Warning: This chapter contains some-what graphic details of child abuse. Don't like, don't read.

"It's been going on since I was about… three… I think…"

Gibbs kept his face emotionless, waiting for Tony to finish. But three. He had pictures of Kelly at age three running through his head now. Her sweet, innocent face.

"My… My father was always trying to raise me to be more of a… a showpiece, I guess. I had to stand up straight, look presentable, and not speak unless spoken to. My mom, she would dress me up in these little… sailor suits. And I would follow her around as she flaunted me to her high-society friends. But one night, we were at a dinner party. My mother had gone off with a few friends and I couldn't find her. I was wandering around in the crowds of people for hours, not knowing where I was going or whether or not my parents had left without me. When I finally thought I spotted my dad,"

He paused for a minute, internally scolding himself for saying 'dad'. He had never been aloud to call him that. It was father or sir.

"I was so happy that I wasn't forgotten. So happy that I ran over to him. But my shiny new sailor shoes were slippery on the floor… and I crashed into his legs, making him spill his drink. None of it got on his shoes, but the drink was all over the floor. He looked at me with such… such disappointment. I turned and ran. Later that night, he brought me to my room. Made me lay on my back with my shirt off. Then he took off his belt…"

Tony sniffled once, biting his lip to hold in the tears.

Flashback:

Tony was laying on the floor, feeling the soft carpet fibers brushing against his face each time he took a breath. It was winter, so being shirtless in a room with opened windows was chilling him to the bone. His father was pacing back and forth, his belt folded into thirds in his right hand, the buckle end tapping his left palm over and over. He saw his father walk over to the windows, shutting each one slowly and softly, as not to raise suspicion with the neighbors.

Tony didn't know what was going on. His father had never done anything like this before. He was about to ask what was going on, when he felt something slash against his back. He uttered a loud cry, which earned him only another whip from the thick leather belt.

"Shut up you little brat! Do you want some one to hear you?"

Tony kept his eyes and mouth tight, to keep from making more noise. After several more excruciating whips from the belt, he heard his father breathing heavier. The whip wasn't enough anymore. He could hear him grabbing something else. There was a loud sound like splitting wood. At first, he didn't know what it was. But as soon as it made contact with his back he was positive it was a wooden rung from his desk chair. Tony's fragile body was screaming in pain, but he stayed quiet. Soon after, his father gave up and left, leaving Tony sprawled on the floor in so much pain he couldn't stand up. He slept on the floor that night.

From that night on, his father always took his anger out in similar ways to that. He would change things up by making up new ways of pain, but it was all basically the same. He would hurt him. Bad.

End Flashback

Tony was staring down at his thumbs, which were twiddling with each other in his lap. He wasn't sure how much of that he had said out loud, but obviously a decent amount considering the look on Gibbs' face.

"Sorry, boss." Tony said automatically. He wasn't sure why, but it was just the kind of thing he would usually say at awkward times like these. He even knew Gibbs' response before he said it.

"Don't apologize, DiNozzo."

Tony stayed silent, staring at his intermingling thumbs. There were plenty more stories, but they were hidden deep down somewhere in his past. A place he didn't like to go. Every time he went there it brought him pain and a trip to Gibbs' basement for bourbon, silence, and sleeping on Gibbs' couch. Unannounced. Uninvited. Unexplained.

"Tony… Did your father ever hurt you in any worse way than that?" Gibbs asked. He hated asking that, but he needed full details about what happened. Not to convict his father, since he was now protected by a statue of limitations, but for his own personal recollection. And so that Tony could lift a weight off his shoulders by finally sharing his dark past.

Tony sniffled again, then nodded. A very faint, almost un-noticeable movement of the head. But still there. Gibbs waited for him to explain. At first he didn't, but after zoning out in what seemed to be some sort of flashback, he started mumbling about a memory. Just like he had before.

Flashback:

Tony was walking up the long drive way towards the mansion doors. He liked this part of the day, because he knew his father wouldn't be home for another few hours. After being let in by one of the many butlers, he went outside to lay in the grass that covered the back yard. He would some times lay there for hours, just watching the clouds floating by. Some times he'd even try to guess what shapes they looked like, and then make a story about it. Today, however, the clouds were light and wispy, so they resembled nothing other than plumes of smoke or frost.

