Title: "When You Have Kids"

Rating: FR7

Genre: family, friendship

Character(s): the MCRT team :)

Summary: Episode tag to Safe Harbor. How does Gibbs really see the members of his team?

Notes: Inspired by Gibbs' answer to Ziva's question if he ever felt lonely.

WARNING(S): Spoilers for episode 9.5, Safe Harbor.

Gibbs strode out of MTAC, feeling a bit more exhausted than when he came in two hours ago. He stopped in front of the railings, just some distance away from the stairs—his own version of resting up a bit. He lifted the cup of coffee he cradled in his right hand and took a sip, meanwhile planning how they would approach the case. Vance called him upstairs earlier after getting a distressing call from a Navy Commander who was quite frantic about one of his missing men. Far from the quiet day he had hoped for, he was given a case that involved an allegedly treacherous Navy Private and a cunning arms dealer.

Usually, he would be up for the challenge, already having a strategy in mind to go about his team's new case, but the slight fatigue he had developed just the past weekend lowered things a few notches. Leyla had called him Friday night, telling him that she needed to take Amira to the hospital because of the little girl's burning fever. She did not even have to ask him to come; he was already on the road after their conversation ended. When he arrived, a pediatrician had just come to the waiting room where the frightened mother waited.

They found out that Amira had dengue. The doctor assured them that the girl should be okay after they give her some medicine, but it was required to have her stay at the hospital so more eyes could watch her. Leyla deflated, muttering blames to herself for not cleaning the backyard and showering the girl with mosquito repellent before playing outside. Gibbs comforted the mother by telling her she was not at fault. Then, he promised to help her with Amira and with clearing the house for the little girl's safe return.

He enjoyed helping out Franks' girls but by the end of the weekend, he was worn out and quite tempted to call in a sick day.

He took another sip of the coffee, taking as much energy as he could from the warmth that awakened his senses. He knew where he would be needed more, and he determined it was where he was going to be today. Families and friends would need answers, thus dirt bags had to be caught, and the small group he considered family would need his guidance.

A slight shuffle from a corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked downwards at the bullpen and had to blink his eyes twice to make sure that what he was seeing was not an illusion.

Sitting at the far right corner, at a desk closest to the stairs, was a six year old blonde boy wearing a brown suit, his back hunched over his computer as he typed his report. He was fully focused, as if a disturbance in his work could end the world.

Gibbs' brows attempted to knit, but they cleared out as his features gave way to a smirk of understanding.

He watched for a moment, but before he could decide to descend to the bullpen, another child walked in, straight from the elevators. The four year-old girl, her black hair tied back into a neat ponytail bouncing as she glided towards her desk, bore a delighted grin on her face. She didn't take her eyes off the boy on the corner even as she unloaded her jacket and her olive green colored backpack on her chair.

Noticing her presence, the boy on the corner finally looked up from his work. "G' morning," he greeted her. "You look happy today."

"Yeah," the little girl said, stationing herself next to his desk. "I had-a good weeky end. How 'bout you?"

The boy shrugged. " 'sokay. Nothin' special," he answered. "I played a tournamament. Prelims. Call Of Duty 3."

"Did you win?"

"Yeah," the boy proudly grinned. Then, his shoulders sagged in defeat. "But we…we mighta lose this weekend. One of the players quit. We're short a member."

The girl grinned. "Maybe I c'n play," she said mysteriously. "We c'n play in-a same team."

"It'll be nice," the boy said pensively. He looked at her. "But you don' know how to play."

"Do, too!" the girl said. "Had-a MOAB my first try last Sat'rday."

The boy looked impressed. "Cool! If you wanna play with me and my friends, that will be cool," he said.

The girl returned his grin, glad that her video game training over the weekend was bearing fruits.

Gibbs soon spotted another boy, who was about ten years old, walking towards the bullpen with a supercilious grin. He was bearing a sizable box, which looked like it contained something with pressure, on one hand and a coffee on another. "Good morning, kindergarteners," he greeted the younger two, who looked at him suspiciously. "Who wants donuts this morning?" the older boy asked after placing his belongings at the foot of his desk.

