WARNING:
To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and
Tony’s past. Tony’s father may have
gotten a little bit drunk and sadistic in this chapter, so he’s a bit more
abusive than he has been in the past couple instances. And one or two curses, but I think that may
be the least of our worries.
Also
– one of the reviewers mentioned something about taking issue with my comment
about honesty not serving Tony well as the next CEO of his father’s
company. Since the review was anonymous
I couldn’t respond personally but I just wanted to clarify that it was more of
an insight into the character of Tony’s father rather than a
generalization. It’s difficult to
balance the flashbacks being Tony’s memories with trying to paint enough of a
picture of the others involved. As this
is an adult remembering childhood experiences, hopefully you can realize that
some of what is written is bleeding in from other instances – I’m sure Tony’s
father beat into him enough times that being honest was a sign of weakness – in
his mind anyway.
Chapter
4 – Enticing the Inevitable
TONY: Do you know what little
Anthony DiNozzo's job was during these reenactments, Ziva?
ZIVA: Little drummer boy?
TONY: No, I would carry
around a bucket so these guys could take a dump in it. They called me their
little poo-boy.
~ 3x04 – Silver War
“It’s not your fault, you know. What he did. It’s on him, not you.” Gibbs’ voice was tentative and fear settled in his gut that Tony might take this the wrong way and bolt.
“Most of the time.” The soft words were barely understandable and settled wrong with the older man. It was too vague, too accepting of the guilt that should be placed squarely on the elder DiNozzo’s shoulders.
“Most of the time you know? Or…” Tony hadn’t learned overnight how to seamlessly deflect Gibbs’ wrath from his teammates back onto himself and the ex-Marine had a feeling that his protégé’s next words would shed light on just where that skill had come from.
“Most of the time it wasn’t my fault. I used to bait him sometimes. I’d break stuff on purpose or interrupt him or pour the wrong drink or…”
“Or breathe? There’s no excuse, DiNozzo.”
“When I was breathing too loudly for him, it wasn’t my fault. Bet you noticed how quiet I breathe now, didn’t you, Boss?” The laugh was forced in attempts to ease the tension radiating off his mentor.
Gibbs wasn’t off-put by the humor, but he did allow a wry laugh as proof positive and to ease Tony. “You’re no Stan Burley, that’s for sure.”
“I’d wait until he was a couple into the night and then I’d go running down the halls and knock something over. That was my best one. I knew it was a damned sure way to get a rise out of him.”
A puzzled look crossed Gibbs’ face. “Why the Hell would you do that, DiNozzo? You knew he’d…”
Tony scoffed. “Yeah, I knew. I knew he’d take his shoe to my back or his belt. If he were in a rare mood he’d use this metal ruler from his office. Those were the worst.”
“So why?”
It was Tony’s turn to laugh sardonically. “It was better than the alternative.”
“Going under his radar? Getting away unscathed? Taking advantage of him forgetting about you for that much longer? Gotta tell you, kid. I’d fly low every time.”
“Yeah, well you aren’t me, now are you?” Gibbs could hear the slight tint of anger coloring Tony’s voice and knew he had to tread lightly.
And
then it hit him. Images of Tony baiting him
time and time again when he wasn’t being paid enough attention. Tony going out of his way to antagonize
Kate. Fighting to be heard over his
co-workers’ voices to show the work he’d done.
Coming into the office at
“Your father didn’t worry much about where you were or what you were doing when he didn’t need a whipping boy, did he?” The question was quiet, and the understanding had the thankful effect of simmering Tony’s anger back down to a simmering boil.
Tony agreed silently with a subtle movement of his head.
“Some people should never be allowed within a hundred feet of a kid. Worthless son of a bitch didn’t know a good thing when he saw it.”
“Hey!” And the anger was back, shocking Gibbs this time. “He’s still my father.”
“Yeah, but DiNozzo. He doesn’t deserve the title.”
