Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm not sure whether this will be a series of one shots or whether I will actually get around to putting out more chapters. My hope is that I will continue this story as I have many ideas for it floating around inside my head :D
My anti-drug is feedback! Be nice...or I won't like you. (just kidding ^_^ ).
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or Tony DiNozzo...however they do let me borrow him.
From where he sat, no one could reach him; he was safe up here.
The cool breeze glided softly past and gently tousled his hair making him remember. It was almost as if he could actually feel her loving affection through these seemingly random gusts of wind.
But she was no longer here. She was taken away from him. And as Anthony DiNozzo stared out into the night sky from his perch high up in his favorite sycamore tree, he let his previously held back tears flow silently down his face.
Right now he didn't care if Father said crying made him weak, his mother always told him his strength could not be defined by tears. So he let them fall silently wishing she could come back to him.
"Mother! I'm home!" little Anthony exclaimed as he ran through his giant home excited to show off his newly required A+ report card.
"Anthony, dear boy," Rosa, the DiNozzo's house keeper loudly chuckled at the boy's antics as he was now running around in circles with said report card in the shape of an airplane and was just about to launch it. "What are you up to? May I see please?"
"Um, sure I guess." Tony replied as he handed it over receiving a warm smile as Rosa read over the report. "Do you think father would be proud? 'Cuz I really tried harder this time and the last time I didn't do so well and he said that I'd have go for extra-"
"Oh! Don't worry Tonio, this is absolutely wonderful! I'm sure your father will be very proud of you." Rosa said with a smile that quickly faded when a loud crash from deep inside the house stole her attention away. "Why don't you go see if your mother's alright while I go and finish off those brownies you love so much." She said to the small boy who was nervously wringing his hands together.
"Alright" he said as he snatched his report card back and ran off in the direction of the piano room where his mother usually waited for him after school. He quickly pushed past the double French doors and into the room gaining speed and excitement rising. However, when the awful sight caught his eye, he stopped dead in his tracks. The big shiny A+ floated to the floor, forgotten.
"M...Mother?" Tony's voice cracked as he approached the figure dangling from the beamed ceiling next to his beloved piano. The piano seat was overturned beneath her feet and a glass of her mint julep was spilled all over the floor. "Are...are you okay?" He asked even though he knew she wouldn't be able to ever answer him.
"N..no, no, no, NO!" he yelled as he turned and ran from the room in the direction of his father's study.
"DADDY!" he screamed as he burst through the mahogany doors, the rules of knocking first and waiting to be addressed forgotten as his fear for his mother overrode any form of punishment he was sure to be rewarded with later.
"How many times have I instructed you never to interrupt me, boy!" the elder DiNozzo spat at his young son, but the boy was not listening as he disregarded his father's harsh reprimand and proceeded to speak.
"It's mother! She's just there..and something's wrong! And...and I wasn't there to help her..and I don't know what to-you have to help father. Please!" he said not waiting to see if his father was actually going to follow him as he turned around and headed back to the piano room that could no longer be what it always was; a happy and loving place where he and his mother would trade their love of music and stories.
His father's heavy footsteps resounded through the hallway as he reluctantly followed his only son into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his beloved wife. He pushed the small boy out of the way and ran over to her tugging the rope from around her neck and lowering her to the floor. He rocked her back and forth with a distant look on his face for a few minutes. Anthony Snr. closed his eyes for a moment and stopped rocking when he sensed the presence of another in the room. His eyes snapped open and revealed the raw angry emotion behind them; he stared daggers at his only son and screamed.
"THIS IS YOUR FAULT, BOY!"
"Wha? N...no, dad I didn't...I swear..I-I couldn't, she was like that when I got home!" he cried.
"Don't you even dare to call me 'dad!" the elder spat. "I've told you since the time you were old enough to understand that you are no son of mine. You are to only address me as 'Father' or 'Sir'...or have you forgotten that lesson?
Images of said lesson flashed through Tony's mind as he internally shuddered at the thought of going through another one. He didn't care if expensive leather belts made an equally as expensive Italian suit look better, they certainly did not do any wonders for his back. As a matter of fact he was pretty sure he still had the scars.
"No, da-sir. I haven't. I just..I needed you to help her and I just...I-" he wished that the water would stop leaking from the ceiling obstructing his vision-oh wait. Tears? Maybe his father wouldn't notice.
"And now you're crying."
"God, you're so weak Anthony. The only woman I've ever loved is dead because of you and do you see me crying? No! Because I am not weak. And now I no longer have to keep-"
Anthony wondered if he should mention that the waterworks were indeed flowing from his father's eyes but thought better of it and instead stared sadly at his mother.
"...now boy!" his father had apparently given an order which he hadn't heard. "I said clean up this mess while I go make a call! Tony thought he heard his father mumble something along the lines of 'worthless waste of space' before he exited the room but that couldn't be right. Could it? He set to work picking up the chair and placing it back underneath the piano. He went over to the split alcohol and started picking up the little pieces of glass. He didn't even feel the shards pierce his skin as they left his hand and fell to the trashcan. When the work was done his spotted his mother, still lying on the floor where his father had left her. He slowly approached her and took her limp hand in his. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry mother."
He frowned as the memory he tried so hard to forget came rushing back to him. Maybe if he had gotten home sooner, she wouldn't be gone. If he'd been a little taller maybe he could have gotten her down from the ceiling. But he knew now that what-if's were a moot point and nothing he could have done would have been enough to save his mother.
From the outside, the DiNozzo's house looked warm and inviting; people driving past it would stop and stare in awe.
Tony wished he could tell them that things weren't always as they seem. Warm and inviting was definitely not what this house had in store for him or for anyone, really. The only reason Rosa had stayed was for the pay check she received each week to keep her family off the streets; however she always said she stayed to keep him out of trouble.
But she was gone now too. His father had seen her comforting Tony after a particularly dreadful 'lesson' and had been promptly fired. "The DiNozzo men do not need coddling!" were the last words spoken to Rosa.
Tony had been upset. Rosa had been the only one after his mother's death who had cared for him.
Well, no, actually he did have the chef, Mr. Scoledario, but Tony found him to be a bit…creepy.
Heavy footsteps and a loud voice brought Tony's thoughts back to the present. His name was being yelled from somewhere deep inside the big house. He was only ten years old, but he could definitely tell the difference between his father's varying degrees of drunkenness. Tonight was going to be a bad one if his father found him.
Most nights the sycamore tree provided Tony the escape he so desperately needed...apparently this was going to be one of those nights.
His father stumbled outside calling out for Tony who stayed silent.
"Where the hell are you boy?" Anthony Snr slurred, simultaneously trying and failing to walk and look up at the same time. "Ah, forget it…'s gonna end up in the gutter 'nyways."
When his father turned to go back inside, Tony released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He turned back around to stare out at the star he had just wished on. Silently thanking it and realizing that there would be no leather belts, hard-soled shoes, or metal rulers for his angry father to use on him tonight.
Tony: I used to play piano...
Ziva: Were you any good?
Tony: ...Yeah she was.
Boxed In (season 3)
A/N: Hopefully you liked it enough to want more. I promise I wont hurt Tony too much. XD