Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were. The idea is the only thing that belongs to me. This is not a slash story.

Summary: What if Gibbs met Tony at Rhode Island Military Academy?

With Honors
by Jen (WCUGirl)

Rhode Island Military Academy
Newport, Rhode Island
Thursday, September 19, 1985

The old CO stood when the young Gunnery Sergeant entered the office.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant.”

“Good afternoon, Commander.”

“I trust that your travels were comfortable?”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

“We have a spirited group of young men in attendance here this term, Gunny.”

The young gunny smiled.

“Spirited is not a bad thing, Commander. Do they follow orders?”

The Commander nodded. “All except for one of the boys. He’s new this semester. Going to need some…tough love.”

“What is his name, Commander?”

The CO rifled through some papers stacked on his desk. “His name is Anthony DiNozzo. Comes from money. Raised to have that silver spoon in his mouth, if you ask me.”

The Gunny’s eyes twinkled slightly. “Well maybe I’ll just have to pull the spoon out of his mouth. How old is he?”

“Seventeen. This is his fourth private school in as many years. There’s a problem here, if you ask me. I think this boy needs some discipline.”

“Oh he’ll get it, not to worry.”

“Well I would expect no less from you, Sergeant Gibbs. After all, making surly boys into marines is what you do best.”

Gibbs fired off a salute. “Yes sir. With your permission, Sir, I would like to take the recruits back to the basics and train them from the ground up.”

The CO nodded his head. “Agreed. You’ll have tomorrow and the weekend to get yourself settled in. Your wife and daughter should be arriving in that time, correct?”

“Yes sir. Shannon will be here with Kelly tomorrow evening.”

“Good. I expect your boys to be given their wake up call Monday morning at 0500. And if DiNozzo gives you any problems…” he raised his eyes to meet the gunny’s, “I expect you to handle it.”

Gibbs smiled. “Not to worry Sir. DiNozzo won’t be a problem.”

Rhode Island Military Academy
Newport, Rhode Island
Monday, September 23, 1985

The shrill sound of a whistle being blown startled the 14 young men out of their sleep at 0500. Feet hit the floor before eyes opened properly, standing at full attention, awaiting instruction.

Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs smiled as he studied his new platoon. These boys were described as having “spirit;” something Jethro Gibbs knew all about. He didn’t want to remove the spirit from these boys; he merely wanted to teach them how to channel it. He strolled down the line up, studying each face that stared blearily back at him.

All except for one. The corners of Jethro’s mouth turned down slightly as he looked at the still-sleeping figure of the boy in the last bed. He shot a quick glance at the other boys who were looking nervously between him and the sleeping boy. They had no idea what would happen. Everyone had heard about Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, but no one knew if the rumors were true or not. As Sgt. Gibbs strolled to the last rack in the line up, the boys’ eyes widened in fear.

Gibbs leant over the sleeping boy and drew a quick moment of pause, before he put his mouth about four inches from the boy’s ear.

“AT-TEN-TION!”

On his feet in a matter of nanoseconds, Anthony DiNozzo never realized what hit him as the solid slap connected with the base of his skull. Several of the boys snickered, but became solemn once again as Sgt. Gibbs slid an icy look along the group before turning his attention back to the sleepyhead before him.

“Name and Rank, Soldier.”

The boy was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, trying to figure out what in God’s name had just happened.

“Wh-what?”

Gibbs towered over the boy, yelling the directions fiercely in his face once again. To his credit, DiNozzo did not even flinch. Interesting.

“Private Anthony DiNozzo, Sir!” The boy snapped to attention, eyes straight ahead, back rod straight.

“Do you know what a wake up call is Private?”

“Yes Sir, Drill Instructor, uh, Sir?”

“What do you want Private?”

“Permission to speak freely Sir?”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Granted.”

“Sergeant, we were told that when we address our Drill Instructors that we should use the title, ‘Drill Instructor’ followed by rank and then name.”

“Did you have a question Private?”

“Sir I was wondering what your rank and name are? So I can address you properly, Sir.”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t figure out if he was being played and it bugged the hell out of him.