“The man had a multi-million dollar company to oversee, the love of his life in constant states of depression and alcoholism, and the loss of his favorite son to deal with. He gave me a roof over my head, food, nice clothes, and everything. Made sure I had the best of the best of everything I needed. A lot of kids don’t get that.”
“Money isn’t everything, DiNozzo. You know that. He sure as Hell didn’t give you everything that you needed. And gave you a lot of shit that you didn’t.” An image of Kelly running back from the school bus telling him that she absolutely wouldn’t make it through the day unless he gave her another hug before she left stole his attention momentarily. DiNozzo’s icy tone brought him back rapidly though.
“He did the God damned best he could.” The pure ferocity in his quiet voice had Gibbs rethinking his position and verbally backing up as quickly as he could.
“Hey, calm down. I just don’t understand it, is all.” Gibbs paused for only a fraction of a second. “I’m sorry.”
The apology did what any other words could not have accomplished. Tony was so shocked by the Marine breaking his own rule that he couldn’t hold onto the defensive stance he had taken.
“He’s my father; I just…I can’t explain it any better than that.” Gibbs could read between the lines now that the anger wasn’t there to put him on the defensive.
“Your brother died; your mother, too. He’s the only blood family you have left.”
“Yes, sir.” Tony nodded.
“He disowned you, DiNozzo. He beat the Hell out of you; told you flat out that you weren’t any son of his. He didn’t want to be your family, kid. He made that painfully clear. Why let him off the hook like that?”
Tony turned on him again. “Who said anything about forgiving him for it? I hate him for what he did. I hate everything he did to me and to everyone else. I’ll never see him as anything more than the man who shares my blood. But if he hadn’t been who he was, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t know anything different than what he wanted for me. I wouldn’t have helped all the people I’ve helped, met Abby or Ducky or you. I…I wouldn’t…”
“You wouldn’t have found a real family,” the older man interrupted quietly, needing to remind Tony that blood didn’t make you a family – not how it really mattered. Not in the way it needed to count in Tony’s mind. Last names and bloodlines were all well and good, but they didn’t mean anything in the long run. Especially when you had been cut off from having anything to do with that line at all of twelve years old.
If anyone asked Gibbs later if he had been so open, he would have denied it until he was blue in the face. But the light that returned to Tony’s eyes when he worked out the meaning behind that was enough to make it worth it, reputation for the second ‘b’ standing for ‘bastard’ be damned.
Tony naturally steered the conversation far away from the thought that he could now be cared for like he should have been as a boy. “I wish like Hell things had been different after Vinnie died; but they weren’t. And without him there, I did everything I could to make sure that I wouldn’t be forgotten. They were so busy seeing that I wasn’t him that I think I was afraid they wouldn’t remember that I was anyone more than ‘the one who’s not Vinnie’. And Marie had to watch silently and pick up the pieces.”
~*~
“He hasn’t spoken to me in over a week, Marie. Hasn’t asked for a report or made me come to a dinner or anything. Did I do something wrong?”
Marie smiled gently as she trimmed the edges of Tony’s hair. “Maybe it’s a good week, then. You’ve been doing well in school and you know this is a busy time at work for him. It means you’ve gotten to read two of your books, and you haven’t been punished in over a week.” And for that I’m thankful.
“But he hasn’t said a word to me since two days after we got back from his battle. I’d rather be carrying that stupid, smelly bucket around than not get to see him or my mother.” Tony ruffled his own hair as he looked in the mirror. “Do you think I’ll get to see them tonight?”
“It’s an important business meeting, Baby. I’m sure you’ll be seen with them, but make sure not to interrupt them.”
Tony nodded and adjusted the shoulders of his suit like his brother used to. “How do I look?”
“Like you’ll make a very handsome sailor some day.” As long as the Navy takes you far away from the DiNozzo empire. “Better get downstairs if you want some real food for dinner.”
