Disclaimer: I do not own any of NCIS nor am I making any money.
AN: My beta reader is mike91848 who knows things like point of view omniscience, thank goodness. Thanks Mike
I have not been able to respond individually but thank you for the PM's and reviews, they are much appreciated.
Please be warned, angst and a little sadness ahead.
Cinderella Revisited
Chapter 2
TONY
It took two years for Louisa to conceive. She felt as though she was being raped every time he touched her. He kept her close. The private investigator was retained. He remained possessive and obsessive as ever.
Anthony took a mistress because even he needed to be loved by someone who didn't turn away in disgust. Louisa got headaches, vomited and showered excessively at just the mere sight of him.
His mistress, Angela Delane, was just as besotted with him as he was with Louisa. They were both from prestigious families in the same social status. She threw herself at him from the day they met as teenagers. She did everything to get him and she hated Louisa for having what she coveted.
Louisa requested to be unconscious when her child was born. He was whisked away at her request so she never had to see him. Anthony named the boy Anthony Junior. The staff called him Tony. His mother wanted nothing to do with him. He was his father's spawn and she hated his father. Tony was three when the contract expired. She slipped out of the house taking nothing with her and never looked back. Tony didn't miss her; he had never known her.
When Louisa left and the divorce was final, Anthony married Angela who moved right in with their year old baby boy. She chose the suite of rooms to the right of the elaborate staircase, which had never been occupied by his ex-wife, to redecorate and refurbish.
Her rooms and the nursery were furnished in opulence, with enough toys in the nursery for a dozen children. Tony was relegated to a rear room on the left side of the staircase. He was the only occupant on that side of the mansion. She removed all of his baby furniture, toys and clothes and replaced them with a bedroom suite too mature for him. The bed was so high he had to use a chair to climb into it. She had the seamstress sew ridiculous sailor suits for him. No toys were allowed to be seen in his room, and the room had to be kept meticulously clean for her daily inspection. There was no indication that a young boy even lived there.
Angela's self-serving efforts to get Anthony to change his first born son's name from junior to something else proved futile. She named her son Antoney Steven in a thinly disguised effort to bump her son into first place. When her second son was born a year later, no one blinked an eye when she named him Anton Gregor.
She kept Tony in the background. She made him stay in his room when she had garden parties and celebrations for her children. The children's grandmother Caroline had developed a bond with the young Tony when both his mother and father neglected him. She made it her business to visit him regularly when his mother had still lived at the mansion.
When Angela found out the purpose of her visits, she would not allow them to spend time alone together. Tony would be brought down to the study by one of the servants where she and her boys were already present. On her arrival, Caroline would be escorted to the room where she found Antoney and Anton playing messily on the floor with numerous toys and Tony sitting quietly in an overstuffed chair by the window.
Caroline was no fool and saw what was happening. There was no sense in telling her neglectful son whom she had grown to dislike intensely because he was purposely oblivious to what went on in that house and he showed absolutely no concern for the welfare of his first born son.
So Caroline found ways to help her precious grandchild. Because she had been raised in the mansion, she knew about the hidden doors and secret closets which she had never shared with her own two sons because there was no need.
Over the years and with Janes as an ally, she'd sneak in and up to young Tony's room where they would eat and talk, play and laugh together, and she would tell him stories of her travels and read him bedtime stories too.
Tony truly loved his grandmother. She showed him the hidden door in his room, which led to another room where he could hide all his toys, books and tricycle she and the staff had gotten him. The secret staircase could be used to escape down to Janes' rooms if things got too bad for him. It was to be kept a secret, she emphasized. He nodded solemnly understanding that this would help keep him safe.
Four year old Tony finished scrubbing the stepmother's bathtub and started on the toilet. The stepmother had insisted on the harsh chemicals and bleach that made his eyes water and his hands burn red. As soon as she turned her back to make some other member of the household staff miserable, the chemicals were switched up by one of the maids so Tony was using a Green product safe for even a child's delicate hands and plastic gloves.
The heavy scrubbing his stepmother expected him to do was accomplished by another staff member and the work was quickly finished without the stepmother being the wiser.
"Finish your chores, Tony and then lunch in the kitchen. Cookie has mac and cheese for you today." Josie gave instructions in Spanish to the young boy.
"Mmmn, mac and cheese, my favorite," little Tony answered in kind. He hummed to himself while he expertly folded the small hand towels and placed them on the low shelf in the cabinet.
"Yes, yes, now hurry to your room and fold your clean pants and shirts and place them in your drawers. Then go downstairs to the kitchen."
"Okay, Josie, I'm going. I'll be quiet, okay?"
"Good boy, go Tony." She gently pushed him out the door.
Tony peeked first then ran quietly to the back hall then to his room at the other wing of the house where he finished the last of his morning tasks, folding a few of his shirts and pants. Several of the staff members who didn't cow-tow to the mistress of the house had a system; the boy would do some small chores a four year old could handle and not the massive amount of inappropriate work that was assigned to him by his stepmother so that when she grilled him about whether he had done his work, he would not have to lie.
When he was finished, Tony listened at his door for any voices before silently squeezing through a small opening and running down the back stairs to the kitchen.
"Cookie," he said fluently in her native Italian, "I'm ready for lunch," he was excited but knew better than to draw attention by yelling. Cookie smiled fondly at the boy, such a good boy. So handsome wanting to please, but too quiet. Not anything like those other two loud, obnoxious little spoiled monstrous demons living in the mansion.
"Everything's ready, dear boy. Sit, eat and finish your food. I have a special treat I made just for you afterwards."
