He was moving again. It seemed to James that ever since his father had died, James hadn't stayed in one place for more than a week or two. The social workers told him that Uncle Tony's home was his final living place, but that was a lie, too. Now he was going to live with Gibbs, whom he'd found out was Uncle Tony's boss. Uncle Tony told him that had been decided even before the incident with the bowl, which he never did get in trouble for, but James wasn't so sure that was the truth.

He sat down on the bed he'd been sleeping on for the past week and a half, bunching the covers in his hands as he fought back tears. Why did he keep getting sent from place to place? Why wasn't he good enough for anyone? His throat felt tight and sore, and his eyes were itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch at them. His body shook with a silent sob, even as he recounted his every action since he'd come to live with Uncle Tony. He was always messing things up, crying when he wasn't supposed to or running away when he wasn't in trouble, but he didn't mean to be bad.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at the door curiously. Sometimes Daddy knocked on the bathroom door, but never on the bedroom door. It seemed very strange to him. After a moment, the knob turned and Uncle Tony poked his head into the bedroom.

"Can I come in?"

James nodded. He didn't understand why he was being asked. After all, it was Uncle Tony's bedroom, or guest room, or whatever. He watched his uncle slip into the room and come near. As Uncle Tony moved to sit on the foot of the bed, James slid backwards so that he was out of arms reach. He bit his lip, knowing that Uncle Tony didn't like it when he backed away, but also knowing that he couldn't help it.

"This isn't working," Uncle Tony said calmly. "I don't- I don't know how to be in charge. Can you understand that? I don't know to take care of you, how to make you feel safe. Gibbs is like a father to me. You'll like him."

What was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to agree or something? He didn't even know if being like a father was a good thing, although he did already like Gibbs. Maybe. He settled for remaining silent, watching his uncle sigh and run a hand through his hair.

"Are you packed?"

James nodded. It wasn't like he had a lot to pack, anyway. Everything he owned, including the new pajamas Uncle Tony had bought him his first night there, fit into one duffel bag. It was beneath the bed, ready to be pulled out when Gibbs came to get him in an hour.

He felt his uncle's eyes on him for a moment longer, and then the bed creaked as Uncle Tony stood and left the room. James watched after him with deadened eyes, too tired and confused to try to figure the man out.

"Where is he?" Gibbs asked the moment he walked in the door.

"In his bedroom," Tony said. "In the back."

"Have you talked to him?"

"I tried. He's unresponsive."

Gibbs sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. He could already tell that he would need the fix. He took a sip, glancing casually around Tony's pristine kitchen. James would have a hard time coming to live with him. His house wasn't nearly as spacious as Tony's, and he was sure that James' father would have lived an equally grand lifestyle. Sighing, he downed the rest of his coffee and headed towards the room in the back of the house. Empty. When he saw the open window, he cursed under his breath. He had hoped that James' tendency to run had been a one-time thing, but it seemed that he wasn't going to be so lucky.

"DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Don't get a dog."

It wasn't that hard to track him down. As an NCIS agent, following the trail left by a seven year old was almost too simple. The only thing Gibbs didn't like was the fact that James may have been an hour ahead of him and it was hard to figure out what kind of trouble he might have gotten himself into in that amount of time. Therefore, when Gibbs found him only half a mile away, huddled on a park bench, he understood Tony's excited shouting earlier in the day. He wanted to do the same thing. Instead, he took a deep breath before approaching the boy at a calm pace, almost as though he had wandered upon him accidentally.

"Running away is becoming a habit of yours," Gibbs commented, sitting down on the same bench as the boy, although far enough away that James wouldn't spook. Despite the precaution, James didn't respond to him. "Why'd you stop running?"

James shrugged, pulling absently on his pant legs and refusing to make eye contact. Gibbs waited patiently, taking the time to look the boy over properly. He was tiny and pale. There was a little bit of Tony in him, in the nose and the eyes, but Gibbs figured that James must look a lot like his mother.

"Are you mad at me?"

Gibbs swallowed, tempering his tone. "No."

"Are you going to send me away now?"

