Disclaimer: Disclaimed, 'nuff said.
A/N: Oh, I can tell what several of you are thinking, "Angel, what are you doing? You should be working on Reap What You Sow! It's been almost an age since you updated, and you promised!" Well, what can I say? This little plot bunny came to me in the night. I tried to keep it in line, make it wait it's turn, but it bit me. I caved.
- 1979 -
Elisabeth Margaret DiNozzo, stood in one of the grand rooms of her large mansion and mixed her Long Island Iced Tea. It was fitting, she thought, they lived on Long Island, she should drink the local cocktail. In reality, it was just a very quick way to get to that alcohol buzz that she seemed to need more and more these days. She took a look at the clock and smiled, it was already two-thirty and this was only her second drink. She was just fine, she most certainly didn't have a problem. (In reality it was her fourth drink, but she tended not to count straight shots of Scotch, especially if she downed them before nine in the morning.)
She moved to sit in the chair that was beside the piano that she loved. She hardly ever played anymore, her were fingers far to uncoordinated these days. That was alright though, her boy, Little Anthony, (she wouldn't call him Junior, always "Little Anthony," or if she was in a slightly more lighthearted mood "Antonio") was turning into a fine musician. She could listen to him play, live out her defeated dreams of playing beautiful music through him. He was such a sweet little boy. Elisabeth sighed contentedly, sipping from her drink. This was nice, it was a lovely sharp, crisp, but sunny October day outside, she had a lovely house, a wonderful little boy, and a charming and influential husband.
The depressant nature of alcohol caught up with her as she thought about her husband, Anthony. He was too damned charming for his own good, in her opinion. She scowled at her drink. His damned secretary, again. The man couldn't even be original in his mistresses. She would at least be able to have a little bit of respect for the woman currently sleeping with her husband if she were a ski instructor, tennis player, or something. Just someone not currently working for him. Good God, the woman was almost no better than a common prostitute! Elisabeth downed the rest of her drink as she started to contemplate her life.
When had it come to this? Here she was, nearly thirty four, and she'd accomplished none of the things that she had planned to do as a girl of nineteen. All of her dreams had come to nothing, and she was alone in an immaculately kept house, waiting each day for a man who constantly cheated on her to come home from work.
Pathetic!
Well then, no more! That was that, she would give Anthony a piece of her mind when he got home tonight. She would tell him to stop with the mistresses, stop with the late hours. He would have to promise to come home. Come home to her and Little Anthony, and spend time with his family, or she'd… she'd… she'd what? Leave? Who was she really kidding here? As soon as she got in the room with him, he'd sweep her off her feet all over again. It was how it always went. He could always make her feel like she was the most important, most beautiful woman in the world, as long as she was in the room with him.
She was nineteen when it first happened. Back in her childhood home, he'd been in England on business and he'd been tall, dark, and handsome. Everything that a girl like her had always wanted. He was rich, he was charming, and he told her that together they could have the whole world and anything that she wanted. She'd believed him.
She'd been a fool.
At first, it had been everything that she'd dreamed it would be. They'd traveled the world for three months for their honeymoon, before settling down to this mansion on Long Island. It only made sense to live in New York, that's where his business was based, and it was close enough to the city that she could go there for anything her heart desired. The society was very similar to what she had left behind, if only a tad more vulgar. Life was perfect.
Things had degraded gradually, so gradually she didn't even notice for a while, but things did start mounting up. She didn't make the symphony, she'd made a mess of her backup dream of being a photographer, and her whim of interior decorating had been a farce from the very beginning. Her husband had began to work longer hours, caught in first by the allure of making the really big deals, and then caught in the allure of pretty young faces. Elisabeth started to drink, the society she once enjoyed became stifling, and everything became a disappointment.
Everything, save one important item, her boy. Her wonderful little jewel of a son, but not even the brilliance of his smile could draw her from her cocktails. Thinking of her Little Anthony, Elisabeth looked at the clock again. Her wonderful little jewel would be getting out of school soon. She decided that moment that she would be a good mother, and pick her son up from his school.
She stumbled slightly as she left the room, listed slightly to the left as she walked down the grand hallway, but she managed to grab her keys and make it to her Mercedes before anyone noticed her leaving.