He turned to the rest of the group, pacing up and down the line up.

“My name is Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I will be your Drill Instructor for the remainder of your tenure at Rhode Island Military Academy. I can be your most trusted ally or I can be your worst nightmare. The decision is yours.”

He glanced at the boy on the end of the line up again.

“Any more social calls, Private?”

“No Sir. Thank you Sir.”

Gibbs was shocked at how instinctively polite the boy was. He’d read the boy’s file…was sure he’d have a troubled teenager on his hands, but so far, other than sleeping late, that did not seem to be the case.

“Now that we’re all done making nice here, FALL IN! Outside track, give me two miles. You have eleven minutes. GO!”

Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs gave this direction on purpose, knowing that DiNozzo would have to lead the platoon out the back of the barracks. He had to admit, he was impressed by the way DiNozzo maintained his good form all the way outside. Once on the track he took off at an impressive speed. Gibbs glanced at his stopwatch. If DiNozzo could keep this pace up, he would easily finish his two miles inside the eleven minute mark. Some of the other boys…Gibbs grimaced. Maybe not so much.

Rhode Island Military Academy
Newport, Rhode Island
Thursday, November 28, 1985 (Thanksgiving)

Gibbs led the boys still at school through their morning routine. He was curious that a boy from as much wealth as DiNozzo was said to be from was still at school for the Thanksgiving holiday. When he asked him about it, the kid shrugged and said that he didn’t want to go to the stuffy family dinner they were having back home.

Well Gibbs couldn’t blame him for that.

That evening, once campus was quiet, turkey was eaten, and Kelly and Shannon were both sleeping, Jethro decided that he wanted to hit the gym for a bit.

He was surprised when he found Tony there, working at the punching bag. Without gloves. Sweat was pouring down his face and blood was dripping from his busted knuckles.

“DiNozzo! What the hell are ya doin?”

Tony didn’t stop; it was as though he never even heard his D.I. speak to him. Gibbs approached him from his side�"he knew better than to sneak up on people while they were in fight mode. That was a one way ticket straight to dead. Even from a kid.

He made sure Tony saw him before he spoke again. “Tony?”

Tony froze. That was the first time his D.I. had ever called him by his first name. He looked up. Nearly immediately he snapped to attention.

“Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, Sir!”

Gibbs sighed. “At ease Tony.” Immediately Tony relaxed.

“So uh…Tony…you seem a little tense. You alright?”

“Mostly Sir.”

“Mostly?”

Tony sighed. For some reason he was always so damn honest with this man. He could lie to anyone except Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. “Today is a hard day, Sir,” he said softly.

Gibbs leaned against the wall and crossed his arms comfortably over his chest. “Why’s that Tony? Something happen?”

Tony sighed again, and to his horror, felt tears filling his eyes. Jesus. “It’s just uh,” he sniffed, “that a year ago today…” he sniffed again, he would NOT cry, “a year ago today my mother died.”

Gibbs looked at Tony. He didn’t see the cocky teenager he was so used to handling. He saw a scared, sad, little boy who wanted his mommy.

“Tony you know it’s ok to miss your mom.”

Tony nodded.

“It’s ok to be sad.”

“I know.”

“It’s even ok for you to cry about it if you need to.”

Tony snorted at this. “DiNozzos do NOT cry, Sir.”

“Maybe not, but kids cry when their mom dies. It’s just something that happens.”

Tony met Gibbs with a hard stare. “I’m not a ‘kid whose mom died.’ I’m a son who lost his mother. Trust me�"to my dad, there’s a huge difference. And DiNozzos do not cry for any reason�"not even the death of their own mothers.”

“Nope, you beat the shit out of punching bags instead. Am I right?”

Tony’s stare remained hard, but softened a bit around the edges. “You’re right,” he whispered.

“We could spar you know.”

“What, like us fight?”

Gibbs chuckled. “Yes, like ‘us fight.’”

“I don’t know Sergeant…”

“Hey Tony…my mom died when I was sixteen as well. I know what you’re going through. First year is toughest. It never goes away, but it gets easier. Sparring helps. Trust me?”