Gibbs knew that it was his cue to come down. With a grin, he walked down the stairs, nonetheless listening to the banter that was about to ensue.

"Wha's wrong with 'em," the girl demanded more than asked.

The older boy chuckled, but it was one smeared with hints of nervousness. "Why would you think I put something in there?" he asked.

"'Cause you're stingy," the younger boy responded. "You have ultimeterior motives."

"Do not!" the older boy said.

"Do too!" the other two children replied.

"Do not," the boy said. "If you want to, we can all open it together."

Gibbs was rounding toward the bullpen, seeing the devious glimmer on the younger boy's eyes as the two younger children thought. He smothered the grin he had and assumed a grave façade, despite his desire to crack a smile at the three children in the bullpen. "Grab your gear," he instructed them. "We've got a missing Navy Private." He saw the three scramble to their desks to retrieve what they need as he did the same.

On his way out, he gave the older boy a passing headslap. "Don't bring those pop up snakes anymore," he said. "The last time you surprised those two, you almost got shot."

The boy rubbed the sore spot on his head, while the others chuckled.

Gibbs headed towards the elevator and soon enough, all three children were inside the car with him.

After the doors closed, the little girl looked up at her, her eyes remarkably bright with mirth. "How was your weeky end, Gibbs?" she asked.

… … …

"So what have we got so far?" Gibbs asked as he strode towards his desk, coming from a very hyper sixteen year old Goth's laboratory.

"Well, we know that Private McKenzie isn't really in cahoots with Navarro or any of his men. In fact—"

"In fact, when we called Private Jensen and asked him if McKenzie had ever acted friendly towards the guy, he said that McKenzie stayed away as much as possible. And he seemed very upset whenever Navarro would show up to meet with Allman."

Gibbs looked up, his eyebrows raised and lightly knitted. A seventeen year old boy and a twelve year old girl, who held the clicker, looked back at him while standing in front of the wide screen, anticipating any reaction. "That it?" he asked, suppressing the oddness he felt at seeing two different but familiar faces.

"According to McKenzie's phone records, he had only talked to Navarro four times—three of which were upon Commander Allman's orders," a fourteen year old boy spoke from behind his desktop. "The Commander confirmed these. The other one, though, seemed to be out of McKenzie's initiative. It didn't last but eight minutes, so it's doubtful that it's about money or any exchange, for that matter."

"Have you checked the accounts?"

The boy clicked on a mouse, causing the record to pop up on the screen. "Yes," he lifted his eyes up at them. "No transfer to McKenzie, and so far Navarro's pretty still."

Gibbs nodded. "Check if the cell is back on," he told the younger boy then turned to the other two standing closer to him. "You two. Check back with the LEOs, make sure we're updated with the BOLO." He was met with nods, and soon the place was stirred back to motion. He grabbed a few files before taking off for Autopsy.

Walking by, he watched as the three teenagers busied themselves with the task at hand. For a second, he worried that he might be overworking them. They appeared weary, especially the young boy at the corner desk. But then he thought that he could compensate for it for doubling his efforts. The sooner they finished, the sooner the kids could go home and rest.

As for him, he could always draw some of the energy he lacked from coffee.

"Do you really have to snatch that away from me?" he heard the older boy ask exasperatedly.

"I don't do it every time," the girl's calm voice reached his ears even though he was almost inside the elevator. "Just when I know you are going to get peed off."

"Peed off?" the younger boy asked. "Don't you mean—" Silence. "I rest my case," he finished, sounding convinced.

"No," the older boy said. "I think you're just creating a diversion so that I forget about my question earlier. Where were you this weekend?"

"None of your business," replied the girl.

"Ah. You were with CI—"

"No. And I'm leaving it at that."

"Leave her alone," the younger boy said, knowing how the direction of the subject did not sit well with the girl.

