Author's Note: This story was written at the request of my "number one fan" HPDorkFreakAZoid for her birthday! Happy birthday dude! Hope you have a fantastic day! *hugs*

Disclaimer: Not mine, I only own the idea, I dinked with the timeline a little bit and some of the facts, too.

Special thanks to Gotgoats, my wonderful beta, for her help with this story. You rock, sister!

Rule Number Five
By Headbanger_Rockstar

Twenty Years Ago…

"Alright Marines," Gunnery Sergeant Nash called. "Fourteen hundred hours—take a break."

The company of Marines let out a communal sigh of relief. There was two hours until shift change. The group was on special assignment (punishment detail) at the Rhode Island Military Academy, assisting with repairs and repainting during the blistering summer while all of the children were away. Several of the marines in the company had decided it'd be fun to go AWOL and head to the bar a couple of weeks ago—just before many of their comrades were to go on leave. Their CO found out about it, cancelled everyone's leave and sent them packing to RIMA for a two week stay.

Corporal Leroy Jethro Gibbs thought this would be a good time to grab a ball and go work out some stress on the court. He was a bit frustrated by being here—he always did what he was told, was always where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing. This punishment was unexpected and not very pleasant…he'd been looking forward to getting a week at home with Shannon. The two were supposed to be married soon, and the wedding day couldn't arrive quickly enough. Gibbs was a bit of a lone wolf, not really interested in making friends or being social. This particular afternoon he was hoping that no one else would show up to play. He certainly wasn't going to seek out any company.

He'd been playing for a short while, working up a good sweat, when he noticed that he was being watched.

On the other side of the fence stood a small boy. Gibbs couldn't tell from where he was how old the child was, but he guessed that the little boy was under the age of ten. The child's eyes were wide and he watched Gibbs bounce and shoot the ball with rapt attention. Gibbs took care to play a little better, to show off a little bit, now that he had an audience. The child remained quiet, and Gibbs noticed that the child was slowly inching his way towards the gate. As he drew closer, Gibbs could see that the child's hair was tousled, his mouth was stained in such a way that only red kool-aid can produce, and his clothes were well worn and almost too small for him.

Once the child made it inside the gate, still inching along as though hoping not to be noticed. Gibbs caught the ball and stopped. "You wanna play?" he asked.

The little boy looked around cautiously and nodded slowly. He started towards Gibbs, but after a few steps stopped, a look of sadness and defeat crossing his features. He dropped his gaze and worn sneakers toed the blacktop. Gibbs felt the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression.

"Dunno how," the child said softly with a sad shrug.

Gibbs smiled. This he could work with. Though he didn't know why he wanted to. "I'll teach you," he offered.

The child looked up at Gibbs, his expression filled with hope and surprise. "Really?" the insecurity in his tone left Gibbs feeling confused. It was as though no one had ever offered to spend time with the child before.

Gibbs nodded, inexplicably drawn to this child's company. "Sure," he said. "What's your name, kid?"

Shy green eyes met curious blue ones. "Tony," he said softly.

Gibbs nodded. "I'm Gibbs. You playin'?"

The child rushed over with a whoop of excitement. Gibbs showed him how the basics of how to dribble, shoot, check and pass the ball. The child was a quick study, quickly learning how to dribble and pass the ball, but he seemed unable to successfully get the ball in the basket. After several failed attempts, the child let the ball bounce away, and his shoulders drooped.

"Hey," Gibbs said softly. "Why the long face?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm no good," he said.

"Nonsense," Gibbs said. "You're just learning." He retrieved the ball. "You just need to practice." He looked at his watch. "Tell ya what. I gotta go back to work now, but I'll be back tomorrow if you can come play."

Tony nodded, his eyes round. "Kay," was all he said.

Gibbs checked the ball one last time to Tony. The child caught it and Gibbs winked at him. Tony smiled and bounced it back. "Bye," Tony said, running away.

"Bye," Gibbs called after him.

That evening the child stayed on Gibbs' mind. He called Shannon and told her about this little boy that he'd met today. She asked if he was a student at the academy, and Gibbs told her he didn't know but was hoping the child would return the next day so he could talk to him some more and get some more answers. He was curious about the child's background…there was something about that just didn't seem right.

xxx

The next afternoon, Gibbs smiled when he saw that Tony was sitting next to the gate when he arrived. The child was wearing the same clothes as the day before, and his lips were stained once again with the bright red kool-aid trademark.

