AN: I gotta stop writing things when I'm in this mood. At least I didn't kill Tony this time. Pre-Hiatus, late season three.
oNCISo
It had started when he was eleven.
His mother had found him under the stairs, tears streaming down his face as he tried to muffle his sobs. She had thought he'd hurt himself, but a quick check revealed no blood or broken bones. For all her eccentricities, Emilia DiNozzo had a kind heart, and it had hurt her to see her son in such obvious distress. She'd gathered him in her arms and sat with him on the floor, right there under the stairs, whispering softly words of comfort, and occasionally asking him what had happened. Finally, after a few minutes, he had calmed enough to whisper one word, so faint she had to strain to hear it.
"Sarah…"
And she had suddenly understood, and she held her son even more tightly, stroking his hair.
"It's all right, mio Antonio. I know you miss her. We all do."
"Papa said I shouldn't cry anymore. He said I shouldn't be sad."
Emilia's eyes had darkened at this, but she had refrained from saying anything against her husband for the sake of her son. "I think your papa meant to say that you don't have to stay sad when remembering someone you loved. Sarah was your friend, and I think she would be sad if she knew that you were sad."
"But how can I remember her without being sad?"
"By remembering her life, instead of her death. If you celebrate her life, then the good things about her will make you forget the sadness."
He scrunched up his face in confusion. "I don't understand."
"Life is the most precious gift we are given. We have to honor that gift, so we honor those whose lives have touched ours in a special way. If we focus on what they did in life, then it doesn't hurt as much to think of their death." Emilia smiled softly. "I'll tell you a secret. Do you know what I do to remember Gigi and Nonno?"
His grandparents had died when he was younger, but he still remembered them. He shook his head.
"Every year, I get all dressed up and go to a fancy restaurant. I remember all the good times I had with them, and then I start to feel better."
"Does it always work?"
"It was hard for the first few years, but over time, it gets easier. What do you say we go out tonight, just the two of us? We'll go to Sarah's favorite restaurant, and we'll remember all the fun times the two of you had together. You don't have to go through this alone."
"Sal's Diner isn't fancy."
Emilia had laughed. "It doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to be someplace special for the two of you."
He'd thought about it, and decided that it was a good idea. "Okay."
From then on, they'd gone every year, celebrating the lives of lost loved ones.
xXxXx
He almost didn't go the year he turned fifteen. His mother had died the year before, a slow and agonizing defeat by cancer. It had taken her hair, but not her spirit. She had insisted that they have their dinner that year, even if food had to be brought in instead of them going out.
Tony hadn't been able to finish his meal. His mother had known why, and she'd pulled him onto her bed to lie beside her. She'd wrapped her arms around him as he cried, telling him that everything would be all right. She also extracted a promise from him, that he would continue their tradition the following year.
She was dead two weeks later.
It was his promise alone that made him go to his mother's favorite restaurant exactly one year after her death. He'd briefly considered inviting his father, but after finding him in a drunken stupor in his office, he had instead gone alone, bribing the staff to keep his whereabouts a secret. He dutifully toasted his grandparents and Sarah (the owner of the restaurant was a friend, and allowed him a small amount of wine), but he'd broken down when it came time to toast his mother. He tried to remember what she'd said about celebrating life, and he found, to his great amazement, that it actually worked. One thought of his mother's sweet smile and laugh had given him the strength to get through the rest of the dinner. He'd still cried that night as he lay in bed, but they were tears of healing instead of tears of grief.
With all his heart, he wished he could tell his father about his discovery.
xXxXx
There were others as the years went by. Four of his college friends who had died in a car accident, his first partner in Philly, his best friend in Baltimore. The list grew longer over the years, but the only thing to change was the date. He always dressed up, he always toasted their memories, and he always went alone. He didn't mind telling people about it, and there were others who could have gone with him, but it always felt like something he had to do by himself, to apologize for not being able to save them.
It probably wasn't the healthiest thing to do, but it brought him a measure of peace, and in his line of work, that was always hard to come by.
In her first year at NCIS, Kate had heard him making reservations in Baltimore for his yearly dinner. She'd pressed him about it, teasing him mercilessly until he was on the verge of snapping at her. Gibbs had been listening to the exchange, and seemed to understand that Kate was on dangerous ground, because he'd sent Tony down to Abby's lab. When he'd returned to the bullpen an hour later, Kate made a quiet apology, which Tony solicitously accepted. When Gibbs left a few minutes later, she'd walked over to Tony's desk and told him that if he ever needed to talk, she was available.
Tony appreciated the sentiment, but he felt decidedly uncomfortable sharing something so personal with her after their argument. It was a side of him that he rarely showed anyone since coming to NCIS, preferring instead to play the fun-loving Tony they all knew and mildly tolerated. Though he suspected Gibbs had some idea of the purpose behind his yearly tradition – because let's face it, Gibbs knew everything – they never talked about it.
So he had never told Kate, and he had regretted it from the moment Ari's bullet smashed through her head, spraying Tony's face with her blood. For a moment, he'd frozen, his mind back at his mother's bedside as she slowly succumbed to disease.
