TONY SOBBED QUIETLY.

He knew it was irrational—he wasn't really a child—he simply wore the appearance of one. He wasn't at his fathers' mercy anymore, he wasn't a burden, something to use and abuse and then neglect at anyone's convenience. His mother wasn't dead because he was such an awful son—she had drowned herself in alcohol for years before the inevitable suicide.

No matter how many times he reiterated these lines, this mantra, in his head, the child in him refused to be coaxed out of thinking McGee might shoot himself with a loaded barrel any second now, the way his mother had, because he'd behaved so terribly.

Tony couldn't let the man out of his sight for more than a minute at a time. He might lock himself in the master bedroom and shoot his brains out!

He'd found his mother, in her nicest gown—the one DiNozzo Sr. had had imported special, from Paris, after one particularly savage beating—she had laid there on the bed, her skull blown to bits, her brains spread across the velvet soft pillows, eyes wide open, mouth slightly agape.

He'd been a child then, and the staff had left for the day. His father had been out of the country and at the moment, Tony hadn't been able to recall when it was he'd be getting back home.

Staring at the lifeless corpse that was now his mother, Tony didn't exactly know what to do, or how to react. Sure, she had never been particularly motherly or nurturing, seeing that she was always quite intoxicated, or on meds for her very persistent "anxiety", but Tony had liked to think of her as his "partner" in this war zone they lived in.

After a beating from Senior, she would hide in the wine cellar, shooting back expensive bottles with brand names as if they were tequila shots. Tony would slowly and silently trudge down the stairs, medic kit tucked underneath his armpit, and make his way over to her.

This woman, who'd been thrown across the patio by a backhand to the face, kicked several times in the gut, and dragged by the hair on her head back into the house by her "loving" husband, sat there and sobbed wracking sobs, as her son of only 5 bandaged her back together.

She would occasionally do the same for Tony if it were his turn for a "reprimanding" that week. She'd crawl into the closet with her son, carrying the medic kit under the hem of her long skirt and dress his wounds. Neither of them ever spoke during those encounters.

There was never love or tenderness in the act. It was something akin to a habit, a small ritual of sorts that held very little sentimental value.

Regardless, she had been Tony's comrade in the thick of everything—it had been at least some weird twisted comfort to the child to know that he wasn't entirely alone.

Staring at his mothers' sightless eyes, Tony remembered climbing into the king-sized bed beside her and laying there, not sobbing, not quite touching her either, just laying there.

"Tony?" he heard Kate from overhead.

He managed to glance up at her annoyed face before ducking back into his little hiding spot in the corner of the room. McGee had had to go to the restroom and not being able to tag along had made him go into full panic mode.

"Look Tony." Kate crouched down, "Enough is enough. Everyone is treating you with kid gloves lately, and now you're just taking advantage of the whole situation and making Tim and Abs feel like shit over something McGee said out of frustration—which F.Y.I. Tony, is true. If I had to raise a brat like you, I'd probably go insane and off myself too."

Kate had spoken to Tony before she'd gone to work the case with Gibbs and the rest of her team, and he'd been his old self again, no longer in the mindset of a child. She knew this had to be some sort of messed up prank he was playing on McGee, but this was taking it way too far. He'd gotten Probie and Abby in trouble with Gibbs, genuinely worried everyone with the way he was behaving, and it was really starting to piss Kate off that no one else could see all of Tonys "dramatics" for what they really were.

She was almost surprised to see her teammate cower in fear at her words. Kate huffed and had to refrain from rolling her eyes. No wonder he was so good at under cover. The kid could act.

"Tony, enough of this. It's getting old," she reached out to grab him but didn't take into account the fact that the anger in her tone would genuinely frighten the toddler into pulling back as she pulled forward.

And she definitely didn't expect the nearly blood-curdling scream that was ripped from the toddlers' throat—she didn't even know that noise could come out of something so tiny.

"The hell are you doing?" already pissed with two beloved members of his little "family", Gibbs had hoped the others would tread carefully around him at this point.

Instead, he found himself walking in on his agent practically manhandling the three year-old.

"Kate!" Ziva gaped, seeing the scene before her. Likewise, Ducky, Palmer, Abby, and McGee reacted in a similar fashion.

Tony quickly scrambled over to the Probie. "Tim!" he cried, hands held high in hopes that McGee would pick him up.

McGee immediately complied, his heart clenching with guilt. He'd been the one to reduce Tony to this in the first place. "Shh, shh, I'm here, I'm here." He cradled the toddler gently and rubbed the small of his back, in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"Gibbs!" Kate stood stock-still. She knew exactly how much Gibbs cared for Tony, so God forbid anyone harm a single hair on his golden boys head.

