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 know absolutely nothing about family law, so any/all references to anything like that is pure BS that I thought sounded plausible. If anyone knows more than me, please lemme know what I got wrong, so I can come back and fix this at a later date. Thanks in advance.

When it Rains

Setting the chisel aside, Gibbs leaned in and blew a small pile of shavings out of his way. The front end of the toy car was really taking shape rather quickly, and Gibbs allowed a momentary flash of satisfaction – that was one thing the boats couldn't do for him, semi-instant gratification, but he did miss the challenge of a big project. Making toys was all well and good, particularly since they were for a good cause, but sanding the side of a toy sailboat just didn't satisfy his muscles the way sanding the hull of a real sailboat did. Besides, he already had a stockpile of toys done, he didn't really need any more to fulfill his promise, but he needed something to do during downtime…

Allowing the train of thought on what larger projects he could be doing to continue running at the back of his mind, he returned his primary attention to his second's latest bit of drama. "Hell, Tony," he mumbled to himself, "you got more drama in your life than on those damn soaps Diane loved so much. Accused of murder three times, plague, and now a foundling. All we need now is the long-lost relative and all the bases'll be covered. Ever need extra cash, you could always sell your life story – make McGee's little book look like small change."

He sat the toy car aside, stood, and started to head for the stairs before pausing at the workbench long enough to add a splash of bourbon to his still mostly-warm mug of coffee. He adjourned to his living room and sat back on the sofa, sipping his beverage and trying to figure out what Tony was going to do next.

It was four-thirty in the morning, Palmer was asleep on the sofa, and Tony, though still tired, was standing on the balcony of his apartment, leaning on the brick rail, staring out at the lights. Puffs of white gave temporary substance to his breath, but he was buried so deeply in his own head he didn't notice the frigid temperature through his t-shirt. What the hell do I do? The thought kept chasing itself through his mind, echoing off itself to the point that Tony was about to start banging his head on the brick wall until his brains began dripping down its rough surface.

A whispered voice startled him out of his thoughts. "I did not expect you to still be awake."

"Morning, Ziva," Tony replied, just as quietly. "Did I forget to lock the door, or did you just pick the lock?"

"You forgot to lock it. I think you have been spending too much time with Gibbs. His bad habits are rubbing off on you."

Tony smirked a little. "Congratulations, Ziva – you got that one right on the first try."

Ziva stepped closer to Tony, a serious expression on her face. "Are you alright, Tony?"

His smirk evaporated. "Honestly? No. I keep coming back to two things. First off – how the hell did this happen? I'm careful, for cryin' out loud! This shouldn't have happened. Second thought's what the hell do I do now?"

"I do not know why it happened," Ziva replied, settling a hand on Tony's shoulder. "But… You are a good man, Tony. You will make the right decision." Changing the subject, she finished with, "And you are also icy cold. How long have you been out here?"

"Dunno. Coupla hours, I think."

"Come inside. I brought some food. Let me heat you something."

Tony didn't resist following her into the mostly-dark apartment, though he wasn't hungry in the least. He closed the French doors behind him and latched them, then stood next to the sofa, watching as Ziva unpacked several cloth grocery bags and put numerous Tupperware containers in either the fridge or freezer. There were too many for her to have carried in a single trip up from her car. He tossed an amused glance in Jimmy's direction. Autopsy Gremlin sleeps sound, doesn't he? Said 'gremlin' was sprawled on his back, his glasses askew, mouth slightly open, and a large medical text – Damn thing looks bigger than my first apartment back in Peoria. – resting on his chest.

"Shakshuka?" Ziva asked, holding aloft a medium-sized square plastic dish with tight-fitting lid.

"Gesundheit," Tony replied.

"No, it is an egg and tomato dish, popular in Israel. It is a little spicy."

"I'm not really hungry right now, Zee."

"I will make you tea, instead," she said, putting the dish in the now-packed fridge with the rest of the food she'd brought over.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," Ziva said, busying herself with a tea kettle Tony didn't recognize.

Any further conversation was derailed as the baby began whimpering. Before Tony could maneuver around the sofa – and its still-sleeping occupant – the whimpers had evolved to outright howls. Jimmy mumbled something incomprehensible and rolled over, his textbook falling to the floor in the process.