"Hey Tony," Gibbs said with a smile.

"Hey," Tony said softly.

The child was even quieter than he'd been the day before, and Gibbs wondered why. They'd been playing together for about an hour—and Tony had finally gotten the ball into the basket—when Gibbs asked Tony how old he was.

"Eight," Tony said softly. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-one," Gibbs told him. "Do you go to school here?"

Tony stopped bouncing the ball and just held it. "Why are you asking me so many questions?" he asked softly.

"I was just wondering," Gibbs said. "No big deal, you don't have to answer."

Tony resumed dribbling the ball. "No," he said quietly a few moments later.

"No?"

"I don't go to school here," Tony clarified. "My uh…the guy I live with…he and his wife work here. So I hang out here during the day now that it's summer time."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, wondering what Tony meant by "the guy he lived with and his wife." Was he adopted? Staying with family friends? Gibbs' gut churned a bit. Was he an abducted child?

A few more missed shots left Tony feeling bad for himself again. Gibbs dropped to one knee and put his hands on the small boy's shoulders. "You're good," he said firmly. "Never let anyone tell you that you aren't. You have real skill."

The child raised an uncertain gaze to look at Gibbs. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes," Gibbs said with a nod. "Always remember rule number five."

"Rule number five?" Tony asked. "What's a rule number five?"

"Rule number five is don't waste good. You're good Tony. Don't waste it."

"Tony!" an unfamiliar voice called. "Tony!" A portly man in a too-tight uniform shirt was hurrying toward the blacktop. "Tony what are you doing? I've been looking everywhere! And who is…oh!" he said once he recognized that Gibbs was one of the marines. "I'm sorry he's bothering you. Come along Tony. You're supposed to stay in my office! I can't be looking all over for you all the time! You're going to get me into trouble!"

Gibbs stuck his hand out. "Corporal Gibbs," he introduced himself. "Tony's been keeping me company. Hard to play one on one when you're by yourself."

"Joe Gasperson," the man said, shaking Gibbs' hand. "I am so sorry if he bothered you," he continued, grabbing Tony by the scruff of his collar.

"He's fine to stay with me," Gibbs said. "I can drop him back off to you when we're finished?" He didn't like the way this looked. The guy looked like he was being too rough with Tony. And Tony looked…absolutely despondent. "In fact," Gibbs said, "I'm here for the next couple of weeks…he could stay with me every afternoon if he wants to. He hasn't caused any trouble at all—I think he's a nice kid." He smiled kindly down at Tony who looked up at him in awe.

Gasperson lightened his grasp on the child a bit. "You sure?"

Gibbs nodded and the man let go of Tony. Gibbs handed him the ball. "Why don't you go practice your dribbling for a minute Tony?" he said softly. "I'll be right along in a moment."

Tony's eyes were still wide, and he nodded silently and did what he was told. Gibbs took a step closer to Gasperson. "So what's your relationship to Tony?" he asked casually. "Tony said he lives with you."

"He's our foster child, but we're going to have to send him back I'm afraid. He's been kind of hard to manage ever since we got him. Really reluctant to do anything, doesn't want to listen, pushes all the boundaries…Martha and I…we don't have the energy for a kid like that. He's a nice kid and all, but we just…aren't up to a child with that much…energy," Gasperson said.

"What will happen if you give him back?" Gibbs wanted to know. He wanted to help, but he lived out of state—and in the barracks on base—he had nowhere to make a home for a child, no money to adopt one with. It was a sorry situation, but one that, unfortunately, couldn't be helped.

"I suppose he'll go back into the system and will get a new family, or he'll stay at a center until he's 18 one," Gasperson said. "Think he'd be happier with someone else though—he surely isn't happy with us…hasn't been since we got him."

"How long have you had him?"

"Three months," Gasperson replied. "He came to us right after his mom died and his dad took off. If you're sure he isn't bothering you, then I need to get back to work."

"Totally fine," Gibbs said with a wave of his hand. Gasperson nodded, called out a warning to Tony for him to be good, and then disappeared back down the sidewalk.

Gibbs joined the small boy. "You ok?" he asked.

Tony shrugged. "I don't think they like me very much," Tony said softly. "They don't want me."

"Well I think it is their loss. If I wasn't living in the barracks I'd try to work it so you could come stay with me, but I don't even have a house for me right now," Gibbs said regretfully.

