The male human body is a design wonder. Like it's female counterpart, it houses blood, bone, tissue, muscle, and all matter that makes it the same as the others of it's species but, also, the genetic code that makes it uniquely different. It is those differences in the species that insures the survival of the fittest and the evolving continuation of the race of man. But, unlike the human female, who carries and shields her reproductive organs within the protection of her body, the male of the species is designed to go through life with his sexual organs all but exposed to the world.

From infancy, a male will locate his genitals and, as he ages, proceed to touch, grab, kneed, fondle, stroke, and engage in any kind of tactile stimulation he can get away with before someone, usually a female, will gently redirect the questing hands or, more likely, say or do something to embarrass the young male into believing the touching of his genitalia is not only unacceptable, it is perverted.

As the boy continues to grow, the touches become more refined, more distinctive. He learns his body will respond differently to a variety of sensations and his exploring touches can bring profound self-pleasure. The erections he experienced as an infant or as a toddler served no function but, as puberty nears, he realizes he has another purpose in society. He watches tv, sees movies, hears adults and his friends talk, and, suddenly, he has a small understanding of his role in life. If he is given the correct information and guidance concerning his role, he will easily grasp the complex concept of responsibility and maturity. If, on the other hand, he is left to wade through the mountains of garbage produced by advertisers and hype-masters, his concept can become clouded and tentative. Even warped. He may believe his role as a male in today's society means he has to always be strong, always be in control, and always do everything to fulfill his one, true nature: spreading his seed.

Almost any male can become a father by simple biology alone. Sperm production begins, for the human male, at puberty and continues throughout life, with several hundred billion sperm produced daily during prime age. Ironically, it takes only one of these tiny DNA carriers to fertilize a human female so, depending on the age and hormonal development of the male donor, fatherhood can arrive as early as ten or eleven years of age and continue until the male is very elderly. The joining of the male and female doesn't always produce a child but, if the female is in the correct place of her monthly cycle and has no condition to hamper conception, the result of intercourse is pregnancy.

"She said she was on the pill."

"And you *believed* her?"

"Why would she lie to me about something like that?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I don't know."

The woman could only shake her head and frown at the pale, bleak face. "It sounds like you didn't take the time to do much thinking about anything at all."

Jethro Gibbs sat silently at the wooden table in the cheerfully painted kitchen of Candace DiNozzo's home and listened as she continued to interrogate the teenage boy, watching the youth shift and squirm under the intense scrutiny of the two adults flanking him. Tony pulled nervously at the sleeve of his worn and faded t-shirt before leaning back in his chair and dropping his hands to his lap with a soft sigh. The boy raised his eyes to the man, hoping to receive some support or, at the very least, some indication he was even going to try and help deflect some of Candace's anger. Tony searched his Gunny's closed face and saw nothing of the intimate connection they'd shared only seven hours earlier and ended up forcing his eyes away from the distant, blue gaze, turning back to submit to more of the woman's ire.

"I'll do whatever you want, Candace," he whispered. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

Candace sat and carefully eyed the boy before taking a slow, calming sip of her beverage. They'd all been up for less than an hour and, as the day slipped closer to mid-afternoon, had congregated in the kitchen around the table, knowing they needed to address the problems at hand as soon as possible. She desperately wanted Jethro's input concerning the restrictions she intended to implement but, after getting his phone call from Carolyn shortly before eight o'clock this morning, he'd been unusually quiet and withdrawn, even from Tony. Candace cast a quick look in his direction and saw the worried frown marring his smooth forehead and the untouched mug of now-cold coffee resting by one of his hands. Something was wrong, she was sure of it, but knew her attention had to stay focused on what was happening under her own roof. She looked back toward Tony.

"I'll set up an appointment for you to be examined and tested by Doctor Reynolds as soon as possible," she said and watched as the teen's face flooded with shame. "I guess we'll just have to wait to see whether you become a father or not. Did Josh have sex with this girl? Do I need to call the Fitchetola's and pass on this little tidbit of information, too?"

"No," Tony answered quickly, eyes darting in Jethro's direction. "He...he didn't have sex with her last night."

Candace nodded and leaned her elbows on the flat surface. "Jethro believes you when you say it was your first time for intercourse. I can't give you the benefit of the doubt so, I need to hear you say it in front of both of us. Have you had other sexual partners?"

"No," Tony looked directly at her, trying to convey his honesty with his eyes. "I never did it before last night."

"Even during those times you snuck out of the house?"

