Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the writers, producers, et al of the television show 'NCIS'. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, internet persona, or other being, living or dead, is completely coincidental and unintentional unless otherwise noted.

A/N: I'm now a GREAT AUNT. My sister's oldest just had a baby on 11/20 – a little girl they named (I'm sure I'm spelling this wrong) Analise Rose (pronounced Ann-ah-leese). I think I'll call her Elsie, just to piss her mom off. Evil smirk.

When it Rains

Jimmy spent several hours splitting his attention between his Ethics in the Modern Medical Environment course text and taking care of the baby. At five-thirty, he paused long enough to help himself to a sandwich of cold-cuts from Tony's fridge and take his insulin, before burying himself in his coursework again. When a quiet knock sounded on the apartment door, it took a moment for him to realize just what the odd tapping noise was.

Glancing at the clock on his cell, he saw it was nearing nine o'clock. Tony was still sleeping solidly, as was the baby – for the moment. Opening the door a crack, he saw Abby standing in the hall, chewing on her lip. "Hey, Abby," he said, fully opening the door and taking care to keep his voice down. "Come in. Tony's sleeping, though."

"That's okay," Abby replied, stepping inside. She took a moment to hang her winter cloak in the closet – the black velvet one lined in red silk, insulated, with fake fur trimming the hood – and deposit her boots next to Jimmy's sneakers. She smiled brightly at Jimmy, "Can I see her?"

Knowing that if he said 'no', he'd have to deal with a pouting Abby, at least until Tony woke up, Palmer took a half step back and held out his hand. "Spikes."

The goth made a surprisingly quiet high-pitched noise and bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment before stripping off her wrist-cuffs (which were simple narrow bands with a single row of thick metal spikes) and handing them to Jimmy. For a change, she wasn't wearing a collar, just a simple silver chain supporting a largish pendant which read Free Hugs. Her clothing likewise wasn't as… complicated as she normally wore, though it was still recognizably Abby-style. Her jeans, unadorned by either spikes or chains, had one black leg and one bright red, though the belt she wore matched her cuffs, and her shirt was a black tee with what looked like red mah-jongg tiles printed sporadically on it, overlaid with a button-down sweater the same shade of red as the leg of her jeans, with faux fur trim on the collar.

The baby – still snugged, but not belted into, the car seat – was sitting on Tony's coffee table, sharing the space with Jimmy's laptop, ethics text, notebook, pen, and a half-empty glass of water. Abby quickly covered the distance between the archway to the hall and the sofa in comically tip-toed strides. Another disturbingly quiet and high-pitched 'aww' noise came from her as she caught sight of the sleeping infant. Jimmy could tell she was forcibly restraining herself from just snatching her up into the mother of all Abby-cuddles.

"She should be waking up for another feeding soon," Jimmy said, sinking back into his place on the couch.

Abby perched on the edge of the sofa cushion closest to the carrier and watched the baby sleep for several minutes. Just as Jimmy was resigning himself to an uncharacteristically silent Abby-visit and was returning his attention to his studies, Abby started talking in a much quieter tone than Palmer was used to. "You weren't kidding – she really does look a lot like Tony."

"I know, Abby."

She slid back a little on the cushion, but still kept most of her attention on the baby. "Can I ask something?"

Jimmy shrugged, "Sure."

She worried her lower lip with her teeth for a moment before blurting out, "How come Tony called you?"

Palmer frowned and sighed. "Shouldn't you ask Tony that one?"

"He's asleep," she simply replied, as though that explained everything.

"I'm his friend – why wouldn't he call me?"

"But why not Gibbs or Ducky or…"

"You?" Jimmy hazarded a guess as to how she had wanted to end the question before trailing off. Abby simply turned her cat-green gaze to him and nodded. Removing his glasses, he polished the lenses on the hem of his t-shirt to buy time. "Well," he said, pushing the round frames back onto his face, "he'd already gotten the call about the body this morning, so he wouldn't have called Gibbs first – I don't think there's a force on earth that would make Tony intentionally have something personal interfere with a case. Same goes for Ducky – he would have already been called about the crime scene. Dr. Mallard usually waits until he's already mostly to NCIS before calling me, simply because I live so much closer than he does. Tony knows this, so…" he made a 'there you have it' gesture. "And as to not calling you… Well, maybe he figured you'd already been called out, too."

