I DO NOT OWN NCIS

Thanks so much for all the nice, sweet reviews, and to the guests I can't respond to, plus the ones from the original Papa Smurf; glad you're still reading

'Space Oddity' by Bowie is sung by Tony (He doesn't know the EXACT words)

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The next morning...

He looked at Tim through the bars of the crib, kneeling beside it. He was sprawled out on his back, sleeping soundly, looking so round and pudgy to Tony. He could no longer withstand the temptation to poke him in his, soft, round cheek. Tim gasped, rubbed his nose, then his breathing slowly returned to the even, content rhythm it was before, as he continued to sleep.

The night before, Tim had eaten six pieces of pizza, one more than Tony's five! Tony smiled, still impressed. Dad said Tim had some meals to catch up on, so that might be why he was so hungry...and also, why he was so short. Grandpa Jackson kept saying he was a special boy; resilient and strong. Tony thought he was pretty funny, like the way he talked in that baby voice of his or when he easily tripped on his own two feet. Tim was funnier than some of Tony's favorite cartoons.

Tony knew this was an opportune time to test his boundaries with the small boy but something stirred deep down in his gut; an overpowering desire to help and protect Tim halted any preconceived playful ideas he had; he looked so little and vulnerable. Tony had an idea that Tim had it really tough from overhearing his father talk about Tim; 'you'd think he'd be really downhearted after all he had been through but somehow he can still miraculously laugh and smile'. Tony felt it was now his duty to make sure Tim would be happy from now on and he would do all he could to make him laugh whenever possible.

Tony knew he just wanted Tim to like him.

Tony stuck his hand through the bars poking him in his belly. Tim stretched in his sleep then rolled to his side to face Tony, unaware he was being watched and studied. One of his arms was outstretched while one was curled up into a fist tucked under his chin as he yawned, still sleeping.

Tony covered his mouth trying to muffle his giggles. "Timmmmmy. Tim? Earth to Tim. Grounds control to major Tim. Do you hear me major Tim?" Tim mumbled in his sleep, making Tony drop to the floor so he wouldn't see him if he woke up. When the mumbling stopped he slowly peeked over Tim's crib mattress. "I'm heeerrre, Tim. I...am...sipping-from-my-tin-can...above the...wooorrrld."

"Tim-a-roony."

"Tim?"

Tony had helped his father and Grandpa Jackson assemble the crib the night before after Tim had fallen asleep. He held the bolts and screws while Grandpa and his dad carefully constructed it, asking Tony for a fastener when needed. It had been Tony's crib when he was a baby, but Tony couldn't remember ever sleeping in it. Tony started to climb the railing; maybe if he got in it he would remember...

"Whatya doin?" Tony stopped, his father's strong presence in the doorway, dressed in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

"Uh...well, I was wondering if me and Tim could pretend we were in a spaceship-"
Gibbs directed Tony down. "Nope. Not a good idea. Let'm sleep a little longer. It's too early to get up on a Sunday."
"Could I play fort in your bed?"

"Hhmmm...yeah, I suppose. Just keep it quiet."

"Ya know, you could carry Tim into bed with us, just don't wake him up-"
"Nah. He needs the sleep. And something tells me you playing fort, right next to him is not gonna make for a quiet, sleepy time."

Tony giggled hearing his father use the word 'sleepy', not a word he used too often.

"By the way, good Bowie impression." Gibbs gave Tony a lopsided grin.

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Tony and Gibbs came running into Tim's room when they heard the loud, dreadful cries. Tim was standing, reaching out to Gibbs as soon as he entered the room, big tears sliding down his red cheeks. "Gibbs? Wid you!"

Gibbs had been concerned about leaving Tim in the crib since he had fallen asleep without any idea that, that was where he would wake up in the morning. Tim looked confused and distraught, reaching for him. He felt guilty now, and wished he had thought it through, better.

Tony touched his leg through the crib railing. "It's okay, little Tim. We are here and now you can get out."

Gibbs lifted him out, nestling him in his arms. "Want a bottle Tim?" Tim nodded as he rubbed his eyes, whimpering. Gibbs figured it'd be okay since they had no juice cups for the boy. Jenny was nice enough to give them a few bottles from the hospital to hold them over. Kate had given Gibbs a fraction of the subsidy check the night before so he was planning to take the boys out on a little excursion and do some serious shopping for Tim.

Gibbs filled the bottle with milk then changed his diaper. They worked their way into the living room where Gibbs proceeded to sit in the rocking chair, cradling Tim. The small boy held his own bottle, looking at Gibbs as he rubbed the man's shirt between his fingers. "Wid, Gibbs." Tim seemed to relax in the safety of his arms, smiling.

Tony leaned over the two in the rocking chair."You're with me, too, Tim. 'Member me, Tim?"

"Dony."

"Yup. That's my name and-" Tony danced in place, swinging his hips as he snapped his fingers, then stopped. "don't wear it out."

Tim giggled then coughed, choking after he swallowed the wrong way. Gibbs had to sit him upright, patting his back as he gave Tony a stern look.

"Ooops. Sorry. Hee, hee. Come on, dad. Put him down now. He's all filled up."