"Yes."

Candace shifted and pinned him with her brown eyes. "If you weren't out participating in sex, just what did you do when you went out behind my back? What was so important you had to decieve me like that?"

Tony lowered his eyes and shrugged. "Nothing."

Candace frowned and shook her head at the boy. "And that's precisely why I can't trust you anymore. I know you tell me there are things that 'belong just to you' and I know you don't want, for whatever reason, to tell me what's going on but, Tony, you're fourteen years old. Why do you even think you can keep things from me? I cannot and will not allow you to continue like this. Do you *really* want to stay here with me?"

The boy's hope-filled eyes rose instantly. "Yes!"

"Than we have to start right now, today. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tony breathed expectantly. "Just...just tell me what you want."

"I want to know what you did when you snuck out, that's what I want!" Candace was rapidly loosing any shread of patience she had and felt a sharp pang of regret when Tony flinched back at her words. They'd already gone round and round on this subject and it was difficult for her to comprehend why he would choose to remain so tight-lipped. "If you weren't engaging in sex, were you out drinking? Or doing drugs?"

"God, no!" Tony's face scrunched into a semblance of pain, his hands clenching into tight fists.

"Than what?" She demanded. "Just tell me what you did!"

"I...I can't," he whispered, pressing his fists against his forehead. "Please...I just can't tell you anything about that. I just can't."

Candace gritted her teeth at his continued stubbornness, cast a quick glance across the table at Jethro, and sat back in her seat, struggling to get her anger under control. Taking a deep breath, she pulled a sheet of paper from one of her pockets and unfolded it on the hard surface under her hands. "I have a list of things you're going to start doing immediately. First, you're going to get the tool box, go upstairs, and remove your door."

"Candace," Jethro finally spoke up, surprising the other two, "can we talk about this?"

"The door is non-negotiable, Jethro. I want it off today," she looked at Tony's agonized face. "If you can prove to be more trustworthy in the future, I'll consider allowing you to put it back. Do you understand?"

Tony could only nod, deflated by the instructions. He knew this was going to happen but, deep down, had hoped Candace would show a little pity and change her mind. The only place he'd ever had where he could be all alone was his room...and the bathroom...and, now, it looked like his one area of peaceful solitude and sanctuary was gone. He blearily watched her small hands smooth at a wrinkle in the paper and sighed softly.

"After that's finished, now that the weather has improved, I want you to take the ladder around the side of the house and trim back the branches from the tree where they extend closest to your window."

Again, Jethro spoke up. "Candace, the ground outside is saturated from all the rain. Even with my help, it's too dangerous to be working on the tree today. Can't it wait until another time?"

She listened to the man's advice and looked to the boy. "I don't know, Jethro. Maybe we should ask Tony that question. Can it wait until another time, Tony, or does it need to be done right away? Will the temptation be too great for you if those branches near your window aren't removed today?"

Jethro flicked his eyes toward Tony and could see how this was killing his soul. Before he could offer another thought, Tony whispered brokenly.

"I...I won't ever sneak out again. I will do everything you tell me to do. Please, Candace," he wiped a hand across his damp eyes and looked directly at her, "just...please."

Candace studied the boy's face and felt her heart soften. "I don't like being this way with you, Tony. I hate this more than anything in the whole world but I don't know what else to do. Jethro thinks you're going to end up hating me," she paused and looked toward the list in her grip without really seeing it, "and he's probably right. But it's my responsibility to keep you safe during the next few years while you're still legally under my care. If I can succeed in doing that, I'll be happy. When I closed my eyes last night, I had this horrible image of you someplace away from home, hurt, and I didn't know where you were or how to find you. It was one of the most terrifying thoughts I've ever had. I can't live like that, Tony. I *won't* live like that. Until you're eighteen years old, you've got to do things my way or...or you can go live with your grandfather."

Tony swallowed thickly. "I want to stay here with you."

Candace nodded and refocused on her list again, gathering a bit of strength. "The other things we touched on are important, too, but I'm willing to make a few adjustments."

"Adjustments?" Tony's voice and face reflected his hope.

"I've decided to let you stay on the baseball team. The season will be over the middle of next month and school will be out shortly after that. I don't think it's fair to the coach or the other players to pull you away now so, I'll permit you to go to practices and games as long as there's no other contact with any of those boys outside of school situations."

"Even Josh?" Tony asked, the spark of hope dimming quickly.