He'd snapped out of it, his training putting him on autopilot as he called it in, all the while keeping an eye on his boss and McGee. His brain detached itself from his body, craving a normalcy that would never return. He became overly crude, almost callous in his need to bring his partner's murderer to justice. He wasn't called on it because no one noticed. They expected it of him, and if it seemed out of place in the wake of Kate's death, well, that was just Tony.
Everything had come crashing in on him when he got home after the funeral. With frightening speed, his brain and his body suddenly became aware of one another once more, and Tony had barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up what felt like everything he'd ever eaten in his life. He'd scrubbed his face raw, trying to get rid of the blood, before his hands had been pulled down gently. On his way to the floor, he saw Gibbs and Ducky exchange a worried glance in the mirror before his world became mercifully dark.
By some miracle, he got through the next week, and then the next, until the nightmares had faded and he'd pushed the memories into the dark recesses of his mind. He stopped expecting Ziva to be Kate, stopped expecting gross health food for lunch, and he started to create a new normal.
Inevitably, however, time marches on, and the year anniversary of Kate's death was rapidly approaching. Tony didn't know what to do. For the first time, his tradition somehow seemed inadequate, not just for Kate, but for everyone else on his list as well. He wasn't sure if it was guilt or his unresolved issues on any number of things that stemmed from his past.
His preoccupation with his dilemma was affecting his performance, and it was getting noticed. McGee had started to complain, but then comprehension hit, and he'd smiled sadly before telling Tony not to worry about it. Ziva had obviously talked to Abby or McGee, because she was being uncommonly…well, nice wasn't exactly what he would call it: less waspish, perhaps. Abby had taken to giving him hugs every time she saw him, and Ducky was visiting the bullpen more often, throwing Gibbs significant looks in Tony's direction whenever he thought the senior field agent wasn't looking.
It was, quite frankly, irritating, and Tony wasn't sure how much more he could take. Gibbs, as always, sensed this, and took Tony for a "heart-to-heart" in the conference room. Or, as it was more commonly called, the elevator.
"Wanna tell me what's going on?"
Tony's laugh was a bit strangled. "Everyone else seems to have it figured out. Why don't you ask them?"
"I'm asking you."
Tony sighed. "I don't know."
"DiNozzo…"
"I really don't, Boss. I don't have a damn clue."
Gibbs pondered this for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay. Take the rest of the week off."
"What?" Tony wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Boss, I can't leave now."
"Sure you can. I just told you to." Tony's confusion must have been clear, because Gibbs took pity on him. "You said you don't know what the problem is. So find a place where you can figure it out."
"I…" Tony didn't know how to respond to that, mostly because it made a frightening amount of sense. "I'm not sure where that is."
Gibbs just smiled mysteriously. "You'll figure it out. Now get outta here."
Tony gathered his things and left, his teammates' curious stares following him. He drove home, where he sat in the dark for a while thinking. It was fairly obvious to him that his apartment was not really conducive to deep ruminations. Though he'd added some personal touches over the years, it had remained fairly Spartan, a reminder of the two-year limit for staying in a particular place that he'd imposed on himself in the past.
As he got ready for bed that night, his eyes fell on a picture he'd stashed in one of his drawers. It had been taken at his twelfth birthday party, and he was wearing the ridiculous sailor suit that his mother had loved so much. She was standing behind him, her arms draped loosely across his chest in a hug. His father, no surprise, was nowhere to be found. As he stared at the picture, he suddenly realized where he needed to be.
xXxXx
The next morning, he got on a plane to New York. Once there, he made his way to his family's estate. He hadn't been there in years, but he still remembered the gap in the fence on the far side of the extensive grounds. There was no one around as he quickly found his way to his mother's grave. She'd been buried in her favorite spot under the giant willow tree next to the gardens.
He laid the flowers he'd picked up on the way next to the headstone, and then sat back against the tree. The place was alive with memories, and he sat there in silence for over an hour, the voices of the past echoing in his ears.
When he felt he was ready, he leaned forward, clearing away the dead branches and grass that marred the landscape.
"Hello, Mum. It's been awhile."
He stopped, listening to the wind in the trees for a minute before smiling.
"I know. My fault for not talking to Dad all these years. But at least we're not fighting anymore, right?"
He smiled a little, leaning against the tree again as he played with the tiny flowers growing at its base.
"You probably already know why I'm here, Mama." He sighed. "I guess I'm a little lost right now. I had a partner, at work…you would have liked her, Mama. She was a good Catholic girl. Heck, you've probably already met her."
The wind picked up again.
"She died a year ago. And I want to remember her, but it's not enough. She was smart and funny, and she was part of us, and now she's one more on a list that's too damn long! I'm starting to forget…"
Silent tears ran down his face. "I'm forgetting what they sounded like, what used to make them laugh, what made me love them! I don't want to forget…I don't want to forget you, or Kate, or Sarah, or anyone else, and I don't know how to stop it."