Ziva covertly watched while waiting for the kettle to boil. Tony scooped up the crying bundle and started talking to her. Ziva was certain he didn't know he was talking loud enough for her to hear him. "Shush, girl," he said, cuddling her to his chest. "Come on, I know you're not hungry. You don't sound quite so pissed-off when you're hungry."

A small smile surfaced on Ziva's face. He is better at this than I gave him credit for. Then again, he has been here with only Palmer for help all day. This would be an example of… Sink? Yes, sink-or-swim. And Tony is actually swimming. She chuckled silently as her partner lifted the baby up and sniffed, then grimaced. "Of course. Shoulda realized. Wonder if Jimmy is gonna wake up if I let you cry?"

Palmer actually replied, startling Tony bad enough he nearly dropped the crying infant. "Don't bet on it, Tony. You gotta do it yourself sometime – I'm eventually going home, you know."

Tony winced, "Sorry, Jimmy."

Palmer lifted himself off the couch far enough to remove his glasses and toss them on the coffee table. "She's only gonna get louder the longer you wait, you know."

Tony sighed and picked up a large, black, duffle-style bag from the floor at the end of the couch and slung it over a shoulder before heading for the bathroom. Once he was out of the room, Ziva asked, "Did you want some tea, as well?"

Jimmy groaned, "No. Thanks, though. All I really want right now is another five hours of sleep, but," he squinted at his wristwatch, "I'm only going to get another three as it is. Don't worry about being too noisy, my mom always said I could sleep through a marching band." He burrowed his head under one of the two fuzzy red throw pillows and faint snoring filtered through after only a couple of minutes.

Tony reappeared, looking a little nauseated, with the duffle and the baby, now wrapped in a plain white blanket, rather than the one with the bunnies printed on it. The watch-cap had likewise been replaced with one that was pale green. "That was worse than the body where I met McGee."

"How so?" Ziva asked.

Tony sat the duffle back on the floor between the couch and his recliner, but kept hold of the baby. "Well, what got us called out was someone left a body in a barrel of acid down at Norfolk. A couple of yard-workers accidentally dumped the barrel. All that was left of the body was a bunch of glopy slime, some skin and bones. McGee was the on-site agent there at the time – still so new he still squeaked when he moved – and I thought he was gonna ralph all over the crime scene first time I saw him. But that glopy slime still wasn't as bad as what I just saw."

Ziva chuckled. "I can imagine. My neighbors have a three year-old, a pretty little child, but always sticky. I can only assume that the smaller the child, the sticker they are."

"Stickier," Tony auto-corrected, taking a seat on one of his bar-stools. "But I agree. All the little kids I've ever met have always been sticky."

The kettle began to whistle and Ziva moved it off the stove and turned off the burner. She poured water into two coffee mugs and added tea bags from a small turquoise-colored box. She handed Tony one of the mugs and slid his sugar bowl over before leaning against the counter. "It is green tea."

"I can tell," Tony replied, sniffing the contents of the mug. "With… Something citrus. Lemon? No…" he sniffed again. "Orange?"

"Close. Tangerine."

Tony added a couple of spoons of sugar to his mug. "Thanks," he said. "And thanks for the food. I'm sure I won't have much time to cook this week.

"No problem. Have you decided what you're going to do?"

Tony shook his head. "Nothing definitive yet. Ask me again later."

Ziva changed the subject, and the pair spent the better part of the next hour chatting about their favorite action movies. At six-thirty, Ziva excused herself to head to work. Three minutes after the door closed behind her, Tony climbed to his feet to put the baby back in the car seat and wake Jimmy by kicking the sofa.

"Better get a move on, Palmer. You'll be late."

After Jimmy headed in to work, Tony kicked back on his couch and debated turning on the TV, but decided against it. He had no idea if it would wake up his… the kid. He didn't notice when he fell asleep, but he couldn't help but notice when his cell phone rang about an hour and a half later.

Tony grabbed the phone off the corner of the coffee table. "DiNozzo."

"Good morning, Mr. DiNozzo – this is Liza Crawford. Leon Vance gave me your number. I understand you've got something of an… issue on your hands."

Tony sat up straight, rather like any of the innumerable times he'd been slacking off at work only to have Gibbs suddenly show up. He let out a mirthless chuckle, "If by 'issue' you mean a one-night stand leaving a baby on my doorstep, then yeah. I suppose you could say that."