He decided to lay under his favorite tree. It was three times higher than any rock climbing wall and was covered in the perfect footholds needed to climb all the way to the top.

After several hours, Tony had unknowingly drifted to off to sleep. When he awoke, he was staring into the eyes of none other than Anthony DiNozzo Senior. He looked angry, and reached his strong arms out to Tony, inches away from his arms.

Tony jumped up with a sudden burst of energy that most people didn't have right after sleeping, and ran backwards a few paces to the trunk of the tree. The door to the mansion was to far away, so he knew his best bet would be to take refuge in the big tree. He knew each foot and hand-hold by heart but ignored them, choosing instead to shimmy up the tree as fast as possible, ignoring the branches and twigs that left scratches on his legs, arms, and face. It only took him several minutes to reach the top, and he knew his father wouldn't climb up after him.

He was perched on a high branch that over-looked the back yard, and saw his father running inside the house. After a minute passed he came back out, his mother following close behind. He could see her looking around at eye-level, but when his father pointed up, she looked to see Tony peering down back at her from the highest branch of a tree taller than the mansion itself. She screamed, and ran back inside.

Tony waited there for about five more minutes, before he heard the sirens. He looked down and saw a bright red fire truck pulling into the backyard through the wide fence-gate on the side. Tony leaned back up and stared straight ahead, wondering if it was his father or mother who called the fire department. Probably his mother. She was paranoid like that sometimes.

He heard a noise to the right, and saw a man dressed in a yellow firemen's outfit on a cherry-picker next to him.

"Tony?" the man said with a good-natured smile.

"Yeah?" he answered quietly, knowing they were going to take him back down there. Back to where he wasn't wanted, and would surely receive a severe beating later for pulling a stunt like this.

"Can you come back down with me, please? You're mommy and daddy are very worried about you." He said, reaching a hand out to Tony.

Tony's eyes widened, his young mind not comprehending that just because the fireman said it, doesn't mean his parents said I toot. But even with this momentary thought, he shook his head no.

"Why not?" the fireman asked, still keeping that smile plastered on his face.

"Cuz." Tony said, trying to think of an excuse.

The fireman looked alerted when he noticed a large bruise on Tony's knee, just peeking out of the bottom of his play-clothes shorts.

"Tony, are you okay?" he said in a hushed tone, leaning in slightly.

"Yeah. It's pretty up here." He lied, giving his best innocent-little-kid smile.

The fireman suddenly seemed relieved and reached over to Tony, scooping him up under the arms. Tony didn't struggle, even though he knew he didn't want to get down.

The fireman held him in his arms as the cherry picker was lowered to the ground, and set him down when they were safely on the grass.

Tony's father and mother welcomed him with open arms, his father making up some forced thank-you to the fire department.

Once they left, Tony was taken into his father's study. That night he slept in an unconscious heap on the study's floor. He didn't go to school again for two weeks, and claimed it was because he had pneumonia.

End Flashback

Flashback:

Tony was four. Four and a half, to be exact. His hair was just beginning to turn a darker brown, rather than his natural sandy hair color. His eyes were taking on a brilliant shade of green, with a sadness in them that reminded you of the sad puppies on the ASPCA commercials.

Currently, he was in the kitchen, watching the cooks prepare food for his father's big business dinner that night. He had to stand on tip-toes just to see the bottom rim of the large simmering pot. The cooks usually didn't mind. Some even enjoyed lifting Tony up so he could help stir something or watch as they chopped carrots. Tony enjoyed it too, because he knew his father would never set foot in the kitchen.

But today, not even the kitchen was a safe-haven for Tony. He was watching the head chef prepare a large pot of pesto sauce. It amazed him that there was such thing as green sauce. He had seen red sauce plenty of times, but green was something new and exciting. However, just as he was about to take the spoon and help stir, his father busted into the room.

"Is that meal ready yet Chef? They are arriving at--"

He stopped when he saw Tony leaning over the pot of sauce. His eyes narrowed, trying to comprehend why his son was touching the food.