"Just for me, Cookie?" he said as he started to eat. "Not for Antoney or Anton."
"Ach, no, bambino! You know Cookie wouldn't make anything special for those two …"
"Cookie!" warned the butler Janes as he entered the kitchen and flicked his eyes at the boy. She got the message but frowned and grumbled to herself anyway.
"Mrs DiNozzo would like the children's lunch at poolside in fifteen minutes," he instructed. "Once they are down for their naps, she wants to go over the week's menu with you.
"And," he said, his lips curled in disgust, "she'll have Master Tony's work schedule for the week also."
The cook snarled under her breath in Italian as she began to place the boys lunches on their trays. Mindful of the young Tony finishing his meal at the table, and the stylishly dressed, twenty something snooty nanny who had followed Janes into the kitchen, she curbed her tongue.
"The oatmeal was too hot for the boys to eat this morning!" the nanny pronounced in self-importance. "Mrs DiNozzo was not pleased. Please do not let it happen again!"
"I'll show you something hot if you don't get out of my kitchen witch!" Cookie berated angrily in Italian while waving the mashed potato covered spoon in her face. The nanny jumped back clumsily in her high heels to avoid the mess and slipped on some potato on the floor.
Tony, still sitting at the table, started to giggle at the spectacle. Furious, the nanny would take her anger out on the only person she could. She started across the tiled floor, her high heels clacking loudly. Before she could raise her hand to strike the boy, Janes stepped in front of her and said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you!"
Suddenly feeling threatened when she looked into his face, the nanny turned on her heel, while ordering over her shoulder as she left. "Bring the children's lunch! Now!
Five year old Tony had been in the stepmother's room all morning shining each of her leather shoes and matching handbags with lemony scented olive oil and baby soft pieces of cloth that Cookie had replaced for the harsh leather polish and scratchy hard towel the stepmother had given him.
Elna the maid had done most of the work but she had just left to attend to other duties. Satisfied he had replaced all the shoes and purses neatly back in place and made sure he had left nothing in the shoe closet, he picked up his supply basket and prepared to leave the room. Cookie would have his midmorning snack ready, a banana, cold milk, and a blueberry muffin just fresh from the oven.
His hand was on the doorknob when the door was suddenly pushed open and he jumped back in alarm. The stepmother was back early. Arguing, angry voices preceding a man and a woman into the room clearly indicated that this was not a place where he wanted to be but it was too late for him to hide.
His father entered first and stopped at the threshold in surprise. The stepmother, her voice shrill from arguing, bumped clumsily into his back. There was awkward silence while his father continued into the room. The man had been home for six weeks and Tony had only seen him once in passing and no words had been spoken between them.
Mrs DiNozzo was not one to let an opportunity pass her by. The boy was obviously in her room where he had no business being, however, he was also carrying a basket with cleaning supplies and he might find the courage to tell his father what she made him do and the severe punishments she subjected him to.
Mr DiNozzo broke the silence as he questioned his wife, "What's the boy doing in here?"
Tony shivered at his cold tone and even colder stare.
Angela looked confused for just a moment then regained enough composure to blurt out, "I don't know Anthony, probably playing hide-and-seek with his brothers. That's what you're doing isn't it Tony, playing with your brothers? Now where are those boys?" She pretended to look around for them.
"You all know you're not to be playing in these rooms now don't you Tony? Are you boys under the bed?" She even went so far as to look under the bed.
His father was getting impatient with her goings on and uncomfortably aware of the silent and still boy standing in the middle of the room. He was so unlike the other two boys who were never still or quiet.
"Get out, Anthony," was all he found to say to the boy who didn't need to be told twice. Tony fled the room still clutching the basket full of cleaning supplies to the sanctuary of the kitchen, Cookie and Janes.
Six year old Tony endured the beating without struggling, although he cried out loudly in pain. She was using one of her fancy slippers with the hard heel as she held him by the arm to whack at his backside, and it hurt. Four year old Antoney and the three year old Anton looked on with interest.
"You've been told before. You (whack) are not (whack) to enter these rooms (whack, whack, whack) without my express permission. Surely, you're not that stupid..."
Her tirade was interrupted by several knocks on the library door. Janes entered quickly.
"Excuse me, Mrs DiNozzo, but Mr DiNozzo is on the phone for you. Shall I take a message?"
She glared at him as she dropped the slipper and let go of Tony's arm. Janes could not miss the hostility behind the polite facade as she answered him.
"No, I'll speak to Mr DiNozzo now. Have the children's nanny come in, and he," she pointed to the crying boy on the floor, "will be sent to bed without supper tonight! Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied then mumbled under his breath, "Over my dead body."
Janes got Tony to his feet and walked him out of the room. The children's snooty nanny rushed past tsk, tsking about the trauma her poor babies had just suffered.
The kitchen staff and a couple of maids were arguing over who had dropped the ball on keeping an eye on Tony when Janes and Tony entered.
"Why would he go into the library, he knows better?" one of the maids said, almost in tears.
"He's six years old and learning to read. He's curious about the books in the library. There's only so much we can teach him with that women's work schedule for him. He needs to go to school or have a private teacher like she'll be doing for those two vipers of hers," said Cookie bitterly.
"Enough talk," said Janes. "It's all over for now. Tony needs some dinner and then bed," handing him over to Cookie who fussed over him. "We'll just have to keep a better watch."
Tony stood in back of the library waiting for his two pokey brothers to arrive so class could begin. The teacher was in the front of the room writing math equations on the chalkboard. The door opened and the boys entered noisily with the nanny in tow. When there was no sign of the stepmother, Tony felt secure enough to claim his seat at his desk.
