A/N: So I decided to write myself a birthday one-shot, and this is the result!

(Yes, I know that it's a few days late but never mind that)

"Let me through."

There were a lot of things that could be said about Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Nobody could deny that he was determined, and even less would claim he wasn't good at his job. He was a hard worker, a fair boss and, despite his attitude, a good agent just as he had been a good Marine, many year prior. Some may call him a bastard, and his only response would be to smile.

But he was also, without a hint of a doubt, the sort of man you should definitely try to stay on his good side.

All of those were nothing more than rumors to Aaron Hotchner up until a few minutes ago. But since then, he had met the man and could verify most of them first hand.

"This is a restricted area," he said for the third time. "I'm afraid I can't let you through."

"I don't think you understand I'm not really asking," Gibbs said. "You let me through, right now, or I swear I –"

"Say one more word and you'll be charged with threatening a Federal Agent," Morgan interfered.

"Say one more word and I'll be charged with attacking a Federal Agent."

"That's it," Morgan huffed. "Get out, now. It's your last chance."

"And if I won't?" Gibbs asked.

"Then I'll –"

"Jethro."

The man in question turned around so fast it was almost inhuman.

"Tobias," he said, his voice clipped. He didn't miss the way the two agents behind him flinched slightly at the name. "What are you doing here?"

"Officially, reigning you in," Fornell replied.

"And unofficially?"

"Stopping you from killing Spencer's team."

At the name of their friend and co-worker, both Morgan and Hotch frowned.

"You know Reid?" Hotch asked.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people," Gibbs replied. "I'm here to see him."

Hotch's eye twitched for a moment before he regained his composure. "I still can't let you in."

"He's got clearance," Fornell said. "I already talked to Gideon to approve it. He can go through."

Morgan looked outraged but Hotch didn't as much as blink as he moved to the side, allowing the NCIS agent through.

"Fornell," Gibbs said, clearly expecting the agent to follow him.

"Good luck," Morgan muttered as the man in question moved to walk by Gibbs.

"I'll need it."

Fornell watched Gibbs as he walked by his side. He knew that there were two ways the man could go with it – go right to the point or stay silent long enough for Tobias to speak first. He was just trying to decide which he preferred when Gibbs spoke.

"Just one question," he said. "Who made the decision not to tell me anything?"

Tobias didn't look at his friend as he replied.

"I did."

Gibbs looked around him.

The lights of Vegas were too bright, the noises were too loud and as he drove into the city the previous night, he wasn't sure why he was there.

He wasn't the type to drink himself unconscious to forget his problems. He didn't want to gamble. And, as he watched the girls who walked by the road in the ragged parts of the city as he drove in, he knew that he didn't want to bury his grief in the arms of a stranger.

He mainly needed to get away so he could think.

During the past few weeks, he was so busy tracking Hernandez down that all thoughts were pushed out of the way, but now that the bastard was dead he had no choice but to confront his feelings.

Shannon – the love of his life – was dead. Kelly – his baby girl – was dead. He knew he wasn't going to return to service, and still couldn't decide if he wanted to take on Mike Franks' offer to join NIS.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by an odd sound coming from the alley nearby.

Vegas didn't disgust him as much now that the lights were natural, but the part of town where he was staying wasn't that appealing to him, either. He followed the sound into the alleyway, but saw nothing and was just about to turn away when something – or, rather, someone – came out of the dumpster.

A young boy, looking no older than ten years old, straightened the dirty sunglasses on his nose and looked through the findings in his hands. From where he stood, Gibbs could see a half-eaten sandwich and a rotten apple, but the boy seemed satisfied with his findings as he put them in his bag.

He didn't seem to notice Gibbs until he turned to leave and froze at the sight of the man blocking his way out of the alley. Noticing the immediate fight or flight instincts kicking into place, Gibbs raised his hands in surrender.

"I won't hurt you," he said slowly.

The boy didn't seem certain, but Gibbs could see he wasn't as likely to run as he was moments before. He slowly reached inside his bag and pulled out one of the sandwiches he bought at Starbucks with his morning coffee and presented it to the boy.

"Do you want?" he asked. "It's egg salad."

Faster than Gibbs would have thought possible, the boy ran forward, grabbed the sandwich and ran back to where he stood before. Slowly, Gibbs pulled out his second sandwich and smiled softly at the boy.

"Sit to eat with me?"

The boy nodded and sat down where he stood, marking Gibbs to do the same. The two ate silently, and Gibbs didn't miss the way the boy put half of his sandwich inside his bag before he ran away.

The next day, Gibbs found the boy at the same alley. He didn't seem as likely to immediately run away this time, but couldn't hide his surprise when Gibbs pulled the sandwiches from his bag.

They sat closer this time, but the boy still put half of the sandwich in his bag and ran off as soon as he was done.

