Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and this story is not intended as an infringement of copyright. It has been written solely for entertainment and no profit has been made from its creation.

Patrem et Filium – Father and Son

Chapter Five

The muscles in Tony's supine body tightened and relaxed repeatedly and his hands fisted tightly in the throes of a grand mal seizure. Gibbs stood quickly, taking one step toward Tony before Ellie placed her hand on his arm to halt his process.

"Wait," she said. "I know this is hard to watch, Agent Gibbs, but you came here today to see if Tony would benefit from having a service dog. Please, let Bogart work."

The Gunny's anxious gaze fell upon the little boy, still seizing on the floor and he reluctantly nodded his approval.

The adults in the room stared in quiet fascination as Bogart barked and licked Tony's cheek repeatedly, trying to elicit a response from the unconscious boy. When that failed the dog appeared to frantically tunnel under the boy's right shoulder, pushing and nudging until he had enough purchase to roll the child onto his side. Bogart circled Tony several times, ensuring the boy was not in immediate danger before laying with his body right against Tony's in a gesture of comfort until the seizing stopped.

Still unable to evoke a response from the boy, Bogart left the child and quickly moved to Gibbs' side, whining and pawing at the man until, with a nod of encouragement from Ellie, he followed the dog back to the boy. With little regard to his wounded arm, Gibbs sat on the floor and moved the child gently until Tony's head rested on his foster father's thigh. Bogart resumed his position beside the boy and barked again when Tony's eyes opened.

As he continued to move toward consciousness, Tony remained still and pliant in the Gunny's arms with Gibbs stroking the sweat-dampened bangs from his pale face.

"I gotcha, Sport, come on back," he said, smiling as the dog whimpered. "Ya hear that, Tony? Bogart's here, too. You remember Bogart, right?"

Within another minute or two, Tony started to stir. His eyelids flickered and his frightened and confused eyes began to track. Watching the boy attentively, Bogart moved until he was in the child's line of sight and made his presence known by whining and nudging Tony's arm. It took just a few seconds for recognition and calm to replace the fear and confusion in the boy's green eyes. Tony slowly reached out a shaky hand; touching the dog's soft golden fur as Bogart's tail thumped the ground happily. Moving forward, he licked Tony's face, finally extracting a tiny grin from the kid before the boy closed his eyes and drifted into the postictal stage with Bogart right by his side.

Reaching into her pocket, Ellie withdrew a small liver treat and lavished praise on the dog for a job well done. After covering the boy with the afghan, Gibbs and Ellie joined Jackson and Morrow on the other side of the room.

"If I hadn't seen that with my own two eyes," Jack said. "I don't reckon I'd have believed it."

"Knowing Bogart as I do, Mr Gibbs," Ellie said. "I'm not sure what to make of it myself."

Looking across the room, Gibbs watched the boy sleeping with one skinny arm slung across the dog at his side.

"You said the dog was being released from your program," Gibbs said. "Can we take him? I'll see that you're fully compensated for the training costs."

Morrow sighed from his boot tops.

"Agent Gibbs, please believe me when I say that nothing makes us happier than seeing our dogs successfully partnered and making a difference in the lives of their handlers. What Bogart demonstrated here today is exactly how we hope our dogs will behave when they leave us. But, as I mentioned earlier, Bogart has already had two failed placements. We can't knowingly release this dog to you when he doesn't meet our service dog standards. It would not only be negligent but it could quite possibly put Tony's life in danger."

"What if we take him as a pet?" Jackson asked. "You said yourself that dogs that fail the program are released into the community."

"I did and that's true," Morrow said. "But it's our experience that service dogs work best when they are the only dog in the household. If you were to take Bogart and later Tony was to get a service dog, you could be compromising its effectiveness. I'm sorry, I know it's not the news you were hoping for but we all want what's best for Tony."

Ellie glanced at the dog, watching over the boy protectively.

"They certainly seem to have bonded quickly," she said.

"Too quickly," Gibbs replied, knowing that leaving the dog behind was going to break the boy's heart.

"Agent Gibbs, how frequent are Tony's seizures?" Ellie asked.