“I always trust you Sergeant.”

“Then put on your gloves and your game face kid, and prepare to have your ass handed to you.”

Tony just laughed…until Gibbs threw the first punch…

Rhode Island Military Academy
Newport, Rhode Island
Monday, March 17, 1986

When Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs entered the barracks at 0458, he was shocked to see DiNozzo awake already. He was dressed, bed was made, and he was reading one of his textbooks.

Gibbs had to admit (once again) that he was impressed by this young man. It seemed to everyone that all DiNozzo really needed was some rigid structure. He was a lighthearted boy, liked to tell jokes and play pranks, but deep down there was something so serious, so bone weary about this boy, that he often seemed much older than his years.

Gibbs knew that last weekend DiNozzo’s father had come to visit and Tony (as he liked to be called) was given some leave from the school. He figured this morning would be a repeat of the first morning they’d met when DiNozzo had slept through Gibbs’ wake up call. He was therefore, totally surprised when he saw the boy wide awake.

“Didn’t expect to see you awake so early this morning, Lance Corporal DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo’s head shot up, surprised to be snuck up on. Immediately he was on his feet at attention. Gibbs raised one eyebrow. “At ease, Tony.”

Tony relaxed and sat back down. Gibbs could tell something was bothering the boy; he hadn’t said a word, but emotion radiated off of him.

“Everything alright, Soldier?”

Tony nodded affirmatively. Gibbs hollered out the wake up call and DiNozzo snapped to attention once again with the others, only to be caught midstride by a stab of pain eliciting a gasp (more like a squeak) from DiNozzo’s lips before he could stop it. Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. There was a story here. He’d find his way to the end of it.

D.I. Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs barked out his orders for the platoon’s morning workout and training. The boys took off on their daily run (they had all progressed up to five miles a day now), and DiNozzo was noticeably lagging behind. Gibbs let out a long breath.

“DINOZZO!”

Tony stopped midstride and, from the looks of it, nearly fell over. Gibbs’ eyes narrowed even more. He could easily see in the early morning light that the kid’s coloring was bad and it looked like he couldn’t catch his breath. Breath he didn’t normally lose… Gibbs motioned for Tony to join him.

“At ease Tony. You alright?”

There was no denying that Sgt. Gibbs was the hardest D.I. the platoon had ever had. However, there was also no denying the mutual respect between the Gunny and “his boys” as he affectionately referred to them. The boys knew they could talk to their Gunny if they needed to, and they knew if they had a problem, Sgt. Gibbs always had their six.

Tony nodded. “Fine Sgt. Gibbs.”

Gibbs’ narrowed his eyes. “Try again.”

“I’m fine Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, Sir. Sorry for messing up your title, Sir.”

The headslap came out of nowhere, and nearly knocked Tony off his feet. His vision swirled for a moment and he fought down a wave of nausea.

“That’s not what I meant DiNozzo and you’re deflecting. Try again. Are. You. Okay?”

For a split second, Tony thought about lying. But there was something about this man…he couldn’t be dishonest with him. Sgt. Gibbs was the best person Tony had ever known! Sgt. Gibbs cared for his platoon�"Tony easily saw that. He knew he could talk to this man�"knew he could tell him everything…but…ah what the hell…

“No sir. I don’t think I am.”

Gibbs’ brow furrowed together like it did when he was thinking hard and concentrating on something. He kept his voice toned soft, and joined Tony on the bench.

“What’s going on?”

Tony stared at his lap. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…

“It’s probably nothing but some bruises, Sgt. Gibbs. I fell down some stairs while I was out with my father…guess I landed wrong; I’ve been sore ever since. And I’ve had a headache since it happened too.”

Gibbs’ eyes narrowed again and his famous gut screamed at him.

“You fell down some stairs?”

Tony nodded and didn’t look Gibbs in the eye. Never a good sign.

“Did you get checked by the infirmary when you came back?”

Tony shook his head, still not looking up from his lap.

“Go get checked out as soon as breakfast is over. I need you in top form.”

