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: Hopefully, this will tide y'all over until I get another chance at an internet connection! Happy reading!

When it Rains

Once all the reports were completed regarding the McCall case, the DiNozzo-less team was shuffled over to reviewing cold cases for the time-being. As a direct result of that, for the second day running, Gibbs released them long before their normal quitting time of oh-dark-thirty – this time, he sent them off at 1700. It had little to do with how much work they were doing and much to do with the fact that, with the toys all completed for Christmas, Gibbs now had a new major project to complete – and relatively quickly, at that. After Tim and Ziva had gone, Gibbs headed up to Vance's office and told the director he was taking the rest of the week off. He further recommended that, if McGee and Ziva didn't also want a mini-vacation (payment in advance for having to work Thanksgiving weekend), then they were free to be loaned out to other teams until the following Monday.

Knowing how Team Gibbs tended to close ranks like a wagon train who'd spotted bandits during any sort of emergency, Vance only made a token protest. He was just grateful that this time, the reason behind the team's circling was a relatively happy one – no one was in the hospital and no one was being accused of murder or treason.

After leaving work, Gibbs headed home, where he exchanged his Challenger for his pickup truck, before heading to the lumber yard. Two hours and nearly three hundred dollars later, Gibbs returned to his house and hauled his new purchases down to the basement. The plans he was going to use were still in the drawer on his workbench, underneath a photo of his girls. He paused a moment, running a fingertip lightly over the photo. I think you would both like Tony. If you guys are out there, if you've got any pull at all, could you make sure that… Well, that what happened to me with you two doesn't happen with Tony? He lingered only a moment longer, almost as though waiting for a reply, before he pulled the yellowed drawings out from underneath the photo.

Sorting through the pages, he sat aside the couple of pieces he still had time to work on, before turning his attention to the main three he wanted done ASAP.

While cutting the pieces he needed for the first item, he wondered what he'd done with Shannon's sewing machine – and once he found it, he further wondered whether or not he still recalled how to use the damn thing. Maybe he should just hire someone for that part… Doesn't Mrs. Johnson sew? He made a mental note to ask her the next time he saw her.

As often happened when working in his basement hideaway, Gibbs quickly lost track of time, even though the bottle of bourbon remained untouched. The sound of footsteps above him pulled him out of his trancelike state, however. He smirked a little, but remained where he was. His guest – if, after nine years of unannounced visits, crashing on the couch, and shared meals, the man could even really be considered a 'guest' any longer – paused at door for a long minute before it creaked open and the footsteps slowly descended the stairs.

"Evening, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, not even looking up from the wood he was carving.

"Hey, Boss," Tony replied. His voice indicated he'd reached the bottom couple of stairs before giving up and sitting down. The sound of plastic meeting concrete indicated he'd sat down the baby's car seat. "Balboa caught a triple-homicide – Ducky and Palmer are going to be busy most of the night. Didn't much feel like going home to an empty apartment. Hope you don't mind I came over."

Gibbs sat the chisel down and looked up at his second. "Nope. Don't mind. Was actually expecting you yesterday."

Tony gave him a lopsided smile. "Am I getting that predictable?"

Gibbs shook his head, "No. I just know you."

Tony looked nearly as tired as he did just after returning to work following his brush with the damn plague. Gibbs brushed wood shavings off his shirt and stepped around the makeshift plywood-and-sawhorse table he was using to support his latest project. "How about you head up, crash on the sofa. I'll watch her for you."

Tony looked from his boss to the car seat at his feet and back. He knew Gibbs' suggestion was not a request. It didn't stop him from stalling, though. "You sure?"

Gibbs merely leveled a look at Tony.

"Yeah… I really should know better than to ask, shouldn't I?"

"Yep."

Tony slowly stood. "Thanks, Boss."

"Go," Gibbs replied. "Sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours."

Leaving the duffle which held all the baby things with Gibbs, Tony reluctantly climbed back up the stairs and his footsteps told Gibbs he headed directly for the sofa. Gibbs turned his attention to the baby once his SFA's needs had been addressed. He picked up the carrier and sat it on the makeshift tabletop. She was sleeping soundly. "You really do look a lot like your dad, you know," he murmured, picking his chisel back up and returning to the carving he was working on.