Before Abby could reply, Tony's voice spoke up from the hall to his bedroom. "Not exactly, Jimmy."

The still-sleep-disheveled agent stepped into the living room and neither Abby nor Jimmy could miss how his eyes fell on the baby-carrier first, before meeting both their gazes. "Hey, Tony," Abby said. Palmer simply gave a little wave of his hand, momentarily struck dumb by how… cute Tony looked in his rumpled OSU t-shirt and worn-out flannel pajama bottoms (light blue and sporting, of all things, a lighthouse motif), with his hair sticking up all over the place and bare feet. As Tony crossed the short distance to his recliner, Abby continued speaking. "If not, then… Why?"

Tony let out a self-depreciating huff of not-quite-laughter. "I was panicking so bad this morning that I didn't know who, exactly, I'd called until I heard Jimmy's voice. I just hit a number and 'send' – was probably lucky I didn't wind up calling my voicemail or winding up with a very irate 911 dispatcher."

Abby knew that Tony kept the contact numbers for the team as the speed-dial on his cell; 'one' was the default for voicemail, 'two' was Gibbs' cell, 'three' was Gibbs' house line, 'four' was McGee, 'five' was Ziva, 'six' was her own speed-dial shortcut, 'seven' was Palmer's cell, 'eight' was Ducky, and 'nine' was to 911. Since Palmer was sitting on the end of the couch nearer Tony, and facing her direction, rather than DiNozzo's, Tony didn't see the effect that his admission had on the assistant ME – but Abby did. He looks like someone just told him that his dog was run over. "I'm not quite so panicky now, though," Tony continued. "Kinda glad it was Jimmy I wound up calling – he's just about the only one, besides Gibbs, who has any real experience with little kids, and Ducky's fully capable of doing without him for a few hours." Palmer perked up a little, but still seemed somewhat down about it until Tony finished with, "Besides, he's probably the one I woulda picked to call, had I actually been, ya know, thinking this morning."

Noticing how the last statement caused Palmer to straighten up and smile brightly, Abby couldn't help but ask, "How's that?"

Tony scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed mentally. Damn it. Didn't mean to say that. Opening his eyes again, he saw not one, but two pairs of eyes questioning him. "Abs, you know I love you like a little sister, right?"

Abby nodded, "Yeah. And Tim's the little brother, Ziva's some weird sort of step-sibling, and Gibbs is 'dad'. We all know that, even if we don't ever really talk about it."

Tony echoed Abby's nod, "Right. But Jimmy? He's my friend. You and I go clubbing every once in a while and you come over for the occasional movie-night, but when you get right down to it, neither of us have all that much in common outside of work. Same goes for me and McGeek – movie-nights, a venture out to the bar once in a blue moon, and he's the only one I've found who can give me a run for my money on Mortal Kombat, but like with you, we don't really have a whole helluva lot in common. Same goes for the rest of the team – even you have to admit that if we didn't all work at the same place, it's highly doubtful we ever would have crossed paths, let alone been friends. But Palmer here? If I hadn't met him through work, like if I'd just run into him one night down at Dominic's or at Brewster's… Pretty sure we still woulda been friends." Actually, had Ducky not hired Jimmy as his assistant, it was far more likely that he and Tony would have met, not at the pub near the Navy Yard, but at Fantastique – one of the few places in DC where anything can and did happen and no one looked at you funny for dancing with anyone who wanted to test your moves, regardless of gender or attire (or lack thereof).

Tony could tell that though Abby could see the logic in what he'd said – and Palmer had caught what he hadn't said, primarily the bit about Fantastique – she was getting that stubborn set to her face that usually had him wishing he could take her by the shoulders and shake her until she saw sense. "Oh, Tony! That's not true!"

Tony held up a hand to forestall the Abby-rant he knew was about to bubble forth. "No, it is, and you know it. Let's start with Gibbs, shall we? Of everyone else, he's about the only one who I might have met had I never come to work for NCIS, but even in his case, it's not likely we ever would have spoken."

Temporarily shelving her argument, Abby asked, "Why not? And what do you mean?"

"I spend a lot of free time out at the Y – you know that. In the gym or on the courts or out in the batting cages. I've run across Gibbs out there a few times, but he always had someone with him," Tony explained. "First it was that redhead with the silver convertible, and once with Colonel Mann," a tiny little grin pulled at the corners of Tony's mouth. "I think it's one of his favorite 'date spots'."