“Yes Sir. You’re right Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”

“Don’t apologize; it’s a�"”

“Sign of weakness, Sir, yes Sir.”

Gibbs whacked DiNozzo on the back as he stood up. He drew back as though burned when Tony let out a shriek of pain. DiNozzo was a tough kid; he’d often downplay injuries in order to keep going. This was out of character for him.

“Tony? You ok?”

Tony’s face was creased with pain, eyes shut, and his mouth was drawn into a thin line. He was breathing shallowly, trying not to aggravate whatever injuries he had further.

Gibbs signaled to one of the other DIs and got him to take over for him. Then he headed back toward the barracks.

“DiNozzo, you’re with me.”

Inside the barracks, Gibbs instructed Tony to take off his t-shirt. Tony’s shoulders slumped, but he did not disobey the instructions.

Gibbs couldn’t contain the shocked gasp that escaped his lips when he saw Tony’s torso. Tony’s ribcage was a mass of bruises in varying shades of healing. Blues, purples, greens, and some yellow around the edges made DiNozzo’s chest and back look like an abstract painting.

“My God Tony what in hell happened to you?”

This time, when Gibbs yelled (he couldn’t control his anger that this boy had been hurt so badly) Tony did the unimaginable. He flinched. Immediately, Gibbs’ tone softened and his gut screamed.

“Listen to me Tony. Look at me. C’mon, look up here. I’m not angry with you. But I need for you to tell me the truth about what happened to you. You did not get these bruises from falling down the stairs. What really happened?”

Tony faltered for a moment. “Can…Can I please put my shirt back on, Sir?”

Gibbs nodded and Tony quickly hid the offending bruises. “Now tell me what happened.”

Rhode Island Military Academy
Newport, Rhode Island
Tuesday, March 18, 1986

Once Gibbs finished up the platoon’s morning workout and training, he sent them off to breakfast. He quickly made his way over to the infirmary to check on DiNozzo. After Tony told him about the beating his father had given him over the weekend, Gibbs had taken Tony to get checked out. Concerned by the extent of the bruising and the concussion, the doctor in the infirmary opted to keep him for some tests and observations. Tony had been frightened; had begged the doctor not to tell his father because that would only lead to him getting in more trouble for being a bother.

Gibbs had stayed with Tony until they gave him something to help him rest. Then he’d assured the young man he would be back the following day to check on him. He’d stopped by the Commander’s office and let him know what was going on.

At the end of the day he was eager to go home. That night Jethro held his baby daughter close to him and kissed her forehead and counted her fingers and toes and wondered how in the world anyone could be so mean to their own child.

Tony was still sleeping when Gibbs arrived. Not wanting to wake him if he was getting some obviously much needed rest, Gibbs simply sat in the bedside chair and waited. About 30 minutes passed before Tony groaned. Gibbs was immediately on his feet, stroking his fingers through the boy’s hair, reassuring him that he was safe, and that Gibbs had his six. Finally Tony blinked his eyes open, though Gibbs could immediately tell, even before he spoke, that Tony was still very heavily medicated.

“Daddy?”

Gibbs’ heart wrenched at the vulnerability he heard in the young man’s voice.

“Shh Tony, it’s Gibbs. Your father isn’t here. You’re in the infirmary at school. You’re safe.”

Gibbs tried hard not to be too amazed at the way Tony immediately calmed at his words. He stared up at his D.I. wondering what in the world the man was doing here.

“’m I in t-t-trouble, S-s-sir,” he slurred.

Gibbs cracked a half smile. “No Tony you aren’t in trouble. The only thing you did wrong was not tell me immediately when your father hurt you. You can come to me with stuff like this, you know that.”

Tony nodded. His eyes drifted shut for a minute and Gibbs thought he’d gone back to sleep. The green eyes slid open one more time and barely focused on Gibbs.

“Heard…you gotta…little girl?”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Yes Tony. I have a daughter. What about her?”

“How old’s she?”

Gibbs tried not to chuckle at the badly slurred sentences flowing out of the boy’s mouth.

“She’s not quite a year old yet, Tony. Why?”