Between tending the baby and working on his project, midnight came and went unnoticed. In fact, it was nearing three in the morning before new footsteps sounded on the floor above their heads. Gibbs checked his watch and grimaced at the time. He'd meant to wake Tony for something to eat at eleven at the latest. Missing a meal won't hurt him, though. He narrowed his eyes and cocked an ear up at the ceiling. That's not Tony – he's still on the couch. Not Ziva, too heavy. Not Tim, either. It took a moment, but when the footsteps halted in his living room for several minutes before heading towards the kitchen and the door to the basement, Gibbs realized who was in his house.

"Come on down, Palmer," he called up the stairs, knowing that nothing short of a nuclear blast would wake Tony at this point. The baby was already awake, and his almost-shout seemingly went unnoticed by her.

Palmer wasn't even fully through the door before he began apologizing, "Sorry for bugging you at home, but I went to Tony's place first and no one was there. I tried calling Tony's cell, but I don't think he's charged it since she showed up, but I knew he'd either be here or at the bar, and since I doubt he'd take her with him to the bar, that left here, and really, I'm sorry for bugging you at home." He got to the bottom step, then abruptly turned and started back up the stairs. "You know, I'll just head back. It's not like Tony'll need my help if he's here and –"

"Palmer," Gibbs stated, then changed his mind. "Jimmy – quit babbling and take a seat." He gestured to a rickety-looking stool in the corner by the stairs. It was almost amusing how Palmer did a second about-face and nearly tripped over his own feet while scrambling to the aforementioned stool. Once he was safely seated and no longer in danger of causing himself physical damage, Gibbs sighed mentally. This is the guy the team thinks Tony's fallen for, huh? I suppose it could be worse. At least I know Palmer has a brain somewhere in that skull of his.

"Agent Gibbs?" Palmer asked, obviously so very out of his element that he hardly looked like he could remember how to breathe.

Gibbs shook his head, "Not an agent here, Jimmy. Just Gibbs."

"Did you need something?" he asked, still very ill-at-ease.

Gibbs nodded, "Yeah. Wanted to say thanks for being there for DiNozzo the last couple of days. I understand why he didn't call me – I know I have a blind spot where kids are concerned. Tony didn't need that – he needed someone who'd support whatever decision he makes without making him feel like a total asshole for deciding not to keep the baby."

Jimmy went to open his mouth, surprise and pleasure at the praise clear on his face, but Gibbs held up a hand. "But," he said, "I saw how he was today in Abby's lab. He might not be aware of it yet, but he's keeping her."

Jimmy smiled and relaxed a little. "I know," he said. "I don't think he's going to realize it unless someone points it out to him, though – either that, or he simply won't be able to sign the paperwork."

Maybe I was wrong about Palmer. He's more observant than I gave him credit for – at least as far as Tony's concerned. I wonder how long he's been watching Tony to know him that well? Gibbs smirked mentally. "So how long have you been crushing on my Senior Field Agent?"

Without thinking, Palmer replied, "Since the day I met him." Once the words had left his mouth, he turned bright red and buried his face in his hands. "Can you forget I said that?"

"No way," Gibbs replied. On seeing Jimmy's panic at that, Gibbs added, "But I won't say anything to him, either."

"Thanks," Jimmy sighed, slumping on the stool. "I mean, we're friends, and I really don't have enough of those to want to screw this up."

Gibbs shook his head a little, "You never know, though. He just might feel the same way."

The look Palmer leveled at Gibbs portrayed a host of conflicting emotions, primary among them were skepticism and confusion. "But…"

"Yeah, I know Tony swings both ways, but I'm sure you knew that already. Yes, I was pissed as hell when I found out about your affair with Lee, but what made me angry about that wasn't that you were dating her, it was that you couldn't keep it out of work. If you can guarantee me that, should you and Tony start something, it'll stay out of the office, I won't have a problem with it."