~*~
His mother’s hand rested on one shoulder and his father’s on the other as the family entered the large ballroom. Tony’s smile at being able to lead his parents into the room perfected the image of the American family and no one would have suspected what that image hid. Soon, however, the boy found himself wandering between the guests and growing bored with the whole situation. Mostly his father’s business partners and not their families at this dinner, Tony couldn’t even keep himself entertained by counting how many compliments the wives spewed out as they gushed over him.
He traipsed around the room swallowing unrecognizable hors d’oeuvres that his father had once assured Vinnie and him were the “pinnacle of being wealthy”. All Tony knew was that they tasted horrible and did little to keep his stomach from growling. He was glad for the macaroni and cheese he had been fed in the kitchen beforehand.
Tony caught sight of his mother and steered clear. He was still wary of being caught too near her, and even the week of caring that she had played at before leaving him to Marie’s more capable hands once more had done little to recreate the relationship that he looked for. Even the public setting did not give him enough security to approach. The new path he found himself on put his father dead center. He didn’t want to verbally interrupt the man, but surely it would look good for the elder DiNozzo if his son were to weasel his way back under that hand. He didn’t mean to bump his father’s drink and spill it on the floor. He looked up in alarm and was mildly grateful for the sight of unblemished shirt and jacket. The squeeze to his collarbone was unpleasant and the pats on the head harsh, contrasting the easy laugh, but the man never said a word as he waived over his security chief to escort the son to the dessert table. Tony dropped his head and disappeared back into the crowd.
~*~
It was some time later when Tony’s patience with the party snapped and the week of absolutely nothing from his father planted the mischievous seed in his mind. If he were to do something out of character, his father would have to pay attention to him. He could see the easy chair at the end of the room. He had a clear shot at it if he moved now. Tony tread over a few toes and accidentally bumped into a few knees as he made his way across the room. At last he reached his destination and executed a perfect spinning leap to land sitting angelically in the seat. Had he stopped there, the scattered laughter and applause would have been well met and the incident forgotten. Tony wasn’t looking for recognition from the crowd, however, and with an extra, subtle kick of his feet as he landed, the boy used the extra momentum to cause the chair to overturn and spill him onto the ground with a loud crash. Heads turned and conversations were aborted as all turned to see if the little heir was all right.
Tony stood and dusted him off with a cheeky grin and dramatics that waylaid all intents of guests to offer assistance. Clearly the child was simply being a boy. His father quickly made his way over, flanked by his mother.
“I’m okay, Daddy.” No harm in milking the opportunity when there was no way the title could be rebuked.
A hand wound around his shoulders and Tony couldn’t help the smile at the comfort. Really, it was almost all he wanted.
“I think it’s time for young Anthony to make his exit,” his father announced to the room before leading Tony to the door. After the doors closed, the light support of his father’s arm became yet another painful hold on his elbow. Not a word was said as he was dragged to his bedroom and shoved through the open door.
“Bed. Now.” The voice was clipped and angry, but the loud slam of the door was worse. Tony was alone in the room. His father couldn’t be bothered with a reprimand when his guests waited for him. It showed Tony exactly where he stood in his father’s priorities.
Tears and sobs wracked his thin frame as the sailor suit was hastily traded for a sleeping shirt and pants. Covers were thoughtlessly peeled from the mattress and a shaking Tony slipped into the warmth of Vinnie’s bed. It had been a long time since he’d slept down here, preferring the safety of being far away from the ground and the monsters that lived under the bed at night. He sobbed until his throat hurt and his pillow was soaked, and then continued to cry until he finally exhausted himself to the point of sleep, his face buried in the crook of his elbow that now rested on the damp pillowcase.
~*~
Soft snores escaped from the child some time later as he slept deeply on his stomach. One foot stuck off the side of the bed and one pillow was hanging precariously over the other edge. He slept on, blissfully unaware that anyone was watching him, and for once he wasn’t dreaming of the basement monster.