When Antoney had turned five the stepmother had employed a tutor with excellent credentials as her boy's preschool/kindergarten teacher but had not made arrangements for Tony who was seven. On the first day, Janes boldly delivered Tony to the library where the classes were being held.
Mrs DiNozzo sat serenely, carrying on a quiet conversation with the teacher while her boys wrestled and screamed at each other. The teacher was not impressed. When Janes walked in with Tony Mrs DiNozzo jumped to her feet crying out indignantly, "What's the meaning of this intrusion, Janes, why is he here?"
All but ignoring her, Janes spoke directly to the teacher, "This is Anthony DiNozzo Jr. I believe he is to be included in your roster of students. He can read above his grade level, speaks Italian, Spanish, and of course English fluently. He is below grade level for math and history and he has excellent handwriting skills for his age.
Mrs DiNozzo was first speechless at the audacity and then sputtering with rage at her nemeses interference once again. All the boys, even Tony, looked at her in fascinated wonder as her face was suffused with color.
The teacher looked back and forth in confusion. He cleared his throat and started to speak but Janes spoke over him.
"Of course, Mr DiNozzo will confirm these arrangements if you wish to confer with him. He will be in town tomorrow. Please leave your number and I'll be sure he gets it."
"No, no, it's quite alright, one more child will be fine. I'll give Anthony his preliminary tests today so I'll know what readers and math books to pick up for tomorrow. It'll be fine," he repeated to an anxious Tony, as he directed all three boys to chairs.
Janes turned and left the room with Mrs DiNozzo practically running on his heel.
"How dare you! How dare you embarrass me in front of that man! You think I won't report you to my husband? You think you can get away with the disrespect you show me?"
Gone was the serene facade as she spat the words out wildly.
"You think I'm afraid of you? You're nothing but a servant. Nothing! You have no right. I'll make you pay for this. I promise you'll pay..."
Janes remained stoic throughout her tirade, staring over her shoulder at a DiNozzo ancestor portrait hanging on the wall, until she ran out of breath.
"Mr DiNozzo is returning tomorrow. I can certainly be there when you explain to him why his son had not been enrolled in any formal education and it had been left to the house staff to teach him how to read and write. Please let me know what time, and I will gladly make myself available to answer any of your complaints."
She wanted to do bodily harm to the arrogant heathen who didn't know his place. She clenched her lips and fisted her hands at her impotence knowing she was already beaten. She had not looked ahead when denying him schooling. Now there was no way to remedy the situation without putting herself in a bad light. 'I forgot to enroll him in school' wouldn't cut it. She couldn't point a finger at Janes for his disrespect without betraying herself as a bad fill-in mother, even to a boy that neither she nor his father had any love for or wanted.
Yes, she was impotent. All she could do was threaten again before storming off in a huff.
Mrs DiNozzo never said anything else about Tony being in the class although she continued to try and keep the boy in his place. She had a servant move his desk to the back of the class saying he was a distraction to the other two boys. She told the teacher that the boy was sullen and inarticulate and was not to be called upon to answer or even speak in the classroom.
The teacher was rightfully leery of Mrs DiNozzo. He was working on his Master's degree and needed the teaching position but he was mostly an ingenious young man who still believed in fair play.
Mrs DiNozzo started out attending the early morning classes but she soon tired of getting up so early and instead had the teacher give her a daily report on the children's progress. The teacher fed her information she wanted to hear, that her boys were doing very well and that her stepson was basically an idiot. The meticulous honest records he kept throughout his tenure, which she had no interest in reading, dispelled the lie.
Anthony DiNozzo let his wife raise his children. He stayed away from home as much as possible. His business trips were frequent and mostly overseas. He knew Angela loved her boys to excess and money was no object on hand made clothes and shoes, toys and the best tutors. Whatever they wanted, they got. He assumed that was the case with all his children.
It was a little odd that on his infrequent returns to his home, he never saw Tony. Angela usually had an excuse; time out for an infraction, punishment for breaking a rule. Not feeling well. He never questioned her excuses. And he never sought the boy out.
He was happy the boy wasn't around. The love of his life had left him and for that, his unrelenting love for her had turned into an overpowering rage that spilled onto the child she had so remorselessly left behind.
The rage was always there right at the surface every time he looked at the boy. He hadn't smashed his fists into the mothers face for not loving him and it took all of his willpower to stop himself from doing that to the boy. Yes, it was better for all concerned that they stay out of each other's way. That he stay away.
When Tony was 9, he got it into his head that he wanted to see his real mother's gravesite, so he wrote his father a short note: Dear Sir: if it is convenient, I respectfully request the use of a vehicle and a driver in order to see my real mother's gravesite to pay my respects and leave flowers. Thank you for your consideration. Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.
How poignant, how touching, a young boys deepest desire to see where his mother lay at rest.
Tony was summoned to his father's study and was greeted sternly, "I received your note Anthony and I'm a little curious. Am I to understand that you believe your mother is deceased?"
Anthony tried not to be nervous, that his voice came out strong when he answered the larger-than-life forbidding man sitting behind the desk.
But first he had to take a guess about what deceased meant. He knew 'died' and 'dead,' but deceased? He would have to guess it meant one or the other. As he prepared to answer, his father said harshly, "Speak up Anthony, I don't have all day."
"Sorry, sir," Anthony gulped. "I think my mother is dead, sir, otherwise she would have taken me with her when she left," he spoke slowly trying not to make any mistakes.
