"No!" The five year-old screamed as his father lunged at him. He tried to protect himself, but even at five he knew that it was a wasted effort. When his father was angry, there was no stopping him.
His father grabbed the boy by his arms and lifted him up from the corner he was huddled in and to his eye level. "What did you just say to me?" He growled slowly, letting the unspoken threats drip from the single sentence.
The boy shook from fear and from the pain he felt in his arms. He knew that when the beating was over then he was going to have more bruises on his arms, but they wouldn't be distinguished from previous one. He knew his father wanted a response and was practically daring the five year-old to repeat what he said. Instead the boy just whimpered an indistinguishable answer and braced for more pain.
His father gave him an evil smirk and nodded. "I thought so." He muttered before throwing his son against the wall and watched him slide down to the floor. He gave the boy a sharp nudge to his hip. "Get up boy." He yelled. When the little boy tried to stagger to his feet, his father laughed and picked him again, but this time by grabbing his shirt.
The child's eyes went wide in fear as his father used his free hand to repeatedly punch, hit, and smack him. After the first few hits, the child closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain. While his was being physically hit, he was also being yelled at.
"You are a worthless little brat! You're spoiled and annoying! You're useless and always in trouble!" His father repeatedly screamed in the boy's slightly bruised face. The boy shuddered as he waited for the beating to stop.
After several more minutes of excruciating pain, his father just dropped him back on the hardwood floor with a loud thump and walked away from the almost unconscious child, still muttering angrily.
The five year-old whimpered quietly and silently shed a tear as he slipped into a black void.
The 33 year-old marine walked down the empty street with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his head down. He wasn't Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs anymore. Now he was Special Agent Gibbs...well not special agent yet. He just joined NIS and was still a probationary agent under Special Agent Franks. It was his first weekend off from the job, and he was extremely lonely in his house. Ever since his wife, Shannon, and their daughter, Kelly, had died, his house seemed so much lonelier and empty and he didn't know how to change that.
Gibbs took the walk to clear his head, but stopped when a small boy almost ran into him. He reached down with lightning fast reflexes and caught the boy before he could fall to the ground. "Whoa! Careful buddy." He said, steading the young child.
The boy mumbled an apology for almost hitting him and refused to look up at the man. He shook slightly, still trying to recover from the latest of his father's episodes. His arms hurt, he was dizzy, and really tired. The only reason the boy was outside was because he was looking for a hiding place from his father.
Gibbs squatted down in front of the small boy and went to dust off his arms. The second he lifted his arm up the boy visibly flinched and cringed away from him, whimpering slightly. Gibbs leaned back to assure the boy that nothing was going to happen. "Hey, it's okay." He whispered gently. He leaned closer slowly so he wouldn't startle the child. Gibbs was shocked by the scene he just saw and noticed what looked like faint bruising on the side of the boy's neck and saw some more creeping up his neck from under the long-sleeve shirt he wore. Gibbs slowly rested his arm on the boy's. "I won't hurt you. I was just going to get the dust off your shoulders." He looked around and saw nobody else outside. "I'm Jethro. Can you tell me your name?" He pressed gently.
The boy went stiff when Gibbs touched his arm, and didn't relax at all while the man talked to him. He looked around nervously for his father before looking back at this Jethro man. He looked into his eyes and was surprised when he didn't see coldness and evil like his father's. The boy thought all men had that look in their eyes, but this man's gaze was full of warmth and… kindness. He felt that this man might be able to help him, and that he could be trusted. He looked around again before leaning in closer to the man with kind eyes. "My name is Tony." He whispered, barely audible.
Gibbs had to strain, but he caught the boy's name. He gave him a kind smile. "Nice to meet you Tony." He stood up and was about to say more when he heard a voice yelling.
"Anthony! Anthony, where'd you go?" An older version of the small child walked along the sidewalk calling for the boy. Gibbs saw the man and turned back to Tony to find that the boy who finally seemed to start relaxing was stiff with fear and had moved slightly to hide behind Gibbs. By the time Gibbs made the connections to the fear in Tony's eye and the bruises, the older man noticed them and had walked over.
"Anthony? Are you over here?" He asked as he walked up. He saw the five year-old hiding behind the stranger and a look of rage flashed across his face before he calmed down and faked concern. "Anthony, I didn't know where you went. I was scared to death." He gave a charming smile to the stranger that still stood between him and his son. Hiding his annoyance, he put his hand out for a handshake. "Hello. I'm Anthony DiNozzo Sr., and you have obviously met my son."
Gibbs glanced back at the still hiding child, and paused before addressing Anthony. He shook the still outstretched hand. "Jethro."
Senior smiled. "Nice to meet you Jethro." He paused and looked around at the small child. "I'm sorry if my son bothered you. He hasn't learned yet to leave other people to their own business." He reached around Gibbs and grabbed the boy's arm, almost making him yelp in pain.
Gibbs saw the flash of pain in the child's eyes and he was pulled back to his father. He clenched and unclenched his fists, cursing silently, but still kept a pleasant smile. "He wasn't bothering me at all. In fact, we were just introducing ourselves."
Senior gave an apologetic smile. "Well, I'm still sorry that you were disturbed. Have a nice rest of the day!" He called, not giving Gibbs a chance to comment as he practically dragged his son home while he spoke.
Gibbs watched them go and sighed before he turned to walk away. He could tell that the poor child was being abused by his father. The bruises were evidence enough, but the paralyzing fear is what gave it away. As he walked away from them and back to his own house, Gibbs knew that he couldn't focus on anything else until he knew that the boy was safe and away from the pain.
Back inside that house, Tony cowered on the floor as his father screamed at him. "Why were you outside!? You know you aren't allowed anywhere but your room and the bathroom without my permission! And talking to someone? What did you tell that man!?" He knew he wasn't going to get a reply, so he didn't wait. Tony bit his tongue to stop a scream from escaping his lips as his father repeatedly kicked him in the gut as he continued yelling at him.
Finally, Tony almost passed out from the pain of the kicks and his father decided stopped. The relief was short lived though, because Senior just picked Tony up again and carried him to his tiny room and threw him on the floor. That was where he lied for the rest of night until the sunlight shone through into his room. He whimpered quietly all night, silently begging for Jethro, the man with the kind eyes, to come and save him.