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

The boy shrugged again, but Gibbs could tell from the tenseness of James' jaw that he'd hit a nerve.

"Is that why you think you're moving in with me? Because you ran away from your uncle earlier?"

James shifted uncomfortably, but then he nodded. "Daddy always said that when I ran away from him, I was saying that I didn't want to stay with him any more. Sometimes I didn't want to stay with him any more, so I'd run away, only… It didn't work. He always came to get me. And then, that day, I ran really, really far, and he didn't come. I got scared. It was cold, and even though he was going to be mad, I wanted to go home. I thought I ran too far away and he couldn't find me, so I went back home. I wasn't lost, but it took me a long time to get there. Daddy was in the living room. He saw me, and he said that I finally got my wish, and then he-"

"It wasn't your fault."

"I ran away from the police who found me, and from the foster home they put me in. I ran away from Uncle Tony."

"And then you ran away from me, thinking I would send you off to someone else." It was not a question.

"Are you going to?"

"No," Gibbs sighed, looking the boy over. "No, you're staying with me."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You mean they way you sometimes didn't want to stay with your father?"

"Sometimes he'd get mad at me, and he'd… But he didn't mean it. I got scared, sometimes, and I thought that I didn't want him there. I didn't mean it, either."

"Your father was a grown-up," Gibbs said quietly. "He was old enough know better."

"I knew I wasn't supposed to run away. Sometimes I forgot."

"And sometimes, you did it on purpose," Gibbs said. "Like today."

James turned his head away. He didn't see Gibbs reaching a hand out, didn't have time to flinch, but he felt it resting lightly on the back of his neck. Not mad. He looked over.

"Sometimes, like when you ran away from your father, it was because you wanted to get away," Gibbs said, "and other times, it's because you want to start over."

"Start over?"

"You're a smart kid," Gibbs said. "I think part of you is scared that people will know too much about how you behaved before. You want to let that part of your life go."

"Daddy said there's records of everything I've ever done wrong," James said. "That's how Santa Clause knows whether or not to give us presents."

Gibbs laughed. "Smart man. You don't like thinking about the records, though?"

"I did a lot of things wrong. I don't want you to know about it."

Gibbs nodded. "I can understand that. It's pretty scary, thinking that someone knows everything about you."

James shrugged, but Gibbs knew that he had him. "You lost a lot in these past couple of weeks. I can understand you not wanting to lose your secrets as well. You don't have to, though. I haven't looked at those files yet. If you want, I won't look at them. You can start fresh."

James frowned at him. "What's the catch?"

Gibbs laughed. "You're smarter than your uncle, you know that? He'd have agreed first, and then realized there was catch."

James grinned. "I'm the smartest kid in my class."

"I believe that. Alright, here's what I want in return. No more cross-country hide and seek."

"What?"

"I don't mind you running away if you get scared. Good instinct, actually. I'd do the same thing. On the other hand, I'm too old to be running after you every time you want to make sure that I will. If you're afraid that I won't take care of you, or that I'm going to leave you, you come talk to me. Got it?"

James nodded his head up and down once, and then he got a sly look on his face. "Shouldn't I have a new name?"

Gibbs laughed. "A new name?"

"Yeah, you know, like in those old movies. Kid gets a new life, and he gets a new name, or a nickname, or something like that."

"Ah. You are related to Tony."

"Huh?"

"What kind of new name were you thinking of?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe instead of going by my first name, I could go by my middle name."

"Your middle name?"

"Nuka," he grinned. "Nuka DiNozzo. Sounds cool, right?"

"Sounds very… cool."

"So can I?"

"No more hide-and-seek?"

The boy frowned suspiciously. "You won't look at my files?"

"I won't look at your personal files," Gibbs clarified. "I'll look at your medical files and school records, but those aren't secrets. They're just things I need to know to take care of you- what shots you've had and what grades you've gotten, that kind of thing."

The boy nodded. "Alright. I won't run away any more, unless I'm scared."

Gibbs smiled, standing and brushing off the seat of his pants. "Nuka Dinozzo… Come on."