His father started to laugh as he got up from his chair and went to the bar where he refreshed his drink. His father's laugh was ugly and loud with no sense of any humor present. When he got back to his desk, he opened the top drawer and removed an envelope and thrust it across the desk.
"Your mother may be dead to me, but she is not dead. After you have read this, we will discuss its contents," his father leaned back relaxed in his chair.
Dear Anthony (and I call you dear in all facetiousness)
When you read this I will have escaped from the prison you have kept me in for five long unendurable years. I ask myself how so much hate alive within my heart did not kill me, but only the thought that if I endured, then I would be with my beloved again and the torment would soon be over has kept me breathing. My parents and family are safe from you now. There is nothing more you can do to them. I am done with you.
As far as the child is concerned, he belongs to you. Do with him what you will. I do not love him or want him and I never will. When I look at him, I become sick to my stomach because he reminds me of you and my skin crawls when I think of the horror of how he was conceived. He should have died at birth. When you die may you be tormented in hell forever! I will gladly spit on your grave.
Louisa Paddington
When he came to the end of the letter, Tony was sobbing quietly to himself. His tears had wet the paper.
"Do you understand what you have read, Anthony?"
He tried to pull himself together as he responded tearfully. "Yes, my mother is not dead. My mother doesn't love me, she hates me and she wants me to be dead." his sobs and hiccoughs had gotten louder with his despair.
"I feel that it is important that you know the truth regarding how your mother feels and, also, how I feel. My words may seem unkind right now but in the long run, it will teach you an important lesson.
"Your mother left you with me because she despised any child of mine. I feel the same way regarding any child of hers. You are her child and I have come to hate her. I am unfeeling where you are concerned, neither love nor hate. I feel nothing towards you.
"You will be raised in this house, clothed and fed because that is my duty and you are my responsibility. You will be expected to get an education and when you have done so, you may leave this house. And please do not feel that you must remain in contact with me or this family." His father continued to hammer nails into his little vulnerable heart.
"Now, have I made myself perfectly clear? Please explain it to me if you understand."
Tony had listened to his father's words. He thought his father had almost sounded a little sad. He knew his father was expecting an answer so he tried to quiet his sobs and gulped out,
"My mother hates me, my father has no feelings for me," he said pitifully.
"When I grow up, I am to leave the house and never try to contact you or anyone here again," the last said ending in a wail.
"Good, now you understand. Don't make things difficult for yourself by dwelling too much on this. It is what it is, accept it. You are excused, go to your room. You may keep your mother's letter for a reminder."
Tony clutched the letter to his chest as he turned to flee the room but before he took a step, he turned back around.
"What is it now?" his father said impatiently.
"Is there anything I can do to make you or mother love me?" he spoke with little hope, "I can be a better boy, I can do better in school if you'll give me a chance."
"I can't speak for your mother, but as far as I am concerned, my feelings will never change." He was as a man with no heart.
Now Tony knew. He turned and ran from the room closing the door softly behind him.
Janes, who had been looking for him and had heard every hateful, wicked word, picked the sobbing boy up and carried him upstairs to his room saying over and over again that he was loved, that so many people loved him, that he had a big heart, that he was a good boy, until he finally fell into a troubled restless sleep with his mother's letter still crumpled in his hand. To this day, Tony never figured out what lesson he was supposed to have learned.
The stepmother was at one of her functions and his two holy brothers had locked their nanny in their bathroom and then run screaming through the mansion overturning furniture and lamps and causing havoc.
Tony had finished his chores and was in his room reading. He hadn't been involved in the mayhem, but he knew he would be blamed by the stepmother because the boys had ended up on his side of the house in his room yelling like banshees and running around his room. No way, he knew better. He rough housed the boys from his room with threats of beating them up, down the wide staircase where he met Janes coming up the stairs.
Janes grabbed each boy non-too-gently by the collar and continued down the stairs.
"What's going on, Janes?" Mr DiNozzo stood in his study door, papers in one hand, glasses in the other. Tony remained frozen on the stairs. Janes let go of the boys who ran down the rest of the stairs to their father and started complaining.
"Boys, be quiet! Janes?"
Janes explained, "I just released the nanny from the boy's bathroom where she had been confined by a chair under the doorknob. I believe she is packing her bag, sir. It appears that Antoney and Anton, here, have taken advantage of their lack of supervision to misbehave terribly."
"No, no father, it wasn't us." said little Anton who was always lying about Tony. Antoney didn't lie but he didn't correct Anton either.
"Tony made us do all that, he's the one who knocked everything over, and he said he would beat us up if we didn't do what he said," the boy said.
"Mr DiNozzo, Anthony has been in his room all evening. He was not involved in the mayhem these boys caused," Janes defended.
Mr DiNozzo stared coldly at the lanky boy standing perfectly still on the stairs, almost hiding behind Janes.
"Anthony, please come down here." The boy continued down the stairs to stand stiffly in front of his father with lowered head.
"Look at me when I speak to you, Anthony!"
The boy raised his head and stared at him with wide green eyes so much like his mothers. His stance was submissive but those eyes, they held traces of something, perhaps the start of defiance. Perhaps he thought at eleven years, he was too old to be disciplined, wanted to pursue his own way. He wouldn't have it! Not from the boy's mother and certainly not from this arrogant boy!
Anthony DiNozzo couldn't stop these escalating, unreasonable thoughts. Deep down, he knew the boy wasn't doing any of the things his mind was accusing him of. The boy just stood there innocent, waiting curiously for him to speak.