The woman on the other end of the line chose to ignore Tony's somewhat bitter reply. "If you are available, I would like to meet you in person to go over your options."

Tony sighed, "Yeah, I'm available. When and where, Ms. Crawford?"

"In situations like this, faster is better. I've got a court appearance in about an hour, should only take about thirty minutes or so, how about I drop by your place afterwards?"

Tony glanced at the clock on his phone before replying, "Sure. See you around eleven, then?"

"Certainly." She verified his address and they ended the call just as the baby began fussing for attention again.

Tony returned the cell to the increasingly-cluttered coffee table. "Aw, come on, girl. I need sleep," he grumbled while scooping the infant out of the carrier.

Jimmy managed to arrive moments before Dr. Mallard. While the pair were getting ready to start their day, Ducky asked, "How is Anthony doing, Mr. Palmer?"

Since the autopsy on Staff Sergeant Bryce McCall was finished, Jimmy grabbed the clipboard on which they kept track of the items they needed to place on their next requisition form and started going through the supply cabinets. "He's… Not good, by any stretch of the imagination, but… Dealing, I think."

Ducky smiled, "While not the best of news, it is still good news indeed, Mr. Palmer."

Liza Crawford reminded Tony very strongly of a grown-up version of the girl who played Ginny Weasley in the Harry Potter movies, only with truly carroty-orange hair instead of the darker red Bonnie Wright sported. Her eyes were a dark shade of blue that Tony suspected were the result of colored contacts and her hair was twisted up into a weird bun-like structure on the back of her head. She was wearing a black A-line skirt with gold pinstripes that reached just past her knees, a matching suit-jacket, and a gold-tone blouse that matched her low-slung heels almost precisely, with a pair of pearl studs in her earlobes, a string of small pearls around her neck, and a plain gold wedding band. The overall effect was sophisticated, classy, competent, and expensive.

"Please, come in," he said, stepping aside and ushering her into his apartment. "Excuse the mess. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Water would be appreciated, thank you," Liza replied, looking around the apartment with interest.

"Have a seat anywhere," Tony said, ducking into the kitchen.

Liza picked one of the bar stools and sat her briefcase on the counter. She opened it and retrieved a notebook and pen. While Tony retrieved a glass from the cupboard, ice from the freezer, and a bottle of Dasani from the cupboard under the sink, Liza scribbled down a few notes. "First things first, call me Liza."

"Tony," he replied, adding ice to the glass.

"Okay, Tony. I didn't get much in the way of details from Leon, just a basic explanation of the situation."

Tony sat the bottle of water and glass on the counter next to Liza's briefcase. He opened a second bottle and took a swig. "What sort of details do you need? I went to leave yesterday morning, around 0230, and found…" he gestured to the car seat sitting on the coffee table.

"In the car seat?" she asked.

Tony shook his head. "A laundry basket. Along with a couple of cheap towels."

Liza made a note. "Do you know who the mother is?"

"Sorta," Tony replied, running a hand through his hair.

The lawyer arched an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Well…" Tony hesitated.

The pause was long enough that Liza leveled a small smirk at him. "You don't know her name."

Tony shrugged, "Not her real name. Called herself Stardust. Picked her up down at Fantastique."

"I've heard of the place," Liza replied. "Have you tried to contact her?"

Tony shook his head. "Never got her number."

"Then how can you be sure it's her?"

He gave Liza a look that clearly said 'you've got to be kidding me'. "Seriously?"

Liza's smirk stayed firmly in place. She reached for the bottle of water Tony had provided and opened it. "To be honest, Tony, Leon has talked about you before, and not much of what he had to say was flattering."

Tony snorted, "No, I suppose it wouldn't be. How do you know Vance, anyway?"

"He's my brother," she explained. At Tony's skeptical expression, she clarified, "I'm adopted. Main reason I got into this job."

"Oh," Tony replied. He leaned against the counter and took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a huff. "Well… I can imagine the sort of stories Vance probably told you about me. I'm not exactly his favorite person."

Liza laughed a little, "I know. But Leon doesn't exactly hate you either, you know."

"Could've fooled me."

"Apparently, he did," Liza said. "His main problem with you is that he doesn't understand you – or, rather, he didn't understand you. Thought you didn't take the job seriously enough, and felt that a special agent shouldn't have the type of reputation you hold."

Tony shrugged in reply. "Can't argue with the reputation, I suppose, but I take my job very seriously."

