Once more I am stunned and humbled by the response this story's garnered. Thank you all, both those who've reviewed and those who've added this story as a favourite or who've set up alerts. It really does mean a lot to know that you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Many apologies for not getting this posted yesterday - packing up for a move's proving to be even more hair-raising than I was expecting. It also means that part 5 might be a little late, too. I will try and get it up on Friday, but as I'm internet-less from Tuesday, that might be an interesting exercise!

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done. The Greatful Dead lyrics belong to Jerry Garcia et al. Deadheads, of course, belong to themselves.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story - but thanks to V for the help and advice.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

4 - Hand

Tony slumped down onto the ratty couch, tugging at his tie with his unencumbered hand.

"Hell of a day."

He leaned backwards and groaned. Michael Macaluso was safely jailed, his family had been largely dismantled and he, Tony DiNozzo, was left exactly nowhere. Both Philly PD and Baltimore PD had issued commendations and accolades, but neither really knew what to do with him now. It didn't help that his left hand was still encased in plaster and would be for another month, which meant that they had to find him a desk job. The final compromise was an official transfer to Baltimore and a spot working cold cases, at least until the plaster was removed.

From celebrated undercover operative to records clerk.

Tony shook his head. He really shouldn't feel disappointed by the move. He ought to be grateful that he was even here to be offered it. After all, he had spent nearly eighteen months undercover with a Mafia family and had managed to make it out almost completely unscathed - and that record had only been ruined in the final bust, when one of Macaluso's enforcers had finally recognised him as a cop and had started the inevitable treatment. He'd only got as far as crushing Tony's left hand, though, before Macaluso's compound was overrun by cops. He'd been damn lucky, all things considered. And, in completing the mission and seeing Macaluso into a nice long stretch in state pen, he'd seriously enhanced his reputation. So, really, nothing to be disappointed about. It wasn't as if the cold cases role would be anything other than a short-term position while his hand finished healing.

And yet he was disappointed all the same.

"Daddy would tell you it's because you've been on edge the whole time, and now you're not," said a voice.

Tony looked round, startled. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom of his rented apartment was a disapproving-looking Kelly. She had her arms folded across her chest and was treating him to a fearsome glare. Despite himself, he gulped. "I didn't think I was that badly hurt."

That got an unwilling smile and she shook her head until her long red-blonde hair tangled around her. "You're not."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you did something silly," Kelly answered.

"Kelly, I-" He sighed. "I had to do it."

"No you didn't."

"Kelly-"

"No." She took a couple of steps into the room, until she was standing right in front of him. "You didn't have to. You could have stayed in Philadelphia and you would be home by now."

Tony just stared at her. "That makes no sense. I don't-" He stopped and gestured with his unencumbered hand at the rented apartment Baltimore PD had found for him. "This is as close to a home as I get."

The ferocity of Kelly's glare only increased. "This isn't a real home."

"Well I don't have any other kind." The thought crossed Tony's mind that a real home was something he'd never really had - not by the definitions most people worked from. "This is as good as it gets."

Oddly, that prompted Kelly's expression to modulate into something less hostile and more mournful. "No it isn't," she said softly. "Daddy will show you that it isn't."

Now Tony was completely confused. "I thought you said I'd missed him."

"You missed that chance," said Kelly. "You have another."

There was an unspoken, 'don't screw it up' to her words which made Tony grimace. "Kelly, it's not that I don't believe you-"

"You don't," she said, a small smile creasing her face now. "That's okay. You will."

"-but why would some complete stranger give a- a rats patoot about me?"

To his general astonishment, Kelly came and wrapped her arms around him in a surprisingly strong hug. "Because you're a good person."

"Am I?"

"You are." Kelly released him and stepped back. "And don't let anyone else ever tell you different." She put her hands to her hips and her eyes narrowed back into that fierce gaze. "Now will you admit what you did was silly?"

Tony found himself smiling, genuinely amused by her antics. Clearly she wasn't prepared to let that matter drop. "It was a risk," he agreed, "but I did have to do it. Michael Macaluso needed to be put away and this was the only way to do that." He sighed. "Doing that's why I became a cop. To make people's lives better. Not to sit in some dusty archive looking at case files that are older than I am."

Her expression morphed again, this time from fierce to puzzled. "But you haven't really been a cop," she said. "Not since the last time I was here. You've been Antonio Cabrini."

