Chapter 1:

A/N: Hi everyone. I am writing this story because the 'Tony's childhood' factor in both 'Engaged Part 2' and 'Sins of the Father' is playing on my over-dramatic mind ;) I really did love both episodes, though I would like an episode to focus on Tony's past. (Had to contain child abuse. Sorry about that. Please don't read if that will upset you!) Otherwise, enjoy.


Chapter 1:

The familiar 'ding' of the elevator resounded through the building and two expectant faces looked up from the bullpen. False alarm, again.

"Where is he already?" McGee questioned impatiently from his desk.

"I do not know, McGee. What I do know is that if he does not show up before Gibbs, his Duck is cooked."

McGee couldn't help but half smile at Ziva's mix up in American language. Since she had become an American citizen, she had been having less of these kinds of problems, though they still happened from time to time.

"Goose, Ziva. His Goose is cooked, not Duck." Tim replied in a 'matter of fact' tone.

"I do not see why, you could cook either a Duck or Goose, yes?" She argued stubbornly.

McGee, knowing better than to argue with her, wearily replied "Yer, Ziva. I guess so".

She smiled smugly for a moment before her gaze, once again fell on the empty desk in front of her, and her smile faded.

She said seriously "Gibbs is not going to be pleased when he finds out."

"When he finds out what?"

Both members of the team turned their heads at the sudden, silent arrival of their leader. They exchanged glances for a moment before the voice came again.

"Anytime now!" He said, his voice growing slightly louder.

McGee quickly informed him. "Tony's late, Boss. Even for Tony, he should have been here an hour ago."

"Call his cell, McGee" Gibbs instructed as he sat down. "You too, Ziva" He added.

"He's not picking up, Boss" McGee said after a moment.

"He is not answering me either, Gibbs."

"He'd better have a damn good excuse when he gets here!" Gibbs said in a gruff tone, laced with annoyance. Under that rough exterior though, he was worried about his senior field agent. His gut was screaming at him that something was wrong. Where the hell are you Dinozzo?


Tony woke up to the sound of knocking at his front door. He rolled over in bed to face his alarm clock. 4.23am, who would be at his apartment at that hour? The knocking started up again. Tony picked himself up out of bed and made his way to the front door, he still felt tired and groggy.

The knocking continued as he approached the door.

"Junior!"

Tony stopped in his tracks, now fully awake and alert. Junior? His dad had left weeks ago on another 'business adventure'. Tony had paid for his ticket, again. Not that anyone knew. He had put it up as being from Prince Al again. That had worked last time.

"Junior!" The angry voice came again. "Open this door! I know you're in there!"

What has he done now? He has already been framed for murder in the last few months. How much trouble can one con-man get into?

Tony opened the door to be faced with a man who was steaming with rage. His normal charming front completely gone, buried behind his anger.

"Dad, what's happened now? I can see that you're in your normal charming mood this morning" Tony finished sarcastically.

"Don't test me, Junior!" Senior yelled as he pushed his way past Tony and into the apartment.

Tony shut the door and turned to face his father, his dad hadn't been in this kind on a rage since Tony was a child, after his mother's death.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Tony asked. He didn't know whether he was more concerned, as something was obviously happening with his father, or annoyed that his father had barged into his house, early hours of the morning to yell at him.

"What's wrong?" He questioned his son, dangerously. "What's wrong?" He roared, his rage exploding up in Tony's face.

Still yelling he continued. "You're what's wrong! That ticket! It wasn't from Prince Al at all! It was you! Do you know how embarrassing that was for me! I had to talk my way out of the whole ticket fiasco because of you! Because you're stupid Anthony! An Idiot!"

Tony cut him off midway through his ranting and raving, he had heard enough. Tony yelled now too, matching his father's voice. "How else were you going to get there, magic carpet? What was I meant to do dad? You're flat broke! I expected you to be ungrateful, so why am I surprised? Maybe, I thought you had changed. After Thanksgiving, I thought we had moved on. Built a bridge. Now I get that I was dead wrong. You're still the thoughtless father I grew up with!"

Tony's eyes had started to glaze over; thinking about the pain his father always caused him when he was only trying to help. Unfortunately, Senior had noticed and he yelled at his son again, this time his voice dripping with menace.

"You're a weakling! Dinozzo's don't cry! I thought you would have learnt that by now! Maybe you're just too stupid for even that simple command to sink in! Look at yourself, wouldn't Gibbs be disappointed! Bet he doesn't know just how weak you really are! He would never want you on his team if he did!

"Just shut up!" Tony exploded. "Get out! Now!"

"Don't ever think you can tell me what to do, Anthony! I have every right to be here! It's a fathers right!"

"No it's not! Now, get out of my apartment before I throw you out!"

"You little bastard!" Senior roared as he approached Tony and threw a surprise punch, hitting Tony right in the eye. He hit the ground and groaned in pain, shaking his head to get his sight clear. He shakily managed to raise himself on all fours.

"You never tell me what to do! That clear?" He kicked Tony in the stomach and he rolled onto his back clutching his side in agony.

"Is that clear?" Senior roared again.

Tony opened his eyes; he had closed them before from the pain. The faint voice came, between stifled gasps. He replied. "As crystal."

"Don't think this is over Junior, I'm going to teach you how to be a proper man, through pain. It's the only way a stupid boy like you learns anything!"

Senior kicked his son in the face, snapping Tony's head abruptly to the side. Tony winced in pain. The last thing he heard before he passed out on the floor was his father hiss the word "pathetic" and the loud slamming of the front door as his father left him, curled into a pain stricken ball on the floor.