Liza's smirk morphed into a real smile, "He knows that now." She poured part of the bottle of water over the ice in her glass and replaced the lid. "However, we've managed to get completely off-topic. So, back to the task at hand." She took a sip of water and picked up her pen again. "How certain are you that this Stardust woman is the baby's mother?"

"A hundred percent, Liza."

"Why?"

Tony let out a dark laugh. "Before I answer that, is any of this going to get back to Vance?"

Liza shook her head, "Absolutely not. Unless you tell me otherwise, anything you tell me is protected by attorney-client privilege."

"That's a relief." Tony took another swig from his own water-bottle. "Well, reputation aside, it could only be her or Jessica Martins, and since Jess is a freckled redhead like you, it's pretty obvious."

Liza arched an eyebrow. "So your reputation is exaggerated?"

Tony shrugged again. "Didn't used to be. But I had this… Well, let's just call it a really bad break-up and leave it at that."

"May I ask a question that doesn't have much to do with your current situation?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"How come you don't know Stardust's real name, but call Miss Martins by a nickname?"

Tony smiled a little. "Jess and me have been friends a long time," he explained. "We tried dating and it was a horrible, horrible disaster – one of those situations where we're too much alike – but we can do the whole 'friends with benefits' thing." He sighed yet again. "Too bad this didn't happen with her. It woulda made things a helluva lot easier."

"I imagine it would have," Liza agreed. "But since it didn't, we've got quite a bit to go over."

Tony nodded, "I know."

"Since you agreed to speak with me, and didn't immediately call Social Services, I assume that you're admitting to being the baby's father."

Tony nodded, "Yeah. Be a little hard to deny it – she looks like me."

"Even so, there are still several things which need doing, not the least of which is a paternity test. Courts are real big on having DNA evidence in cases like this."

"Got it covered," Tony replied. "The lab at work is gonna do the testing."

Liza noted the info on her notepad. "Okay. Up next, we really ought to see if there's any way to locate this Stardust woman."

Tony winced. "I can understand why, but…"

Liza's eyebrow arched back up to her hairline. "Are you or are you not a professional investigator?" The thought of having his team track down his one-night stand made Tony feel somewhat ill. The lawyer could almost read Tony's thoughts and her smirk made a reappearance. "If you don't want to find her yourself, I can have a PI look into it for you."

As uncomfortable as the thought of having his team look into his private life – again – was, the thought of using a PI and not his team made him break into a cold sweat. "No," Tony said. "Just… No."

"So, you'll be handling that." It wasn't a question. "I assume you also know you should take her to a pediatrician."

"Yeah. Ducky – Dr. Mallard – gave me the number of one of his colleagues. She's got an appointment for tomorrow morning."

Liza made another note. "That's good. And you said the baby showed up in a laundry basket?" Tony nodded. "So you borrowed the car seat?"

"Nope. Bought it and a bunch of other stuff yesterday morning."

"Still have the receipt?"

Tony nodded again. "Yeah. Think so."

"Good. Keep it and any others that you wind up with for any expenses concerning her."

"Why?"

"Helps to show financial responsibility. We'll also need a copy of your financials for the same reason."

"Wasn't expecting that," Tony admitted, "though I probably should have. Anything else I'll need?"

Liza nodded, "Well, not need so much as it would be helpful – at least one or two character statements."

"Why do we need all of this?"

"Because, regardless of what you decide to do, the very first step is to have you named as sole guardian of the kid. Courts are somewhat tetchy about awarding custody to a single father – archaic, sure, but it's still true – and we need you to make a good impression. Not that it wouldn't take much, what with how you found out about the baby."

"Oh," Tony replied.

"The two main strikes against you, at least as far as I can see right now, are your reputation and your job. The job, though, is two-sided – it can and will be argued that you work in a highly unpredictable and dangerous profession; alternatively, the fact that you work for the government in the capacity you do, it can be argued that it shows a dedicated and responsible mentality, reputation aside." She sipped from her water and continued, "Also, if your reputation has been… embellished or exaggerated, that would also work in our favor."

"Already said I earned my reputation, Liza."

"I know, but you also said it wasn't entirely accurate any longer."

Tony drained his bottle of water and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin next to the fridge. "This is gonna take a while, isn't it?"

"You were expecting anything else?"

Tony shook his head. "Didn't really know what to expect."

