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: Well, the truck's fixed and hopefully, I'll survive the next week until we can start laying down miles again - my next check's going to be lucky to break $50.00. Sigh - I really hope the truck doesn't break again.

When it Rains

"Well, that makes things somewhat simpler, though we still need to have full custody awarded to you," Liza said.

Tony nodded even though he knew she couldn't see him through the phone. "Abby – the tech at work who's doing the DNA test for me – said she's going to email you the results. She's definitely mine." Abby had called again shortly after Tony had returned home from the mall. "Not that there was any doubt, but this proves it to the millionth percentile."

"And you said you're going to be remodeling your apartment?"

"Yep. Got an appointment with the contractor tomorrow. It'll cost an arm and a leg, but I'm also getting a few updates for the building that I've been putting off for far too long."

"Could I get copied on all the paperwork?"

"Sure, no problem. Oh, and her pediatrician says she's entirely healthy – I gave him a copy of your card and permission to copy you on her medical file. Abby also sent him a copy of the paternity test results."

"Dr. Blair, right?"

"Yep," Tony said, smiling. It was odd just how good he felt. It couldn't have been just the sleep he'd managed. Maybe it's actually having made a decision? He brushed off the thought. Doesn't matter. "And as soon as I'm done chatting with you, I'm going to head in to work, see if I can't track down Stardust's real name. Once I find her, though… Should I just give you the info? Or do I need to inform the police?"

"Just give me the info, Tony. I'll take care of everything. You've got enough on your plate as it is." She paused for a moment, then continued. "I know you were planning on returning to work on Monday, but might I suggest you take the paternity leave I know NCIS offers? Not only would it free you up for the court appearance you'll need to make, but it will also give you a little additional time to adjust to being a dad."

Tony laughed, "Already done, Liza. I called HR right before I called you."

"Good," she replied. "Keep me updated, and make sure you send along the info on Stardust when you locate her."

"Will do," Tony said, then ended the call. The dryer buzzed and he transferred the pile of mostly baby-things to his laundry basket before picking it up and rushing back to his apartment to deposit the laundry on his sofa and running back to retrieve his daughter from Tom.

"She's a little doll, Mr. Tony," Tom greeted his boss. Tony had long since given up on getting Tom to stop with the 'Mister' – the old man had argued that anyone signing a paycheck demanded respect, and be damned if he wasn't going to give it.

Tony grinned, "I know. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. Don't know how I would have juggled her and the laundry without you."

"Maybe you should consider adding a washer/dryer hookup in your place when you remodel," Tom suggested.

Tony shrugged, "Maybe, but I don't think I will. It's bad enough I'm claiming the whole of the fifth floor – I don't want to lose all contact with my neighbors."

"You're a good'un, Mr. Tony. You have a nice day, ya hear?"

"Already doing it, Tom. You have a good day, too, and thanks again!" Tony figured that folding the laundry could wait, so he headed back to his car. It was time to track down Stardust.

Abby wasn't in her lab when Tony arrived, but her music was still playing, so Tony assumed she'd be back momentarily. He sat the garbage bag filled with the laundry basket and towels on the steel table in the main lab, then headed for Abby's office and turned the stereo down. He sat the black diaper bag on the floor next to Abby's futon, and the car seat on the futon itself. He paused by the controls for the automatic door, locking it in the 'open' position, before helping himself to a pair of latex gloves and Abby's fingerprint kit.

He'd just finished pulling prints off of the laundry basket from places he was pretty sure he hadn't touched when Abby strolled in, carrying a stack of papers. She looked up at him and smiled, "Hey, Tony! Whacha doing here? Thought you took leave."

Tony nodded, most of his attention now focused on the note which had accompanied the basket and towels. "I did, I am. But I still have to track down her mother's real name," his chin jerked towards the baby in the adjoining room. "I'd really rather not involve a PI unless I really have to."

"Oh," Abby replied, moving to the office with the stack of papers she carried. She tucked them into a filing cabinet drawer before quickly returning to Tony's side. "Want a hand?"

"Sure. I already pulled a bunch of prints off the laundry basket, if you wanted to scan them in and start searching, I'd be grateful."

"You bet," Abby said, helping herself to the stacked plastic films containing print-powder in smeary-looking splotches. She quietly worked alongside Tony for a few minutes before her curiosity simply couldn't be contained any longer. "Can I ask you something, Tony?"

"What?" Only about three percent of his attention was on Abby. Ten percent was on the note he was examining, and the remaining eighty-seven percent was centered directly on the car seat in the next room.

"Why the fingerprints? Why not just do a composite?"