Gibbs pressed the button, knowing exactly where this conversation would land them.

"What about you? I called you a few times, too, and you didn't answer," the older boy persisted on, this time turning his attention to the other boy. "Did you break rule number three? Or were you just spending some quality time with Max—"

"No," the other said.

Silence. "You two are up to something," the older said, and Gibbs almost saw him narrow his eyes in his mind. "I'll get to the bottom of this soon."

Gibbs almost rolled his eyes. Sometimes the oldest child always has a way with irritating the younger ones.

… … …

With the case finally finished, things were settling back in peace—and that, Gibbs appreciated. It was well into the night, and he believed that it was really time for him to head home and catch some shut eye. The same applied to the team, too. In his short walk to their workplace, he was still half-expecting to see the children he encountered earlier.

Seeing Tony cautiously snoop around Ziva's computer, that expectation was somehow fulfilled. It was still the same, nonetheless.

Knowing that the man's action was improper and would get him in trouble, he decided to step in to interrupt. Before he could, though, Ziva, with McGee beside her, had already found out what was happening.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ziva asked as she hurried to her computer.

Tony stood up quickly—and quite nervously—from her desk. "Oh, uh…nothing," he replied.

"You're trying to read my e-mails, weren't you?" Ziva asked lividly.

"Well, that there is totally a conjecture," Tony redirected. "You have no proof."

McGee frowned at the screen as Ziva closed some of the windows at the bottom. "There's a message saying that you entered an incorrect username or password," he said. He swiveled towards Tony and smirked.

Tony's eyebrows creased uncomfortably, knowing that he was caught.

"Fine," Ziva said after shutting down her desktop. "If you must really know, I spent the whole weekend trying my hand at Call of Duty 3."

"You? A gamer?" Tony asked, seemingly intrigued by the idea.

"McGee had talked about it before, and I was intrigued," Ziva admitted. "I liked it, so I was mostly in my apartment Saturday and Sunday."

Tony laughed. "Oh, this is gold," he said, glancing back and forth from McGee to Ziva. "You probies are really making my life more interesting."

Ziva stared at him with a blank look on her face, while McGee regarded him with raised eyebrows.

"So, what," Tony added. "No social life for this weekend again?"

"I'm playing preliminaries for a tournament."

"You really swearing off men?" Tony asked, amused.

"I'm spending a week with one," Ziva smiled slyly.

"No, I meant real men."

"McGee's a manly man," Ziva answered. Her smile turned into a wide smirk when a confused expression shaped Tony's features. "A very handsome one at that, if you ask me."

"Aw," McGee lit up, oblivious to Ziva's hint and teasing. "Thanks, Ziva."

Tony was more confused. "Wait," he said. "What do you mean…?"

Gibbs walked in and headed to his desk, opting on cutting short the conversation. "Catch some shut eye, you three," he said, grabbing his backpack before turning off his lights. "We've had a long day."

The three separated, following what the senior agent did.

Treading towards the elevator for the last time that night, Gibbs thought that everything had been interesting. Seeing his three agents (and the forensic scientist downstairs) as children was something peculiar and out of the blue, but perhaps it was the telltale evidence that he had really been thinking of them as his own and ones he needed to protect.

When everyone was inside, he pressed the button for the garage then waited for the elevator doors to close. After it did, he realized that he was, again, with the ten, six, and four year-old children he saw earlier. The older boy shouldered a navy blue backpack and was armed with a heavy frown. The younger boy behind him held on to the teal Phineas and Ferb backpack he owned. Meanwhile, in front of him, the little girl looked up as the numbers above decreased, her little fingers wrapped around her olive green bag with a red head cartoon character on it and the logo Kim Possible on the side.

The younger boy felt his eyes on him, so he looked up at the agent. For a moment, he seemed to be wondering what he was thinking. Then, the child gave him a wide smile.

He smiled back. He would not let anybody hurt them. Not on his watch. And that was a promise.

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