On the fifth day of this occurrence, the boy came late and with a black eye. Gibbs studied it carefully, making sure not to appear as though his anger was aimed at the boy before speaking.

"Was it one of your parents?"

"No," the boy said, and Gibbs found that he sounded more mature than he seemed. "The kids at school. They don't like me because I'm younger than them and still get higher grades," he explained, but it sounded like he was repeating something someone older said.

They ate on silence, as usual, but this time Gibbs spoke before the boy could run away.

"Why do you put half in your bag?" he asked.

The boy hesitated before replying. "It's for my mom."

Gibbs couldn't help but raise a brow. "Does she know you're looking through the garbage for food?"

"It's a good day if my mom even knows what day it is," the boy said, before noticing the look on Gibbs' face. "She… I know she tries, but her head works wrong."

The boy didn't run away this time, allowing Gibbs to ask one last question before he was gone.

"Kid!" The boy paused before turning his head almost unnoticeably. "What's your name?"

"Spencer," the boy replied, disappearing from view.

Even though Gibbs came back to the alley every day for the next two weeks, after buying coffee and sandwiches at Starbucks, he didn't see Spencer again.

Looking at Spencer now, as he lay unconscious on the hospital bed, Gibbs couldn't help but remember the boy he met close to fifteen years ago. Though taller now, Spencer was still thin and had always been quite lanky.

He was also very clumsy, which Gibbs hadn't known at the time, and that in addition to his social awkwardness led to difficulties in the woman department. Gibbs doesn't think he'll ever forget the day Spencer showed up at his door, told him he had a date with an actress and asked for advice, looking utterly helpless. After all, it's not every day that you see a certified genius being completely clueless.

"Coffee?"

Gibbs didn't look up as he raised the disposable cup in his hand. The man who stood at the room's entrance moved to sit next to him, and Gibbs didn't need an IQ of 187 to know he was being profiled.

"Did you get any sleep on the flight here?" Gideon asked.

"Would you have?" Gibbs replied.

Gideon sighed. "No. I don't think any of us got much sleep in the past few days." He paused for a moment before adding, "I didn't know Fornell didn't tell you."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Gideon insisted. "I should have figured."

"But you didn't," Gibbs said. "And it happened. Leave it alone."

Gibbs gently moved a stray curl from Spencer's forehead, revealing a shallow wound. Anger started flowing through him and he took a deep breath to calm himself down.

"What did the doctors say?" he asked.

"You didn't read his chart?" Gibbs didn't reply. "A concussion, one broken rib and two cracked. He took a severe beating, mainly to the stomach, the face and the feet."

"The feet?" Gibbs repeated.

"We believe it was a form of corporal punishment," Gideon explained. "His hands were also wounded, though that seemed self-inflicted. And…" he sighed before continuing. "His heart stopped for nearly a minute. There doesn't seem to be any lasting damage, but we'll know more when he wakes."

"How long?" Gibbs asked.

"A few hours," Gideon replied. "His body's exhausted, he could use the rest. And so could you." Gideon stood up, heading to the door. "Get some sleep, Gibbs. I'll make sure to wake you up if anything changes."

"I won't be able to sleep until I see he's woken up and fine," Gibbs sighed, taking a large chug of the coffee in his hands. "The man who did this…?"

"Dead," Gideon said simply, his voice void of emotion.

Gibbs nodded, taking another deep breath to calm down before asking, "Who?"

There was no mistaking the sadness in Gideon's voice when he replied.

"Spencer."

Bend the line, don't break it.

That was the rule, and Gibbs was getting a bit too close to breaking it.

He could justify using NIS – well, NCIS now – to locate Spencer. Finding a boy aged 8-12, matching Spencer's description who lived in Vegas with a mentally ill mother and who skipped several grades wasn't as hard as one would think.

Meeting with the mother and son was pushing it, but signing the documents had been completely legal, even though it took some convincing.

"Promise me," Deanna Reid told him, grateful that they arrived in on one of her clear days. "Swear on something you care about."

Gibbs didn't as much as hesitate.

"I swear on the graves of wife and daughter that I won't take Spencer from you, and that I won't use these documents unless there would be a significant danger to his life or an immediate threat of Social Services taking him from you."

He gave Spencer his number so that the boy could keep him posted, and came to visit every few months.

He didn't expect the boy to call in the middle of a work day.

"Mr. Gibbs! Mr. Gibbs, please come quickly!"

"Spencer?" Mike's head popped up at the mention of the boy he all but adopted as a Godson. "Spencer, what's going on?"

"It's mom." There were sounds of things breaking and Gibbs grabbed his belongings, heading towards the door with Mike following close behind. "She's having a really bad day… she locked us in! Mr. Gibbs, please come quickly!"

"I'm on my way, Spencer," Gibbs promised. "Stay inside your room, I'll be there as soon as I can."

