WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Tony's father is his usual sadistic self, but most of these flashbacks are more mental than physical.
Thanks to Kylen who not only has given me more new plot ideas than I should be allowed to have at one time, but also took on the task of beta-reading for me – especially since I popped this chapter on her and pretty much gave her no time to proof it. All mistakes remaining are mine.
Chapter 7 – Solidifying Guilt
ZIVA: You have not listened to anything I have said.
TONY: Well it's only been three years. I'm a slow learner.
ZIVA: And a slow healer... You're crying over spilled milk.
TONY: It's not milk that I spilled.
~ Judgment Day (2) 5x19
Gibbs reached out to lay a hand gently on Tony's shoulder in support, but was surprised at how violently his friend shied away.
"Don't Gibbs. Please." The words were choked; from pain or anger Gibbs couldn't tell. He could see the tearstains on the man's shirt sleeves from where he'd violently scrubbed at his face. The need to do something – anything – as Tony had continued talking tore at Gibbs, but the younger man had repeatedly pulled away from any comfort Gibbs had tried to offer.
Gibbs dropped his hand back down to his side and leaned back against the doorjamb. If space was what Tony needed, then it was the least he could do – even if instincts long thought dead were urging him to offer a tactile reminder that he wasn't alone. A silent yawn caught him off guard, and Gibbs was glad that Tony's back was still to him – after all, he wasn't as young as he once was, but he would be damned if he was going to abandon Tony for something as trivial as sleep.
"You should go to bed."
Gibbs supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He had hired the young investigator first and foremost for his ability to be observant under even the most trying of circumstances. "Nah. Just need some coffee, is all."
Tony snorted his thoughts on the matter, but shook his head ruefully and attempted a deep breath. It caught in his lungs and came out as more of a cross between a cough and a sob. He dropped his head down until his chin smacked his chest and drew his shoulders back until some of his vertebrae cracked audibly. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the wooden railing for dear life and tried to wrestle his emotions back under control.
"Tony, it's not…"
"Don't. Just don't, okay? I don't want to hear it. I may not have pushed her. I may not have been able to stop my father, but she's still dead because of me. Her daughter still doesn't have a mother because of me and because of my goddamned mouth. Her daughter had her mother ripped away from her because I couldn't just shut up for once. It's my fault."
Gibbs scoffed. "Yeah. Yeah, Tony. Maybe you're right. Maybe it is your fault."
Fire and betrayal burned in Tony's eyes as he turned abruptly, and Gibbs almost took back the words. Almost. Tony needed to deal with this, head on. Maybe the best way to get him to do that was to get him angry.
"I expect that from my father, Gibbs." His words were scathing, a sure sign that Gibbs' ploy had gone under Tony's normally astute radar. The older investigator only hoped it didn't backfire. "He was the first one to tell me Marie's death was on my shoulders. I was nine years old, for God's sake. She wasn't even dead yet and he was already telling me that it was my fault. She was lying on the ground, bleeding, and he was already on the phone with someone to cover it up. He wasn't the last one to blame me, though. And I never thought you'd join the list." He turned his back to Gibbs again.
"I know that I didn't kill her. I know that. I've seen enough death since I started in Peoria to know that that blame lies solely on my father's shoulders – even if no one can prove it. And I know that he didn't mean to kill her. But it doesn't change things. It doesn't change that if she hadn't come running into the room to help me, she might still be around. If I hadn't needed to be punished…if I had been stronger…if I had just been quieter…if I hadn't needed her…if…if…" Tony was beginning to sound frantic.
"If she didn't love you? You can't change things like that, Tony. You said it yourself, you were nine years old. The only thing that is your fault is the fact that you were a good kid. It's not your fault that your father was a sadistic drunk and that you needed help. She wouldn't be the person you remember if she hadn't come to help you that day."
"I know that. But it doesn't change the fact that she's dead, and she's never coming back."
"No, no it doesn't." Gibbs didn't know what else he could say. He wasn't sure he could ever put a stop to the cycle that Tony's thoughts had him spinning on. There was a long pause before Tony spoke again, and the quiet plea was so choked with guilt and regret that it clenched the older man's heart.
"You…you don't really think…that it's my fault…do you, Gibbs?" The tone reminded him very much of his own daughter begging him to put everything right with the world when she had been small.
"No, Tony. I never did."
~*~
"You see, you little shit? You killed her. Took the only thing that you seemed to care about and ended her. She's dead because you were a worthless whelp and couldn't even learn your lesson. You see what you've done?"
Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight even as his father cuffed him painfully across the back for a fifth time with his belt. The beating meant nothing because Marie's hand was cold in his grip and Tony knew that no matter what, she would never just lay there and watch him being punished. But her eyes were still open and Tony was being beaten in front of her as if she wasn't there. He didn't even feel the blows landing until they began to land on top of one another.