He was sobbing now, great heaving gasps that shook his body. It had been years since he'd let himself go, and just like his tears after the first anniversary of his mother's death, the tears were cleansing, washing away years of pent up grief.
He began to calm, letting the wind lull him into the security of sleep. He felt light tendrils brush his face as he drifted away, and he could hear his mother's voice, whispering soft words of comfort.
"You don't have to go through this alone."
xXxXx
He was back at work the next Monday, refreshed from his long weekend. After his visit to his mother's grave, he'd rented a sailboat, spending three days traveling from New York to Virginia, reveling in the spray of the sea.
The change in him was noticeable, as evidenced by the curious glances McGee sent his way, and the various devices Ziva used to try to get a rise out of him. He simply smiled and went back to work, prompting Gibbs to grin at his agents' frustration.
Life was back to normal by Thursday when Tony did something decidedly un-Tony-like. Sitting on McGee's, Ziva's and Gibbs' desks were three plain envelopes, which, when opened, revealed an invitation to dinner at Tony's favorite restaurant the following evening. A quick call to Abby and Ducky confirmed that they, and even Palmer, had received similar invitations.
Tony, for his part, was not answering questions, only responding by requesting that they arrive by seven, and that he would be taking care of everything. As to the purpose of the dinner, he gave no indication. The more astute members of the team (namely Gibbs, Ducky and Abby), guessed that it had something to do with Kate, but were just as clueless on the specifics.
Abby and Gibbs were the first to arrive, and were shown to a private room in the back of the restaurant by a motherly Italian woman who kissed their cheeks and chattered on and on about her Anthony. Tony met them in the room, which was simple but elegant.
Ducky was the next to arrive, followed closely by Palmer and McGee. Ziva was there exactly at seven, looking slightly nervous.
Tony let everyone get settled, and then stood, waiting until all eyes were on him.
"I know I was a little secretive about this, and I apologize for that, but I wanted everything to be perfect tonight. This is a DiNozzo tradition, one I've been celebrating for several years now, and tonight, I wanted to share it with the rest of my family."
That got him more than a few surprised looks and one hug from Abby who looked like she might start crying at any moment.
"As you know, a year ago, we all lost a member of our family." His eyes sought Ziva's, who suddenly looked uncomfortable, very obviously feeling out of place. He mouthed I know at her, and her eyes widened before glancing at Gibbs. Tony shook his head, mouthing Later, feeling slightly insulted that she didn't expect him to notice the inconsistencies in a crime scene, especially when he knew Gibbs so well.
Their exchange had gone unnoticed, as Abby had started crying softly and Ducky and McGee were comforting her. Palmer's gaze was on the floor, and Gibbs was fingering his silverware. Tony felt a slight satisfaction at finally catching his Boss off-guard. There would be time for that later, though. This night was about something else.
"I wanted to honor Kate tonight, but this tradition has always meant more to me than just remembering those I've lost. It's also about celebrating their lives. My mother told me once that life is the most precious gift we are given, and it is our responsibility to honor that gift by remembering those who have touched our lives in a special way."
The group listened attentively. Tony so rarely talked about his family that it was something of a shock to hear him speaking so openly about them now.
"This tradition began when I was eleven. My best friend Sarah was killed when she was thrown from her horse, and I was devastated. We had done everything together, and on the anniversary of her death, my mother told me that the best way to remember her was to think about the good times we had shared, instead of focusing on her death. Every year since then, I have kept this tradition. My list has gotten longer as the years have gone by, but when I knew I would have to add Kate, I was devastated."
Ducky and Gibbs exchanged a knowing glance, aware of just how hard Tony had taken his partner's death.
"I didn't want to remember this year. Too much death can make you forget the good, and I was pretty set on letting it all go." Tony smiled. "But then I remembered something else my mother told me. 'You don't have to go through this alone.' This tradition of mine has always been a solitary one since my mom died, and when Kate died, I realized what I'd been missing – family. I wish more than anything that Katie could have been here tonight, but I know that her spirit, and the spirits of all those we have lost, are here with us now."
He raised his glass of wine, and the others followed suit, standing with him. Abby was still crying, her mascara marking dark streaks down her cheeks, but she was also smiling widely at him. McGee was looking a bit uncomfortable, but there was a peace in his eyes that hadn't been there for a long time. Ducky was a bit teary-eyed himself, and next to him, Palmer was beaming. Ziva looked like she always did, except for a small, sad smile. Gibbs' face was unreadable, but he had stood with the others, so Tony chalked it up to Gibbs being Gibbs.
It was quite possibly the most dysfunctional family Tony had ever seen, but it was his family, and he knew the others felt the same.
He was pretty sure he saw his mother smiling, an arm around a beaming Kate, as he gave the toast.
"To those we love. May we never forget to celebrate their lives."
oNCISo
AN: Okay, so Tony is slightly OOC, but it fits with what he's feeling. I put a lot of myself into Tony this time around. I'm pretty sure I cried three times while writing this, but hey, I'm all good now. I'm not sure what gave me this idea, especially since I've got my other story to work on, but I had to get it out of my head. So I hope you enjoyed.