Suddenly, his sleep was cut short as he was grabbed violently by the back of the shirt and silenced by a strong hand over his mouth. The strong smell of alcohol and cigar smoke alerted him that it was one of the party-goers.
“Make
a sound before we’re there, and this will be so much worse than any punishment
you’ve had yet.” The slightly slurred,
gravelly voice belonged to his father and sent shivers of dread down his
spine. He hadn’t wanted the attention this
badly. The last thing he saw of his room
was the alarm clock in the moonlight.
Just after
~*~
The trip to his father’s office was made without his feet touching the ground once, so the shock of the cold on his bare soles caused him to yelp as he was finally deposited next to the hated chair. The door was already closed shut and locked, so his father didn’t comment on the noise.
“Get that damned shirt off, and get in that chair.” Tony whimpered before complying, receiving a glare that threatened dire consequences if he didn’t obey quickly.
His father was still mostly dressed from the party, but his tie was askew and he had apparently lost his belt somewhere. The man cursed as he remembered leaving his cane at the office and silently appraised his son’s back as he thought. A soft hand trailed down Tony’s spine and terrified the boy even more. The touch seemed almost compassionate and his mind couldn’t link it successfully to the angry tone and countenance of the man completing the action.
He dared not move as he heard his father back away and open a desk drawer. The soft “this will do” did little to calm the eight-year old and Tony gulped down already present tears as his father’s words finally turned to him after a long week of silence.
“I take you with me to meet my friends and take part in something I enjoy outside of work. I allow you to precede me into my own business dinner. I introduce you as my son as if I actually loved you. I say nothing when you spill my drink. And this is how you repay me?” Tony screeched as the chair was tipped over violently and he found his face being smashed into plush fabric as his neck was clamped down with a solid hand.
“Quiet! Do you want to wake up your mother?” Tony attempted to shake his head negatively as his father continued.
“I cannot begin to tell you,” the first strike was unlike anything he had ever felt before as cool metal slapped across his shoulders – hot and bright and far more painful but fading much more quickly than the deep bruising he usually incurred.
“Can’t begin to explain how embarrassed I am by you.” Ten strong blows fell across his back in silence and Tony bit through his tongue trying not to further incur his father’s anger. The silence was cutting into him as much as the punishment.
“You are no son of mine,” another line of pain fell across his back and Tony began to feel something warm trickling down his sides like the tears down his face.
“You’re worthless,” a thirteenth strike had Tony seeing stars and spitting out blood.
“You’ve disgraced me.” A fourteenth and Tony began to realize that he had never been hit this many times before and wasn’t sure it was ever going to stop.
“You’ve disgraced you mother,” another strike turned his stomach.
“You’ve disgraced the DiNozzo name,” two more blows had Tony’s vision graying out and sending him into a near panic.
“And you’ve completely and utterly disgraced the memory of your brother.” Another line of pain stole his breath completely.
“Vincent would hate you and be absolutely humiliated by your behavior tonight.” The last two strikes were harder than the previous eighteen and almost allowed the boy the bliss of unconsciousness. His father’s last two sentences embedded themselves deeply into his mind and turned his thoughts inward as he tried to remember if Vinnie had ever been anything like the man was insinuating.
He was just beginning to float away when he was hauled to his feet. Tony knew that he was expected to stand tall and still, but the fiery ball of pain that was his back barely allowed him to remain upright.
A bloody metal ruler was tossed at his feet as the chair was set upright. Tony put his shirt on gingerly as pain spiked hot and unforgiving down his back. He was already wondering if he’d actually be able to make it down the halls and back to his room.
“And then,” it seemed his father wasn’t done with his tirade. At least he was talking to Tony. It was far better than the silence. “Then, you had the nerve to call me Daddy. Like I actually want to have any familiarity with such an ungrateful cur.” The man was looking for something else to punish him with and settled for kicking off a shoe.