Tony shrugged again. "It's alright," he said softly. "You don't have to." He forced a confident smile to his face. "I'll be fine."

Gibbs had a sudden idea. He pulled out a card and scribbled an address on the back of it. "Take this," he said. "It's got my dad's address on it. If you ever need to contact me, get in touch with him, and he will know where to find me and how to get in touch with me."

Tony took it and tucked it away in his pocket, with a nod. "Thanks," he said softly.

"Now c'mon kid," Gibbs said. "We've got us a game of one-on-one to finish." With matching smiles, the two resumed their game.

Ten Years Ago…

Gibbs pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, stumbling slightly. It was only a few months after the deaths of his wife and daughter, and the pain of his loss still ached deeply within him. He found this pain was dulled by alcohol, and was developing quite a taste for bourbon. Having spent the last several hours at several different bars in town, Gibbs was now definitely intoxicated and needing nothing more than to collapse into a drunken unconsciousness and forget about his pain for a while.

Something sticking out of the mailbox caught his attention as he stumbled into the front door. He stopped and withdrew a long white envelope with his father's handwriting on it. "Huh," Gibbs said softly, "Wonder what it is…" He entered the house and squinted when he turned on the lamp, flooding the house with light. He dropped to sit on the couch and with clumsy fingers, opened the envelope. He frowned, thinking it a joke when he pulled another envelope out of the first one. There was a letter wrapped around it though, and he blinked blearily, trying to focus his eyes enough to read the neat, straight handwriting.

Leroy, I received this in the mail with a letter kindly asking me to pass this along to you. Said you'd told him to send stuff to me in order to get in touch with you—that I would know where to find you. So here's what he sent me. Hope you're doing ok…I know it's hard son. Call if you need me.

Jack

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, wondering what the hell his dad was talking about. He flipped the second envelope open and his eyes widened when a magazine article, with a large picture, and a folded piece of notebook paper fell out into his hands.

The article was about an aspiring young basketball player who'd received a full scholarship to attend Ohio State University beginning in the fall. It spoke of his long road to this point and had several pictures of him playing ball and several lines of him talking about how much he enjoyed the game, how he used it to think, used it to focus, and how honored he was that he was even considered for a scholarship at all, let alone the recipient of it.

Gibbs smiled and opened the piece of folded notebook paper, reading the note written there, the words sending him back in time to a basketball court in Rhode Island.

Sgt. Gibbs

I saved the card you gave me with your dad's address on it. I thought about writing to you sometimes, but wasn't sure you would actually want to hear from me. I mean we only hung out for that time you were at the military academy in Rhode Island. So I hope your dad actually sends you this, and I hope you don't mind me writing to you.

I wanted to tell you that you really did a number on me. Ever since that summer all I've wanted to do is play basketball. I play when it's hot, when it snows, when it rains—all the time! And I do alright—I can actually get the ball in the hoop sometimes now, ha.

I sent you a copy of the article the paper wrote about me…I got a scholarship for playing basketball. I get to go to school—to a good school—and really grow up to be somebody. I'm going to be a pro-ball player! And I get to do that because you taught me how to play the game. And I wanted to thank you for that. It's saved my life on more than one occasion. And I think it's kept me out of trouble too.

Anyway. I hope you read this. I hope you're ok, wherever you are.

Take care,

Tony DiNozzo

Gibbs let out a long breath after he read the note and then he read the article again. He felt something warm growing in his chest, a feeling of pride, of accomplishment. He'd helped this child to succeed—helped him despite not being able to take him in and make his world better. He'd helped to make this child's future a little brighter, if only by spending a few afternoons with him.

He walked to the basement, and opened a small box that he kept on a shelf. Inside were some of his most prized possessions—a tape of Kelly playing the piano, pictures of his wife and daughter…and it was in this box that Tony's article and his letter went. Gibbs placed the lid on the box, rubbed his hands over the top for a moment, and decided right then and there to get his shit together and clean up his act. His girls wouldn't like him being this way, and he knew Tony would be disappointed if he could see him now.

Gibbs left the basement a changed man.

xxx

Ten Years Later

Gibbs had nearly blown his cover completely when the punkish young cop introduced himself. A closer look told him that it was, in fact, the younger man from nearly twenty years ago, now all grown up and working as a detective for the Baltimore PD. He'd not heard from Tony in ten years—not since he got the letter sent to him with the article. He wondered what had taken place that was keeping the boy from playing pro-ball as he'd been so excited to do.

