Body Language.

The way that body talking defintely makes sense.

It was the first time that he had saw her dancing that caught his eye. He couldn't take his eyes from the screen of the TV. Knowing that if he did, that he would lose just one simple move that just made him want her more than he had ever wanted anybody else. He knew it would probably never happen, but he could see. He wanted to find out if he could really have someone and not be a nobody anymore. Well, to his father anyway.

A 17 year old Tony DiNozzo came home from his boring high school. He saw the two maides working on the living room after coming through the front door. He had gave them money and told them to take off the rest of the day. Hoping that he would have the house to his-self for a while. Only that wouldn't be true. His father would be home soon, and many times he had thought about leaving. That would only result in him being beat more than he ever had, though.

That's why he had flipped the TV on in his room, to try to escape the lie he had been living for years. The lying to his friends, teachers, and anybody he loved, because he knew that he would never be able to live that one down with his father. Marco DiNozzo was Tony's father. And at times he wished that he could love his father, because he felt it was wrong to hate someone that was you're family. He had a right to, though.

Since Tony's mother had walked out of his life over six years ago, from the beatings that she took from his father, his life had been terrible. At that time, Marco had someone else to beat instead of Tony, but when April left, Tony was all he had left to beat. And very few people know that Marco does. That would be the two maides. They promised to never say anything and if they ever did, the result wouldn't be good.

If only he could get away, atleast for a while. That's when he saw her on the TV, dancing her heart out. At the bottom of the screen it showed her name, Ziva David. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her moves, though. He watched her in amazement. Wondering all about her. What she was like, where she was from, if he could ever meet her. And then she stopped dancing. He frowned when she stopped. He watched her smile and his grew wider. A woman walked onto the stage with a microphone telling all about Ziva.

In a matter of minutes he learned a lot about her. Just not enough. He had learned that her name was Ziva, she was from Israel, her father was Mossad, and she had began her career in ballet. Which Tony had always found completely boring, but she was far from Ballet, now. He loved the way she was just glide across the stage and swing her hips. It was like she was dancing because she knew it would be her last time up there. Tony hoped not, but that's how it seemed. Ziva seemed happy doing what she did, but he couldn't help but notice the look in her eyes when she would look toward the camera, that told him that she had always wanted something more than that. If only he could give that to her.

It came a number at the end of the show to order tickets to see Ziva in Isarel that next week. Tony wanted to go so bad, but he never thought his father would let him. With the way football was going and the way school would be going on for another six months. There was no way that his father would let him go. He could still try.

Marco had got home late that night, but Tony didn't care. He was still in his room watching TV, atleast until he heard the front door open and close. He ran down the staires and straight to his father. "Dad, there is this dancer that is going to be in Israel next week. I would really like to go see her. I know football season just started and stuff, but I still have time to work on all of that. I will still get my scholarship to college. Can I go?" Tony asked, bluntly.

Hew watched as Marco layed his things down on the floor, thinking. "I don't see why not. You have been working hard at everything. I don't have a reason not to let you go. You deserve it." He said.

Tony smiled. "Thanks, dad." He said as he went to run back up the staires. Marco stopped him when he called, though.

"And son?" He asked. "I am sorry about beating you. I am trying to change, I really am."

"It's not problem, dad." And he went on his was back up the staires.

Tony knew his father would probably never change, that is why he never told him about not returning from Israel when he left that Monday night. He couldn't, because then his father would defiently not let him go to see Ziva. The funny thing way, he didn't feel any regreat lying to his father and he shouldn't have to.

A/N: Okay, this is my new fanfic and I have almost got it done, but in order to get the chapters up, you have to review. That is all I ask. This idea came to me while I was listening to the song, Body Language, by Jesse McCartney. Hope you all like it. :D