"Yes, even Josh," she affirmed and saw his shoulders sag. "Josh is in a lot of trouble with his own parents right now, Tony. You aren't the only one who's paying a price today. Mr. Fitchetola called the authorities after he left here last night and the police responded to the call he made concerning the party. From what I've heard so far today, a number of very disturbing things were found at that house." She paused and reached out to gently touch his arm. "You had enough sense to leave when you did, I realize that now, but it still doesn't excuse the fact you disobeyed me in the first place."

Tony nodded silenty, gladdened by the soft contact of her warm hand on the bare skin of his forearm. Slowly, he drifted his fingers over hers until she turned her wrist and reached to grasp his hand firmly. The connection was rebuilding but they both knew it would take much more than this to get them back where they needed to be.

"Candace," his voice was low but his eyes were intense with feeling. "I know there is nothing I can say to you to make up for all the hurt I've caused and nothing I do will ever change the mistakes I've made...but I'm so sorry. I don't know what I can do to make things right between us. Tell me what I can do, please. I can't...I can't stand being like this with you either." Tony bent forward until he could rest his forehead against their joined hands. "Just tell me what to do. Please."

Jethro sat back and carefully observed the interaction between the woman and the teenager, hoping to see them connect the way he knew they should and could. Tony was clearly desperate in his desire to make things right, willing to give up everything, and do anything to prove he was going to behave. Everything, that is, except the reason for his excursions out the window. Jethro could see Candace was touching the youth with real love and affection but could still detect the hard edge of betrayal in her eyes. This was going to take a very long time if Tony continued his path of silence.

"There's one more adjustment I'm making and I want to be sure Jethro hears this," she said and watched until Tony's head came up. "You are *not* going to be spending every weekend at your grandfather's..."

"Thank you," Tony breathed in relief and slumped forward before she could finish her thought.

"...but will start with one weekend a month until Foster and Elizabeth can work out their own problems."

Jethro wanted to know the precise details of Senator Hathaway's little trophy wife's encounters with Tony at their mansion but didn't know quite how to breach the subject diplomatically. Hell, who was he kidding? He didn't need to be diplomatic around these two people.

"What exactly happened with Mrs. Hathaway?" He asked as casually as he could and saw Tony immediately cringe. He focused on Candace's face and watched as her lips compressed into a thin, white line. The information wasn't going to be coming from her.

"Tony? I think you should be the one to answer my question."

Tony straightened up and squirmed again in his seat, obviously not comfortable with the idea but willing to do anything he was asked to do. He turned so his body was facing more toward his Gunny but kept his eyes lowered to the table top.

"What do you want to know?"

Jethro glanced back to the woman and saw her nod. Whatever Tony was going to confess was all right with her. He scooted his chair closer to the youth, lightly placed a comforting hand on Tony's nearest shoulder, and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Candace told me a little. She said your grandfather's wife..."

"Elizabeth," Tony offered quietly without looking up.

"Elizabeth," Jethro conceded and continued. "Candace said Elizabeth has been giving you alcohol."

"Yes."

Jethro looked at the lowered head and squeezed the slim shoulder under his hand. "Come on, Tony, don't make me play twenty questions here. Just tell me when it all started and go from there."

The boy nodded and took a deep breath. "I guess it started around Thanksgiving or Christmas. It was during a real fancy dinner...fancier than usual...and both Grandfather and Elizabeth were drinking wine with the meal. Elizabeth suggested I have a small glass with them to celebrate the season or something like that...I forget why. Anyway, after that she would always pour me a glass when we had dinner by ourselves."

"Your grandfather not there often?" Jethro asked calmly.

Tony shrugged. "Sometimes he'd get called away or he had to attend some benefit. Elizabeth would stay home with me so I wouldn't have to be alone."

"I see. So, she continued to give you wine. Did she force you to drink it?"

Tony made some kind of face but it was hard to see while he had his head angled down. "No. If I told her I didn't want any, she'd just say she didn't like to drink alone, that it made her sad to drink alone. She seems to be sad an awful lot, especially lately." Tony frowned as he thought about it and blinked hard. "Anyway, she said all the kids in France drink wine, even the little ones, and thought I should start drinking it when we were together, especially if I was going to go with them to France sometime. She said Grandfather would be proud to see me so grown-up looking."

"You just drink at dinner?"