Which came in the form of unexpected violence and pain.
He heard Janes call his name and when he came to his senses he looked around in confusion. The boy was still standing in front of him with his hand pressed against his bloody nose and blood seeping through his fingers onto the tiled floor. The papers he had been holding were now lying scattered on the floor. The tinkle of broken glass gave evidence of the crushed pair of glasses under his foot.
Without provocation, he had struck the boy in the face several times with his open hand.
Wordlessly, he started to bend down to pick up the items he had dropped but then turned abruptly to hurry back to his study.
Janes had his handkerchief pressed up against Tony's nose and was bustling him up the stairs. He glared at the other two boys in passing, but especially at Antoney.
"I assume you are proud of your actions today, Antoney? Again, you failed to do the right thing," said Janes looking directly at nine year old Antoney in disappointment. Antoney turned his head away as though feeling a pang of guilt and that he was letting someone down.
"I'm telling mother you hurt my arm and you pushed me down the stairs," Anton yelled spitefully to Janes retreating back.
"When she gets home, she's going to beat Tony's butt with a strap and she's going to fire you and she's going to put Tony in the basement again with no food or water."
He would have continued with his threats but Antoney roughly put his hand over his brother's mouth to shut him up and dragged him up the stairs to their rooms.
Tony spent his time staying out of his father's way now that he was home more often. It was also easier to avoid the crazy stepmother now that she had her husband to fawn over. Not only that but he had grown a couple of inches so that now, at 12, he was taller than she was. She couldn't grab him by the arm or the ear, or any other body part to hold him down and whip him like she could when he was four or five, or even ten.
Tony had learned silence and stealth early on. He could disappear at a moment's notice. He knew every nuance of the mansion he lived in and if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found.
One Saturday when his chores were finished and his homework was done, he slipped out the front door around the back to the courtyard of the second summer cottage on the right where a pickup game of basketball was being played. Some of the workers on several surrounding estates would engage in a game on their time off and they allowed Tony to play with them because he was very, very good.
As it happens, Antoney had been sent away from the breakfast table for having a sullen attitude and for not wanting to eat his porridge. He saw Tony slip from the house and followed him. Tony picked up a basketball hidden under some foliage and bounced it down the path until he came to a top-rated, professional looking basketball court where several men were warming up.
The men all greeted Tony with smiles and high fives as he approached; one man even grabbed him around the neck and said something to him in Spanish. After several more men arrived, a game was started. It was loud and boisterous and intense, and great fun. Tony was quick and fast and very agile, the star basketball player.
Antoney watched in envy. He wanted to be in or have some kind of relationship with his older brother other than the ongoing contentiousness but he didn't know how. The mysterious pervasive atmosphere in his home fostered unrest and distrust and it followed Tony around like a mantle through no fault of his own.
Antoney knew, deep down, that his mother was mostly the cause of his alienation from his brother. Growing up, she forbade any association with him. She kept Tony isolated from his family in that dark section of the mansion. She made him clean and scrub and do other things that no eldest son of a wealthy scion should do.
She tried to deny him even a basic education and kept him so bogged down in chores that there would never be any time for fun activities. He never went on any of their trips to Disney world or flew in their private plane to occasionally meet up with father, or been invited to any of their extravagant theme oriented children's parties his mother's circle of friends loved to host.
And yet, there was Tony jumping for hoops and doing things with the basketball he could never do. His mother had enrolled his brother and him in every sport imaginable including basketball but he never had developed the skill the way Tony had or had as much fun playing as Tony and the others seemed to be having.
He had had swimming lessons taught by a former Olympian since he was four years old and he was an excellent swimmer. One time, he had seen Tony getting lessons in the pool with the girl apprentice who worked with their seamstress during her summer break from college. Recently, he had seen Tony swimming laps early one morning from his window and he knew Tony could out swim him.
He wanted Tony to teach him how to play basketball like that. To show him all the secret passages of the mansion their grandmother had shown Tony until his mother had caught her sneaking into Tony's room and banned her from the estate.
His family's norm was to treat Tony like crap. He and Anton had just been following in their parent's footsteps. But why did it have to be that way? Tony was part of their family, wasn't he? They even looked alike. Everyone could tell they were brothers. So what was the problem?
And everyone else liked Tony; Janes was his staunchest defender, the servants bent over backwards for him, the cook even made special desserts for him that he never got to taste; their tutor told his mother lies about Tony's grades, which did not reflect what he recorded on his report card.
He knew his mother's fixation on Tony was not normal but he loved his mother. When he was around them together he felt anxious and unsettled as though something unknown was happening right before his eyes but he couldn't see it.
So Antoney stayed hidden and watched his brother play. When the games were over, he followed his sweaty brother back to the estate to a rear door he hadn't known was there. Tony turned around when he heard footsteps on dry leaves and frowned at his brother as he stood at the door.
"What do you want, An..To..Ney?" Tony said with a smirk. He threw the ball at Antoney who just managed to catch it and dribbled it back to him.
"Why do you have to say my name like that," Antoney said irritably. "You're always making fun of me. That's why mother doesn't like you."
Tony just stiffened up and glared at him. He dropped the ball and turned to enter the house without saying another word.
"Tony wait," Antoney yelled to empty air as the door was slammed in his face.
"I'm sorry, Tony." Antoney whispered. He desolately kicked at the dirt as he made his way around to the front of the estate.
Tony happened to be sick with a virus when the stepmother had the boys fitted for their summer clothes and formalwear. Consequently, Tony was not present when their measurements were taken, and out of all the boys, Tony needed new clothes more, because he had recently had a growth spurt. The stepmother conveniently forgot to reschedule an appointment for him.