Jimmy blinked, obviously more than a little amused at that small insight to the rather enigmatical Gibbs. "Seriously?"

Tony nodded and grinned, "Yeah. But the man does seem to think that whittling should be an Olympic event, so…" He made a 'there you have it' gesture. "Next we'll turn our attention to Ziva. Just about the only thing we have in common outside of work is that we run. And since she lives out in Silver Spring…" he shrugged. "Probably never would have met her, period. Next up's McGee. We both like video games, but I prefer my Xbox and he's into that whole role-playing shtick, so again, it's highly unlikely we ever would have met. You're the same as Tim, and don't shake your head at me, Abigail Sciuto." He narrowed his eyes at her until he was sure she was listening again. "But… Jimmy? He only lives a few blocks from here. We grab drinks at the same bar, wind up meeting randomly on our days off at places like the grocery store, and like a lot of the same things. He's the only one on the team who I can sit around and talk sports with, or who will willingly sit and watch movies with me for an entire day – even if he doesn't like the movie in question, he'll sit and listen to me comment on it. I managed to change his mind about a couple of flicks he'd seen before and hadn't truly appreciated."

"Yeah," Palmer agreed. "He talked me around on this one movie – Children of Men – that I saw back when it was in theaters, but hadn't much liked. It's this weird take on an end-of-the-world scenario that…" he trailed off as he realized that both Abby and Tony were staring at him with nearly-identical little smirks. "What?"

"Don't ever change, Jimmy," Tony replied. He returned his gaze to the forensic goth. "I don't mean that you and McGee and everyone aren't my friends – hell, you said it yourself, we're family, but…" He paused for a moment. Ah, to hell with it. No way I'm gonna be stingy with words this late in the game. "Jimmy's probably my best friend, Abs."

Seemingly forgetting that Palmer was in the room, Abby leapt to her feet. "How? Why? I thought I was…"

Tony quickly pushed himself out of his chair and pulled Abby into a hug, one that she, for what was likely the first time in her life, did not reciprocate. "Abby, please," Tony pleaded. He could feel her shaking, either with rage or with quiet tears, he wasn't sure which. He loud questions had startled the baby into waking, and Tony leveled a quick look at Jimmy, who was already pulling the infant from the car seat and retreating to the dubious privacy of the kitchen.

Abby wrenched herself from Tony's grasp, but didn't back away. She simply looked up with her eyes swimming, though her cheeks remained dry. "Why?" she repeated.

Tony settled his hands on her shoulders and stooped a little to meet her eye-to-eye. "You've got a little brother, right?"

Abby nodded. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"Pretend for a moment that you both live in the same city. Would you call him if something like this happened to you?" He could see the flash of amusement run through her eyes at the thought of someone leaving a baby on her doorstep and claiming she was the mother. But he could also tell that he was finally getting through to her that calling Jimmy hadn't been an insult.

She shook her head. "Probably not," she admitted.

"Right. Instead of a sibling, you'd turn to someone who had helped you out several times in the past. Someone you knew you could lean on. Someone who wouldn't be mad at getting called at three o'clock in the morning."

She worried her lower lip between her teeth for several minutes, considering Tony's words. The noises from the kitchen area had died down quite rapidly after the microwave beeped, so she assumed that Palmer had busied the baby with a bottle. Eventually, she slowly nodded and gave a weak smile to Tony. "Sorry," she said, finally stepping into Tony's hug.

Tony let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Crisis averted.

Abby stepped back from Tony once the hug had run its course and followed Palmer into the kitchen. Tony took a moment once she was out of the room to look up at the ceiling and mouth a heartfelt why me to any entities that might have been listening before following her.

Jimmy was holding the baby, who was wearing a tiny white t-shirt, tinier white socks, and pink pants with matching knit cap and all wrapped up in a white-with-bunny-print receiving blanket. The baby was sucking greedily at a mostly-full bottle of that disgusting gunk – though she seemed to like it well enough. Abby was leaning against the breakfast bar, her face clearly saying 'aww… how adorable'. Still a little frustrated with Abby's ongoing belief that everything in the world revolved around her in some way – Well, maybe not that bad, DiNozzo. Team Gibbs, maybe, but not quite everything in the world. – a sly smile surfaced on his face, though only Jimmy noticed it. Tony nodded his head towards the for-once-oblivious scientist. Jimmy smiled. "Hey, Abby. Do you want to take over?"