And Tony supposed that was true from a certain perspective. By the end, he'd been keeping up his cover identity almost twenty-four hours a day and spending those days doing things that Anthony DiNozzo would have never considered doing. He'd actually committed a few small acts of vandalism, together with some stage-managed acts of violence, to help sell his cover. He'd also stood by and done nothing as crimes were committed in front of him, and while he'd been able to provide intel to variously the Philly Vice Squad and the Baltimore Narcotics Division on some of them, plenty of other minor, and not so minor, crimes had gone unpunished in the name of ultimately getting enough to nail Macaluso.

"Daddy would tell you that the dusty archive might not be what you want," said Kelly, "but maybe it's what you need."

There was a level of truth to the words that settled, almost like a balm, against the hurt of what was, even allowing for circumstances, a demotion. "Maybe you're right."

That earned a smirk. "I know I am." She glanced over her shoulder. "Mommy says I have to go now. It's nearly time for you to wake up."

For a moment, Tony was almost tempted to beg her not to leave. For all that she'd been scolding him, he had to admit it had been nice when she'd hugged him. For perhaps the first time, he wondered what it would be like to have a real baby sister. A real family, in fact.

"You'll know," said Kelly softly. "I promise."

Her words were almost drowned out, however, by the shrillness of a blaring alarm and Tony found himself bolting upright off the couch with a startled yelp. Kelly was gone and, to judge by the grey light now filling the room, it was early morning. He'd managed to sleep all night on his couch. Not, he decided, the best way to start the day. Still, it was nothing that a hot shower and some cereal wouldn't fix. Then he could head on in and get the new assignment under way.

A couple of hours later, having filled out more paperwork than for any of his previous transfers - probably a result of the slightly unorthodox method of reaching Baltimore - Tony found himself heading down into the bowels of the Central District building to meet with his new partner, a Detective Donny Morgan - and at that name, he couldn't help but start picturing a straight-laced Osmond clone. If that was remotely accurate, this next month was going to be the longest of his life.

Much to his surprise, though, when the elevator reached the basement and the doors opened, he was greeted not by an echoing silence of a records archive, but the sounds of Jerry Garcia.

"I'd like to get some sleep before I travel, but if you got a warrant - I guess you're gonna come in..."

If Morgan was playing the Greatful Dead, he clearly had at least some personality to him. Tony found himself sighing with relief, even as he made a mental note to suggest that his new partner perhaps turn the music down, just a fraction. Following the music, which got progressively louder the closer he got to his destination, Tony made his way through the maze of file cabinets and document stacks until he found his new partner, sitting at a desk with his back to the rest of the room.

For a moment, he wondered just how he was going to attract Morgan's attention without giving the other man heart failure. In the next moment, as Morgan turned to face him, Tony discovered that the other detective had a small mirror installed on his desk to alert him of any new arrivals. Given the volume of the music, that made sense.

His first impression of the detective was of a man about the same age as himself with sandy blond hair that was long enough to have crossed the line from styled to scruffy. Definitely not an Osmond clone. From the way his shirt and pants were rumpled, Tony wondered if perhaps the other man had actually slept in his clothes - not an unfamiliar hazard for an active homicide detective, but surely not something that ought to have been a feature of a cold case detective. From the number of coffee cups on the desk, Tony suspected that actually, the other man hadn't done so much sleeping.

"Can I help you?" Morgan asked, remarkably managing to pitch his voice loud enough to be heard over the music without also sounding like he was shouting.

"Detective Tony DiNozzo," Tony answered. "I've been assigned to work down here with you."

Morgan's face split into a wide grin. "They told me you wouldn't be here until next week."

Consciously, Tony brushed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. Was just going crazy at home - and it's not like this," he gestured to the plaster on his hand, "is gonna get any better in a week."

"Good point." Morgan reached behind him and the music suddenly cut off, leaving behind a deafening silence. "Figure they already told you I'm Donny Morgan, right?"

"Right."

Morgan grinned. "That case, welcome to dust hell. We've got another desk somewhere over there," and he waved a hand negligently towards what appeared to be a monster stack of case files, "so find a seat. You much of a Deadhead?"

Tony smirked. "I can think of worse."

Morgan's grin got even broader. "Then I figure we'll get on just fine down here." And with that, the music returned.

Still smirking, Tony headed in the direction of the case files. Clearly this wasn't going to be the dull assignment he'd assumed. Not what you want, but it is what you need. Kelly was right. Cold cases would be a good way of easing back to being Tony DiNozzo on a full-time basis.