"Tony, he just started."

Tony hopped in place. "Then, put him away, back in the crib so me and you can play. When he's done we'll go get'm." Now Tony was leaning against the rocking chair arm, as Gibbs leaned Tim back down to hold him in his arms.

"Tony. You need to understand, he needs a lot of attention right now. A lot of holding and compassion...and patience. I don't know if you realized when you asked for a little brother what you were getting yourself into. You will now have to share a lot of my time that I spend with you, with him."

Tim reached up touching Tony's face as he drank his bottle. Tony smiled then pretended to softly bite Tim's fingers. Tim, cleverly swallowed what was in his mouth, then giggled. He placed the bottle in front of Tony's mouth as Tony pretended to drink from it sending Tim into another fit of giggles.

Gibbs beamed. "And, might I add, I think you are doing a fine job." He ruffled Tony's hair.

"It's time I get breakfast started. Scrambled eggs, Tony, sound good to you?"

"Yes!"

"Yesh!" Tim copied.

Gibbs placed Tim on the floor then left the room.

"Great. I'll start cooking after I shave."

Gibbs loved that the boys were hitting it off and knew this could possibly be the calm before the storm, but... he'd take it.

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Tony was hiding behind the side of the couch. As soon as Tim rounded the corner with his gun, positioned, Tony fired his, startling Tim. The toddler hesitated, then clutched his chest, dramatically. He staggered backward on uneven steps, dropping to his knees, gasping. He grew weak, dropping his gun then fell back on the floor shutting his eyes tightly.

Tony was shocked, his eyes popping out of his head as he quickly glared at his toy weapon then at Tim. "Dad!" Tony ran up to Tim then kneeled by the small boy, shaking his shoulder but Tim remained quiet with his eyes closed. "Dad!" Tony ran towards the bathroom through the kitchen. "We have a problem! Dad, you better get in here! I'm sorry but-"

Gibbs came running into the living room, shirtless with shaving cream on his face and a razor in one hand.

"Tony?" Gibbs eyes became instantly fixated on Tim, questioning the scene in front of him. "What happened to Tim? Is he okay?"

"Dad, this toy works, too good, I shot him with it and-"

A fit of giggles from the floor gained both of Gibbs' and Tony's confused attention. Tim rolled around on the floor holding his sides as he pointed at Tony laughing.

Tony exhaled long and hard. "Darn. I thought I'd kilt him. Wow, he's the best at getting dead!"

"Not the exact words I'd use but, he did look power blasted. Hey. I think you've found yourself a worthy opponent."
"Yeah." Tony swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. He's better than Mikey's little brother, Teddy at this."

Tim was still on the floor, squinting his eyes with one closed as he aimed his gun at Tony pulling the trigger, setting off the noise effects of the gun.

"I think he got you, Tony."

Gibbs smiled as Tony did his most dramatic dying act, yet, to date.

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After breakfast Gibbs figured it was a good time to conquer the shopping before the boys grew tired. Gibbs figured Tim would need a nap soon after lunch.

But, before they shopped he needed to know what Tim needed. He situated himself on the floor, laying out all of Tim's belongings. This gathered both of the boys' attention as they sat close by. Tim started searching through his things commenting on a few articles, until he found his books, sitting back against the wall to look through them. Tony sat next to him as Tim narrated a farm book story as best he could.

Tim pointed to a pig and snorted.

Tony laughed then, "oinked" very loudly. Tim, then pointed to a cow and "moo-ed."

"What's the donkey say, Timmy?" Tim pretended to think intensely, then shrugged.

"Heeee-haw." Tim laughed then picked up another book.

Gibbs made a pile of clothes that he decided should be thrown away then a pile that he would wash before Tim wore them. He found a long-sleeved shirt and pair of jeans that he gave the 'sniff test' to, to decide if Tim could wear them. They passed the test; without flying colors.

"Come here, Tim. Let's get ya' dressed then we can go shopping." Tim crawled over to Gibbs as he proceeded to lift the small boy's shirt up, over his head.

Tony gasped to see the bruises marking Tim's upper arms and the sides of his torso. Gibbs didn't remember the bruises being so colorful and evident at the emergency room and regretted having let Tony see them.

"Dad, what happened to him?"

Gibbs knew from experience through investigating crime scenes that the marks were made from large, forceful hands grabbing hold of the small boy, brutally.

Tim saw Tony staring at him, as he looked at his bruises, shocked. Tim did his best to wrap his arms around his chest to hide them. "Day will... go away."

Gibbs couldn't answer Tony, his throat constricting in anger towards the monster that did this to him. Gibbs felt his heart swell with deep compassion towards Tim; the brave little boy.

"Come here little guy, let's get your shirt on." Gibbs whispered as he pulled the shirt over his head. As soon as Tim's arms made their way through the sleeves, Gibbs pulled Tim closer and kissed the top of his head. "You're a good little boy, Timmy. Don't you forget that."

Tim took hold of Gibbs' relaxed hand, clasping it against his chest as he snuggled into Gibbs' shirt.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Uh, Tony go brush your teeth, please then we'll head out."