Tony quickly schooled his expression to one slightly less diabolical, barely succeeding in time for Abby to cast a questioning glance over her shoulder at Tony. "Yeah, knock yourself out, Abs," he said.

She made another of those high-pitched noises that had pulled Tony out of a dead sleep and hurried over to Palmer with her hands outstretched. Letting Abby take over, Jimmy took her place leaning against the bar. "Make sure you burp her when she's done eating," he said. While Abby fed the baby, Tony and Jimmy spent a few minutes discussing football. When Abby sat the mostly-empty bottle down next to Tony, Jimmy smiled. "It's easiest to burp her if you put her up to your shoulder, then pat her back."

Abby did as instructed, mentally arguing that she wasn't an idiot – she may have only been four at the time, but she did remember when her brother was a baby. Her only other real experience with a baby had been when her niece was almost a year old, but she didn't think that should really count. As both men had assumed would be the case, Abby didn't reposition the receiving blanket. Less than a minute of bouncy pacing and patting later, a loud burp rumbled from the tiny bundle. Much as Tony had done that morning, Abby looked at the baby in something akin to surprised respect. Then she noticed what had come out with the noisy belch – her left pigtail and an increasingly large portion of her sweater was now coated with the thick slime of baby-puke – and the look of disgust that flashed across her face was well and truly priceless.

Distracted as she was, she didn't notice either man pocket their camera phones.

While McGee was busy tracking down the possible purchaser of a Clover and Smiths custom touring bicycle, as the chain used to strangle Staff Sergeant McCall left traces of a graphite-based lubricant trademarked by the high-end bike manufacturer, Ziva focused on reviewing the photos from the crime scene for further clues. Gibbs was leaning against the balcony, watching his agents, and still turning the 'Tony problem' over in his mind.

Always kinda figured that one of these days, Tony's sleeping around was gonna catch up with him, just never figured it would be like this… He took a slow sip of his coffee and glanced at the clocks on the wall below; it was nearing 2300 hours. Know he ain't takin' the easy way out on this, but I gotta wonder just what he plans on doin'. To be honest, I really can't see him as a dad – the only kid he ever got along with on the job was that one who beat his high score on that movie-trivia game, and I'm sure that was only 'cause the kid was a mini-DiNozzo… Well, that and the fact that they weren't in the same room for more than a couple of minutes.

He scrubbed a hand across his face, finished his coffee, and headed down the stairs. "Pack up – go home. Be back at 0700, ready to work."

After Ziva and Tim had hurriedly disappeared, Gibbs sank into his desk chair and stared at Tony's empty desk. They had been through a helluva lot together, from bombings and terrorist threats through amnesia and the plague, and in nearly every instance – provided his memory was whole – Gibbs had been able to make educated guesses as to what his senior field agent had done/did/would do in just about any given situation. Granted, no one was able to know what random bit of gibberish was going to spew forth from Tony's mouth at any given time, but there had always been a comforting predictability in his actions before… Most of the time, anyway.

But this was a situation that had come completely out of left field. It wasn't a bad guy with a gun, or a suicidal cadet on the edge of a building, or even a set of clothes left behind on the flight deck… It was far greater than all of those put together. While Gibbs knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Tony would – and had – willingly put his life on the line for each of his teammates time and again, and he knew that if Ziva or Abby or Tim or even Palmer announced that they were going to be parents, Tony would be first in line to spoil the kid rotten… He just didn't know how Tony was going to handle this.

Slowly getting to his feet and retrieving his coat from the back of his chair, and his gun from the drawer, Gibbs took his own leave of the bullpen. Trying to get into his SFA's head was going to require a lot more alcohol than was readily available at his desk.

Tim was already parking his car before he realized he wasn't at his own apartment building. The distinctive architecture told him he was at Tony's. He debated, momentarily, on simply turning his car back on and heading home before removing his keys from the ignition and wandering up to the lobby doors. "Little late, ain't it, Tim?"

Tim shrugged. "Could be, Tom. Tony in?"

The pensioner who spent the majority of his days sitting at the desk in the lobby, watching ESPN on the little television behind the counter and sorting mail for the residents, had been at his post probably longer than Tim had been at work. Tom nodded, "Yeah. You missed Abby-girl, though. She went home about half an hour ago."