"Answer my question." Gibbs steely tone was enough to make Kate shudder.

"It was nothing Gibbs; it was an accident." She stuttered. "He's just being a drama queen boss." She huffed, annoyed that she was getting shit for Tony's theatrics.

"Out."

Kate blinked. "W-what?" surely he couldn't be serious!

"Out." He repeated. "Get. Out. Of. My. Sight." Gibbs clarified, the words coming out of tightly clenched teeth.

Kate opened her mouth, about to defend her actions, but thought better of it when she realized that Gibbs' menacing glare—usually reserved for criminals and suspects in the interrogation room—was still very much aimed in her direction. She bawled her hands into fists and stalked quickly out of the room, seething. She couldn't believe everyone was buying DiNozzos' crap!

Ziva quickly chased after her teammate. "What was that?" she questioned, once she'd caught up to her.

Kate glared down at the floor and scowled. "It was an accident!" she repeated. "And why the hell are everyone's panties in a bunch over this? Tony's playing a really messed up joke on poor McGee and I'm the one who gets into trouble?! How the hell is that fair?"

Ziva raised a brow. "Why do you think Tony would play such a cruel joke on Tim?"

"I don't…" she paused. "Because…I don't know, just—there's no reason for him to react the way he did after hearing Tim's rant. It makes no sense."

Zivas eyes widened in realization. "You do not know."

"Know what?"

"Kate. Tony's mother killed herself when he was a child. He found the body." Ziva's tone was grave.

Kate went white. "What? No. Wait—but, how do you know? Am I the only one who didn't know?"

Ziva shrugged. "I am a trained spy. I need to know about who I am working with. I found the police report when I went digging into DiNozzos' past." She sat down on the stairs next to a shell-shocked Kate. "I assume Gibbs knows because, well, he is Gibbs. I am not sure how McGee, Abby, and Mallard know, however, but they seem to be aware." She explained.

"Jesus." Kate breathed. How the hell could she not have known? Oh God. She was mortified. She was constantly ragging Tony on his rich "Mommy" and "Daddy". She was a profiler for shit's sake! Kate put her head in her hands. "Oh God."

What had she done?

Tony sniffled and curled up against Tims' chest.

Ducky was carefully wrapping a bandage around the scratches on the toddlers arm; Kate's nails had really dug in there. The doctor couldn't bring himself to believe their dear Kate had been so rash! "How are you feeling dear?" he asked gently, looking down sadly at the toddler on McGee's lap.

Tony looked up momentarily, saw the intensity of worry with which the good doctor was staring at him with, and was suddenly struck by how much he missed his mother—he was sure that at one point, perhaps when he'd been too young to really recall at all, she had nurtured him and cradled him in her arms and looked down at him with those same eyes. Those eyes which bore nothing but unconditional love and concern for him.

His breath hitched. "Mommy…" he cried, looking about the room for her. "Mommy?" he searched desperately, any part of his adult mind gone at this point.

Tim shot Ducky a look of absolute despair. "Umm," he stuttered, not at all sure how to comfort a toddler looking for its mother.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he sobbed, gasping for air.

Ducky expertly picked up the crying child and held him close to his chest. "There, there, my dear boy." The soft, steady lull of his voice was enough to quite Tony.

Abby and Gibbs had run in from the kitchen upon hearing the wailing, and now stood by the entrance of the living room. Abbys' bottom lip wobbled, as she tried not to join baby Tony. He looked so lost…

Abruptly, the toddler stiffened in Duckys grasp and let out a piercing scream.

"Tony!" Gibbs dove forward to catch both Duck and Tony, when in an instant, he transformed right before their awe-struck eyes, back into an adult.

The sudden transformation had been so quick, that if they'd blinked, they'd have missed it. His limbs had suddenly popped, and stretched out, his torso had enlarged dramatically, and Tony now lie naked, atop an extremely shocked Ducky, who lie atop Gibbs.

At the commotion, Kate and Ziva had shown up, guns drawn, and with Abby and McGee, stared at the scene before them in shock.

"What happened—I was not gone so long, was I?" Ziva questioned seriously, eyes wide.

A.N. I want to say thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and messaging me for this (and some of my other fics) story, and while I cannot promise consistent or speedy updates (for which I am terribly sorry!) I can promise you that I have not given up on any of these fics! The past year and a half has been not so pretty, and it's only very recently I've been able to realize that one terrible event and one monster of a man in my life can't keep me hiding under my sheets forever. Yay for going back to school and writing fanfiction and leaving the house and playing with my dog again! And yay to you awesome folk who reside here on and feed my need for wonderful alternative plots! -N.M.