"No," the teen shook his head. "A couple of times when I was swimming, she'd come in to watch. She'd usually just have her own glass with her but, sometimes, she'd bring a whole bottle and a glass for me and want me to drink with her. She'd sit on the side of the pool and we'd talk. She'd tell me how lonely she was in that big house and how much better she always felt when I was there to keep her company. I once told her if I had an indoor pool like they did, I'd be swimming all I could and never have time to be lonely or sad. Elizabeth just laughed at me and said she didn't like the water that much. She just wanted to sit and talk. And drink."

"You ever get drunk?"

"No," he finally met Jethro's keen gaze. "I got a buzz one time but her wine always gave me a headache so I would only drink one glass."

"Elizabeth get drunk?"

Tony nodded. "Yes."

"A lot?"

Jethro looked toward Candace and saw her worrying her lower lip with her teeth. They both were aware Elizabeth had been nude in front of the boy but Jethro wanted to know exactly what the situation had been.

"Yeah," the teen shrugged.

"Is that when she'd take off her clothes? When she was drunk?"

Tony squirmed. "Yes."

"Don't start clamming up on me now," Jethro swallowed his anger, trying to remember none of this was Tony's fault. "Tell me."

Tony licked his lips nervously. "She came to the pool one evening when Grandfather was away. I was almost done swimming and getting ready to get out when she just...took off her shirt and pants and waded in. I...I didn't know what to say or do, so I just stood there. Then she took off her underwear."

"She touch you?"

The boy's usually bright eyes seemed muted and dull but he maintained his gaze with his Gunny. "Yes. Just...once."

"Tell me."

"I knew she was drunk before she took her clothes off. She'd been saying stuff to me for a long time about how handsome I was and how I was growing up to be such a big, strong young man and all this other crap," Tony sighed and rolled his eyes at the memory. "Grandfather would always smile at her if she said things like that to me when he was around but, if he wasn't there and she was drinking a lot, she'd always end up getting real close to me. Made me feel strange."

The trio was silent as the boy shifted and turned to look out the window over the kitchen sink, his mind's eye seeing something other than the afternoon sun trying to break through the remaining cloud cover. Jethro continued his visual assessment and had to grudgingly agree with Elizabeth's appraisal of the youth: Tony was handsome, the hours of physical activity making him lean, strong, and sound of body. He was going to be a real heartbreaker in years to come, there was no way around it.

"When she was naked in the pool, I got a har..." he stopped abruptly as he remembered where he was and who was sitting with him, "...I got...um...excited. She's very pretty and has really nice...breasts."

Jethro saw Candace's face flame with embarrassment but shot her a warning glance, trying to make sure she didn't distract the boy anymore than her presence was at the moment. She looked across the table, saw his forewarning, and immediately lowered her gaze, keeping a tight reign on her emotions.

"She started touching herself," Tony continued softly, "and then asked me if I was a virgin. I...I just stood there in the shallow end like a big dummy and she just kept getting closer and closer. She put her hand on my chest," unconsciously, the teen lightly touched the skin over his sternum with his fingertips, "and pushed me back until I was against the side of the pool. She...she just leaned close and sort of...rubbed."

"Okay," Jethro had heard enough and watched as the youth shook the memory away and turned back to face him. "Was that the only time she got physical with you?"

Tony nodded and seemed, somehow, older. "She'd flash some skin or make some comment when we were alone but never did anything like that again."

"And you never told your grandfather?"

"Gunny, what would I say to him? He really loves her a lot and it would hurt him so bad to know she was doing stuff like that. I may not like him all the time but I'm not going to hurt him. Besides, he'd probably believe her before he'd believe anything I'd say."

Jtehro nodded. He could understand the boy wanting to protect his grandfather's feelings, especially when it came to love but, hell, if he was in Hathaway's shoes, he'd sure want to know what his wife was doing. He pushed those thoughts away and rose from the table, looking down at the boy.

"Go get the tool box," he directed the youth. "Let's get your door off the hinges."

Tony sighed but rose to follow his orders. "Yes, sir."

When he was gone from the kitchen, Jethro turned to Candace. "We'll take care of the door. Maybe, now that I've got him talking, I can get him to tell me about this sneaking out secret."

Candace nodded and got to her feet, too, moving to stand next to the sink. "Jethro, he's holding back, even though he knows it could mean the difference between me trusting him again or not, and still refuses to tell. I'm...well, I'm almost afraid of what it is."

"You really have no idea what it could be?"

"Absolutely none. If it's not sex or alcohol or drugs, I wouldn't know why a boy his age would feel compelled to sneak out."

Jethro shook his head, at a loss, too. "Well, I won't push too hard but I'm going to try."

