched up in a corner. Muffled voices gurgle above the surface. A hand reaches…

Tony shook his head, anger drowning out the past. "What the hell was that? He was about to talk!"

"I'm sorry…"

"There are lives at stake!"

"I'm sure his new caseworker will be willing to work with you. I can wait…"

"Why'd he go off like that?" Tony interrupted hotly.

"About emergency care?"

"No, about the Cardinals losing the World Series."

Westlake sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "The Forsythes were originally an emergency placement."

"So you what, you figured you'd scare the kid shitless to make him talk?"

"I'd never intentionally harm a child," Westlake bit out indignantly. "His emergency placement has nothing to do with your investigation. Per departmental policy…"

"It's your 'departmental policy' that got him abused in the first place!"

"Now, wait...!"

"Is there a problem?"

Gibbs.

Tony stood straighter and addressed his boss. "Westlake's dumping the kid in emergency foster care."

"I'm not dump…"

Gibbs held up a hand to silence the social worker. He focused on Tony. "That affects the case, how?"

"The kid says he'll runaway if he's placed in emergency care. We lose him, we lose the dirt bag."

The older agent nodded and turned to Westlake. "Any alternatives?"

"Cory's criminal record and history of running away makes him a high-risk placement. We have limited facilities equipped to house kids like him on short notice. Now, he did violate his probation when he ran away. He could be remanded back to YSC."

"Yeah, 'cause locking him up'll make him über-forthcoming."

Tony wanted to strangle Westlake. Of course locking Cory up would solve NCIS' problem, but what about the kid? Didn't Westlake see that foisting Cory off willy-nilly had done the kid no favors?

It was easier to stash a kid away than to deal with his problems.

Tony knew that from experience.

Westlake's smug voice deposited Tony back to the present. "Do you have a better idea, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Here."

"Here?" Gibbs and Westlake asked in unison.

Tony smirked. "Hear me out, Boss. Cory's now a federal witness, making him WITSEC's responsibility. They're more equipped to deal with a flighty witness than DRYS. The kid can sleep here until the Marshalls can place him."

"So you want to remove him from DYRS care?" Westlake asked incredulously.

"What's the matter Westlake, afraid you'll lose your kickbacks?"

"Why do you care so much?" the other man retorted.

Why did he?

Because the kid had nobody? Tony at least had Gibbs and the team when the chips were down. Even Senior, in all his flashy, self-centered glory, could be counted on in a pinch.

Or was it because of those eyes?

Maybe it was because the boy reminded Tony of two broken children it was too late to save.

Instead, he asked: "Why don't you?"

Gibbs swept Tony with a probing glance. "Vance and I'll handle WITSEC. Westlake, you'll need to handle DYRS end. DiNozzo, get the kid settled in."

When Tony re-entered the break room, Cory was back at the table. His shabby Vans tapped nervously against the linoleum, his body angled toward the door. He looked ready to duck or dash at a moments notice.

"Sorry about the wait."

"I'm not going back to emergency care," the boy declared with a surprisingly placid tone, though he kept his eyes trained on the table.

"No, you're not," Tony informed, matching the boy's calm.

The way Cory looked up, with barely concealed desperation, stung Tony.

Cory crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze skeptical. "Really?"

"Really," Tony affirmed. "All you have to do is cooperate."

Tony could see Cory's gears turning through his eyes. The boy swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'll help you," he agreed thickly. "But about that trade… Just…look, please don't punish Mac 'cause of me, okay? I'll help you or whatever if you lay off him and make sure he can stay in his place. He already lost his farm 'cause of me. So, that's the deal. You look out for Mac and I'll look out for you."

"Deal," Tony agreed, offering his hand for the boy to shake.

Cory accepted the gesture with a sweaty palm. "Good," Cory exhaled and scooted back a bit in his chair. "So…what happens now?"

"Tell me what you saw in the park and you go into protective custody."

Cory silently processed the information. Then, comprehension morphed into panic. "What? No!" He jerked out of his chair and backed away, glaring wildly Tony. "Witness protection? So, what…you're gonna like, whisk me to New Mexico until you find the psycho? No thanks!"

"You should lay off the In Plain Sight reruns, kid," Tony chuckled. "Mary and Marshall won't be showing up any time soon."

The boy's posture relaxed and he sat back down. "Yeah, well, I'm not changing my name."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Cut the melodrama, Tod Slaughter."

The boy's brows furrowed. "Who?"

Tony stared at Cory as if questioning his sanity. "Tod Slaughter, known for playing over-the-top maniacs in film adaptations of Victorian melodramas. You know…Sweeney Todd, Jack Sheppard…"

It was Cory's turn to roll his eyes. "Whatever! The point is…"

"The point is: WITSEC has foster placements, foster placements supervised by US Marshalls. You'll be safe all around."

Cory's spine stiffened and his shoulders tensed. " 'Safe all around'," he softly parroted Tony's words. "You're sure I'll be safe… you know, from that psycho or whatever?"

Tony nodded. "You'll be safe behind closed doors, too. Now, you'll bed down here for a few days until WITSEC can place you. It's not much, but we've got some cots for agents who end up staying late."

"I guess that'll work," Cory replied with a cavalier shrug, though his eyes brimmed with a raw relief.

Tony wondered if the kid knew he couldn't lie with his eyes. "Okay, now tell me what you saw in the park."

Tony listened intently as Cory described what he'd witnessed. The boy tried to keep his tone neutral, but his voice hitched when he began describing what little he'd seen of Trina Villalobos. DiNozzo wondered if the boy's mother had been blonde like Trina; if Cory's mother's eyes had been as wide and catlike as her son's.

His memory conjured up a woman, but her face rang false even in the haze.

Thanks for reading everyone! I'd love to hear what you all think.

Until next time…