Presumption of Innocence

The creak of the heavy wooden front door as it opened and closed from the floor above him caused Jethro Gibbs to pause in his work. He set down the sandpaper and stretched, then grabbed his empty coffee cup and jogged up the basement stairs.

In the kitchen he came face to face with Tobias Fornell, who appeared to be speaking softly to his teen son, Tony.

Surprised, Jethro raised his eyebrows, "Tobias, what brings you here? Did we have a work appointment?" He grinned at that idea, since most of their professional time he and Fornell pretended annoyance with each other while in public.

Before his friend could answer, Gibbs addressed Tony, who abruptly looked down at the kitchen linoleum rather than meet his father's gaze.

"I thought you would not get home until after supper. You surprised me this early, Son."

No one responded, and sensing that something had transpired between the two, Gibbs slowly poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, biding his time until an explanation followed.

He rummaged in a kitchen cabinet, then held an empty cup out to Fornell, but the agent shook his head and declined any coffee for himself.

Sipping a small swallow from his own cup, Jethro scrutinized his son's uncomfortable expression as he waited.

Raising his eyebrows as a signal to his friend, Tobias finally reached over and patted Tony on the back. "Your boy has a couple of things he wants to share with you, Jethro."

Tony cut his eyes at that promise and scowled, then crossed his arms across his chest and focused upon the floor again.

Gibbs recognized that stubborn look. Tony had no intention of volunteering a single snippet of information.

Cutting to the chase, Fornell regarded the teen and supplied, "I have to take off now, but I want to share why I decided I would bring him home this evening. Your son and his friends had the misfortune of attending a college party right next door to where the FBI showed up to question another student. I recognized Mr. Grown, here, saw the kegs of beer, and figured you knew nothing about it. Just so you know, I dropped his buddy, Dylan, off before we got here, and also spoke with his folks."

Tony squirmed and glanced uneasily at his father from the corner of his eye.

Gibbs rubbed the bridge of his nose and then pointed to the stairs. He ordered sharply, "Up to your room right now-"

Glancing mutinously at Fornell, Tony nevertheless obeyed. Waiting until his slight figure disappeared past the landing, Gibbs walked his friend to the door.

Fornell placed a steadying hand on Jethro's shoulder. "Remember that we were his age once, Jethro."

"I know that, Tobias," Gibbs admitted, a small smile on his lips. "which gives me some insight to where his fourteen year old mind was fixated. Thanks for escorting him home."

"No problem," came the reply, "he knew he was busted the second he recognized me. To give him credit, though, when I called him over he came at once and then gathered his things when told. If it is any consolation, I already terrorized the collegiate party hosts by telling them I could book them for serving alcohol to minors, even though that did not occur. I wanted to scare them about having alcohol near minors, even if Tony and his pal did not sample any."

"What kind of college party begins at dinner time?" Jethro pondered.

"The kind that serves alcoholic beverages," supplied his friend.

Nodding in agreement, Gibbs walked Fornell down the walkway, watched him back his car out of the drive, then gathered his thoughts before he headed upstairs to deal with his son.

Tony sat at his desk, his arms crossed on the desktop and his chin propped on his arms, making him appear far more like a child than like a teen. Still small for his age, he had yet to experience a significant growth spurt, though the pediatrician had assured Gibbs that Tony's adult height would reach six feet at least.

Strangers habitually glanced twice at him. With shimmery green eyes, and brown hair laced generously with blond, the boy turned heads wherever he went.

Just observing that childlike posture his father could predict the path of the teen's upcoming defense.

Gibbs leaned against the doorframe and spoke brusquely. "Look at me, Son. I want your full attention right now."

Tony did, straightening his back and wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. Evidently he had failed to think up a plausible excuse while exiled to his bedroom the past few minutes and had spent his time deciding to jump on the offense.

He licked his lips and met his father's narrowed gaze.

"Start talking," the father ordered. "Make sure you tell me the truth when you do, however, or you will find yourself in worse trouble than you already are."

Instead of answering, the child bit the side of his lip and looked down at his sneakers, vainly attempting to think up something credible. It would be in his best interests to make his first words soften his dad's wrath.

"I told you to look at me," Jethro reminded him, his voice firm. He waited until Tony complied before he proceeded. "Now I gave you permission to go with Dylan and his mom to the mall after school today, and expected she would bring you home sometime after supper. Apparently, somewhere along the way the plans changed, with you in a place at which you did not have permission, and leaving me totally in the dark about your whereabouts."

Tony looked decidedly uncomfortable, but did not speak. Instead, his bottom lip began to quiver.

Out of patience, Gibbs crossed the room, yanked his son to a standing position, and landed a sharp smack onto his rear end.

Tony sucked in a breath, and automatically moved a hand back to protect his bottom from further contact with his dad's hand.

"My tolerance dwindles by the second, Son. You are seconds away from finding yourself on the receiving end of a real spanking if you continue to disobey. Answer me and start explaining!"

"Ok, Dad, ok," the boy answered, relief washing over him when his father turned him loose. That he had brought his father's fury on his head before he even attempted to talk his way out of his current trouble did not bode well, and he knew it.

Rubbing his bottom, he hurriedly resumed his seat and turned a cooperative expression in his father's direction.

"Well, I know that you said I could go with Dylan, and Dylan and I decided to visit a friend of ours who went to our school last year, only he's older." Tony took a breath before adding detail and tried to gauge his dad's reaction to that clarification.

Gibbs kept his expression neutral and sat down on the end of the bed. "What's the kid's name?"

"Pardon?"

"Tony, let me share some advice with you one more time. If you continue to stall and waste my time, I am going to use that waste of time, effectively, to blister your bottom. Then I still plan to get an explanation from you over this afternoon's activities."

"Ok, Dad, ok- you do not need to spank me." Tony fiddled with the button on his green oxford shirt cuff.

"Tony!"

The teen rushed to supply an elaboration. "So Dylan and I went to see Eric, and Eric said we should all go visit his brother, who has an apartment really near the college. Then when we got there it turned out that Eric's brother and his roommates planned a party this evening. So lots of people had showed already, and someone may have brought some beer and alcohol, but really, Dad, I barely even noticed that. I swear to you I did not drink any at all. I know what you have taught me about that, about all the health risks, and that I am not old enough to legally make that decision. Then we kind of drifted out on the balcony to just hang and talk and then Agent Fornell looked up from that other guy's balcony and recognized me."

Having put his own strategic spin on the event, Tony licked his lips and turned a hopeful expression towards his dad.

Reaching over, Jethro tapped Tony under the chin, marveling to himself that from babyhood his son had employed that exact look to try to avoid trouble. "Do you have any more to say, or anything to clarify?"

Tony appeared to consider the query, changing his expression to one of thoughtful contemplation. "Do you mean about earlier today, Dad?"

"Exactly," Gibbs responded, leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs.

"No sir, I think I told you everything I can recall from that little misunderstanding," came the hopeful assurance.

Arching his brows, Gibbs awarded him another opportunity to modify his account. "So, then if I go phone Dylan's parents right now, this story will match the one that he has told them about today and what happened to the two of you after school?"

Tony blanched, and that involuntary reaction signaled to his father all that he needed to know.