"Take your damned shirt off."
When Tony's back was bare, the blows fell again and harder, until a knock at the door signaled his reprieve. By that time, there wasn't an inch of skin that wasn't bright red or deep purple, and the boy was almost certain that he wouldn't be able to move. Blood flowed sluggishly from some of the more abused skin, and even Tony's shallow breaths lit up his back with pain.
"Just a minute." His father called out.
Words ghosted in his ear as he was hauled into his father's arms and thrown into a closet. "Make a single noise and you'll join her."
The dark closed around him, and Tony wrapped his arms around his knees to try and comfort himself. The tears stopped and ragged breaths evened out as he stared straight ahead and tried to make sense of what had happened. No one was coming to get him any time soon, he was pretty sure of that, and even as he closed in on himself, Tony could hear the sounds of a body being dragged and plans being made to avoid suspicion. He had never been more sure of his career choice…the Navy was long forgotten now.
~*~
When all was finally quiet in the room, Tony climbed shakily to his feet and searched for the doorknob. He had fallen asleep sometime earlier and only woke when he shifted against the wall and opened up fresh scabs.
The door opened silently and he peeked out, hoping and praying that no one would be there to notice him. The sight of the pristine room had him wondering if it had all been a horrible nightmare, but one step had him tumbling to the ground as the blisters on his feet made themselves known once again. Tony crawled over to the table where Marie had fallen and knelt in the same spot, not knowing what else to do. His hand ran repeatedly over the newly-cleaned rug and up to hesitantly touch the table. He repeated the motions over and over until his whole world revolved on the movement of his fingers. The lost little boy stayed there with tears pouring down his cheeks until his mother's screeches filled the room the next morning.
~*~
Tony didn't know what had happened, but could remember his mother shouting and three different people coming to her aid. The security guard and gardener had taken one look at the boy and ushered the frantic woman out of the room as the cook scooped him up gently and ferried him to the canopy bed.
"Get cleaned up and go tell your mother that you're all right."
Concise instructions from the stern man were easily followed, and Tony was able to run on autopilot until the smell of his shampoo reminded him of Marie's last words to him. I'll wait for you just outside the door, Tony. I'll look after you when he's through. She'd never be around to look after him again. Never be around to soothe his wounds or chase away the nightmares. He was all alone now.
~*~
Tony never made it down to tell his mother that he was all right, partially because Vinnie had always told him not to lie, and partially because he couldn't stand to do anything that would warrant another lesson from his father so soon after the last one. He simply climbed painfully into his bunk bed and curled around his teddy bear. The blankets scratched at his feet, and the burns radiated heat and bright pain, but Tony didn't know what to do about it other than soak them in cold water, and he had already done that. He feared having to put shoes on anytime in the near future, and tuned out the thought as he let even more tears soak his pillow. God forbid his father should find him like this. The boy drifted off to sleep again, hoping that he would wake up back in Marie's rooms with her doting on him and that he would be eight years old again. He didn't very much like being nine.
~*~
At some point, Tony's father must have realized what he had done to his son and called for the doctor to take a look at him. The elderly man had gently washed the boy's feet and thrown disparaging glances over his shoulder at the shut door.
"I don't suppose there's anyone who will remember to do this for you, young man?" The little doctor had been trying in vain to get Tony to talk to him since he'd awoken him and began his examination. A subtle shake of the head was his only response before a frightened look crossed his features.
"Easy, Anthony. I didn't think so. What I need you to do then is layer this cream all over your feet when you get up and then before you go to bed. But I need you to be a patient boy and wait for it to evaporate before you go walking around or putting your socks and shoes on, okay?"
Again, a nod was the only response he got.
"You won't forget?"
A silent 'no'.
The doctor sighed and wished, and not for the last time, that he had more pull and could do more to get the boy some help. The DiNozzo name held far too much reach and doing more than he already was to help Tony would only turn out worse for him and for the boy. All he could do was treat the injuries as they came around.
"Good boy. Go back to sleep, Anthony. You were very brave."
~*~
Tony dressed himself in his best suit and tie while trying to keep the tears from running down his face. He would be brave today. He wouldn't do anything to dishonor his family or the memory of the only person who had shown she truly cared since Vinnie had died. He had already been read the riot act by his father. The memory of throwing himself at the man's feet and begging to be allowed to attend the funeral today would not leave him soon, but it had been worth it. The least he could do for Marie was to be there to respect her one last time. To say thank you.
Tony ran a comb through his hair as his mother entered the bathroom and placed her hands on his trembling shoulders. He didn't dare to look up in the mirror to meet her eyes, afraid that doing the slightest thing wrong would result in being locked in a closet as his father had threatened. The fingers that tightened on his collarbones confused him; it had been too long since the woman had shown anything other than scorn for her youngest child.
