Disclaimers: I do not own NCIS or its characters; they belong to show creators and CBS.

Warnings: Angst, implied abuse/neglect, Tony/OC, McGee/Delilah

A/N: This story is something a little new from me. It does involve a case, but no dead body or terrorist or psychopath killer. I hope to post a chapter every couple of days as I continue to work on rewriting some other pieces in this verse. As always I love to hear your feedback so don't be afraid to review or PM me :)

Family Promise

Eric loved the dark.

It was most unusual for a boy of six years old, but for Eric it meant he could move about the streets without being seen by adults that were going to take him back to that horrid group home.

He preferred the richer neighborhoods of Alexandria. He'd learned that people who had money were more likely to throw away scraps of uneaten food. Many of the families in this area also had sheds in their backyards that were left unlocked—good places to sleep during these winter months when no one was going in their shed to get tools for yard work. When he wanted to get warm, he'd venture to the downtown shops and stores, hide out there in clothing racks and behind nooks and crannies.

After picking a half-drunk bottle of apple juice and a half eaten chicken salad sandwich from the trash at a small coffee shop, Eric headed back towards his newest hiding space—a white shed in the backyard of a brick colonial home.

Today he had made it to the shed before anyone got home. The driveway was empty, the sun had already set behind the trees and today there was a brown paper bag by the back door filled with baby blankets and clothing.

Eric would never fit into those clothes, but he could use the blankets.

Snatching the bag up, he quickly made a getaway for the shed. Just as he shut the door the small space was flooded with headlights as a car pulled into the driveway.

Peering out the small window, Eric watched as a woman, dressed in gray jeans, knee high black boots, and a cream colored wool coat, got out of the SUV. She had long, golden brown hair, tucked underneath a dark red knit cap—on her shoulder was a big, black purse. She closed her door and opened the back one. When she emerged she was carrying a small boy and a little girl slid out of the car after her.

He noted that each child had their own backpack. The little girl wore her pink one on her back, the little boy's red one was in the free hand of the mother and the family retreated inside their house. Eric felt envious. He had never had his own backpack. At the group home he had carried his snack and lunch for school in a small, brown paper bag, every day.

Several minutes after the mother and two kids went inside another car pulled into the driveway. This time Eric watched a tall, broad shouldered man get out of the car. The man was dressed in a suit and tie, but unlike most men Eric had seen in this neighborhood, he carried a backpack.

In the warm glow cast from the lights inside the house, Eric could make out four letters on the bag. He wasn't sure what it stood for, not that he cared, but it give him something to remember this house.

From that moment on he now referred to the brick colonial house as the NCIS house.