"Thanks," Tim replied, then headed for the stairs. He knew better than to even attempt the elevator.

A few minutes later, he was standing in the almost circular 'hallway' that served as the doorway to the three apartments on the fifth floor. Rhomboid? Pentagonal? Is that one even a word? He shook his head to dislodge the train of thought before it had him racing home for a dictionary or reaching for his phone to look it up by reverse-dictionary on One-Look. The low murmur of voices from Tony's apartment let him know that though he might have missed Abby, Tony still had someone over with him. Tim wondered who for all of half a second before he remembered that not only had Jimmy been late to work that morning, but he'd been the one who brought the news of Tony's latest… issue.

"What the hell are you doing here, McGee?" he whispered to himself, even as his left hand pulled itself into a loose fist, levitated to shoulder-height, and rapped lightly on Tony's door while memories of Tony spontaneously dropping by a couple of years earlier, after he'd shot that undercover cop, playing in the back of his mind.

The door opened after only a short wait, and Tony stood there for a split second before his typical shit-eating grin surfaced. "McGeek! Come in!" Still not sure why he'd come by in the first place, Tim followed Tony into the apartment, and down the short hallway to the living room. "Pay up, Palmer," Tony said, flopping down on the sofa, his hand open and stretched out to where the 'Autopsy Gremlin' was sitting on the other end of the couch.

Knowing better than to sit in Tony's precious recliner, Tim simply stood there and watched as a ten-dollar bill exchanged hands. "How'd you know I was coming?" Tim asked. He really did want to know, particularly since he hadn't known.

Tony's grin was still firmly in place and it brightened somewhat. "Come on, McGee! I know you, that's how. You wouldn't really believe the rumors until you saw it with your own two eyes. So… You came by, soon as the bossman released you for the night, come to stare at the monkey in the zoo."

Before Tim could reply, Palmer interrupted. "Tony!"

DiNozzo glared at his other houseguest, "What?"

"Quit being an asshole."

If Tim hadn't been there to witness it, he wouldn't have believed it. Tony actually shut up, the grin evaporating quickly. DiNozzo sighed, the sound itself was almost unbearably weary. He scrubbed a hand across his face, the pads of his fingers making an odd rasping noise against the five o'clock shadow shading his cheeks and chin. When he finally opened his eyes and looked at Tim again, the forced-Tony-ness that had been present since the apartment door had opened was gone. What remained reminded Tim altogether too much of how Tony had looked on returning to work after Kort had blown up his car.

"What do you need, Tim?"

Suddenly realizing why he'd not gone straight home, Tim glanced between Tony and the bundle sleeping in a car seat on Tony's coffee table. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," he said, "but I can tell you're really not." What he said next surprised everyone but Tony. "So, since you're not really up for company, I'll leave you in Palmer's capable hands." Turning to go, he paused once more before leaving the apartment. "Call if you need anything."

On returning home, it took nearly two hours for Tim to process the brief, though informative, visit to his partner's place. One of his last thoughts before falling asleep was, Who would have thought Palmer would have grown a backbone?

Ziva tossed her keys in the little glass dish on her kitchen counter where she stored all her pocket-clutter and hung her coat on the peg next to the archway to the living room. Her new place wasn't as nice as her old apartment had been before being blown sky-high, and she lamented the loss of her piano, but it was still a better place than any she'd lived in while in Israel. Glancing at the clock and doing some mental calculations, she smiled and started pulling things out of the cupboards.

Much like she'd told McGee and Abby earlier, she wasn't really surprised at what had happened to Tony, and likewise couldn't really imagine him as parental material, but regardless, she was going to make sure he had more than take-out and sandwiches to live on while he was working on getting his life back together.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd gone to work with little to no sleep. It was all for a good cause, too, which was more than she could say about most times it had happened in the past.

A/N2: Abby's necklace can be found at Hot Topic's website, as can her jeans. The T-shirt is from Lip Service, and I made up her sweater. And I really struggled with her portion of this chapter. I hope I managed to make it realistic – even on the show, she has moments of complete selfishness that irritate the hell out of me (like when she thought Gibbs had forgotten her birthday or any time Tim shows the least little bit of interest in another woman).

This is probably going to be the last chapter for a while – the only reason I got to upload it was because I've been home for a couple of weeks (Mom had surgery). The next update will be when chance/circumstance allow. This goes for all my fics, not just this one.

Please remember to let me know what you think!