"Best make yourself comfortable, then. This is going to take a while."

Sighing again, Tony settled himself onto the second bar stool. "Okay – DNA test, doctor checkup, character statements, financial info – anything else?"

Liza smiled, not unkindly. "That's only the start, Tony."

Since Tony wasn't in, and Gibbs had disappeared into MTAC with the director to go over some intel regarding Staff Sergeant McCall's duties at the Pentagon, Ziva and Tim grabbed their lunches and headed down to Abby's lab.

"Lunch?" McGee shouted over the steady shrieking pulse coming from Abby's CD player.

Abby hit the volume on her remote and the music faded until it was little more than background noise. "Hey guys. Lunch."

The trio camped out at Abby's desk. Once sandwiches were unwrapped and drinks opened – or retrieved from the refrigerator, in Abby's case – all three started speaking simultaneously.

"I went to Tony's last night."

"So I dropped by DiNozzo's place."

"I took Tony some food this morning."

After a brief spate of laughter, and a round of 'after yous', Ziva spoke first. "I stopped by to drop off some food for Tony this morning. He seems to be doing well. Tired and… He seemed a little lost, but otherwise well."

"I agree," Abby replied. "He's been thrown into this situation that's way, way, way over and above anything else he's ever had to deal with before, but he's doing okay. I did see something I found really, really, really, really, really –"

"Abby!" Tim interrupted.

She continued as though she hadn't even heard him. "Really, really, really interesting!"

Her tone clued the other two in that it was more than just Abby being Abby – whatever she saw had the potential to be – ahem – really juicy gossip. "What?" Both Tim and Ziva leaned in close, looking like nothing so much as a pair of high school kids.

"When I went over last night, I had to ask how come Tony called Palmer. Basically, Tony said it was an accident that he wound up calling him, because he'd just hit a button and send, and Palmer looked like someone'd just murdered his puppy until Tony went on to say how he was happy that he'd wound up calling Palmer and if he'd been thinking instead of panicking, he woulda chose to call Palmer to begin with, then Palmer perked right up. I think our Autopsy Gremlin has a crush."

Ziva's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Wasn't he involved with Michelle Lee?"

Tim looked somewhat speculative. "Maybe he's bi, Ziva – he likes both. I went by Tony's last night, too," his eyes darted back and forth between Abby and Ziva. "Missed you," he said to Abby, "by about half an hour. But even though I wasn't there very long… Well, Tony was being an ass, like normal, but Palmer was there, too, and told him to quit being an asshole."

"So?" Ziva said.

"So…" Tim leaned a little closer to both women, almost like he was about to pass along national secrets and not gossip. "Tony actually did what Palmer said."

Confusion became even more apparent on Ziva's place. "He what?"

"Tony actually quit being an asshole because Palmer told him to."

Abby made a noise that Tim was pretty sure that only dogs should be able to hear. "Aww! Tony said they were friends, best friends – his words, not mine – and according to Gloria, that's always a good place to start. She and Dad were high school best buds, they didn't even start dating until they were almost thirty, and…" She trailed off as she caught sight of Gibbs striding through the main door to her lab. "Gibbs alert."

"I sure hope this is case-related," Gibbs growled, causing both Ziva and Tim to guiltily grab their lunches and retreat back to the bullpen.

Jimmy unlocked the door to Tony's apartment and let himself in, leaving his sneakers near the door to the closet. He started to head for the couch, but came to a dead stop. Tony was already stretched out on the sofa, a thick notebook balanced precariously on his chest, with one arm curled up and covering his eyes while the other arm hung off the couch. The television, tuned to ESPN, was on mute. But that wasn't what had made Jimmy stop so suddenly.

No, Tony's hand, the one belonging to the arm dangling off the sofa, was resting on the blanket-wrapped baby in the car seat. The infant was awake, and sucking enthusiastically on Tony's pinky, while maintaining a white-knuckled grip on his ring finger.

The quiet click-schink noise his camera phone made didn't even make Tony twitch.

A/N2: I've not noticed an existing portmanteau for the Jimmy/Tony 'ship – is there one? If not, I nominate PalNozzo. Who's with me?

Last chapter for a while – I go back to work on Saturday. However, with that said, the next update, whenever it happens, will likely be multiple chapters.

Remember to lemme know what y'all think!

Edit 12/01/2011: Caught and killed a typo.