They reached Vegas at nightfall.

Deanna had managed to tire herself into passing out on the couch. Spencer was locked inside his room.

They arrived to the house at the same time as the uniforms did, and Gibbs managed to convince them to let him be the first one to talk to Spencer.

"We're going to lie to the police a bit," he whispered. "I need you to stay quiet."

Bend the line, don't break it.

"As you can see, Deanna and I shared custody of Spencer for the better part of the past two years," Gibbs told the cops, showing them the papers. "Spencer had been visiting me on vacations, but was staying with his mother most of the time. We thought it was best that way, as he is still very young."

"But he's also very perceptive of his surroundings, is he not?" the officer asked. "He's smarter than his age and had, in fact, graduated high school just a few weeks ago."

"But he is still a twelve year old," Gibbs replied. "And a twelve year old needs his mother for as long as she can care for him."

"And if she can no longer care for him?"

Gibbs wasn't the least intimated by the look the officer gave him, fixing him with a stare of his own.

"That's why I'm here."

JJ walked the corridor back and forth around Spencer's room at least twenty times in the past fifteen minutes.

He was alright in the end. He was alive, and the doctors expected a full recovery within two weeks. But it didn't change the fact that he was taken because they split up.

She glanced at Gibbs again, and found him staring back at her like he had done the past four times she looked.

Who was he, and what was his connection to Spencer? She knew everyone wondered, but nobody but Gideon seemed to know. None of them dared to ask.

"Are you going to come in or are you planning to stay there all day?"

JJ jumped in surprise before smiling sheepishly at Gibbs and entering the room.

"Sorry," she said. "I just…"

"Never apologize," Gibbs automatically said, turning to look at Spencer again. "It's a sign of weakness."

A small smile tugged at the edge of JJ's lips. "Most people would say it's a sign of strength," she commented.

"I'm not most people," was all Gibbs said in reply. He sighed, leaning back in his chair before letting out a tired laugh. "I didn't want him to go to the FBI, you know."

JJ didn't know, but she nodded nonetheless. "Wanted him to join NCIS?" she asked.

"Wanted him to be a professor," Gibbs said. "Or a researcher. Something safe, a nine-to-five job." He closed his eyes, sighing again before adding, "Didn't want something like this to happen."

Against her will, tears sprung to JJ's eyes.

"It's all my fault," she said.

"It isn't," Gibbs immediately said.

"We split up, I should have had his back –"

"I know. I read the report." JJ blinked the tears away, looking at the man in front of her. "Splitting up had been a mutual decision. You had your own problems with the murderous dogs and, besides, you can't know if Hankel wouldn't have simply shot you. There are a lot of people to blame here, and God knows there are several that I want to punch, but you're not one of them."

JJ nodded, wiping her eyes before reaching out to grab Spencer's hand. She didn't miss the way Gibbs' eyes followed the movement, or the way he tensed slightly when her hand made contact with Spencer.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Who are you, to him?"

"Not my place to tell," Gibbs replied immediately. "If Spencer didn't tell you so far… he probably had his reasons."

"Gideon knows," JJ retorted. "And so does Fornell."

"Gideon knows because it's written in Spencer's personal files," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "And Fornell knows because… well…"

"You asked him to keep an eye on Spence."

It wasn't a question, yet Gibbs nodded in response. "Spencer doesn't know," he said, though the media liaison figured it out on her own. "I think I'll go out for coffee. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, thanks." A thought crossed JJ's mind and she smirked. "Do you drown it in milk and sugar, too?"

"Black, no sugar," Gibbs smiled. "If there's one thing I regret it's that I was never able to teach him how to drink it."

JJ laughed as he walked out, pausing just before he exited the room.

"Jennifer?" She looked up. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You're a good agent… and a good friend."

It was only after he left that she realized she never told him her name.

Gibbs wasn't sure if they planned it, but the figure who stood outside the nearest coffee place was certainly expecting him.

"I assumed you'd come, sooner or later," Emily Prentiss said. "Hoped it would be before Reid woke up. We met before," she added, and Gibbs nodded.

"I remember," he said. "I was on security detail at some Gala. You were there with your mother."

"Always hated those Galas," she commented and he smiled.

"Me, too."

She didn't say anything else as he bought his coffee and left the shop, so he decided to be the one to speak as they walked into the hospital.

"You seem to take this whole thing a lot better than the rest of your team."

"I haven't known him for as long," Prentiss shrugged. "I don't expect him to tell me something he hadn't told Garcia, or JJ, or Morgan. I know you, so I know Spencer having you in his life could only be good – for both of you. And I… I get the need to keep work and home separated."

"Yeah," Gibbs sighed. "Someone like you would. Did you meet Deanna?"