"You'll make her proud today, if no one else."
And then she was gone, and Tony didn't know what to do other than scrub the tears from his face. Hope was far too precious a commodity now that Marie was gone, and he just didn't know what else to do.
~*~
The small ceremony was a blur to Tony, who spent the entire service sitting by himself in the last pew. His parents were somewhere near the front, playing the part of dutiful employers. It was not the first time he had felt the separation, and it was sure not to be the last. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do, and had to focus on the small group of people in front of him in order to follow along. His father had told him in straightforward terms that tears were not allowed, and the boy had long since tasted blood as he tried to obey. It didn't matter that Marie would have told him that it was all right to cry, would have held him close to her side and let him sob into her hip while rubbing soothing circles on his back. That didn't matter because she was lying in the box at the front of the church. He only hoped that someday she could forgive him.
~*~
Tony stood at the gravesite and bowed his head when the priest spoke. He was too small to see past the more important people standing in front of him, and too lost to be his boisterous self and push to the front where he could have actually paid his respects. The small group crowded under a tent as the day had fittingly turned dark before letting loose with a heavy rainstorm that gave Tony the reprieve he was looking for. With no room for him under the shelter, the boy was subjected to the downpour soaking him through. He stared straight down at his mud-covered loafers as the salty tears mixed with raindrops and fell unnoticed.
There was a pause in the ceremony as people began to move forward to pay their last respects when Tony heard the hushed conversation from two women standing in front of him.
"Did you hear what happened to her?"
"I heard. It was horrible. Marie was up on a ladder cleaning the canopy on that boy Anthony's bed when he ran into the room and bumped the ladder. She fell and hit her head on his toy chest, and I heard that he just went on playing with his toys like nothing had happened. You'd think he would've cared more about her and gone for help, but no. He just WATCHED her. Miserable little thing."
Tony's breath caught in his throat and he started to shake. He almost broke his silence to demand angrily that they take back the lies, but he realized it didn't matter how they thought she had died. The details didn't matter when the meaning was true. Marie had been helping him – cleaning or trying to save him didn't matter. He had knocked her over – off a ladder or through his father's rage didn't make a difference. But the biggest part of the story, the one that stole his breath and hurt him more deeply than any of his father's lessons was the bare truth, no matter how the tale was spun. He didn't do anything but stare. Didn't do anything to try and save her after all of the things she had done for him. When it really mattered and she needed him to be strong, he couldn't even do that. He hadn't done anything except kneel at her side and hold her hand. Even now, all he could do was cry like a baby; he couldn't even be strong after the fact. His father had been right to take the belt to his back. He deserved so much worse than that.
~*~
Tony would never be sure of how long he had been staring at the ground, letting the rain hide his weakness even as the shivers intensified. He thought about Marie and what she would say if she saw him this soaked. He remembered the time that he had gone exploring in the woods at the summer house and chased a frog until he was knee deep in muck. He knew that going back to the house in that state would not go over well and so he had rolled around in the creek until his jeans were an acceptable state of clean. By the time he had gotten back to the house, dinner had already been served and he was not only hungry, he was cold. Marie had drawn him a hot bath and 'tutted' her way through a scolding before finding him dinner. She would never be able to do that again.
As the people in front of him began to disperse to their cars, Tony was finally given enough room to squeeze his way through the tent and back out into the rain. He had his left hand clutched in his jacket pocket, and wanted one chance to say goodbye. As he stepped past the row of chairs set up for family, he was shocked at how cold the rain had become after just a moment of refuge under the canvas. On a mission now, Tony took one more step forward when a strong grip halted him in his tracks. He would know the pain of those fingers anywhere.
"And where the Hell do you think you're going? Don't you think you've done enough damage already?" The words were hissed into his ear as he was wrenched around by his father. Clearly no one else was meant to hear this conversation.
Tony bowed his head even further as if he could appease his father with his submission. Fat rain drops pooled at the end of his bangs and plastered the short hair to his head before dripping off to the ground. Haunted green eyes locked on expensive Italian shoes before his chin was firmly levered up and his eyes caught his father's cold gaze.
"I…I had something to leave with Marie. So she'd remember me." Tony whispered his plan as if his quiet nature could somehow soften his father's heart.
"What makes you think that she wants to remember her killer, Anthony? Her murderer?" The tone was soft and deceptively gentle, cutting even further into the boy than if there had been anger there. As an adult, he would finally pinpoint it for what it was - a deliberate ploy to hurt, to cement in Tony's mind the guilt his father felt he should feel. It was by far the most despicable thing Tony's father had done to date.
