Alcohol

Anthony Dinozzo Jr. (Tony) hated it when his father started to act this way. When the alcohol soaked into his father's brain, twisted it, so that the man couldn't walk, talk, function. When everything Tony said was whirled into father's brain and contorted into something it wasn't. Everything his father said at this point was mean, degrading and how his old man truly felt about him. The things he said to Tony, got worse as he aged, when he was ten it was that he was a 'spoiled brat', but by 15, his father told him he hated him just about every hour of almost every day he was home. Sometimes, when Anthony Sr. was away on business, he called Tony just to tell him that he was scum, rotten, destined for the slums and cheap hookers, just like his mother. He remembered once, he had a friend over, Kyle, Tony had begged Anthony Sr. dad not to drink while Kyle was there. Anthony accused Tony of being ashamed of him and that it was he who should be ashamed, ashamed of having such a faggot of a son. Kyle ended up calling his parents to come get him, Kyle's parents wanted to take Tony too, wanted to get the authorities involved. Tony wanted to, he did, but he felt responsible, it was his fault his dad drank, he wasn't good enough. Tony always thought if he could do better, be better, his dad would love him. So Tony thanked Kyle's parents and promptly told them that he would be fine. He wasn't fine that was the night that Anthony Sr. beat the living shit out of his 16 year old son with a belt, even now he could hear the whip of the belt hitting him, hear himself crying and begging for his dead mother to save him, for Kyle to save him, for anyone to make it stop.

Tony, now 29, came out of his memories with the echoing of the belt still in his mind. He was standing in Gibbs' basement, Gibbs drinking bourbon and thunking away on his boat, his strikes in time with the belt in his head. It all hit him at once, the smell of alcohol, the sound of hitting, it brought his repressed memories swimming back, finally catching up with him. Tony quickly grabbed Gibbs' hand in an iron grip, "I…I think that'll do, boss."

Gibbs looked at his senior field agent, "You okay, Dinozzo?"

"Fine, boss. Peachy even." Tony replied as he slowly took the bourbon out of Gibbs' hand and quietly walked over to pour it back in the bottle.

"Hey, I was gunna drink that, Dinozzo! Hand it here!"

Tony spun on Gibbs, putting a hand on his boss' chest, "Well, you don't need it! Okay? You… You just don't need it!" Tony grabbed the whole bottle of bourbon and threw it on the ground watching as it shattered.

"Dinozzo! What the hell…"

Tony cut him off, "What the hell do you need it for? Huh?" Tony shouted. "You wanna be like him? You wanna drink so much that you can't recognize your family? You wanna hit me too? Huh?"

Tony took Gibbs' hand, formed a fist an out it to his cheek, "Come on then! Hit me! You need relief, then hit me! Beat the Shit outta me like my old man used to!" Receiving no response, Tony kept egging Gibbs on. "COME ON! Hit me! Take a swing! Hell, use a hammer, a chisel, whatever, just hit me!"

Gibbs' face was hard as he looked at his agent. "No, Tony."

"Why not? Am I not even worthy enough for you to slug me, oh great and powerful Gibbs?"

"No, Dinozzo, you're not worthy of being hit."

Tony looked down, a bitter smirk on his face, "I knew it." He whispered.

Gibbs snapped his fingers in Tony's face to get him to look up, "No one is worthy to be hit by anyone. Especially not by someone you trust. Understand?"

Tony looked away with tight fists and a clenched jaw, but nodded. He looked at the cement wall of his boss' basement and before Gibbs could stop him, Tony hit the wall as hard as he could with his closed fist. There was a sickening series of pops and Tony just stood there and stared at the wall for a minute. Tony looked at his boss, his face cold and said he was sorry about the bourbon and that he would replace it before he walked up the stairs and out of Gibbs' home.

A/N; Interest? R&R Please!