*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*
Eight year old Tony DiNozzo sat at his desk watching the clock as if spellbound. His body was almost completely still, a state highly unusual for him, but one he maintained with an almost herculean effort. He definitely didn't want to be caught doing something now, he was so close, so close that the very air around him was electrifying. His eyes tracked the second hand of the clock in its smooth motion upwards, he watched in breathless anticipation as it hit twelve and paused slightly halfway to the first tick on the clock face.
The bell rang out in the classroom, and he was off like a shot with an unintelligible hoot of joy. Tony collected his backpack and coat from the back of the classroom and was out the door before thirty seconds had past. He was done. Another week of school was over and it was the weekend. Tony intended to live it. Slowing down now that he was in the large hallway of the school, he caught up with his friend from Mrs. Henderson's class.
"Hiya Ricky! The old dragon let you out already?"
"Yeah she let us loose," the young kid said dismissively, "but get this! We have to do schoolwork at home this weekend! Can you believe that? I have to do this math assignment and turn it in on Monday." Ricky held up the offending sheet of paper.
Tony's mouth gaped, that was probably the cruelest thing he'd ever heard of. Doing schoolwork at home, that was…just wrong! Thank God Mr. Applegate didn't do that to his class. You'd never get him to do schoolwork at home, absolutely never. Okay, so it looked pretty easy, and he'd probably be able to have it done in a matter of seconds, but it was the principal of the thing!
"That's really stupid, I mean, what if you have a question?" Tony couldn't think of a single reason that math this easy would confuse Ricky, but he brought up the scenario anyway.
"I think I supposed to ask my parents," Ricky said.
Tony paled slightly at the thought of asking his parents for help about something school related, he had a feeling it'd go over about as well as his attempt to have a family camping trip in the backyard. That had really been the proverbial lead balloon. You would've thought that he asked to go to a casino in Atlantic City, actually they probably would have gone for that idea…Tony shook his head. "Well, what else are you going to do with your freedom?"
"Don't know. You?"
Tony lifted a shoulder casually, "I'll think of something."
By now the duo had reached the large front doors of the school, Tony looked through the window to the bright and sunny world outside waiting for him, and froze. He got a funny feeling in his belly, it was like his stomach was trying to attach itself to his spine, this was not good. Through the glass Tony could see his mother waiting for him next to her car. More accurately, leaning on it as if it was the only thing that was keeping her from falling over, which it probably was.
"Oh, crud," Tony muttered.
"Hey, Tony! You comin'?" Ricky asked as he walked through the door, holding it open for his friend.
"No," Tony said hesitantly, mind scrambling for a good excuse to stall. "I forgot, I need to talk to Mr. Applegate…" Ricky was looking at him strangely, "Something about more punishment for yesterday," Tony lied.
"Oh, okay. Well, see ya then!"
"Bye Ricky!" Tony managed before the kid was gone.
He sighed as he turned around, fighting his way through the throng of kids to go back to his classroom. Of all the things that could happen. Why didn't he wait until today to superglue Alice Hopkins' braid to the back of her chair! That got him an hour and a half's detention yesterday, if he'd done it today he'd have detention now and there was no way that his mother would have waited for him for that long. Tony's funny feeling hadn't left him, he knew she wanted to drive him home, but he'd rather clip the lawn with scissors that get in that car with her. She shouldn't be driving, not as drunk as she obviously was.
Tony knew his mother drank, heck he'd been schooled in making the perfect Long Island Iced tea, (he could also pour his father's scotch, if the man were home to request it,) and he also knew when she'd had too much to drink. He knew way too much about alcohol for a child of his age. He knew it would make his mother stumble over her own two feet, and make his father prone to throw things if he got mad. He knew the smell of alcohol on his mother's breath, mixed with her mint lozenges and flowery perfume. Tony knew beyond a doubt that the woman who wasn't coordinated to catch herself from falling definitely shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car, ever. Maybe if he stalled, she'd give up and go home, and send their driver for him.