Anthony DiNozzo was finding it increasingly difficult to explain away his oldest child's non-presence at social functions. Appearances meant everything and everyone in his social group knew of the son he had had with that women who no one dared to mention in his presence.
So when Tony was 12 years old, he was now expected to attend some of the functions being held at the estate and he had nothing appropriate to wear. His stepmother ignored his request for a fitting. Janes was going to take him to the exclusive clothing shop for boys his stepmother frequented but he came down with the same flu virus and was incapacitated for days.
Tony requested a meeting with his father, which was denied, so even though he would never forget the disastrous results the last time he tried to communicate with his father in this way, he left him a note explaining the situation in concise terms. He didn't expect a response and he got none.
By that time, he was desperate enough to venture into the inner sanctum that had been denied him since he was three years old. His brothers rooms were large, opulent, jaded rooms obscenely filled with every imaginable toy and thing a young boy could want or dream of.
It was early morning on the day of the party. The boys were still in their pajamas when he entered their rooms.
Nine year old Anton saw him first and started yelling right away. Tony could mostly tolerate Antoney, especially when he was not around his brother. But Anton, who still had his baby fat and would probably have a hard time when he grew up to maintain a healthy body weight because he loved to eat, was another story.
He was a snotty, fat, bratty, momma's boy, with his nose in the air and me-first attitude. He was a bully to younger, smaller kids but somewhat of a coward if you stood up to him, preferring to run behind his mother's skirts rather than face retaliation.
"Oooh, you are in so much trouble when mother finds out," Anton said in gleeful spite. He aimed his remote control car right at Tony's foot who casually smashed at it and kicked it aside when it got near him.
"Mother." Anton screamed loudly as he raced toward the door only to be intercepted and tackled to the floor by Antoney.
"You'd better get out of here, Tony, you know how mother gets," Antoney warned while wrestling with his brother who was huffing and puffing under him.
"Look, I don't have any clothes that fit and Father is expecting me to attend the party this evening," Tony, who never appeared nervous to him before, now shifted from one foot to the other.
"I need to borrow some pants and a shirt from you. They'll fit me better than what I have. What do you say?" Tony wasn't pleading, exactly, but Antoney heard what wasn't being said. Here was his chance.
But Anton managed to get free before he could respond. "Mother, help!" he yelled. He was out of breath as he again ran toward the door, which was suddenly flung open.
"What is going on in here?" Said the stepmother as she stepped into the room. She spotted Tony right away and stopped dead in her tracks.
Tony was used to the curled lip and the snarled words, the evil eye and the sharp manicured nails that made bloody furrows in his skin when she was angry. He didn't flinch when she lifted her well-shined, high-heeled leather shoe that could crush a small hand or bloody a little foot.
The belts she wore to emphasize her tiny waist were too thin to cause any real damage to a boy almost grown and who could snatch it out of her hand with ease. His 12 year old self wasn't paralyzed with fear at the sight of her anymore.
The room remained oppressively silent as they stared at each other. Tony's aversion to her, his animosity and real dislike was evident in his eyes, something she had only just started to notice. She suddenly realized that he had become a real enemy who in a few years would be a man fully capable of toppling what she had worked so hard to obtain. He could jeopardize everything. She felt out of control in her panic.
Even insensitive Anton felt the cold oddness in the room and was compelled to speak.
"Mother, Tony came into the room to steal some of Antoney's clothes. He said he was going to beat Antoney up and give him a black eye if he didn't hand over all his toys, too.
"And mother, he has a knife to use to cut out our hearts when we go to sleep. He scared me, Mother," he quivered in pretended fear. Anton was clearly a troubled boy and was already seeing a psychologist three times a week for his pathological lies coupled with his vivid imagination.
"Oh, shut your fat, lying mouth, Anton," said his brother disgustedly as he walked towards his closet, not noticing the brief grin Tony aimed at him.
"Mother, Tony doesn't have anything to wear tonight. The suit that was just delivered would fit him, don't you think?" young Antoney said in excitement as he pulled the suit down.
"You know the one you were complaining was a little too big for me? Mother? Mother, can Tony take this suit?" Antoney anxiously waved the suit in front of his mother when she didn't answer.
Tony spoke up quickly. It wasn't worth it, "Hey, never mind, man. It's okay..."
"No, no, you can take it, right mother? Mother, are you all right?" Antoney frantically pulled on his mother's sleeve.
Her eyes finally coming to focus on her son, she laughed in self-depreciation as she took the suit from Antoney.
"Forgive me Antoney," she said as she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I have so many things on my mind right now, what with the final plans for the dinner party tonight to be looked after and such.
"And don't think I did not hear the way you spoke to your brother just now. We will be having words about that later," she scolded. She turned to Tony and spoke to him directly for the first time.
"But in the meantime, of course Tony you may borrow the suit. We all know how important this dinner party tonight is to your father and his business and political aspirations." She looked at the suit and frowned brushing at invisible wrinkles.
"I'll tell you what. I'll have the suit and a shirt pressed and delivered to your room this evening. And I'm sure we can even find a pair of dress shoes for you to wear."
"Everything will be alright, son." she turned and addressed Antoney with a bright smile.
Her smile swept magnanimously to Tony as she stepped aside to let him pass. Tony, who wouldn't be caught dead within 10 feet of her, went around the other way, faked a punch at Anton then lightly popped him on the head when he jumped back and squealed, and exited the room on lighter feet.
