Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming...not that I ever had a claim in the first place.

The words of Flash: I probably shouldn't be starting another story, with Boy With the Blues unfinished and all, but I'm sort of infamous for doing as I shouldn't. ;) That and I had the urge to write a Tiva fic, especially after the finale.

The idea came to me after listening to some songs. So, this is just me entertaining myself. I hope it does the same for you.

Rhapsody In You

Chapter One: The Rat

You've got a nerve to be asking a favor

You've got a nerve to be calling my number

I'm sure we've been through this before

Can't you hear me? I'm beating on your wall.

Can't you see me? I'm pounding on your door.

-The Rat, The Walkmen, Bows + Arrows

Maryland Metropolitan Transition Center

Baltimore, MD

The interrogation room was sparsely furnished: just a metal table and matching folding chairs. The walls were colorless, bleak slabs of unpainted concrete. The dim lights and thick, acrid smell of cigarette smoke wrapped the room in a blanket of doubt and unease. As Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo watched the door, he wondered if he was right in coming.

He watched with a flutter of shock as his host was led into the room. The man had lost weight, his face swallowed by hollow cheekbones. Eyes that were once so stoic and resilient were small and desperate. He was lethargic and depressed, like he was trapped in a box he'd lost the will to get out of.

The prisoner was deposited into the confining metal chair; hands cuffed behind his back, his ankles shackled. Tony nodded his greeting. Rodney flinched, as if the sign of respect was foreign. The guards removed the handcuffs and the prisoner moved his wrists as if they'd been resuscitated.

Both men nodded absently as the corrections officer's dull voice rattled off the list of rules and regulations. The guard moved towards the door, slamming it on his way out.

"Didn't think you'd show," Rodney Sullivan said. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, eye's darting like a snake's tongue.

Tony flashed an industrial strength smile as he pulled up his chair and sat backwards, legs spread, his elbows draped across its cool metal back. "Seeing you look like a bucket of shit was worth the gas."

Rodney bristled, looking Tony up and down. "Nice suit. Uncle Sam must pay well."

He shrugged and popped his collar. "Just think, with the twelve cents you'll be making an hour you'll be able to afford this bad boy on the...what?" he tapped his chin and snapped his fingers. "Ah, Thirty-fifth of Never?"

Rodney released a jarring chuckle. "Cute, DiNozzo."

"So, you gonna dick me around or are you gonna tell me why I'm here?"

"That any way to greet your best friend?"

"What was left of our friendship has fossilized."

Rodney stiffened. "Ouch."

"Just thought I'd turn the knife. Look man, the past is the past. If you're looking to wax sentimental or use my position to get you a few extra..."

"I didn't ask you here as an agent. I asked you here as a brother."

Tony let the words sink in, drumming his palms against the table.

Finally, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he threw his head back, sending his room-shattering laughter vibrating against the rock hard walls. Unfazed by Rodney's cold stare or the agitated looks of the guards outside, Tony continued to laugh until it was physically impossible.

Finally sobered, he dabbed at the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "Rodney, let's be clear, I wouldn't spit on fire to put you out. You pissed on our brotherhood along time ago so don't come crying for it at your eleventh hour."

"You slept with my little sister. You took advantage of a vulnerable girl. What was I supposed to do?"

"You change your morals like jumpsuits, Rod. You weren't exactly chivalrous when it came to the freshmen ladies."

"She was my little sister!"

"She was a consenting adult and it was a frat party. If it helps, I didn't know about your common DNA until you broke my nose."

"No, not so much."

Tony shrugged. "Tis the thought that counts."

"I have a question for you. Mind if I ask?"

"You just did."

"Would it kill you to act your age, not your shoe size?"

"Probably."

Rodney groaned and ran his hand through his oily hair. He reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and produced a photo. Taking a final look, he smiled and slid it across the table.

Tony picked it up and sat it down. "Cute kid. Bone structure's too good to be yours, though"

He shook his head. "She's my niece, Carly's kid. Might as well be mine though, I've been taking care of her since she was seven."

"Where's Carly?"

"Who knows," he shrugged and sighed. "One day I come home from work and find Joplin in my living room, eating pizza and raiding my flick stash. She introduced herself as my niece and the rest is history. Carly was nowhere to be found, still isn't."

"Joplin?"

"Guess Janis Joplin took a piece of my sister's heart. Apparently she knows what it's like to be hung out to dry."

"Bravo Rodney! Bravo!" Tony applauded, a slow smug unrolled across his face. "You dawned a cape and saved your niece from the hell that was your sister. Unfortunately, you kinda neglected to think about how your little game of 'shoot the CEO would affect her."

"Don't you dare judge me!"

"I didn't come here to judge you. You've been judged by twelve and sentenced to be carried by six. Neither of which I care to change, not that I can, even if I wanted to. We both know that. So, what do you really want?" Tony slid the photo back to its owner and closed his eyes as if to wring the girl's face from his memory.

"What happens to Joplin?"

"The FBI agents handling your case probably transferred her care to Child Protective Services."

"I'm being shipped to a federal cage and before I go, she has to be taken care of. She can't go back to another foster home. I promised her."

"Should've thought of that..."

He removed his hands from his hair, balled up his fist, and slammed it on the hard metal. "I know that!"

"It's not what you know, it's..."

"It's who you know, exactly."

"I as gonna say 'do'."

Rodney looked at him, a slow, deep scowl gathering his brows. "Look at the picture, Tony." He said coolly.

"I did."

"No, really look at the picture."

Tony folded his arms and angled his head in the direction of the thin, glossy paper. "Now why should I do that?"

"Just look at the damn picture! Look at her eyes!"

"Oh come on! For what—?"

"Because their yours!"

READ, POR FAVOR: I know this plot line has been beaten to death with sticks, but I wanted to get a few licks in.

With that said, I need your help:

How old should Joplin be? I've settled on either thirteen or sixteen, but can't decide between the two. I have storylines planned for both ages and "eeni meeni mini mo" just ain't cutting it. So please, help!

Also, I'll be using lyrics for this story. Wanna hear the songs? Just let me know. :)

Thanks for reading. Feedback is definitely loved and appreciated!