Without realizing it, Tony was back in his classroom. Why did he come here again? Oh right, to talk to Mr. Applegate, but he didn't need to talk to his teacher, he'd served his punishment for the superglue stunt yesterday. So, what then? Ah ha! He'd bring up this weekend schoolwork injustice, it could work. One of the best things about Mr. Applegate is that he rambled, if you got him off on a topic there was no telling where it would end (previous history would point to a story about World War II.)
"Mr. Applegate?"
Tony's teacher looked up from the papers on his desk, his face clearly showing his surprise at the student in his classroom. "Yes, Anthony?"
"Tony," Tony corrected for what he thought was the fiftieth time. "I was just talking to Ricky, er…that is Richard Donnelly, who's in Mrs. Henderson's class, and he said that he has a math assignment to turn in on Monday!"
"Muriel is assigning homework already? Hmm." Tony's teacher gaze shifted to somewhere between Tony's right shoulder and the corner of the room, "Damn Boyd twins must have really pissed her off this time, we're not supposed to start with that until after Thanksgiving. But still, to take it out on the rest of the class…she shouldn't let things like that get to her…but she's cutting off her nose to spite her face, if she hands out homework she'd going to have to grade it. Maybe it's time for - "
"Mr. Applegate?" Tony interrupted the stream of thought, appalled at what he was hearing, "You mean we're going to get home assignments too?"
"Hmm, what? Oh yes, Anthony," the teacher re-focused his attention on the boy in front of him. "Yes, you will be getting homework this year. Studying and learning aren't things that you only need to do in school Anthony, they're things you should do everywhere, and anytime. There are a myriad of opportunities to learn about the world around you if you would simply keep your mind open to them." Mr. Applegate transitioned into his lecture voice.
"What…what kind of assignments?" Tony was now grasping at straws. If it was only simple math, well, he could handle that. Surely, Mr. Applegate didn't expect him to read on his weekends. Reading assignments were the worst! It was just so boring! They never read about adventures, just a bunch of fables and stupid stories. Why should Tony care about the fox that couldn't get grapes? It was a stupid fox that didn't know that grapes grew on a vine not a tree. Tony'd been to a vineyard once with his father, he'd spent hours looking at the stupid fruit.
"Well Anthony, lots of things can be assigned as homework. Math, spelling, reading-"
Tony groaned.
"and history projects. Now, you can't tell any of the other children about this, but my first homework assignment is usually a family tree. A good history project to start things off, gets the parents involved and used to the idea of their child having homework, and of course it's not something you can fail on…" Mr. Applegate trailed off. "Anthony-"
"Tony," that made fifty-one now.
"Did you really come back to talk about homework you don't even have?"
No, but Tony couldn't say that, he didn't want to get his mother in trouble. Instead Tony went with looking sheepish, "I was just curious."
Apparently that was the right thing to do because Mr. Applegate smiled. Tony got the impression that his teacher really did like him, even after all of the stunts that he pulled. "I understand, but don't worry about it now, get on home and enjoy your weekend."
Tony nodded and headed for the door.
"See you Monday, Anthony!"
"It's Tony," the schoolboy muttered to the empty hallway. That conversation had been disturbing to say the least. Tony didn't like the picture of the future his teachers words were painting. Above that though, the conversation didn't take long enough. No doubt his mother would still be out there, being held up by the Mercedes, looking like a statue. Well, a statue that was ever so slowly falling over. Tony needed to think of something else now. What if he just didn't get in the car? What if he distracted her in some way that got her away from the vehicle? They could spend some time talking, waiting for her to recover from the drinks she consumed. He could give it a shot.
With his new plan being formulated in his mind as he moved, Tony picked up the pace and hit the big front doors at a dead run, bursting out into the bright sunshine of the crisp October afternoon. Just as he had predicted, his mother was still attached to her car, waiting patiently, only this time she had a slightly worried expression on her face. Once she spotted him it went away, replaced by a resplendent smile that only managed to dent her troubled eyes.
"Little Anthony! There you are! I was beginning to worry." she said bending down to invite him in for a hug and a kiss. Tony noted the mixture of smells that accompanied her kiss and his stomach sank, again. She'd had at least two drinks recently, he was going to have to keep her talking longer than he anticipated.