Tony sighed and looked up at Abby. "Truth?"

"Always the best policy."

"I don't remember exactly what she looked like. Not her face, in any case."

Abby chuckled a little, "Hey, you rhymed!"

"No cheesy lines about poets, please."

Abby held her hands up in a supplicating gesture, "Would I do that to you?"

Without missing a beat, Tony nodded, "Absolutely."

Abby shrugged. "Probably," she cheerfully agreed, returning to clarifying the prints Tony had pulled off of the basket.

Tony finished getting prints off of the note and walked over to Abby with the plastic lift-strips and the note itself. "Hey, Abs?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this what I think it is?" he pointed to a rusty-looking smear under the written words on the paper scrap.

Abby peered at the stain. "Well… It looks like blood, but could be dried raspberry jam, ink, marker, or even hair-dye. Want me to test it?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "No, Abs, I want you to taste it."

"Wow, Tony," Abby glared lightly at him. "Sarcasm, really? And with Gibbs still here?"

Tony sighed. "It's been a hell of a couple of days, Abs, cut me a little slack, okay?"

Abby's eyes flickered to her office and the sleeping baby before landing on Tony once again. "Just this once." She took the note from Tony and gestured for him to continue working on the prints. Though Abby was universally thought of as an artist on fingerprint scans – able to come up with matches from even the most smeared sources – Tony was almost as good at it as she was, but almost no one knew it.

The pair amicably worked together for a while, the topic of conversation centered mainly on the little office gossip that wasn't currently about Tony himself. It reminded Tony of the six months or so before Kate joined the team, when the MCRT consisted of just himself and Gibbs, right after Blackadder had been fired for her screw-up in Spain. Sure, nowadays if Abby needed help, it was usually McGee who was sent down to the lab, but Tony still remembered the 'good old days' with fondness.

Eventually, they ran out of tests to run – for Tony, at least – and all that was left was for one machine or another to ping out a response. While waiting, Tony lent a hand in filling out Abby's monthly requisition forms, took care of the baby, and, after all else had been exhausted, eventually resorted to playing solitaire on Abby's computer. He was about to doze off when the AFIS search dinged out a match.

"Tony!" Abby called, rather unnecessarily, from her post in the main room. "We got a match!"

Tony clicked the X to close the card game and quickly joined Abby. She's moved the results to show up on the plasma.

"Miriyan Tinka Michaels," Tony read. The photo was much like all pictures taken at the DMV, with a blue backdrop and lighting that seemed to make everyone, regardless of age or race, look like a serial killer in training, but the photo did match up with the little Tony actually remembered of Stardust. "From Los Angeles?" the ID was from the state of California, and showed an address for LA. "What is she doing in DC?"

Abby typed rapidly and in just a few heartbeats, another ID photo – this one much better lit and lacking in the cold, sterile feel of DMV photos – popped up. "She's a senior at Georgetown University," Abby answered. Tony's eyes darted to the DoB info on the driver's license. Miriyan was twenty-two. He groaned a little and rubbed the back of his neck. Damnit, I feel old. Abby continued talking, summarizing the info she'd found. "She's a poli-sci major, with a minor in music, three-point-nine GPA, and is on the junior varsity swim team, a member of…" she counted rapidly, "fourteen different clubs. She's also listed as working in the school's library as well." Abby clicked on some other information, "And she works at the Starbucks just off campus, too. Parents are Yindi and Daku Michaels, originally from Australia – emigrated in 1979 after attending UCLA on student visas."

And with all that now overloading his brain, Tony not only felt old, but guilty, too. The kid had barely begun to make her own life before hooking up with him. Tony sighed, "Print me off her current address, please, Abs." Regardless of what Liza had ordered from him, Tony was going to go talk to the girl… Afterwards… Well, he'd take a wait-and-see approach. It really all depended on what Miriyan had to say. Abby got him copies of not just her home address in DC, but her class schedule and the address for the Georgetown University Starbucks, too.

Since it was almost five in the evening, Tony decided to start with the Starbucks. It may have been a while, but he clearly remembered college life – his own off-campus jobs nearly always started at around six or so. His very first stop, though, was Gibbs'. Tony let himself in the front door and, since both the Challenger and the old pickup were both in the drive, he knew Gibbs would be home. "Hey, Boss!"

"Yeah?" as expected, the voice echoed up from the basement.

Tony headed in that direction, car seat in hand, diaper bag over his shoulder. "Got a favor to ask," he started off nearly shouting, but by the time he'd reached the end of the sentence, he was only slightly louder than normal volume and halfway down the basement stairs. His eyes noticed a canvas-covered lump, a little taller than waist-high, in the corner near the wobbly old stool, but paid it no mind. Gibbs was pulling a length of pale wood from the steam-box Tony'd last seen used when the boat was little more than a skeleton. "You building another boat?"