Tony began to shake as his mind solidified his fears and feelings of shame as he once again saw the death stare that had been his last glimpse of Marie. Surely she wouldn't blame him for what his father had made him do? She had always been on his side and…and he had done nothing to help her. Maybe his father was right. Maybe it really was his fault.
The little boy didn't answer his father as he turned to make his way back to the car, but was stopped again, this time by his mother's hand. He had missed the heated glare between the two.
"Give it to me, Anthony."
Tony nodded and handed over the Bear Cub pin that he had wanted to place on the coffin. It seemed only fitting that his mother took it now. He was surprised to see her step out from under her husband's protective arm and lay the pin on the coffin. When she was sober, Tony's mother could occasionally remember how happy Vinnie had been when playing with Tony, could remember the look on the older boy's face when he learned he was going to be a big brother. She would not insult her Vincent's memory by denying Tony his wish.
As he followed his parents back to the car, Tony took one last look as the coffin lay under the deluge. The metal of his pin contrasted the color of Marie's final resting place.
~*~
The catered affair that took place to commemorate Marie took place in the same room that she had died in. The study had been transformed to accommodate the gathering and since very few people knew the truth of the matter, there was nothing seemingly out of place about it. Even as an adult, Tony would never be sure if it was his father's hubris that caused the choice or if the man really was trying to emotionally scar his young son. Nevertheless, it grated on the boy and made him feel that much worse. He could still see the bloodstain where the coffee table should be, could still feel Marie's hand go limp as the life flew out of her eyes. Tony wanted nothing more than to be hidden away as if he didn't exist, something his father had been insisting upon more and more as he grew.
"Anthony, there you are. I've been looking all over for you." The words were loud enough to be heard by the group of women chatting to his right, and he knew better than to believe that his father had been worried. If the man was looking for him, even at his young age, Tony realized that he had something in mind. And it would most likely not be pleasant for the boy.
The hands on his shoulders steered him around the room towards where a devastated young woman was sitting. Tony recognized her from pictures he had seen in Marie's rooms.
"You're going to go up to her and apologize for killing her mother; do you understand me, Anthony?"
Tony's eyes widened and he looked for a quick way out. He would take a beating over having to do that.
"Do you understand me, Anthony? I won't ask you again." The words sent a chill down his spine and he knew, in no uncertain terms, exactly what went unsaid.
"Yes, sir." His voice cracked from days of silence.
He approached the young woman slowly, willing himself to disappear into the carpet or to wake up from the nightmare he was caught in.
"Miss Tiffany?" Red-rimmed eyes rose to meet his and recognition swirled slowly.
"You're Tony?"
"Yes, ma'am. I…uhh…I wanted to…" he trailed off, not knowing how to proceed. His father's belt was looking more and more appealing.
"Yes?"
Tony took a deep breath and spit out the words as fast as he could manage them. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for your mother dying. I didn't mean it, I promise."
Grief gave way to anger quickly and it was reflected in the eyes that now bore holes through him. "You killed my mother. It's your fault she's dead."
Hearing the words come from someone's mouth who had never met him before and had no reason to lie, Tony burst into sobs.
"I know." Without really knowing what he was doing, Tony turned and sprinted from the room. It took the staff two days to find him hidden in Marie's closet.
~~**~~
So you can all thank Kylen who agreed with me that a part in the next chapter wasn't working out well and has pretty much insured that chapter 8 has now become two parts. So there will now be 11 chapters instead of 10. I'm sure you're all devastated by this. That being said, chapter 8 may end up a little bit late if I run into trouble - or yet another story idea, thanks Kylen - but it will be coming out ASAP.
To CJ, who left an anonymous review so I couldn't respond off-site and probably won't see this anyway: I'm sorry you feel the way you do, and your opinions are your own as to the type of story that you read. The fact that you got all the way to chapter 6 leads me to believe that there were some redeeming qualities to my story, and the point of this was always to spend more time on Tony's youth than in the interactions between Gibbs and adult Tony. As I said in the first chapter, this was written as more of a character study into his past and the basement conversations are more to give everyone a break from Tony's father's antics and poor decisions than to be the main point of the story. It's not meant to be balanced between the two settings, and I'm sorry if I led you to believe that it would be. If I had cut out half of the last chapter to deal with Gibbs and Tony – which I started this chapter off with – I would have lost most of the characterization of how Tony got to be who he is now – his first taste of business life, the fact that his whole childhood wasn't one big ball of pain, and finally the scene in the study. If the first few chapters didn't give you the idea that the flashbacks weren't just to explain the Gibbs – Tony scenes, then I'm afraid there's nothing else I can do for you there. There are plenty of other stories on the site that deal solely in interactions between Gibbs and Tony, so I'd suggest that you head off to find them as the last four chapters in this story are pretty much going to be more of the same.