"He has daytime and nocturnal seizures – anywhere from five to twenty in a 24 hour period and at least a third of them are grand mal. He's on the Ketogenic diet and takes six different medications a day but the seizures keep coming. I can't keep eyes on him 24/7. A dog would make a huge difference."

Ellie nodded thoughtfully, her large eyes reflecting understanding and empathy as she watched the boy and the dog and then turned to address the others.

"Bogart's prediction of Tony's seizure has me intrigued," she said. "He was trained as a seizure response dog but true seizure alert dogs are very rare – less than fifteen percent of dogs have that natural ability. I think it's worth further investigation to see whether it was a one off or if Bogie really does have the ability to predict seizures."

"Ellie, we don't have time to conduct an assessment of that kind," Morrow said. "This facility is transferring to Pennsylvania in four days and the board has already agreed to release Bogart from the program."

"Release him to me," she suggested. "I'll keep working with him and, with Agent Gibbs' permission, we'll spend some time with Tony and see what happens. Please, Tom?"

Gibbs and Jackson held their breath as Morrow looked at Tony and swiped a hand over his chin in consideration. After what seemed like an eternity, the man spoke again.

"This is a highly unusual situation," he said. "But, if Tony was my child, I'd go to the end of the Earth to find a solution. Okay…I'll agree to leave Bogart with Ellie for additional training and evaluation but I won't sign off on the final placement until I see for myself that the partnership is viable and in the best interests of the boy."

"Understood," Gibbs said extending his hand which Morrow shook firmly. "Thank you."

"I hope it works out," Morrow said. "He seems like a great kid and, as you said, the right service dog would make a huge difference in all of your lives."

Gibbs turned to Ellie and, for a moment, he was lost for words.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"I'm happy to help," the young woman smiled warmly.

For the second time in as many minutes Gibbs extended his hand in gratitude - Ellie accepted it graciously.

"Welcome to Team Tony," he said.

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When Tony had fully recovered from his seizure, Gibbs had explained the agreement with Tom Morrow, desperately trying not to get the boy's hopes up. Despite his best intentions, the boy had almost gone into orbit when he learned that, straight after Thanksgiving, Ellie would start working with him and Bogart to measure the dog's suitability for placement. Although the former Marine emphasized that there were no guarantees, in typical Tony DiNozzo fashion, the kid was already certain that Bogart was going to become a permanent member of the Gibbs/DiNozzo household.

Gibbs had to admit that he loved that about his kid. In his eight years, Tony had experienced more heartbreaks, emotional and physical hurdles than most people had in a lifetime, yet the boy had an unshakable positive attitude. Of course, the downside of that meant that when disappointment came his way, it shook him to the core. Gibbs fervently hoped they were not exposing the boy to further heartbreak.

Tony had bonded instantly with the golden lab and it had been difficult for the child to leave Bogart behind when it was time to go. Ellie eased the heartache a little by taking a photo of the two of them together and forwarding it to Gibbs so Tony could see it whenever he wanted.

Due to Tony's seizure, the appointment at the service dog facility had gone much longer than anticipated and as they guided the boy's wheelchair back to the car, Gibbs checked his watch.

"I better drive," he said to his father. "Tony's late for his physio."

"I don't think so!" Jackson exclaimed. "When you have two good arms, you drive like a NASCAR racer. I'm not letting you behind the wheel with one arm!"

"That so?" Gibbs asked with mock indignation. "Well, the kid drives his wheelchair faster than you drive this thing."

Tony's hand flew to his mouth, trying to smother a giggle.

"Something funny, DiNozzo?"

"Want me to drive, Gibbs," Tony said, batting his eyes innocently.

"Get in the car, wise guy," the Gunny grinned as the kid dissolved into a fit of giggles.

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Tony barely drew breath on the drive home - chatting excitedly about Bogart for the entire trip and only stopping for two brief absence seizures before picking up right where he left off. By the time they were approaching the house, the boy had almost talked himself hoarse and Gibbs twisted around in the front passenger seat.

"You feeling okay, Sport?"

"I'm okay," Tony replied clearing his throat. "I just have a frog in my throat, that's all."