"Nope," Gibbs replied, moving the wood to a vise and applying light pressure to slowly bend it into a bow shape. "Whacha need, Tony?"

Dismissing the woodwork from his mind, Tony asked, "Could you watch her for me? I've got an errand to run – shouldn't take more than a couple of hours at the most. I'd ask Palmer, but he's still at work."

"No problem," Gibbs replied, returning the somewhat slender plank of wood to the steam-box.

"Thanks, Boss – I owe you one," Tony replied, handing over his daughter and all her accompanying crap, before dashing back up the stairs and out to his car.

Gibbs could only shake his head at the retreating back of his agent. "I repeat my offer, kiddo – you ever need a break, my door's always open."

Tony didn't need to reference the student ID photo Abby had provided him with – the girl working the counter, though now dressed in Starbucks distinctive green apron and white blouse over black slacks instead of a goldtone miniskirt and halter top, was definitely the one he'd brought home with him from Fantastique all those months ago. She was definitely beautiful, with high cheekbones, wide, dark eyes, and a mass of black ringlets spilling down her back in a ponytail. Tony took a deep breath and held it for a moment before entering the store.

There wasn't much of a line, just a kid who looked like a typical computer science nerd getting a refill, but Miriyan was busy restocking a napkin dispenser. When the kid manning the register asked if he was ready to order, Tony shook his head and stepped over to where the clear case housing pastries stood between him and Miriyan. "Miriyan Michaels?" he spoke loud enough to catch her attention, but she didn't look up from her task.

"Everyone calls me Tinka," she said, finishing up with the napkins before finally looking over at who was speaking to her. She paled drastically. "Mark, I'm taking my fifteen," she said, pulling off her apron and ducking through the doorway and rapidly reemerging in the main portion of the store. She grabbed Tony's elbow and pulled him towards a secluded corner of the dining area. "How the hell did you find me?"

Tony was unamused, and let it show in his tone. "It's my job," he replied. "I'm a federal agent that tracks down murderers and rapists and terrorists for a living – you honestly think finding you was difficult?" He let out a mirthless laugh, "Hell, I've had more trouble finding the remote for the damn television!"

Tinka paled even more and Tony sighed, rubbed a hand across his face, and took a seat at the small table half-hidden by a giant potted fern. "Sorry for the attitude," he said, "It's just been a really long week." He pushed the other chair out with his foot, "Sit down, Tinka. We need to talk."

His weary, yet suddenly friendly tone seemed to derail her own panic and she slumped down in the chair across from him. "I know," she replied. "Look, I'm sorry about just dumping her on you, but… Hell, I didn't even know I was pregnant until she was half-out."

Tony leveled a confused look at her. "How could you not know?"

Tinka shrugged, "I got an implant before coming to school. Was supposed to be good for five years, and one of the side-effects is that after a couple of months, you don't have to worry about getting a period. Apparently, the whole five-year bit was a lie. And I didn't have any symptoms – I never got sick, my clothes all still fit, and if I was tired? Well, I go to school full-time, I have two part-time jobs, and about another twenty hours a week is dedicated to either swim-team or the clubs I've joined. Who wouldn't be tired?"

"That night at the club…?"

"Was the only night I've allowed myself to have off in over a year." She let out a self-depreciative huff of air. "And look what happens when I slack off for a night."

"Hey," Tony said, reaching out and lightly resting a hand on hers. "It's not just your fault, you know. I was there, too. I shouldn't have brought you home with me."

"Why did you?" Tinka asked. "I mean, not that I didn't enjoy it, and you are pretty hot for an older guy –"

"Hey! I'm not that old," Tony teased. It succeeded in making a small smile surface on Tinka's face. "But… To be honest, I wasn't really in the best headspace at the time," he admitted.

"What happened?"

It was Tony's turn to shrug. "I made a mistake at work and wound up costing a man three years of his life – I sent him to prison for something he couldn't have done."

"I guess I can see how that would tend to fuck with your head," she replied.

They fell into a silence that stretched on for several minutes before Tony gave himself a mental headslap. "Look," he said, "we still have to address the giant elephant on the coffee table, so I'll cut to the chase. I'm keeping the baby, but, now that I've spoken with you, I'm going to ask what you want. Before I tracked you down, you were going to wind up with your parental rights stripped in absentia, but… If you want to keep in touch, I'll allow it."