"Okay," she smiled weakly and then headed for the refrigerator, pulling the heavy door open. "You guys take care of the door and I'm going to start thinking about dinner."

"Hey, don't go to any trouble. I'd be more than happy to take you guys out tonight."

"That's so sweet, Jethro, but I was planning on making meatloaf tonight and..."

Jethro was suddenly at her side, one hand snaking around her shoulder. "Your famous, homemade, old-fashioned meatloaf? With the little bits of onion and green pepper and garlic?"

Candace laughed at his dreamy expression. "Yes. Lord, you men are all alike! I knew you'd change your mind when I told you what I was going to have. Tony feels the same way about it and, let's face it, we all could use some good old comfort food right about now."

"We'll go out tomorrow night," he suggested.

She gave him a sideways glance. "You're not heading home? I thought after Carolyn's call you'd be cutting this trip short. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Jethro covered the clenching of his stomach at her reminder by turning toward the door leading to the garage, watching as Tony re-entered with the box of tools. "She just needed to tell me something. It'll wait until I get there Monday."

Candace nodded but continued her visual evaluation. There was more to this than he was letting on but obviously didn't want to discuss it with her. Realistically, she knew, if it was something important, he'd already be on his way back to Norfolk.

"You ready, Gunny?" Tony asked bravely as he stepped toward the adults, red tool box gripped securely in his left hand.

"Yeah, let's do it."

The two males made it up the staircase much easier than they had the night before and set to work, Jethro content to stand back and direct Tony through the simple process of tapping the pins from the hinges and lifting the door away from the hardware. He watched the boy closely, giving constructive advice, and taking his time at really looking at the youth while he worked. He could see the teen glance suspiciously his way from time to time and knew he was aware of the silent scrutiny. Finally, after wrestling the door from the hinges, Tony moved the bulky panel into his room and carefully slid it under his bed, turning to sit on the floor and look back at Jethro when finished.

"Okay, Gunny," he said, drawing his long legs up and wrapping his arms around them, "you've been giving me 'the look' ever since we came up here. What's on your mind?"

"What kind of 'look' would that be?" Jethro asked as he moved from the open doorway and sat at the foot of the narrow bed, looking down into the green eyes.

"The look that says you've got more questions but you're not quite sure how to ask."

Jethro smiled into the upturned face. "You're a pretty smart kid, aren't you?"

Tony shook his head and looked away, fairly certain he already knew where the line of questioning was going to go. "If it's what I think it is, please don't ask. I won't tell you either."

Jethro regarded the boy and decided to see just how much he could push, regardless of what he'd told Candace. It was time for a little hardball.

"You still want me to find out what I can about your father?"

Tony's head whipped around, his eyes wide and mouth open. "You'd...you'd do it?"

"Sure," he said nonchanlantly, blue eyes slowly turning cool, "for a price."

Tony's blossoming smile wavered and died as he began to catch on. He was, indeed, a very smart boy.

"What's the price?"

"Tell me what you did when you snuck out."

The green eyes turned liquid with disbelief. "That's not fair, Gunny."

"I never told you it was going to be fair, Tony. I just asked if you wanted me to get some information for you," he met the testing gaze with an unflinching stare. "You just have to decide how important that information is to you."

"That's blackmail!" Tony was getting angry, lips compressing and breathing changing.

"No, it's not," Jethro leaned his elbows on his knees, bringing his face within inches of Tony's, letting the boy see how cold and calculating he could be. "That's getting something for a service provided. You tell me what I want to know and I'll find out what you want to know. Simple."

"I...I don't like you very much right now, Gunny," Tony whispered harshly, eyes tearing up again. He dropped his face to his raised knees and began to slowly rock back and forth, trying to come to grips with this new development.

Jethro bit the inside of his mouth and silently watched the teen, not the least bit surprised when the boy suddenly exploded off the floor and began pacing back and forth across the limited expanse of his room, casting quick, angry looks at Jethro at each turn. The young body was full of barely-restrained energy and it didn't look like it would take much to push him into a fit of rage. Knowing his intention wasn't to drive the teen to that point, Jethro opted to sit calmly as possible and wait until some of the excess anger bled away, giving the boy enough space to come to terms with the offer.

Finally, Tony stopped in front of the man and looked down into the upturned face, his trembling fists clenched tightly at his sides. He started to speak but nothing came out of his mouth, Frustrated, the teen turned away and stalked to the window, looking out into the weak mid-afternoon sunshine. When he finally found his voice, it was low and, surprisingly, steady.