"Too many frogs before lunch will spoil ya appetite, young fella" Jack joked.

"It's not a real frog, Grandpa Jack," Tony laughed. "It's just something that makes my voice sound funny."

"You look kinda flushed," the agent stated placing the back of his fingers against Tony's rosy cheek.

"I sorta wanted to talk to you about that, Gibbs," Tony said, tentatively.

"Something wrong?" Gibbs asked worriedly.

"Well...promise you won't get upset or anything."

"I promise I won't get upset," Gibbs repeated.

"Well…the reason I'm hot is 'cause you got the wrong sweater from my room again," Tony sighed with a rueful shake of his head. "I asked for the green Roberto Cavalli and you brought me the aquamarine Oscar de la Renta which is for much cooler weather. It's okay though Gibbs, you're good at lotsa stuff…just not fashion."

Jackson guffawed from the driver's seat then quickly disguised it as a cough. Ignoring the pointed look from his son, he guided the car into the driveway where Ziva's mini was already parked.

"Ziva's here!" Tony announced unnecessarily from the back. "Wait until I tell her about Bogart!"

"Wait a minute, Sport," Gibbs said. "We talked about this remember? No guarantees."

"But Gibbs-"

"No buts...we still have a long way to go and there's a chance that Bogart won't pass his training."

Tony nodded distractedly as he wrestled to free himself from his seat belt.

"Hey, Sport…you listening to me?"

"I'm listening, Gibbs," the boy replied.

"I don't want you disappointed if we have to look for another dog. You understand?"

"I understand," Tony finally agreed. "And I won't be disappointed."

"You won't?" the Gunny asked in surprise.

"Of course not," Tony said confidently. "Bogie's the smartest dog in the entire world! He'll pass his test and then he'll come and live with us."

Totally exasperated, Gibbs looked at his father who, lost for words, just shrugged his shoulders in reply. Sometimes, there was just no tempering the kid's positive outlook.

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While Jackson and Ziva threw together a hastily-prepared lunch, Gibbs took Tony to his room to help him change into his sweats and a t-shirt for his physio session. Tony was a slim child but there had been notable weight loss since the commencement of the Ketogenic Diet, which burned fat in the absence of sugar. Gibbs hid a grimace as he glanced at the boy's visible rib cage and made a note to discuss the matter with Doctor McNally and Tony's dietitian, Nikki Jardine.

They returned to the dining room where Ziva and Jackson were enjoying a coffee. The physiotherapist smiled at the boy's infectious grin and oohed and aaghed in all the right places as he told her all about the world's smartest Golden Labrador, Bogart.

Although he was only wearing a t-shirt, the kid still appeared flushed and several times during his excited monologue, his voice sounded raspy. When Tony grimaced while taking a drink, Gibbs retrieved the thermometer from the bathroom.

"I don't need that, Gibbs," he said, watching the Gunny's approach. "I'm fine."

The boy sighed as the Gibbs placed the tympanic thermometer in his ear and frowned when it indicated 100.2 degrees.

"That's not so bad, Son," Jackson said. "Like Ducky said, kids get sick."

"But I'm not sick, Grandpa Jack," Tony insisted with an over-bright smile.

"Open up, Sport," Gibbs said. "Let me take a look."

Tony clamped his lips shut for a moment before reluctantly allowing his foster father to look into his mouth. The boy dropped his gaze to the table and waited for the inevitable.

"Looks pretty sore," Gibbs stated, ruffling the blonde head.

Tony shrugged one shoulder.

"Thought we had a deal," Gibbs said.

The boy chewed his bottom lip nervously but remained silent.

"Tony, look at me. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

"Because I wanted to see the service dogs and to go to the Smithsonian with Miss Cassie tomorrow," Tony whispered. "And Wednesday's my Mom's birthday and I wanted to take her favourite flowers to the cemetery and then it's Thanksgiving at Doctor Ducky's house with all our friends."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully.

"Big week," he said. "Thought you'd miss the action if you told me you were sick?"

Tony nodded, quickly swiping at the traitorous tear that ran down his cheek.

"You understand why we have to be careful, right?" Gibbs asked.