Tony returned to his room that evening in time to shower and change. The stepmother had made him work with Janes in some last minute preparations as though there weren't more than enough servants, and now he was running late. Janes had let him go once her back was turned so he could get ready.
He noted the suit and shirt laid out on his bed as he headed for the shower. While he soaped up, he thought about the earlier encounter with his stepmother and how he finally felt he had won a round in his ongoing battle with her.
He understood his mother and father's animosity towards him; after all, his father had made his feelings perfectly clear, and the letter from his mother, that he kept locked away, left no doubts about her feelings. But the stepmother hadn't explained her dislike of him, had just shown him by her actions how she felt.
Tony finished in the shower, brushed his teeth, combed and styled his hair and left the bathroom. He picked socks and underwear from his drawer and grabbed a tie and cufflinks on his way to the bed. The idea that he had been invited to an important function and that he had the correct clothes to wear excited him. Perhaps the days of banishment to his room, the closet or the basement were over. Perhaps, over time he and Antoney, and even that rat Anton could be friends, real brothers even.
Tony's thoughts went along these semi-happy lines as he picked up the shirt to put it on but he quickly dropped it back to the bed in disgusted puzzlement at the foul odor emanating from the shirt, and the suit lying next to it.
The shirt was covered in dirty brown stains that Tony just knew was dog poop. He had had to clean the kennels often enough, he knew the smell well. The suit likewise was stained and stank from being soaked in urine, and it had been slashed and cut, and the arms partially ripped off. The expensive shoes that had been placed neatly on the carpet next to his bed had holes gouged into the heels and the soles had been ripped off.
Tony collapsed on the bed in shock. He couldn't wrap his head around this. What had he done? He was tall, had big feet, had even seen some fuzz growing on his face, but he was just a boy with a boy's feelings to be hurt. This was his stepmother's viciousness. He knew it. She had won again.
He could hear his brothers laughing as they slashed the clothes. Anton had found utmost joy in smearing feces on everything. Antoney had stood there with a sly smirk on his face as he urinated in the shoes. Tony lay numb, curled up on the bed for a long time, crying softly.
Finally, he sat up and wiped his tears and snot on the pillow. He kicked the ruined clothing to the floor. What would be worse, to not attend the dinner at all or to attend in last year's clean but ill-fitting clothes. Was there a third choice? He didn't know what to do. He couldn't get in touch with Janes and there was no one else to ask. When he finally made his decision and was dressed, he moved on auto-pilot out the door and down the wide opulent staircase.
Guests had started to arrive. A crowd was gathered in the vestibule entryway. His father, looking exceptionally relaxed, was there laughing with his uncle Fred and others, with a drink in his hand. The stepmother stood sparkling under the chandelier, conversing demurely with her well-dressed women guests.
Even Janes was there, good old Janes holding a tray of drinks, who looked up at him in terrible dismay, and hurried to put the tray down.
His brothers stood quietly conversing with some of their young friends as expected while waiting for the adults. Antoney, the traitor, looked up and even smiled at him.
Others saw him before his father turned and gaped, mouth open comically. His father started yelling at the sight of him. He was completely out of control. The stepmother, her face unnaturally animated, smirked into her elegant hand, her diamond rings reflecting the rainbow in the crystal lights above. He dazedly continued down the stairs, his brain made of cobwebs. He couldn't hear or speak to answer his father's angry questions.
Janes started towards him but his father reached him first. His father grabbed him by the arm to turn him back upstairs and something twisted and broke with a snap. His father struck him again and again in pent up, misplaced hot fury. Ironically, this was only the second time in his life that his father had actual touched him.
He heard screaming, was it him? Then, his father's big hands were around his neck choking, choking.
His father was suddenly pulled off him and he was left lying crumpled, red-faced and gasping on the stairs. Suddenly, all the feelings came back to life, the fog in his brain was gone, his hearing was restored and he heard murmuring in the silence of a room full of people. He could talk again. He smelled bad.
Janes was kneeling on the stairs trying to get him up. Other well-dressed, cultured men and women stood around watching in morbid fascination. His uncle Fred was forcefully restraining his father who was breathing heavily as he struggled and cursed his ugly, angry words. His father's hands were bloody and held in tight fists, ready to punch again.
His knees had given out but he was finally able to stand up. His head was spinning. His twisted arm, his filth covered clothes and torn shoes, his busted nose and his bloody mouth were all on display, a spectacle, all evidence of his humiliation and betrayal.
"I hate you!" he spat in awful intensity, blood running down his chin as he stared at his father with condemning eyes and a broken nose.
"I hate you so much! I hate you more than you ever hated me! I wish you were dead! I want you all to be dead!
"I want her to be dead!" he kept yelling while trying to point with his grotesquely bent arm to the stepmother, the smirk finally leaving her lovely face.
"I want her sons to be dead! I want you all to die!" He weakly struggled with Janes on the stairs but his voice was strong as he finally expressed his rejection of the family who had rejected him first.
Someone gasped and a glass shattered on the floor. The murmurings got louder. His father stepped back, momentarily shocked by his words.
"Come on Tony, come with me," pleaded Janes his savior once again as he lifted him under his good arm to carry him up the stairs. "I hate them, Janes, I hate them."
Tony's arm was set by a doctor from another county, a friend of the family. No criminal charges were ever filed when money changed hands and good people looked the other way. His father disowned him and turned his guardianship over to his brother Fred who had two teenaged daughters of his own and had no interest in taking in a preteen troubled boy.