At that, Palmer looked as though he was going to need outside assistance in closing his mouth. Gibbs very nearly laughed at the poor kid, but managed to contain himself. "Why don't you find a spot to sleep upstairs?" he suggested. "You look almost as tired as DiNozzo did when he got here."

Apparently, Gibbs had managed to short-circuit Palmer's brain. He automatically got to his feet and padded up the stairs, so lost in his own head that Gibbs doubted anything short of gunfire would bring him back to the here-and-now. "You know," he murmured to the baby, "I'm pretty sure you're going to wind up with two dads. Just remember that if you ever need a break from them, my door's always open."

Laughing silently, Gibbs returned to his woodwork.

The grey light of dawn was filtering through the dusty windows to his basement sanctuary when Gibbs decided a break was in order. He surveyed the work he'd gotten done and smiled. The first of the three pieces was nearly finished – it needed to sit for a day for the glue to set, then a final sanding, and then it could be varnished. Of course, it still needed the pad and whatnot, but he was pretty sure Mrs. Johnson down the street would be happy to do that bit for him for a few bucks.

He gathered up the baby, leaving the car carrier and diaper bag where they sat, and headed up the stairs. He paused in the kitchen to one-handedly make a pot of coffee before going to the living room. He stopped in the archway between the two rooms. Palmer had found a spot on the floor, stealing one of the sofa cushions for a pillow, and was snoring faintly. That wasn't what had Gibbs stopping and staring, though. Tony was awake, though unaware he was being watched, and was in turn watching Palmer sleep with a small, reflexive smile on his face. When a beep issued from the vicinity of Jimmy's wrist, Tony reached out and shook Palmer's shoulder.

"Hey, Jimmy, time to wake up."

Palmer mumbled something and buried his head under the cushion.

"Come on, man, you have to take your insulin. You can go back to sleep after – I'll even let you have the couch."

Palmer unburied his head and reached for his backpack and withdrew a small black zipper case. He used a little blue thing to stab his finger, but didn't wince. The blood droplet was sucked into what looked like a little paper strip and inserted into a black box. About a minute later, the box beeped, and Jimmy then exchanged the box for what looked a lot like an epi-pen. He twisted the bottom of it, tore open an alcohol wipe, and then used the wipe to clean a spot on his stomach before jabbing the syringe into the spot. Gibbs could tell that this was something he'd done so many times it was now automatic.

As promised, once the zipper case was put away, Tony climbed to his feet and surrendered the couch to Jimmy. Gibbs faded back into the kitchen. Wishing he'd brought up the car seat, he one-handedly opened the cupboard where he kept the cereal and pulled out the box of sugary crap Tony kept at his place. He'd just retrieved the loaf of bread from the fridge when Tony's footsteps entered the kitchen.

"Morning, Boss," Tony said, helping himself to the bowls in the cabinet over the sink.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Thanks," he replied. Gibbs knew he wasn't thanking the inquiry. "If you give me a minute to eat something, I'll take her."

"Take your time," Gibbs said. I don't think he's aware of it, he thought. He's not just going to keep the baby, but he's as head-over-heels for Palmer as Palmer is for him. He sighed silently. When did I step into a damn soap opera? He patiently waited until Tony had wolfed down a bowl of cereal and four slices of buttered toast before breaking the comfortable silence of his kitchen. "You think of a name for her yet?"

"What?"

"For your daughter, DiNozzo. Can't keep calling her 'the baby' or 'girl' all the time."

Had Tony still been eating, Gibbs was sure that the Heimlich maneuver would have been needed. "What?" Tony repeated.

"A name, Tony."

Tony sputtered, not quite making any actual words. Had the situation not been so serious, Gibbs really would have laughed. DiNozzo realized what he was doing and stopped. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. "Isn't that something her parents should do?"

Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at Tony. "And just what would you call yourself?"

Tony winced. "I meant her real parents – the ones who'll raise her."

"So you've decided you're not going to keep her," it wasn't a question. "Fine," Gibbs said, knowing what he was about to do really was bastardly, but he also knew that being nice to DiNozzo tended to freak him out. "Where do I sign?"

Tony's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for several heartbeats before another "What?" squeaked out.