Tony dried his face with the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Kate says we have to be extra careful 'cause I'm extra special," he said softly with a blush colouring his cheeks.

Gibbs bit back a grin.

"Kate's a smart lady," he said pausing for a moment before trying a different tact. "You like football, don't ya, Sport?"

Tony's curiosity piqued and he raised his head to look at his foster father.

"I love football, Gibbs!"

"Well, Grandpa Jack and Ziva - all of your friends are part of your football team."

"You are?" Tony said wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Yep. We run offence to when we take you to a ballgame or to the park or when we're just having fun. And we run defence to keep you healthy and safe. But every good football team needs a good quarterback. You know who that is?"

"You?" Tony guessed.

"Nope…I'm the coach," Gibbs grinned before gently prodding the boy's chest with his finger. "You're the quarterback."

"I'm the quarterback?" Tony said with a delighted smile.

"Yep. Every player in the team follows your lead. If you don't talk to your team, if you don't call the plays…you know what happens?"

"We lose the game," Tony replied.

"And the opposition sacks the quarterback," Gibbs said. "You need to talk to us, Sport. Need to tell us how you're feeling and trust us to watch your six. You got that?"

"I got it…I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Gibbs, but I only feel a little bit sick. Honest," the boy said. "Can I still go to the Smithsonian with Miss Cassie tomorrow?"

"We'll see how you're feeling in the morning," Gibbs said nodding his head. "But if your temperature's higher, the quarterback gets benched for a few days. Okay?"

"Okay," Tony said with a shake of his head and a put upon sigh. "But being extra special sure is hard, sometimes!"

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They were clearing the dishes when Gibbs noticed a message scribbled on a notepad by the phone.

"What's this?" he asked, holding the notepad for the others to see.

Ziva uttered a curse in Hebrew.

"Please forgive me, Gibbs, I completely forgot to give you that message. Your attorney, Alistair Chambers, called earlier. He said that something has come up and he would like to bring your appointment forward to this afternoon at three."

"He say why?"

"He did not," Ziva replied. "Only that he would like to discuss it with you this afternoon and you were to call him back if you could not attend."

Jackson checked his watch.

"If you're gonna make that appointment, Son, we better leave now."

Gibbs had looked worriedly in Tony's direction, not wanting to leave while the boy wasn't feeling well. Tony sensed the man's reluctance.

"Gi-ibbs!" he said, elongating the word into two syllables and rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Do not worry, Gibbs," Ziva assured the man. "As Tony is not feeling well, we will have a light workout today. Then, when you return, we can start treatment on your arm, yes?"

"That's a great idea, Ziva!" Tony enthused before turning to address his foster father. "And if you work really hard, Gibbs, maybe you can play the balloon game or dance with Ziva after your session. And don't worry if you're not very good at first 'cause practice makes perfect, right Ziva?"

"That is right, Tony," Ziva smiled, still seeing the hesitation in the man's eyes. "Go. I will call you if his fever rises."

Nodding his head brusquely, Gibbs approached the boy, brushing his bangs from his face and placing a kiss on his warm forehead.

"You behave," he told his kid with mock sternness, before clipping Tony under the chin and following Jackson out the door.

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Uncharacteristically anxious, Gibbs shifted his feet uneasily as he waited with his father in the luxurious reception area of Chambers, Bell and Ramsay.

As a name partner of one of the most reputable law firms in the Tri-State area, Alistair Chambers was an extremely busy man. Since the passing of his client and close friend, Anthony DiNozzo Senior, Chambers had continued his role as legal counsel to DiNozzo Industries and had taken on the additional responsibility of co-trustee to Tony's trust account.

Prompted by his own recent brush with death, Gibbs had phoned Chambers to discuss formalizing his relationship with the boy. He was willing to do whatever it took to legally remove Tony from the system and make him a permanent member of his family. The attorney had agreed to begin the complex legal matter but even Gibbs didn't expect he would hit a snag quite so soon.

Jackson stood by the ceiling to floor windows, admiring the uninterrupted view of the White House. He shook his head and guessed that he would need to work in his small general store for a week to make what Alistair Chambers charged by the hour.