He'd watched the young man as he worked the case, as they'd determined together that Tony's partner was a dirty cop, and he watched as the young man drew into himself, desperately trying to maintain control on a situation that he didn't know all of the elements of. Gibbs watched him remain professional, remain mostly calm, and remain surprisingly emotionless throughout the entire ordeal.

At the end of the case, once the reports were filed and the paperwork was done, Gibbs returned to DC and Tony's boss searched for a new partner for the detective in Baltimore.

About two weeks after the case ended, Gibbs received another envelope in the mail from his father.

This time the note from his dad was short.

You should give him your address, Leroy. You aren't planning on moving anytime soon.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and opened the second envelope, which indeed, was from Tony.

Sgt. Gibbs,

I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess I just feel like I'm wandering around lost, not sure what to do, and needed someone to talk to.

The pro-ball thing didn't work out. I busted my knee in the last game of my Senior year at OSU and that was the end of my basketball career. So I decided to become a police officer. It's not great money, and there's no fame or fortune with it, but it makes me feel good to help people, and it pays most of the bills, ha. Getting shot at isn't my favorite thing, though.

I found out this week that my partner is a dirty cop. He was receiving money from a money launderer to keep quiet and to divert the investigation away from him. Danny was a senior officer…he's a few years older than me…and I followed his lead on that because his logic made so much sense. How could I have been so wrong?

Funny though, while we were working the case, we ended up partnering with some federal agent from DC. I'm not sure you'd like him—he was really uptight and absolutely doesn't play by the rules…but on second thought you might like him. And the really funny part? His name was Gibbs too! Maybe he's your long lost brother or something! Anyway, he is the one who helped me figure out that Danny was up to no good.

I dunno what to do Gibbs. No one at the PD wants to work with me anymore, because they think I'm out to get everyone in trouble. They're overlooking the fact that Danny committed a felony and needed to get into trouble for what he did. I wasn't out to get him. I don't know what to do. I guess I'll move on. That's one good thing about not having a family…there's nothing tying me down. No parents needing me around, no wife, no kids. Just one single guy free to live life and do what he pleases.

I don't know why I wrote you. I guess it's just nice to hope that somewhere out there, someone actually gives a damn about me. I wish I could find you. We could go shoot some hoops. Would be nice.

I hope you're ok. And I still am wondering if anyone is even reading this. Oh well. Take care,

Tony

xxx

Tony followed Gibbs through the halls of NCIS, eyes wide, taking in all of the sights, trying to imagine what working here must be like. He still didn't know where he was going to move to or what he was going to do, but Gibbs had called him up and asked him to come down and "check something out." So here he was.

He followed the older man onto the elevator and then down the long hallway to a non-descript door with a small sign on it that said, "Human Resources."

"Is this your twisted way of offering me a job?" Tony asked Gibbs with a smile.

Gibbs took a step closer. "Well I think you're a good candidate for what I'm looking for," he said softly.

"What is it exactly that you're looking for?" Tony crossed his arms. Gibbs had ambushed him! Dirty bastard!

Gibbs smiled softly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the article from all those years ago, the letter that had accompanied the article, and the letter that he'd received just a few days before. He held them out to Tony who took them and looked at them with a furrowed brow for a moment. This his eyebrows raised and he looked at Gibbs.

"What…you mean…that's…"

"I'm looking for someone to go shoot hoops with," Gibbs said. "And I need someone I can trust to watch my six on my team," he said softly.

Tony let out a shaky breath and blinked several times, swallowing hard. "I don't… I mean this is…how did you figure it out?"

"I recognized you," Gibbs said quietly. "When I got this latest letter it just confirmed it for me. So what do ya say Tony? Wanna be on my team?"

"I…I mean…Gibbs…I…why me?" Tony finally sputtered.

"Because," Gibbs said, patting Tony's cheek. "You're good. And I don't waste good."

Tony thought all of his dreams had come true and all of his Christmases had come at once. "Rule number five," he whispered.

Gibbs smiled. "Boy I got vision, and the rest of the world is wearing bifocals." He turned and started to walk off. "See you upstairs."

"See you upstairs," Tony whispered, a smile creeping on to his features. He opened the door to HR and for the first time in his life, felt like he had someone watching his six. Someone was looking out for him.

And that someone was, and always had been, Gibbs.

The End.