"Sorry Mom, I was talking with Mr. Applegate,"
"Are you in trouble?" The drunk woman was aghast at the idea.
"Oh No, no, nothing like that. I was clearing up a bit of an issue with homework."
"Oh dear Antonio, the school is starting with homework already? What is the assignment?"
Tony looked at his mother curiously, he wouldn't have thought that she'd be interested in his schoolwork, he wasn't even interested in his schoolwork. On the other hand, it was a topic he might be able to talk about for awhile. "It's a family history project. I'm supposed to ask you and Dad about stuff." He sighed.
"Oh darling!" His mother's face glowed with something close to excitement "You have such a rich family history, don't you think this will be fun?"
Tony wrinkled his nose in confusion, well yes, they were rich now, but didn't Grandfather start everything when he emigrated from Italy? How could all of his family history be rich? "Momma, I thought that Grandfather started the company?"
"Oh, not on your father's side, dear. My side of the family. Oh, there are so many stories that you should hear! The Paddington family has been very influential in society for centuries. You'll be the envy of everyone in your class!" She laughed.
Tony was shocked, she actually laughed. This was obviously a good topic, he'd have to remember to bring it up more often. "How about we go over to the jungle gym and you can tell some of them to me now?" his tone was maybe just a little over eager.
"No, no darling, I want to make sure I keep everything straight, I'm going to have to call your Uncle Clive when we get home. Hop in!" she managed to straighten up without toppling over and moved to open the driver's side door.
Tony hesitated, another plan bit the dust. What was he going to do now? Desperate, he moved to intercept her before she could sit down, and said the first thing that popped in his head. "Momma, can I drive? I know how! George taught me to move the cars in and out of the garage so he could wash them. I promise I'll go slow! Please?" He didn't know what he'd do if she said yes, but he was out of other options.
She was looking at him slightly dumbfounded, "No, sweetie, you're too little to drive. I could get in trouble if we were caught."
Tony pouted.
"Oh darling," she sat down in the seat and placed a hand on the side of his face, "Maybe some other time I'll let you drive around the estate a little, but not now. Now get in!"
Tony sighed as she closed the door of the Mercedes. Since she was lost to a world of riches and family history, she didn't see him reluctantly drag his feet around the car before he got in the passenger side and buckled up tightly. He tried not to hyperventilate as she took off like a shot from the parking lot, almost clipping a parked car as she did so. This was definitely not going to be a fun ride.
*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*
They were a little over two thirds of the way home, and so far the drive had been every bit as terrifying as Tony thought it was going to be. He had a white-knuckled grip on the door handle and his eyes glued to the road as the scenery of Long Island flew by. He was praying now, he was begging God for traffic, a cop, anything, just as long as it would slow his mother down. She also had trouble keeping to a straight line, weaving in her lane and frequently entering the other. She took corners, only slowing fractionally, or not at all. Tony was absolutely certain that he felt the back end drift on the last one. Horrifyingly, he knew the worst was yet to come.
Two scant miles from their house there was a sharp hairpin turn, and they were coming to it, fast. Tony was incapable of looking away from the disaster he knew, he simply knew, would be coming. Right as his mother put the large Mercedes in the corner and the centripetal force tossed Tony and his insides towards the door, he saw an object in the road. He screamed as he recognized one of their neighbors Great Danes crossing the road, perfectly timed to be mowed over by the vehicle.
Tony felt the second that his mother both registered and reacted to the dog's presence in the road. She slammed on her brakes, hard, and tried to swerve around the creature. Unfortunately, the brakes locked and steering the vehicle became impossible. Momentum took over, and Tony cursed for the first time in his life as wheels of his side of the car left the earth. The self-preservation instinct must have kicked in gear at that point, because Tony immediately drew his legs up to his body and buried his head under his arms, becoming as small as possible in his seat. He felt his equilibrium do strange things as the car rolled over, and over, and then crashed into a tree, hard. Tony felt the impact of the tree, but all awareness quickly faded as he blacked out.
