A/N: okay, so yeah, I know it's been a while. Like, a long while. But I've finally got something new for you guys! This is the prequel to Yesterday's Friends, but not written in the same format. And yes, I'm fully aware that I'm playing fast and loose with the character backgrounds, but this is and AU, so that's allowed. Let me know what you think of it.

History's Neighbours

Tony looked out of the window and sighed. He was young boy, eight years old and small for his age. Still only a child and yet he has lived through something that most parents dream and hope that their children will never have to go through. Tony lost his mother.

He had known, sort of, that she was sick. He knew that Father took Mother to the hospital many times, and that sometimes she'd stay there for a while. He heard them arguing once, about telling him. Father thought he should know, Mother didn't want him to worry. He found out anyway. He'd overheard them talking one day, and mentioning something called cancer. He didn't know what it was, but he had asked some of the teachers at his school, and tried to look it up in the library, but most of the books were too hard to understand. The teachers told him it was a type of disease, very dangerous and hard to cure. But he had still thought that his mother would make it.

He had tried not to cry at her funeral, he really had. DiNozzo men don't cry. But this was his mother, and young though he may be, he knew that death meant that he'd never see her again, never talk to her again, and never again would she hold him, hug him, and care for him when he was sick. And that hurt, knowing that. Some days, it hurt so bad he wanted to curl into a ball and never face the world again.

And then Father said they were moving. To New York. He didn't want to go. He had had a life in Atlanta, and friends there. It was where he'd always know. And now they're going to some cold, depressing northern state where he just knew the other kids would make fun of him for his accent. He didn't want that. He wanted to stay with what he knew.

He realized of course that these were foolish thoughts to have when you're sitting in first class, 5000 miles up in the air, and already halfway to New York, but he couldn't help it. He missed his mom, his friends, and his old life. Father had said that this was for his business, that he could make more money in New York, but Tony also privately thought that he was running away, that he didn't want to face the loss of Tony's mom. But of course he didn't say that. Accusing Father of being coward was not smart, especially not lately. Accusing him of anything, or just saying one wrong thing, was not smart at all right now.

Tony sighed again as he looked out the window one more time, and then pulled out a book. They'd be landing soon, and then his life would change forever.

….

The house was nice, he supposed. Big, certainly. But he'd liked the house in Georgia, with the long front porch, huge windows and a sprawling backyard. It was comfortable, safe. This house looked cold and distant, as if his very presence was unwelcome.

He looked around the block, and clearly saw that the house was not out of place. All the others were large, classy structures, looking as if they were built for kings. He briefly wondered if there would be any other kids on the block, but dismissed the thought. There probably weren't, and if there were, they most likely wouldn't like him, or make fun of him for one reason or another.

He followed the movers into the house, making sure not to carry any of the boxes in. Father said that that sort of work was beneath them, whatever that meant. He noticed that there were people in the house, in some sort of uniform, cleaning or directing the movers, or doing some other thing. One of the ladies approached him and asked, in heavily accented English, "Would the young sir like anything?"

Tony wondered why this woman would ask him in such a way. They hadn't had people like this working for them in Atlanta. Mother would have hated it. But thinking about his mom just depressed Tony further, and he shook his head mutely and left to explore the rest of the house.

It seemed even bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. There were more rooms than he could count in all, and beautiful furniture in all of them. There were three bathrooms, five closets, four bedrooms, at least six offices/sitting rooms, a kitchen, and two dining rooms. Tony couldn't imaging him and Father ever needing this much space.

The doorbell rang, and Tony was startled to realize that all the movers had already left. His little tour has clearly taken far longer than anticipated. He wandered towards the front hall and saw Father talking to a tall, stern looking man, with a boy looking to be about his age standing behind the man. He caught part of their conversation.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood, Mr. DiNozzo, my name is William Hotchner, and this is my eldest son, Aaron. My wife is at home with the baby right now, and couldn't come with us, but sends her best regards."

"I'm honoured that you would extend the hand of friendship so soon. Truly I hadn't expected well-wishers until tomorrow at the earliest. Would you like to come in for some coffee? And I could introduce you to my son, Anthony Jr."

"That would be wonderful. I'm sure he and Aaron will get along well."

Tony didn't think so, but Father had taught him better than to say that out loud. Aaron looked as reserved as his father, which was no small feat for an eight year old. His dark eyes stared at Tony as if he were assessing him.

They were sitting in one of the sitting rooms, and Aaron had yet to say a word beyond hello. It was making Tony nervous. He fidgeted, looked awkwardly around the room and tried not to let this strange boy unnerve him. Aaron finally broke the silence, "So where are you from?"

"Atlanta," Tony replied, easily enough. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Aaron crinkled his nose, and Tony realized he was trying not to laugh, "Your accent is funny."

Tony stuck out his tongue defiantly, "So's yours."

Aaron looked at him, puzzled, "I'm from New York. I don't have an accent."

"T'me you do," Tony replied stubbornly.

Aaron looked thoughtful for a moment, and replied, "I suppose that makes sense."

There was an awkward silence, but not as awkward and the one prior.

Aaron again was the one to break it by asking, "Where's your mom?"

Tony sucked in a breath sharply. He had hoped to avoid talking about this for at least a little while, "She's dead," he replied flatly. He didn't want to cry over it in front of someone he hardly knew, especially because Father always told him that DiNozzo men do not cry, no matter what. It was a sign of weakness.

"Oh," Aaron looked sincerely contrite, "I'm sorry."

"S'ok," Tony tried to shrug it off as no big thing, but didn't think he quite managed it, with the way Aaron was looking at him.

There was another silence, this one more awkward than the previous two, and neither boy knew how to break it. Soon, Aaron's father came back to take him home, and Tony was once again left to himself in the oversized house, wishing more than anything that he was back home and his mother was still alive.

…

"Why is he talking so funny?"

"He doesn't look like he's from New York…"

"I heard he got kicked out of his last school."

"Well I heard that his dad is some wanted fugitive, and that's why they had to leave Florida."

"Georgia, you idiot, not Florida. I bet Tony's not even his real name."

Aaron listened to the conversation around him but didn't participate. Tony had seemed nice when he'd met him a few days ago. Sure, he was quiet, but he'd just lost his mom. He couldn't understand why the kids at school were being so mean. But Aaron also didn't want to draw attention to himself, so he kept his mouth shut. These kids already picked on him for being kind of geeky, he didn't want to give them another reason to make his life miserable.

…..

Mr. Hotchner and Father were talking about business or something again, which left Tony to deal with Aaron. He didn't dislike the other kid; he just didn't really know much, if anything, about him. They sat in one of the many unused offices in the house, Aaron reading and Tony throwing a tennis ball against the wall in boredom, when a thought occurred to Tony.

"Y'don't have many friends, do you?" he asked.

Aaron jerked his head up from his book, startled, "Wh-what makes you say that?"

Tony thought for a moment, trying to put what was in his head into words, "Well, back in Atlanta, I was always over at a friends after school. And you're not. You're over here with me while our dad's talk."

Aaron sighed and shifted nervously, "The kids at school don't like me much…"

"Why not?" Tony cocked his head to the side, curious.

"I don't know. 'Cause I like to read, I guess?" Aaron was getting mad, "And it's not like you've got a lot of friends, either, you know. They all still think you talk funny."

Tony thought about that for a minute. Aaron was right. He didn't have any friends. Not like back home. "How's about I teach you how to be popular, and you teach me to talk like a New Yorker? That way we'll both make friends."

Aaron looked surprised at the suggestion. Cautiously he held out his hand for Tony to shake, "Deal."

"Deal," New York may not be so bad after all, Tony mused.