“Pick it up.”
Tony stumbled to obey and crashed to his knees, shaking. He picked up the expensive shoe and held it out as he was hauled up once again by his collar. Only this time he wasn’t set on his feet. He saw the shoe coming moments before his father backhanded it across his mouth, turning the boy’s body in time with the connection to maximize the strike. Tony felt blood trickle down his chin as he was brought to the ground, his father kneeling over him, a fist almost choking him as it grasped his shirt at the neck. The second time his father brought the shoe down, it was heel first into his mouth. The boy heard his front two bottom teeth crack and felt the jagged edges catch on the already split lip. Two more blows fell across the upper half of his face before his father stopped abruptly.
“Shit.”
Hauled up once more, Tony was barely aware of where he was being taken as he was finding it hard to see and even harder to focus. He felt the cool of the night air and retreated to the safety of his mind, not wanting to know what was coming next.
A loud knocking sound snapped the child momentarily out of his daze. Tony heard two people talking animatedly before he was tossed to the ground and took the brief reprieve to scurry into the nearest corner and cower away from the person kneeling in front of him. He couldn’t take anymore.
~*~
DiNozzo pulled himself from the memories to the sound of his boss emptying the contents of his stomach in the bathroom next to the stairs. He had just gotten the energy and nerve to stand shakily, grasping the banister like a lifeline, when Gibbs came back to their current seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Sit.” The tone was soft and kind.
“Boss, I’m sorry.”
“DiNozzo, don’t you dare apologize.” This was more angry and remonstrative.
“Right, sign of weakness. Got it.” The self-defeating tone had Gibbs cursing.
“No, Tony.” He shook his head and forced the younger man’s chin up gently until their eyes met.
“Anthony, you don’t apologize because all of this,” he waved his free hand towards his Senior Agent’s head indicating the memories, “and my reaction are NOT your fault. You don’t apologize for what your father did, or the fact that I’m not ever going to be so much of a bastard that it’s not going to affect me one way or another. You may be able to rationalize what your father did to you back then, what he’s still doing now whether you realize it or not, but I can’t do the same. Not when I can see what it does to you. The fact that one human can do any of that to another one, particularly one they are supposed to love more than life itself, and especially one with no way to fight back, is absolutely sickening to me. And if it were anyone else it would be to you as well. If you came across a kid now who was going through what you did, you wouldn’t be able to put it out of your mind like you can with your own past. What he did is appalling, shameful, and abhorring and I don’t care if he is your blood family. The man is a worthless addition to society and is disgusting and despicable. There is nothing that you could have ever done to bait him that would be justification for what he did to you. Him beating you was. Not. Your. Fault.”
The dripping vehemence in Gibbs’ voice that punctuated each word finally struck a chord in Tony that no one had ever been able to reach before. He saw what had happened to him for the first time as an outsider would and was surprised to find himself clutching the back of Gibbs’ shirt, shaking and crying. The images came unbidden and the next thing he was aware of was the reappearance of alcohol and coffee into the toilet bowl in front of him. He didn’t even remember moving.
When his stomach was finished trying to turn inside out, Tony slumped back to rest his head against the wall behind him. He sipped at the water bottle that found its way into his hands.
“Come on. The spare room’s made up. Why don’t you get some rest?” It wasn’t meant as a question, but DiNozzo wasn’t sure he was ready to face dreamland quite yet.
“That’s okay, Boss. I’m not much for sleep right now. You go ahead and I’ll see you in the morning.” The hand that lay under his elbow and helped him to his feet was gentle and steady, a far cry from the grips his father had used as his only real contact with Tony.
“Let me rephrase that. Go get some rest, DiNozzo. Lie down and stare at the ceiling for all I care. Lie down until you hear me making coffee, got it?”
The first true smile that had graced Tony’s face all that night eased some of Gibbs’ worries. “On it, Boss.”
~~**~~