"You can't tell Candace. I don't care if you make something else up but what I tell you has to stay just between us. If you can't promise me that, I'll...I'll just have to forget about my father for now."

He turned to look at Jethro and the man could see the anguish and the heartache those words had caused. But, he could also see a grim determination. If the boy was willing to forfeit his quest for information concerning his biological father in order to protect Candace, it must be something important. Jethro shifted on the bed.

"Tony, if what you tell me is potentially dangerous, I will have to tell her."

"It's not dangerous," the boy quickly argued. "It's..."

"What?" Jethro pushed when the teen stopped.

Tony turned away and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the windowpane. "It will hurt her and...and I've hurt her enough already."

Jethro frowned at the reasoning but made his decision. "Tell me."

Tony took a deep breath. "I always use to wonder about other families, even when I was a little kid, you know? I'd be at the grocery store with Candace or a ball game with Jimmy and see other kids with their moms or dads and just start feeling, I don't know...empty. It wasn't something I could talk about with my friends at school. They'd think I was crazy or stupid or something. I'm not even sure I could even make them understand what I was trying to find out. And I sure couldn't tell Candace or Jimmy I was feeling that way. They might have felt I didn't appreciate what they were doing for me or that I was unhappy and, I swear, I would never want them to feel that way. I tried, once, to talk to Doctor Amberg about my empty feeling but she was so wrapped up in all that shit I went through when I was little and didn't want to take time to discuss my feelings about families."

Jethro frowned at the words, confused at what he was hearing, not understanding how all this pieced together. Before he could pose a question, Tony continued.

"So, I figured I'd have to find out some things on my own. There was only so much I could see during the day when kids were at school and parents were at work, so I started going out at night, after I told Candace I was going to my room to do homework and then go to sleep."

Jethro was catching on...fast. He brought a hand to his mouth and gritted his teeth.

"When we lived in New York, it was easy just to go next door and look in of Jeffery and his folks. I'd...I'd look through the front window and watch them in front of the tv, seeing how they talked to each other and did things together. Jeffery had both his mom and his dad, for awhile, so it was really easy." A wistful smile appeared on Tony's face. "They'd sit around together and laugh or do silly, stupid stuff. It was...nice. After they got divorced, I started walking the neighborhood, going to other homes, trying to see other families where, you know, there was a real mom and dad."

"Tony..." Jethro tried to offer some words of comfort and understanding.

"I don't know why I kept doing it after Jimmy died but I did. It was like I had to look even harder. I love Candace and I know she loves me and I know Jimmy loved me, too, but they aren't my real parents, Gunny, and they let me know from the start I was just a relative they were raising. Please," he shook his head and faced the man, "don't get me wrong. This is not about Candace and Jimmy. It's about me and how I've always felt...different. I was the kid who's mom died before I got to know her, I was the kid who didn't know what 'mom' or 'dad' meant until someone explained it to me, I was the kid who's father gave away to someone else to raise. I always thought if I'd been a little bit better or a little bit quieter or a little bit smarter, maybe my father would have wanted to keep me and raise me himself. So, I watched other kids, saw how they acted around their parents, saw what they did to make them happy, heard what they said to make them smile."

"Did it help?" Jethro finally managed to ask.

Tony shrugged. "This thing with my father...I wouldn't want Candace to think it was because of anything she did or that I was unhappy with her. It's just..."

"What?" The man inquired gently, seeing the tears sparkling in Tony's eyes.

"I guess I just will never understand how someone can turn his back on his own child. Why didn't he want me, Gunny? I...I would have tried to be a good son for him. I tried with Uncle Robert but..."

"Tony, don't," Jethro was up and pulling the boy into a rough embrace, feeling the body beginning to shake. "Don't."

"How can someone make a baby and just act like it was nothing?" Tony's voice was slightly muffled against Jethro's shoulder and he was trying to control his emotions by holding on to his Gunny. "How could he do that? He...he didn't even give me a chance."

And when the tears began to flow, Jethro could only lower his head in shame and think of the child now growing inside Carolyn. Everything Tony had said were like blows against the carefully erected walls around his heart. There was a new life to consider and, as he pulled Tony tighter and listened to the youth's anguished sobs, he vowed never to make his own child ever feel unwanted or unloved.

It was time for Jethro Gibbs to go home.


FIN
Continued in, "Through the Years: Sixteen"