Green eyes slid shut again. “Too young…” he murmured.

“Too young for what? Tony what the hell are you talking about? Wake up!” Gibbs tapped him firmly on top of his head.

Tony’s eyes didn’t open. “Too young…doesn’t know…how lucky she is…”

Gibbs’ brow furrowed in confusion. The kid wasn’t making any sense.

“Tony I think it’s your medication talking. Why don’t you get some rest? I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s Kelly lucky about?”

Tony smiled as he drifted off to sleep. “You’re her daddy…”

For one split second, tough-as-nails Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs thought he might cry.

Rhode Island Military Academy
Newport, Rhode Island
Friday, June 6, 1986

Graduation from high school was a big deal for any kid. It was a day for celebrating a milestone. You got presents, sometimes you got cake, you got recognition, and you’re graduating from high school�"you got to be a grown up finally! The boys were all tittering with excitement about the upcoming ceremony and the reception with their families afterwards.

All except one.

Tony’s bag was packed. His belongings all fit into one duffle, unlike the other boys who had several bags apiece. He’d run his final run (up to 8 miles now, much to Gibbs’ satisfaction), done his final pushup, taken his final test, and shined his shoes one final time. He was dressed in his Dress Whites as was the requirement for any student graduating. He sat on his bare rack, bag at his feet, and stared at his shoes.

He heard footsteps behind him and bristled. The moment had come. Time to face the music. He knew that the next few hours would be grueling, and that being under such close scrutiny from everyone would be difficult. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for one moment, then stood up and turned around to face his father.

Only his father wasn’t standing there.

“Sergeant Gibbs! You surprised me, Sir, I wasn’t expecting�"that is, I mean I thought that�"uh…”

Gibbs tried not to laugh at the young man floundering before him. The headslap stopped his near incoherent ramblings.

“Yes Sir. Shutting up Sir. Thank you Sir.”

“I have a message for you.”

“A message for me? Who would be sending me a�"” he stopped, suddenly he understood. His father wasn’t coming. “Oh.”

Gibbs held out the slip of paper and handed it to him.

“It seems as though your father’s flight was cancelled due to a storm.”

Tony kept his eyes on the phone message in his hands. He didn’t dwell on the fact that his fingers were trembling. He didn’t dwell on the fact that he would be the only person in the graduating class who didn’t have a parent to hand him his diploma. He didn’t dwell on the fact that his eyes were stinging. All he saw were the words on the page.

Flight was cancelled.

“Did he send me a plane ticket?”

“What?” Gibbs looked up at him, confused.

“My father. Did he send me a plane ticket so I can go home when this is all over?”

Gibbs’ gut rolled as he recalled the words his father had spoken to him on the phone only a few minutes earlier. He took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“No Tony. He didn’t.”

Tony looked at him then.

“Well then how am I…oh…” he nodded, “Oh I understand. I get it. Ok. Thanks Sergeant. You’ve been great.”

Tony stood tall and held out his hand to his mentor, and dare he say it?�"his friend.

Gibbs shook his hand. “Tony I have something to ask you.”

Tony was back to staring at his shoes. “Yes Sir?”

“I was curious as to whether you had anyone else coming to graduation today?”

“No Sir. My father is the only living relative I know of, Sir. My mother died last year.”

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Tony, would you like me to give you your diploma and rank during the ceremony?”

Tony’s eyes shot up. “Oh um…no Sir, thank you Sir, but that’s not necessary. I’m sure you’ll want to save that privilege for your daughter, not waste your first ‘giving away’ on some stupid kid who�"”

The headslap stopped him. A finger under his chin lifted his gaze to meet the ice blue eyes staring at him.

“It would not be a waste. And you are not a stupid kid. I would be honored to give your diploma to you.”

Tony let a small smile raise the corners of his lips.

“But that’s something that only parents do for their kids. Sir?”

“You’re exactly right Tony.”

“Then why…” Tony lifted a hopeful gaze up to meet Jethro’s. “You…really?”

Gibbs nodded. “We’re having a cookout this evening at my house too. You should come. Stay the weekend. We’ll help you figure out what you’re next move will be.”