Tony was frozen in his spot, contemplating whether to run or cower. They both sounded very tempting. When his father began advancing on him, he made the decision to cower. His father came over to him and hoisted him up by the under arms. He didn't bother to struggle or kick free. He simply hung in his arms like a limp noodle.

After being carried at arms length in this same manor through the halls of the mansion, his father dropped him at the doorway of his study. Tony took that opportunity to stand up on his own two feet and run into the study, taking refuge behind a large leather chair. He heard the door being slammed shut, and waited in fear behind the chair.

The thick stench of Italian cologne filled his small nostrils as he was dragged out of his hiding place. His father was glancing between him and the fire place, then back to him. Tony was fighting back tears, knowing that the more he cried the worse it hurt.

After seeming to make up his mind, Mr. DiNozzo stalked over to Tony and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the fire. Tony's eyes grew wide with fear and he began to struggle away from his father's grasp. The strong hand only tightened, and the other grabbed hold of a metal pole next to the fire place. Tony wasn't sure what it was used for, but one end had a metal loop and the other had an end shaped like the DiNozzo family crest made out of metal. He saw his father stick the emblem-end into the fire and wait as it turned a scorching red color. Once it seemed hot enough for DiNozzo Senior's liking, he pulled it out and watched as a few tiny embers fell onto the ground. Tony wrenched and pulled harder against his father's grip, trying in desperation to get away. His father's grip was getting sweatier and looser, and Tony thought he would be able to bolt, but suddenly he felt a searing, burning pain on his lower abdomen.

In his struggle, he realized that his shirt had been pulled half way up, revealing his lower body. His father had taken advantage of it and pressed the metal pole onto Tony, leaving a burning imprint of the DiNozzo family crest that was now eating away at his soft flesh.

Tony howled in pain when the hot metal came in contact with his skin, but couldn't do anything to stop the hurt. If he touched it, it would only get worse. His father was glaring at him again, as if disgusted at the weakness of his only son. Tony was trembling, and had ripped his shirt off to keep it from touching the burned spot on his stomach.

Tony wasn't sure whether he was allowed to leave yet, so he stayed where he was. After long minutes of silence, his father walked over to him and slapped him across the face. It made a loud smack, and Tony's eyes grew hot with tears. He could feel a red mark appearing on the stinging portion of his cheek.

"Vigliacco." his father spat. (Translation: Coward)

Tony made a quick decision and ran for the door, nearly tripping over several over-turned chairs and books that were strewn across the floor. His father was right behind him, scooping him up before he could even reach the door handle.

"You think you can run away? Coward. Be a man, Anthony." His father grumbled as he carried Tony in a fireman's carry back to the far-side of the study.

Tony was dropped to the ground in front of the large oak desk that his father always used as a whipping table. But it wasn't going to be used for whipping tonight. His father grabbed a fistful of Tony's soft hair and used it as a make-shift lever, pulling Tony's head backwards, then bringing it forward again to hear a loud crack as bone connected with wood. Tony suddenly felt extremely dizzy, his forehead throbbing. There was a warm trickle of blood running down his face, but he didn't even bother to wipe it away.

After finally escaping from his father's study, Tony took refuge in his closet, clutching to a ratty stuffed teddy bear. The only security he had.

End Flashback

Gibbs was stunned speechless. There was one question that had been floating around in the back of his mind through these stories.

"Didn't you're mother ever do anything?" he asked Tony.

Tony looked up with a sudden look of sadness twisted with something Gibbs couldn't make out. Fear? Regret? Guilt?

Tony was trembling slightly, but warped instantly back into the dreamy state and started rambling out the story of yet another memory. Gibbs wanted nothing more than to stop him, but he knew Tony needed to get these things out. Before it killed him.

Flashback

Tony was eight, now. He still had the white line of a scar resembling the DiNozzo family crest imprinted on his skin, but it no longer hurt when taking hot showers. It wasn't very intricate, just a capital cursive D with a circle around it. But he hated to look at it. He didn't think his mother even knew it was there. She probably didn't even know what his father did to him.