Gibbs blinked at him and called up every iota of skill he had in schooling his expression to show deadly seriousness. "I said, where do I sign? If you're serious, then so am I."

Tony all but sprang to his feet. "Boss… You can't be serious!"

"Why not, DiNozzo? She's better-behaved than any offspring of yours has a right to be and pretty, too." Even though he'd be yelling in other circumstances, Gibbs took care to keep his voice's volume well under control. He could see that his words were actually making an impression. Tony crossed the distance between the table and where Gibbs stood next to the sink in three long strides. He reached for the baby, glaring daggers at his boss. Gibbs turned a little. "You still haven't answered me, Tony. Why not?"

"Because she's mine, damnit!" Tony yelled. It startled the baby, making her cry, but Gibbs handed her to Tony without any further fuss.

Tony cuddled her and soothed her, glaring at Gibbs all the while. "God, you really are a bastard, you know."

Gibbs finally released the serious expression and smiled. "Yeah, but it works." Once the baby had calmed down – and Tony, too, for that matter – Gibbs asked again, "So, names?"

Tony let out a helpless chuckle and sank back onto the kitchen chair. "Hell if I know," he said. "Didn't know I was keeping her," he glanced up at Gibbs. "How did you know I was gonna keep her?"

"Saw you with her down in Abby's lab yesterday. Palmer's even noticed you're too attached to her to let her go now, but I doubt he would have been able to make you see it."

Tony chuckled again, "Guess I can be pretty blind to myself every now and then, huh?"

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" And this isn't even touching on the thing you've got for Palmer. However, on that one, you're on your own. I already did my good deed for the week.

Tony and Jimmy headed out at about seven – Jimmy to work and DiNozzo back home. Neither commented or even seemed to notice that Gibbs hadn't gotten ready for work himself. In truth, neither had noticed. Tony was busy trying to figure out just where his life had derailed, and Jimmy was mulling over his conversation with Gibbs from the night before.

Tony unlocked his apartment and sighed, looking around the space with a critical eye. "If you're staying," he spoke to the blanket-wrapped bundle buckled into the car seat he carried, "then I'm going to need to remodel. I wonder how much, exactly, I've got in the maintenance fund for this heap of brick? If there's enough, I'll see about replacing the elevator while I'm at it." He sighed and set to work making lists of what needed doing, referencing the previous month's repair report from his building manager, after first plugging his dead cell into the charger.

By the time his girl was hungry again, Tony had figured out that he could probably sink a half million into updating and remodeling the building without raising the rent any, but it would require either completely emptying the repair-account or cashing in some of his stock. He called up his financial advisor to get the man's opinion on the matter after tending to the baby. Eventually, the pair decided to use half the cash in the maintenance fund and cash in a smaller portion of stock, with the understanding that current tenants' rent wouldn't be changed, but any future tenants would wind up paying, on average, a hundred more per month per apartment.

With the financial side addressed, Tony then called down to the front desk and had Tom – the building manager, as well as self-appointed doorman – set up a residents' meeting for Sunday afternoon. Tom guaranteed that he'd make sure everyone was made aware of the meeting. After that was taken care of, Tony then got in touch with the contractor who he always used for the repairs the building needed and made an appointment for the man to come by and discuss what Tony had in mind for the remodel.

"Guess I'll have to work on that part, huh?" he groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, grateful beyond all definition of the word that he didn't have to deal with all of this and work, too. He spent a moment smiling at his… his daughter, mulling over what sort of adjustments would be needed to the top floor of his apartment. Retrieving a blank sheet of printer paper, he made a rough sketch of the current layout. The fifth floor of his building held stairwell roof access, the inside staircase and elevator shaft, the currently-empty two-bedroom unit, his own one-bedroom unit, and the studio currently rented to Jeremiah Wingerson. Thinking of Mr. Wingerson, Tony jotted a note to himself and stuck it to the side of his computer – the elderly man wouldn't be back from New Jersey until the Sunday after the upcoming one. The reminder was to talk to the man personally when he returned. If he was planning to renew his lease next month, I'll see if he minds being moved to the second studio down on four.