Later at the ceremony, Anthony DiNozzo sat straight and tall, finally excited to be a part of the festivities. The A names were called, then the B names. There was quite a few C names and finally the D names began. Tony stood with his row and marched to the stairs. One by one his peers met their parents on the stage, received their diplomas and rank, shook the Commander’s hand, and smiled for a photograph. Something in his gut fluttered as he watched his D.I. approach the podium.

“Sergeant Anthony DiNozzo. With honors.”

Tony made his way across the stage, shook hands with Gibbs, accepted his diploma and his new rank stripe on his uniform. He turned and shook hands with the Commander and smiled for the photograph with Gibbs. Gibbs’ hand was on his shoulder and Tony saw for the first time, what the man looked like when he REALLY smiled. Not the half grin he usually saw, but a full on, bright, toothy smile, filled with pride.

Was Gibbs proud of him?

Later on that evening, Tony sat on the steps on the back porch at Gibbs’ house. Kelly was toddling around the yard and Gibbs was on his hands and knees playing with her while the steaks cooked. Suddenly overcome with emotion, Tony sprang from the porch and ran for the gate. Gibbs passed Kelly off to Shannon and went after him.

It took Gibbs a couple of blocks to catch up with him, and when he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to stop him, he was surprised to find it violently shrugged off.

“DON’T!”

Gibbs blinked. “Don’t what Tony?”

Tony blinked back. “Don’t, Sir,” he replied automatically.

Gibbs shook his head. “No, no, no, what don’t you want me to do?”

“Don’t make me go back!”

“Go back where? Tony what’s got you so upset?”

“I’m sorry you’ve been great, and Mrs. Gibbs has been great as well, but I just can’t sit there and be happy with you all knowing…” he broke off, choking on the emotion in his throat. Oh God, he wasn’t going to cry was he? Not NOW…

Gibbs regarded him carefully, a hand on each shoulder now, squeezing gently. “Knowing what, Tony?”

“Knowing that tomorrow I’m going to wake up and you’re going to make me leave! I can’t stay because if I stay I won’t be able to stand it when you send me away. Please, just let me go! I can’t do this!”

Gibbs pulled Tony into a fierce hug. “You think I’m just going to toss you out? That I’m not going to help you anymore, that I’m going to make you figure it all out by yourself?”

Gibbs’ heart broke when Tony nodded his head. Yes, that’s exactly what he thought.

“Oh no Tony, that isn’t it. Not at all,” Gibbs murmured. “I always wanted a son, Tony…but Kelly…she’s all we’re ever going to be able to have. You, Tony, are the closest thing to a son I’m ever going to get.”

Tony blinked at him. He didn’t know what to say.

“You…you want me to be your son?”

“If that’s what you would like, I would be honored to call you my son.”

Tony started to pull back. He shook his head. “No…no what about your wife? And Kelly? I’m not her brother! She’ll feel like I’m trying to steal you away that�"”

“Hey shh…it’s not like that. I talked it over with Shannon months ago. She adores you. And Kelly has really taken to you as well, and she doesn’t normally do that.”

“Yeah, she’s like her dad,” Tony quipped then slapped a hand over his mouth to keep the offending words inside, eyes wide in horror at what he’d just said. But Gibbs just laughed.

“You’re probably right. So what do ya say?”

“I don’t have any money or anything. I have nothing to give you?”

“You’ve given me everything I wanted Tony. And you have a home with us for as long as you want or need it.”

Tony gasped. “You mean it? Really?”

Gibbs nodded. Tony smiled. “I’ll try to be the best son for you that I can. I’m not very good at it though; Father says that I’m�"”

Gibbs put a finger over Tony’s lips. “Shh…you’re fine. Just like you are. Just be yourself. The rest will take care of itself. Alright?”

Tony nodded.

Gibbs smiled�"the real smile�"again. “Well then it’s settled. C’mon Tony. Let’s go home.”

From the porch, Shannon Gibbs smiled as she watched the father with his new son come through the gate. The fun was only just beginning…

End.