His mother had always been somewhat dependant on alcohol. Mint julep, to be exact. He didn't mind much, since the rare occasions when she was sober ended in her chasing Tony around the house in her underwear and launderette yelling, "Come back here, Tony. Your father isn't pleasing me… I need a real man…"

Tony hated when she did that. Sometimes she actually caught him. When she did, well, he saw things that no son should ever have to see on their mother.

Today, however, she was sober and happy. She wasn't trying to harm Tony, and she wasn't huddled in the corner sucking down her Mind Julep… or his sea monkeys, as it one time happened. She was practically flitting around the house, taking notice of each and every beautiful thing she saw. Tony was enjoying it. He was following her around, trying to keep up with how many things she would point out. A small glass cat, a hand-blown vase, a gold-encrusted mirror, and the many other things in their house that caught her eye.

Tony eventually gave up, his eight-year old attention span not allowing him to continue enjoying pointing out knick-knacks, and went up to his room. He was playing with one of his model cars when his mother came through the door. She was wearing the smile of a Goddess, and her bright blue eyes were sparkling with pure joy.

"Tony, I have the most wonderful news!" she said, her smile only growing wider.

Tony was taken aback by being called 'Tony' by his mother, rather than 'Anthony'. He liked it.

"What is it, mother?" he asked, curious about what was making his mother act this way.

"Oh, Tony, my sweet baby boy…" his mother said, looking at him with the gaze that he only saw his friend's moms' give to them.

Tony felt his lips quark into a smile. His mother's happiness was infectious. She stepped forward, as if to hug him.

"Tony, I'm preg--"

Suddenly his mother fell down in a heap, blood pouring down the back of her head. Tony jumped back, looking for a reason why his mother just collapsed in a bloody heap. On the ground under his mom's foot was his model car. A green 1966 Ford Mustang. She had tripped on it and caught the side of her head on his wooden dresser.

What he didn't know, was that she hadn't really tripped. His father was standing out in the hall. He had pushed her. He didn't need another child. One son was torture enough, so he had pushed his wife down towards the corner of a wooden dresser. It had been a quick decision, with little thinking involved. But he knew exactly how to cover it up. He came flying around the corner into his son's room and stopped in front of his wife's body.

"Anthony!" he screamed. "Your damned cars! You killed your mother! You killed her with your stupid American toys!" he shouted.

Tony felt tears of sadness and frustration streaming down his face. He looked down at his mother's face. Suddenly, it turned toward him. On of her eyes rolled back, revealing only the white, and she smiled a ghostly smile of defeat that would haunt him for years to come.

End Flashback

When Tony looked up, Gibbs was turned around, emptying the contents of his stomach into a small plastic trash can. Tony waited for him to finish, ignoring the tremors wracking his body and the obvious signs of weakness he was protruding to his boss.

Gibbs looked back up from the trash can, which was now filled with his own bile, and looked at his senior field agent. He seemed to be curling around himself, wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach. One hand was in front of his mouth. He wasn't biting his nails, but he seemed to be biting lightly on his knuckles. He was shaking, he had been for the past hour or so, but he wasn't crying. His eyes were dry. It seemed almost as if he was smiling… no wait… he was smiling. Did he think this was normal?

"Man, my life is screwed." Tony said, laughing almost silently. But it wasn't a happy laugh. It was a laugh filled with the defeat and sorrow of a man who had seen far worse than any man should. Any child should.

Gibbs looked up at Tony and said, "Please tell me you're lying."

Tony gave him his best defeated smile and lifted up the right side of his shirt in his fist slightly, revealing the white-lined scar of the DiNozzo family crest.

A/N: So there was one of the chapters you've all been waiting for. Another one is coming, though. The big Gibbs-helps-Tony chapter(s). Let me know of any ideas you have, because I sure would love to know. Especially about how Gibbs helps Tony. I don't know whether you guys want it big and heart felt or more like the show where they still aren't too emotional. And I really need your opinions about this (I'm taking a vote instead of making a poll):

For the next chapter, do you want:

All comforting

All more memories, then a comfort chapter after that

More memories and comfort, building up to a big comfort chapter

Thanks for all your reviews and please review this chapter!

-AgentDiNozzo13