Tinka shook her head, "No… I don't think I can." She looked down at her hands for a long moment before meeting Tony's gaze. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to send me pictures, or a letter like the ones my folks send out every Christmas, but I'm not mom-material and I know it."

Knowing exactly where she was coming from – mainly because he'd thought exactly the same thing right up until Gibbs had proven otherwise early that morning – Tony nodded. "Thought that might be your reply," he said. "I'll have the paperwork drawn up and bring it by for your signature in a few days."

Tinka nodded to show her agreement, but Tony could still see some lingering tension surrounding her. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. "What?" Tony asked. "What's on your mind?"

Tinka sighed. "This is going to sound exceedingly selfish of me, but… What's going to happen to me?"

Though he could definitely press charges against her – criminal neglect being the main law she'd broken in depositing the baby on Tony's doorstep like she'd done – Tony just couldn't bring himself to do so. She's just a scared kid, a scared kid who made a mistake – not without help, I'll fully admit, but she doesn't deserve to have her entire life ruined because of it. "Nothing," Tony replied. "You'll wind up punishing yourself far worse than anything a courtroom can dish out," he explained on seeing the confusion surface in her expression. "I'll be back in a few days with the paperwork," he said, getting to his feet.

He left Tinka sitting in the secluded corner table, hidden almost entirely by the potted fern, and ruthlessly squashed his feelings of guilt. He'd done all he could for her – the rest was up to Tinka herself.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky addressed his assistant while the pair were cleaning up from their day.

Jimmy sighed, "Sorry, Dr. Mallard. Did you need something?"

Ducky finished putting away the last of the implements while Jimmy secured the bodies in their drawers. "Only to know what seems to be weighing so heavily on your mind, my boy. You've been uncharacteristically quiet all day long."

Jimmy sighed again - he'd been thinking about what Gibbs had said to him in the basement. "How do you tell if someone's interested in you or just being a friend when you've been friends for years?"

"I assume you mean romantically interested," Ducky clarified and Palmer nodded. "Hmm… Well, in my experience, one way to tell if a friend is interested in starting something more intimate is if said friend spends more time than is socially acceptable lingering in your personal space."

While Ducky went on to illustrate his meaning with a somewhat rambling story of a trip taken during his last year of medical school with a group of friends, Jimmy thought about it. Yeah, Tony spends a lot of time in my personal space, complete with unnecessary touching, but he does that to McGee, Ziva, and Abby, too. It's almost like he doesn't understand the concept of personal space, at least not with his friends. After waiting for Dr. Mallard's story to come to a close, Jimmy sighed yet again. "Sorry, Dr. Mallard, but I don't think that's particularly useful in this case. Are there any other ways to tell?"

Ducky smiled, "Have you perhaps considered the obvious path?"

"And what would that be?"

"Simply asking this friend outright. If they're as good a friend as you implied, then even if the attraction is not mutual, the friendship should remain."

Jimmy paled. "I… I don't think I'd be able to do that. I mean, I don't really have a whole lot of friends to begin with, and I really, really don't want to lose one."

It was Ducky's turn to sigh. He cast a quick glance upwards, in a 'God-give-me-patience' gesture, before meeting Palmer's gaze. "For goodness' sakes, Jimmy! I assume we've been talking about Anthony, correct?" Palmer could only gape at his mentor. "Oh, close your mouth. I am neither blind nor senile, and only a fool would have failed to see your attraction to Tony or how you wish your friendship was something a bit closer. As to whether or not Tony feels the same way… Well, I can't say with certainty, but I strongly advise you to speak with him."

"But –"

Ducky interrupted, "I think, should you actually manage to scrape up the courage to do so, that you might wind up pleasantly surprised."

"But –"

Ducky held up a hand. "If it helps, Mr. Palmer, think of it this way: Has Tony ever given you any reason to think you would not be welcome as a potential lover?"

Jimmy blinked. "That… That's something I hadn't thought of before." He sank onto one of the two rarely-used metal stools. "I don't think he has… I mean, he dates almost as many guys as he does girls," Jimmy snapped his mouth shut, a guilty look on his face.

"I was aware of that fact," Ducky said, calming his assistant. At Palmer's questioning look, Ducky clarified, "He'd been with NCIS for all of about a month when I ran into him at Prix Élevé, a rather pricy French restaurant that has since closed, on a date with a young man who used to work in HR – I believe his name was Edward Harper."

"Oh," Jimmy replied, relieved he hadn't inadvertently revealed something Tony had wanted kept quiet. He fell silent for a long moment, Ducky's words and Gibbs' admission that, as long as it was kept out of the office, he wouldn't mind if he and Tony 'started something' ricocheting around in his mind.