Once the current layout was sketched, Tony exchanged the black pen for a red one and set to rearranging things. He'd started off simply converting his apartment and the studio into another two-bedroom unit, then shook his head. If I'm going to remodel, I'm gonna do it right, damnit. He got a new piece of paper and started over. This time, he wound up with an honest-to-goodness penthouse, worthy of the name, with five bedrooms, a study, a full kitchen and formal dining room, and four bathrooms. He looked over the sketch and scribbled a modification – the one bedroom without its own bath now had a door opening into the bedroom next door. Neither of the two connected rooms had a balcony, so Tony figured he'd assign them to his daughter. Damn, but the thought kept blind-siding him, then he realized how many times over the last few days he'd almost thought the phrase before stopping himself.

"God, who was I kidding?" he laughed at his own idiocy. "I think you'll like your rooms, sweetheart," he said, abandoning the sketch and picking up the baby. "I used to have a suite like it when I was a kid. Of course, my mother had it all decorated like something out of Interview With a Vampire, but I had a room for my bed, my own bath, and a second room with a couch and fireplace. If you don't mind, I think we'll forego the fireplace, huh? But I think a playroom wouldn't be out of the question."

The nearly twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep on Gibbs' couch had done Tony a world of good, and he was nearly vibrating out of his skin with unused energy. "Come on, sweetheart. If you're staying, you're going to need more than a handful of clothes and a car seat. I might not know what all you're going to need, but even I know that much."

He picked up the car seat and settled the baby back into it, then carried the whole thing into the bathroom with him. He hopped into the shower and spent less than ten minutes showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth. He had just finished getting dressed in an old pair of jeans and a plain blue t-shirt when his cell phone rang. "Hello?" he chirped, not bothering to check the caller-ID.

"Hey Tony!" Abby's voice floated through his brain. "You sound a lot better than you did yesterday."

"Thanks, I feel better. Went over to the bossman's place last night. He watched… Damnit, I really need to find her a name, don't I? Anyway, he kept an eye on her and let me crash on his couch. Palmer was there when I woke up, so I suppose he showed up after he and Ducky finished the autopsies for Balboa."

If they'd been on a video conference, Tony would have seen the bright grin that flashed across Abby's face when he mentioned the baby needing a name. "I was just calling to check on you. Did you need anything? I can send Ziva or Tim around if so – they and the bossman have until Monday off, but they'll have to work Thanksgiving weekend."

"First I've heard of it, but I can sorta see why – can't leave us short-staffed just for some turkey and stuffing, huh? But thanks, I don't really need much right now. Though if you see him, have Jimmy give me a call if he has the time."

"Will do, Tony-boy. What about Alicia?"

Tony made a face at his phone. "Um, how about no? Dated an Alicia for a while in college, at least until she started sleeping with another guy and lying to me about it. Wouldn't have cared if she was honest with me, it's not like we were exclusive, but I told her if I wanted to go out with someone else – she coulda done me the same courtesy."

"Eek. Okay, no Alicias. What about Lillian?"

"Third stepmother. Try again."

Abby laughed, "I don't think I'm good at this. Oh! Why don't you name her after your mom?"

"Alice?" Tony chewed on his lip a moment. "Hmm… I don't think she really looks like an Alice. Alices have blonde hair – hers is darker than mine – and freckles. I doubt she's going to have freckles."

"Jasmine?" Abby tried again.

"Ugh! That's a stripper name."

"Like I said, I don't think I'm good at this." A beep sounded in the background. "Oh! Gotta go, I got a hit on a print for Balboa. Call if you need me!"

"Will do, Abs. Have fun." He flipped the phone closed and finished pulling on his socks and sneakers. He made sure he had his keys and wallet, restocked the diaper-duffle, and pulled on his old varsity jacket. "You ready, sweetheart?"

He almost skipped down to his car.

