Chapter Three "Temporary Home"

Warning: POV change, hint: Gibbs will turn into Jethro when it's his POV.

Three days had roamed away as Harry found himself in Abby's arms, finally leaving the hospital cold free. The doctor had discovered more than just a cold that night he woke up and chose to keep him for observation. In that time, Harry had gotten to observe his soon-to-be caregivers.

They were police officers. He was in America in the hands of what they called Naval officers. The team had discovered him at a crime scene they were investigating and had already found what they could at the scene before staying with him in the hospital until he'd recovered.

The team consisted of their boss Gibbs, the Ron-like guy Tony, the bouncy Abby, the very shy Tim and the ever scary Ziva. Harry wasn't sure what to make of any of them, but he found Gibbs to be comforting, even if he was a tad intimidating. In the meantime, he'd gotten used to Abby, Tony and Gibbs more than the others and had done his best to play baby.

Harry glanced over Abby's shoulders to peer at Tony who grinned at him. He'd be going to Gibbs' home to stay until the case was over. Where he'd go after that was unknown and Harry hoped his own team found him before that ever occurred. He had no desire to be a child forever or -he shuddered- become a foster child. He squirmed a little at the sight of what he knew to be a car seat in the backseat of the van they had.

"He seems excited," laughed Tony. Harry was the exact opposite but he couldn't do (nor say) anything as the van was opened and he was procured in the seat. Abby fiddled with the straps and Harry never felt more constrained in his life than he did now. He frowned and tried to undo the straps, but found his motor skills to be almost nonexistent compared to when he was an adult.

The others climbed into the van and Tony got in the driver's seat, making claims that Gibbs would toss the baby on board out the window with his mad driving. Harry paled, not wanting to test that theory. Eventually they arrived in front of a rather nice muggle home and Harry was relieved as Gibbs unhooked him from his prison. He wrapped his tiny arms around the man's neck to keep from falling as he was carted to the house on Gibbs' hip.

Surprise was the first thing Harry felt when he saw the house. The entrance hall was beige with wall borders of a tanned brown. Harry could see the other rooms and as he was carried inside, he spotted the living room, which was out in the open next to the kitchen. Yes, this man definitely screamed bachelor. The old style home would probably set his old Aunt Petunia into a heart attack, especially with the clutter of books stacked none-too-neatly on the wall bookcase. The fireplace looked well used and helped give the room a homey appearance.

"He seems to like your home, Gibbs," Abby crooned to his left as Harry gazed around the room curiously. Gibbs didn't say anything as he turned and bore the baby in his arms to the nursery room.

The room wasn't much to look at, being an old unused room (as if the slight dust in the corners wasn't a give away) with a crib and changing table. He could see the baby supplies stacked neatly beside the table and the crib at least had a blanket and a small sheep mobile suspended above the crib. Seeing the room, Harry was still annoyed at the reminder of his baby status, though he was grateful the room wasn't too horrifying. He squirmed to be put down (though Harry knew he couldn't walk yet), but his wish went unheeded.

"What've you got for me Abbs?" Jethro Gibbs gently set his charge on the changing pad and the baby frowned at him as he was maneuvered into a laying position. The agent unbuttoned the footie pajamas that the lad had been wearing, given to him by the doctors. The unnamed baby had been found essentially drowning in what seemed like a long maroon robe, with a badge that identified the owner to "H. Potter" or whatever, and a stick of some sort. Jethro had had his team bag and tag the two items before taking the baby to the hospital. They had no name for the baby as of yet, and Jethro had felt some strange connection to wanting to keep the baby with him, at least until this case was solved.

"Clark Johnson was twenty-eight and a marine," began Abby as she related all the info she could about their dead victim who'd been found near the body. There was no plausible cause of death obvious to them, but they were sure Ducky would have something. Jethro checked the baby and found him dry at least, so he moved on to dressing him in the red shirt and dungarees that Abby had procured for him upon the news of when the kid would be released from the hospital.

Lifting his charge up, he carried him out of the nursery with the others following him and rested on the couch, leaving the baby in his lap.

"We need something to call him," Tony said brightly, "especially since he can't be squirt during however long we have him."

"He's not a dog DiNozzo," chided the lead agent before looking down at the drowsy infant.

"We'll just have to call him pet names since we might confuse him by giving him a different name than his real one. Especially when we find his parents and he's returned to them," Jethro told the two rambunctious NCIS agents. The infant was surprisingly quiet and still even as they talked, something that Jethro discovered was normal for this child. He hadn't even cried since Jethro had met the kid and he was quite adept at sitting still while they talked for some reason. Maybe his parents talked with him around often?

"What are you going to do with him while we are on this case, boss?" Tony asked as he gazed at the yawning baby. The child blinked blearily before resting his small curls against Jethro's chest and slowly falling asleep, his thumb sneaking up to his mouth. Jethro mentally added 'pacifiers' to his list of items to buy when he went shopping later. It had been quite awhile since he'd taken care of a baby this young.

"For now, take him with us. Might not be wise, but he might recognize someone while we interview others and at the very least, a baby around will throw people off." Jethro answered after awhile. The idea sounded terrible to his ears, but he knew that the baby might find his parents while they checked up on the associates of Clark Johnson. Looking down at the child, he bit back a smile as the baby suckled his thumb, clearly fatigued. Babies often slept at that age, he remembered.

Jethro said nothing as he stood up and carried the infant back to the temporary nursery, settling him down in the crib without changing his clothes since he was sure the child would wake up soon enough. They were needed back at base in a few hours anyways.

I hope this was a good chapter, lots of cute? The chapters are a bit short, sorry. Review and tell me what you think!