*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*
As Tony floated back to consciousness the first thing he noticed was a faint hissing sound, accompanied by an odd clicking, almost a popping noise. The second thing he noticed was a strange coppery taste in his mouth. Each of these things were soon overpowered by a wave of pain that shook his body. He cried out because it felt as if his body were on fire, but found that was a really bad idea as it only served to make the pounding, throbbing pain in his head worse, so Tony stilled as much as he could and focused on breathing.
He blinked his eyes open a little, only to find that his world was now blurry, and spinning. That wasn't good for his head either, and it did horrible things to his stomach. He promptly threw up. Oddly, that made him feel a little better, at least he was able to keep his eyes open to a degree, so when his stomach rolled again, he didn't fight it. Finally leaning back in the seat, and oddly exhausted, Tony waited longer for the world to stop wobbling about and took stock of his other pains.
His right arm felt fine, he could move it easily, but his left, well that was a different story. Every time the appendage was even jostled slightly a new spasm of pain came, the upper part was already larger than it should be, so Tony cradled it close to his body to try and minimize its movement. He moved on to evaluating his legs, he moved them both and didn't find anything that was too award or painful, so he surmised that they were fine. Tony turned his attention then to undoing the seatbelt, after a few minutes of trying to focus on the release he got it off and hissed at the pain across his hips. However, that pain was nowhere near as bad as his left arm or head, so Tony decided that it wasn't that important.
Self evaluated, and the world mostly to rights as to the definition of what was level, Tony finally looked at his surroundings. He saw twisted and crumpled pieces of metal that used to be his mother's car, he saw the broken bits of glass everywhere, and he saw his mother, lying through was used to be the windshield as if she were a rag doll tossed there. Her neck was at an odd, impossible angle and her completely still body was lying in a large puddle of red. Tony really couldn't comprehend this scene, the synapses in his brain couldn't take the images he was seeing and make them compute into anything that resembled comprehension, that is until he looked at her eyes. Looked into those cold, flat, unfocused, graying, vacant eyes. It was at that point that Tony knew.
So this was death. This was what the other kids he went to school with meant when they talked about their pets and grandparents, (and the one kid whose older sister had drowned in the ocean two summers ago,) who had died. His mother was dead, she never going to come back. Looking at those eyes it was easy for Tony to determine that everything that made his mother his mother was already gone, this silent lump of cooling flesh was just a body, an empty house. This form would never move under its own power again, never speak again, never give him another hug. Tony felt the stinging of tears in his eyes.
He didn't want to look at it anymore, didn't want to be near it. He ignored all of his pains in a scramble to get out of the car. Surprisingly, the door on his side of the car worked and he was soon out and stumbling toward the road. Standing there, cradling what would turn out to be a badly broken arm, Tony wondered how he would ever get home, then he wondered if home could ever possibly be the same after…this. What would he do if it wasn't?
On the road, Tony could see the still body of his neighbor's Great Dane, but he didn't go over to it. It was obvious that the poor animal was dead as well, and he really didn't want to see the damage the car had done to it before it breathed its last breath. Instead, Tony sat down by the side of the road, looking at the wreckage, distance keeping from noticing the details of the damage to his mother's body. Namely, how her lower torso was impaled by the steering column, and how the top of her head was slightly caved in. When he was older he would be grateful that he had no actual memory of these particulars. Now however, he simply sat looking at a tableau of death on an October day, with grief weighing down his heart.
While looking at the scene where absolutely nothing moved, time ceased to exist. Tony was completely insensible to the things that happened behind him, he didn't register the squealing of brakes or the opening of a car door. He didn't hear a man's voice saying "Jesus Christ! Anna, go home and call 911, go home now! Oh, holy hell…" Tony didn't know anything until an EMT moved into his field of vision.
"…r name, son."
Tony looked at the man with questioning eyes.
"What's your name," the EMT repeated.
"Tony."
"Hi Tony, I'm Andy. Can you tell me where it hurts?"
He looked away from the EMT and back to the car.
"My mother's dead," Tony relayed the terrible fact, but that was the only other thing that he could say as his small frame began shaking. Closing his eyes and leaning forward Tony sobbed. He was eight years old and nothing in his world would be even remotely normal ever again.
A/N: Depressing right? Sorry about that, I couldn't help it. Thanks for reading!
~Angel