At the sound of an opening door, he turned to see the white-haired, heavily set frame of Alistair Chambers walk from his office and extend his hand in greeting.

"Jethro, Jackson, thanks for coming in," the attorney said gesturing for them to enter his office and take a seat at the large conference table.

"Sounded important," the Gunny stated, feeling his gut tighten. "There a problem with the adoption application?"

"Not at all," the other man said, noting for the first time the atypical anxiousness on the agent's face. "In fact, my preliminary inquiries have been very favourable. As Tony's case manager, Jenny Shepherd has been keeping Judge Harland apprised with the boy's progress and the Judge is very pleased with his medical care and his home schooling. By all accounts, he has adjusted very well in your care...especially given the very difficult circumstances."

Jackson and Gibbs exchanged a relieved glance and watched as the attorney reached for a folder and opened it in front of him.

"We've received a very lucrative offer for the DiNozzo Family Estate," he said.

The attorney removed a piece of paper from the file and slid it across the table so the men could see the offer. Jackson and Gibbs glanced at the offer and the older man whistled softly.

"The house is in a very sought after location. This particular developer would like to demolish it and build a five star resort on the grounds. Has Tony ever mentioned his family home to you since he's been in your care?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"I wouldn't press but the offer is not open-ended. The developer has given us seven days to accept."

"The boy witnessed his father's death and was critically injured on the grounds of that property," Jackson said defensively. "If we broach that subject before he's ready it could cause him all kinds of pain."

Gibbs placed his hand on his father's forearm to calm him.

"I am not unsympathetic to the situation, Jackson," Chambers told him. "If you recall, Tony's father was one of my closest friends. But as the DiNozzo family attorney and co-trustee of Tony's trust fund, I have a responsibility to consider all genuine offers."

"The kid's got a lot on his plate this week," Gibbs said, "including his mother's birthday. Let me get him through that and I'll have an answer for you next week."

"And if the developer won't agree to extend the deadline?"

"Then we walk away until Tony's ready," the Gunny said.

Chambers nodded his understanding then stood and offered his hand to both men before seeing them to the door of his office.

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The drive from Alistair Chamber's offices was done in a companionable silence with each man deep in thought. Even the short stop at the market for groceries and to the drug store to fill some of Tony's prescriptions was done with a minimum of verbal communication between the two. They were almost home when Jackson broke the silence.

"You've been mighty quiet since we left Alistair's office…even for you!" he chuckled. "If you're worried about Tony, Ziva would have called if the boy's fever had worsened."

"I know," Gibbs replied.

The older man guided the car into the driveway and parked it beside Ziva's mini. As they gathered the grocery bags from the back seat and walked to the house, Gibbs felt a chill raise the hair at the back of his neck and he was immediately on alert. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he placed the bag of groceries at his feet while he searched his pocket for his house keys. The agent's blood ran cold and his heart thumped painfully against his sternum when he noted the door ajar and obvious signs of a break in.

"Stay here," he whispered sharply.

"Not a chance," Jack replied.

Gibbs strained to listen for Tony and Ziva's voices or any signs of trouble but the house was silent. He quickly entered through the front door, his strong-willed father at his heels. His trained eyes scanned the living room for any signs of trouble before he made his way to Tony's bedroom and finally to physio room where the sight of Tony's overturned wheelchair brought an audible gasp.

"Tony!" he called, viciously suppressing the feeling of terror rising in him.

"Leroy!" his father called urgently from another room.

Moving quickly to the dining room, he found his father helping Ziva from the floor to a nearby chair. She blinked several times as she struggled to focus and a thin line of blood dribbled from her split and swollen lower lip.

Kneeling in front of the stricken woman, Gibbs took her by the shoulders.

"Ziva, where's Tony?"

The young Israelis dark eyes filled with terror.

"Gibbs…" she whispered. "He took Tony."

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A/N It's so nice to know that people are still reading and enjoying this story and the In Loco Parentis series. I'm so pleased. Thank you all for your very kind reviews, particularly those of you who have reviewed and provided encouragement from the first story. Thank you also to those of you who did not sign in to review and to whom I consequently couldn't reply. I'm very grateful.