Ducky left Palmer to his thoughts and quickly finished up the last of the chores needed to shut down for the day. As he was snagging his hat and pulling on his coat, he turned to Jimmy once more. "One last thing, Mr. Palmer, before I head home for the night," he said. "Do remember that there is no reward worth having that does not incorporate some risk."

The words triggered a steely feeling of resolve. "You know what?" Jimmy said, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. "You're right." He smiled and headed for the tiny locker room adjacent to Ducky's office where he kept his street clothes. He changed quickly, and all but ran for his rickety rust-bucket of a car. He wound up surprised that he didn't get pulled over during his drive – he'd managed to make it to Tony's building within half an hour, when the drive was usually closer to an hour, especially during the evening rush.

He parked in the empty space that still sported an out-of-date sign for 'building maintenance' and flashed a quick grin of greeting at Doorman Tom before taking the stairs two and three at a time up to the fifth floor.

He arrived out-of-breath and let himself into Tony's apartment. Tony was filling out some paperwork at the kitchen bar, the baby in a white wicker bassinet angled between the couch and recliner. "Evening, Jimmy," Tony said, not looking up. "Have a good day?"

Jimmy smiled and stalked up behind Tony. "Yeah, it was a pretty good day," he said.

Hearing something new in Palmer's voice, Tony swiveled in his seat. "You okay?" he asked, concern warring with confusion on his face.

"Yeah," Jimmy whispered, leaning closer than normal to Tony. "I'm okay. More than, even."

"Jimmy?"

"Shut up, Tony," Jimmy replied, laying a hand on the back of Tony's neck. He tipped his head slightly to the left, leaned in, and kissed Tony.

Tony's lips were soft and warm, and Tony's hands came up and wrapped around Jimmy's chest, between his t-shirt and jacket. His heart beating so rapidly, he wouldn't be surprised to find that Tony could hear it, too. Jimmy flicked his tongue across Tony's lips and tasted Carmex. If Tony reacted badly, Jimmy was going to have one perfect memory, one moment all for himself, but Jimmy needn't have worried. After half a heartbeat, Tony relaxed and parted his lips.

Tony tasted faintly of mouthwash and peppermint gum and coffee with hazelnut creamer, and Jimmy memorized the flavors. Still lagging somewhat behind, Tony reciprocated, only to be surprised when Jimmy let out a low moaning noise and tightened his hold on the back of Tony's neck, his other hand wrapping itself in Tony's shirt. He poured nearly six years' worth of growing attraction and obsession into the kiss.

Eventually, out of breath, and head swimming, Jimmy reluctantly relaxed his hold on Tony and pulled back a little. He blinked to clear his vision, only to find that his glasses were fogged up.

"Hell, Jimmy," Tony whispered. He swallowed. "What was that…?"

Jimmy smiled, nearly glowing. He could see that his kiss hadn't left Tony unaffected – the older man's pupils were blown wide, leaving only the thinnest sliver of silvery green surrounding them, and he was breathing like he'd just finished a marathon. "Six years, Tony. Six years I've wanted to do that," Jimmy whispered. "Next move's completely up to you."

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but Jimmy silenced him with a finger to his lips, "Hold that thought," Jimmy said. "Before you say anything, I want you to know that I know neither of us has a real great track record with relationships, but unless you want me to forget this and not even try at all, I… I don't want to just be friends with benefits, Tony. If you want to try this, see if we can be as good together as I think we can be, then it's going to be as serious as possible. I've done casual, and I think I'm done with it. However, if you don't want this, or don't think you can be serious… Let me know, and we'll forget this ever happened." Jimmy released Tony and stepped back, "I'm going to head over to my apartment for tonight. I don't want a quick answer on this, Tony – I want you to really think about it. I'll come over in the morning with breakfast, and if you still need more time at that point, I'll give it to you."

With that, Jimmy left a stunned-silent Tony sitting at the breakfast bar, and headed out of the apartment.

After the door closed with a quiet click, Tony blinked. "Did that just happen?" he whispered, then licked his lips. Tasting cherry Chapstick and a faint hint of Earl Grey tea, he had a definitive physical reminder that yes, Jimmy had just strode into the apartment, kissed the living daylights out of him, dropped the single biggest bombshell of the week, and strode out again.

A/N2: I'm thinking that this tale will be all wrapped-up in another 2-4 chapters, depending on my muse. However, I'll likely add small bits to this 'verse in the future, perhaps even a slightly longer piece after the baby is a little older.

Please remember to review.