"No," Prentiss shook her head. "The team only met her once, and that was before I joined. But I heard about her. It must have been hard, growing up with her."

"She did her best," Gibbs immediately defended.

"I'm sure she did," Prentiss replied. "But sometimes that's just not enough." She studied Gibbs for a moment before adding, "I'm assuming that's where you got into the picture."

Gibbs nodded before the smallest of smiles found its way to his lips.

"Would it make you feel good if I told you that's the most anyone of your team managed to gather about Spencer and me?"

"Honestly?" Prentiss sighed. "It makes me sad."

Gibbs only needed to take one look at Garcia in order to realize she connected the dots. A second look told him that she didn't do it completely on her own.

"You read Spencer's file."

It wasn't a question, and Garcia didn't bother to reply or comment in any way. There were tears in her eyes, and the sad look she gave the two of them made him want to turn away from her, but he didn't.

"I didn't plan to," she finally said. "I was looking for yours, but his kept coming up and I couldn't keep ignoring it for long and I…" She swallowed hard. "I didn't know things have been that bad. With his mom. I thought it was… I didn't know."

"It wasn't that bad, most of the time," Gibbs said. "Deanna loves this kid more than anything, but on her bad days…" He sighed. "When she could barely take care of herself, she couldn't take care of a child."

"You're not really a family friend, are you?"

"No." Garcia nodded, confirming that she gathered that much. "Spencer and I first met by chance, really. I could have walked away and never see him again. Still not sure why I didn't," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you ever regret it?" Garcia asked. "Not walking away. Do you regret getting as involved in his life as you did?"

"Not even for a second," Gibbs said immediately. "God knows what would have happened if I wasn't there when things got bad… where Spencer would have ended up…" He hesitated before adding, "I'm not sure where I would have ended up without him."

"You care for him."

This, too, wasn't a question. Gibbs replied anyway.

"More than anything else in the world. I'd give everything if it meant he was safe and happy."

"Well…" Garcia started. "The past couple of days kind of proved he's not exactly safe here, but he is happy."

It took Gibbs a few moments to get the implications of her words.

"You think I'd try to get him to quit, after this?" he asked.

"You won't?" she asked. "I know I want them all to quit and move to desk jobs pretty much every other day."

"No job is safe," Gibbs replied. "You and I… we know better than most that nobody's safe. My first wife was a stay-at-home Army Wife. She died because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I know," Garcia said, looking away sheepishly. "Read your file and all of that. Sorry, by the way," she added. "I mean, I know Gideon trusts you, and Fornell vouched for you, and even Emily seems to know you, but…"

"You can't trust me until you checked for yourself."

"Not when it comes to my team," Garcia nodded. "Definitely not when it comes to Spencer."

"It's okay," Gibbs smiled. "I get it. And… I'm glad Spencer has people in his life that are protective of him. As much as I try, I can't be there all…" he trailed off, his eyes fixating on Spencer's hand.

"What is it?" Garcia asked. "What… what happened?"

"His hand moved," Gibbs said. "Call the nurses, I think he's waking up!"

"I'll tell the team," Garcia immediately said, and Gibbs grasped Spencer's hand in his tightly.

"Come on, kiddo," he muttered under his breath. "Wake up for me. I know you can."

Slowly but surely, Spencer's eyes fluttered open. Gibbs could sense Spencer's team filing into the room behind him, but his focus was on the young man on the bed.

At last – at long, long last – Spencer's eyes were open and he smiled sleepily as he managed to focus on Gibbs' face, quietly muttering the word that made Gibbs' heart warm up every time he heard it since Spencer started using it, nearly a decade ago.

Once he started university, Spencer wasn't home much. Not that he knew what "home" was anymore.

He wrote his mom every day. He visited her once a month. He spent his vacations at Gibbs' house, and the NCIS agent joined him on his monthly visits.

Vegas wasn't home anymore. His dorms at the university definitely weren't home.

But, slowly, Gibbs' house started to be.

He was thirteen when he spent his first Christmas with Gibbs. He got the older man a book about boats, received one about mathematics, and the two of them spent Christmas day at the basement trying to avoid Gibbs' wife.

He was fourteen when he took on the offer to join Gibbs for thanksgiving. Together, they attended a meal hosted by one of Gibbs' coworkers, Dr. Mallard – "Please, dear boy, call me Ducky!"

The medical examiner and the teenager spent most of the meal discussing Criminal Profiling theory, and Spencer smiled the entire drive home.

Spencer stopped calling him "Mr. Gibbs" when he was fifteen, but his sixteenth birthday passed before he gathered up the courage to ask the question he dreaded.

"Would you mind if…? Can I…? Would it be okay if I started calling you 'Dad'?"

Gibbs was silent for a long moment, and Spencer held his breath. When the Marine pulled him into a tight hug, he wrapped his arms around him tightly and took that as a "Yes."