Back in her lab, Abby emailed the results from her fingerprint search to Balboa before initiating a three-way call with Ziva and Tim. Once everyone was on the line, she started her usual hyper speech. "Guys, guys, guys, guys! Oh my god, oh my god – you guys! Guess what! You'll never guess – so I'll just come out and say it. I just got off the phone with Tony and he's figuring out names for the baby so I know he's going to keep her and I'm pretty sure Gibbs had something to do with it – he spent last night asleep on the couch and Jimmy braved the wrath of Gibbs to go and check on him – Tony, I mean, not Gibbs, I mean that Jimmy went to check on Tony and I just had to pass this along before I went and exploded or something!"

When Abby paused for air, both Ziva and Tim started talking over each other, though what they said was pretty close to the same thing, mainly for her to calm down and repeat herself. Taking a breath, Abby let out a high-pitched noise, bounced a little on her feet, and tried again. "Two things: First, I think Tony's going to keep the baby. He's trying to find a name for her. Second, Tony spent last night on Gibbs' couch, but Palmer still went over to check on him – further proof that they're probably involved."

This time, the overlapping replies boiled down to 'So? Tell us something we don't already know'.

Abandoning the Palmer-thread for the moment, Abby went on with the purpose behind the call. "Anyway, I was thinking that since Tony's keeping the baby, we should throw him a baby shower."

"Good idea," was Tim's reply, while Ziva had to ask what a baby shower was. A brief explanation later had her agreeing. They decided on Saturday evening, and Abby agreed to let Jimmy and Ducky know about it. Ziva said she would let Gibbs know. After all the details were settled, Abby sent a text to Tony, telling him about it. She knew, unlike the others, that Tony despised surprise parties.

Tony was halfway to the nearest mall when his phone pinged to indicate a text. He read it while waiting for a red light to change. Abby was notifying him that he was going to host a baby shower that Saturday evening, and contained strict instructions that he was only going to be providing the space. He smiled and modified his mental shopping list. He was nearly positive that Abby would find something weird, Tim something geeky, and Ziva something practical – he'd make sure to stick mainly to clothes and little things for his current outing. He had a suspicion as to what Gibbs would be giving him, and he only hoped Gibbs wouldn't wind up regretting it.

Arriving at the mall, he took a minute to examine the for-rent strollers. There were three kinds, one was obviously for small children who could sit up on their own, one contained a baby carrier that looked more like a plastic torture device, and the third Tony had thought was broken until he saw a young woman with a baby only a little older than his own come up and clip her car seat to its frame, deposit the buck-fifty, and wander off. He followed her example and then headed for the store directory.

Most of the baby shops were on the second floor, so he hitched a ride in the elevator. The first store he went into consisted primarily of furniture, with a wide selection of stuffed animals, posters in pastel frames, and other decorations. He looked around a bit, and made a mental note to come back after the remodeling was done. The second shop was more along the lines of what he was looking for. With the overenthusiastic assistance of a very pregnant clerk who couldn't have been much older than nineteen, Tony soon had a pile of girly clothes in shades of yellow and green – he'd outright shuddered at the thought of pink – and another three-pack of bottles, a package of pacifiers, and a couple of small stuffed animals. The third store provided him with two pairs of the tiniest shoes he'd ever seen, a plastic thing to use when giving her a bath, and a supply of baby shampoo and soap.

Taking a break in the food court, Tony spent the time ignoring the looks the other shoppers were giving him for carrying on a one-sided conversation with his girl. Once he'd finished his cherry slush and pizza, he went to the fourth store, this one was on the main floor. It wasn't precisely a baby store, but it did have exactly what he was looking for – a tiny Ohio State jersey. With the most important bit paid for, he returned to the first store and picked out a bassinet – he didn't think she should live in the car seat, after all, and he didn't exactly have room for a full nursery at the moment.

With his wallet several hundred dollars lighter, he made one last stop before leaving the mall – to change the baby – and then went back to his car. Everything he'd bought fit in the bassinet, which in turn fit neatly behind the driver's seat of his car. Humming under his breath, Tony started the car and merged into the midday traffic. By the time he'd gone half a mile, he was singing quietly. He'd run through the lyrics three times before he realized he'd been singing The Song is You by Frank Sinatra.

A/N2: Yes, Tony's thinking that Gibbs is going to give him Kelly's old crib. However, that will be addressed in coming chapters, so be patient with me, please!

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