Uncle Fred enrolled him in a military academy in Rhode Island. Once in college, his college fees would be paid for as long as he was enrolled in business classes. He was given the name of a lawyer to contact if he needed anything. Uncle Fred's advice was, don't try to contact your father or any member of this family after this. It would just stir things up. Tony gladly agreed to have nothing more to do with any of them. He had no family, he never had. He was on his own.
DiNozzo cancelled the important dinner party that evening to his wife's angry disbelief. She saw the accusing glances cast their way by some of their so called friends. Beating up on a kid, in public no less, upset their sense of propriety. The self righteous hypocrites, as though they never took a whip to any of their brats.
Some of the female guests smiled slyly in artificial sympathy to see Angela DiNozzo's dirty laundry aired in public. Her smug superior attitude, her claims of a perfect husband and two perfect sons had always stuck in their craw and they were glad to see her brought down a peg or two. They would have a field day under the dryers for months with this gossipy tidbit.
But what had gone wrong with her perfect plan? She had only wanted to keep that boy in his place, which was certainly not at her dinner party charming all the guests. What she had done to those clothes should have kept him hidden upstairs, preferably in his closet for days. Instead, he had been so stupid as to actually put them on and parade down the stairs in them.
And of all the times she had wanted her husband to vent his anger, to use physical violence on that boy, he chose to do it in front of a group of prominent people that could make or break his career. Violence perpetrated not only to him but to her precious Antoney as well.
What had possessed her son to come screaming at his father, to try and throw himself between his father and Tony, getting a bloody cut above his eye for his interference and thereby giving those loose tongued, gossip mongrels more fodder to blather about the DiNozzo's malfunctioning abusive household.
Still none of this mattered Her stepson was out of the picture, removed from her sight by the hateful Janes. No matter the venom that had spilled from the boy's filthy mouth for all to hear; he wanted them dead, indeed. Their guests were arrogant, shallow but filthy rich people. They certainly wouldn't have a problem overlooking this minor infraction. Her husband was destined for other, better things. Nothing would stand in the way of that.
Totally ignoring the pool of bright red blood congealing on the marble stairs she tried to herd their guests into the formal dining room and the excellent pasta primavera and fine wines. Her desperate attempt to pretend nothing untoward had happened was pathetic. Some of them looked at her in total disbelief before politely begging their leave, taking their children with them. The place emptied out faster than it had taken DiNozzo to pummel a defenseless boy. Her husband disappeared into his office and locked the door, leaving his wife standing confused and alone in the beautiful, floral decorated hall.
DiNozzo sat in his office drinking steadily and trying to figure out what the hell had happened that night. How had he lost such control? His reputation as a child abuser would spread far and wide from his actions tonight. Certain avenues would be closed to him now. His budding political career was over. His desire to sit in the governor's seat had gone down the drain along with the blood he had just rinsed off his hands.
Finally, he called Janes in for some answers. And Janes was in the mood to give him some. He and other servants had managed to cut the clothing off of the boy and he had then taken them, shoes and all, to Mrs DiNozzos rooms where he meticulously spread them out on her new duvet and pillow and in her lingerie drawer full of expensive items.
Childish, yes, but so satisfactory and he could get fired, but really, there was nothing she could do about it. She had finally gone too far, a direct hit against his beloved charge and the boy whom his grandmother, a woman he had been secretly in love with for years, had asked him to protect.
DiNozzo listened impassively at Janes' tale of his wife's physical, mental, and emotional abuse. His second wife had terrorized the boy since he was three years old. She was the epitome of the evil stepmother.
She had made him work like a poorly paid hired hand. The horse stables, the kennels, the dangerous garden shed with its tools and poisons, nothing was off limits. She punished him for any imagined infraction with isolation, whippings, threats and even starvation.
But in spite of her efforts, the boy didn't remain long in the basement, or in the closet or under the bed where she put him, the whippings were stopped almost before they got started, and he was never isolated because the staff would not allow it.
She tried to bully the staff but they banded together and intervened making sure the boy remained safe and unharmed. DiNozzo heard the unspoken accusations and he wasn't blameless but he remained stoic in his refusal to feel shame. He did owe Janes and the others for their care of his son though, after all he wasn't a monster.
He had no doubt his wife had done these things and that she had been responsible for the debacle with the clothes. But he was still surprised, even shocked at her behavior. He really had not known what was going on or what she was capable of.
He had kept his distance from his with good reason it now seemed since he couldn't stop himself from turning violent when in close proximity to the boy. He had no one to blame but himself and although he still felt no affection for his son, he certainly would feel regret for his behavior on this day for a very long time and he would make sure she regretted this day also.
Antoney didn't come out of his room for two days. He ripped the bandage off his bruised and cut face so he could see what his father had done to him; yeah, he and his brother had something in common now, mostly pain, but fear and hate too.
His brother was never coming back and it was his fault. He had begged his mother for the clothes. He had taken shoes out of his father's closet. His mother had done something terrible with the clothes and shoes, and to Tony.
He couldn't stand his mother right now, would never feel the same about her again. He couldn't stand his stupid name, his pest of a younger brother and especially his father who had hurt and bloodied Tony with his fists. He could never forget the look on his father's face when he tried to stop him from hurting Tony, like he didn't even know him.
He finally decided he couldn't do anything about his awful family, he was stuck with them. He couldn't do anything about Tony. He didn't know where they had sent him. But he didn't have to keep the stupid name his mother had branded him with.
There was only one Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. Everyone knew that, and it wasn't him. Steve DiNozzo. That was who he was from now on. Steve.
AN Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.
Next up: Anthony DiNozzo, Jr
