When the Bough Breaks
by Angelwings23123

His feet pound on the marble floor.
Too loud, too loud.

He pauses, holds his breath, and listens.

"Tony? Come out, Sweetheart...Mummy has a present for you..." Her voice is sweet, but it's a lie. He knows it's a lie. He knows...

He swallows. His throat is dry and his heart is racing...

As soon as he had walked into the room he had known. It was her eyes that had given her away. He had looked at her and known that she was in one of her moods. Sometimes she just stayed in bed and cryed. She would stay in bed for days...sometimes even weeks. But looking at her he knew it wasn't one of her crying days. No, when she had that look in her eye she was more...unpredictable.

He had stood there frozen, hoping it wouldn't be too bad. Maybe she would just scream at him and tell him to go away. Maybe she would have him help her to take down all the paintings again. Maybe... But, then she had turned and he had seen what was in her hand.

He had looked from her hand to her face and had known.

That was when he had started running.

He prayed that she would snap out of it soon or that someone would come before she found him. He didn't want to think about what would happen if she found him.

He hadn't seen any of the staff, though. Maybe they were laying low until her mood passed, maybe she had given them the day off or had fired them all again or they had quit. It was getting harder to find people who would tolerate her shifting moods...

She had been taking pills for awhile. His father had made her after Tabitha. She isn't taking them anymore...

There had been two almost babies before Tabitha. (He doesn't really remember because he was just little then, but his mother had told him.) She was so excited as her belly grew bigger and bigger with the baby growing inside. She would put his hand on her tummy and let him feel it kick. She had let him come with her as she got things ready for the baby and even though he hadn't liked his new "big boy" bedroom, he was still excited about his new sibling. His mom had even let him help name the baby, he liked 'T' names so he had picked Tabitha like the baby on Bewitched. But there was something wrong with the baby and Tabitha would cry and cry and cry. Then his mom would cry too. Then one day... He knew it was an accident. He knew his mother hadn't really meant to. But that was when his father had made her get the pills. She had been fine for awhile after that...

Then there was going to be a new baby. A boy like him. He had picked the name Timmy like the boy on Lassie. He had vowed that he was going to be the best big brother ever. He was going to protect him and look after him and play with him and maybe they could even get a dog. But Timmy turned out to be an almost baby too and soon after his mom had stopped taking her pills.

She had said that she didn't like the way they made her feel and she threw them all away. She had said that she was better now and that she didn't need them. He had wanted to believe her, but he thinks that maybe she did need them. He wonders if his father knows she isn't taking them any more. He's gone a lot on business and is hardly ever home, now more than ever...

He never knows what to expect from his mother.

Some days it's slamming doors, her eyes flashing as she alternates between yelling and crying. She would spot him and scream at him too. And he would just stand there, let the hate rain down around him and pretend that he wasn't there. Later, she would always apologize, hug him close, beg him to forgive her, tell him that she didn't mean it...and he always forgave her.

Then there were the days that she would beckon him close. Confide in him that she was sure that the housekeeper was stealing from them or that the cook was trying to poison her. He knew better than to contradict her now. Instead he would change the subject: tell her a joke, tell her story, ask if she wanted to watch TV with him. Usually this would work and he would breathe a sigh of relief, glad that he was able to stop it before it got bad.

Of course there were her sleeping days. The days she didn't get dressed or even get out of bed. The curtains would be drawn in her room and her door would be shut. He knew that sometimes she didn't even eat.

Other times she was fine. She would smile and laugh and it was like the sunshine breaking out of the clouds. She would cook and bake, letting him toss the salad or lick the beaters. They would go outside and she would sit on the porch swing and watch while he played in the yard. She would look at him like he was the only person in the world and he knew that she loved him. Those are her good days. There aren't as many of those anymore...

Now he listens to the clack of her heels as she looks for him. The house is big and he is thankful for that. He finds a closet and slips inside. He scrunches up as small as he can in the back. There are a lot of places to hide and he hopes he chose the right one. He is eight years old and he loves his mother more than anything but all he can think about is Tabitha. He is shaking with tears silently running down his face and mixing with snot and he knows he probably looks a mess and his mother wouldn't like that but he doesn't care. He hears her calling him, saying that she loves him, and he has never been more terrified in all his life. He covers his ears.

Time passes, he doesn't know how much and he slowly uncovers his ears. He strains his ears to listen but all he can hear is silence. He stands up and holds his breath as he cautiously opens the door. Silently he walks from room to room until he finds her lying there so still on the floor.

He walks over to the phone and dials the number they taught him in school. He tells them his name and address. And he says, "There's been an accident," even though he knows it wasn't. He tells them to hurry and then he hangs up the phone even though they ask him to stay on the line. He goes to the bathroom and washes his face. He goes to his bedroom and gets changed and combs his hair. Then he sits beside her, legs pulled up under his chin with his arms wrapped around them. He can't look away, he wants to, but he can't.

Later there will be a hospital room. He'll sit on her bed because he refuses to leave her side and the nurses don't know what to do with him anyway. She'll be hooked up to machines even though she's already gone. He'll watch an old black and white movie until his father gets there. Then they will turn off the machines and that will be it.

But that's later. Now he just sits, waiting. Just the two of them, like always. The house is quiet. Quieter than it's ever been. He closes his eyes and wonders what would have happened if he had let her catch him. If it would be him instead of her. Or if it would be both... His mind shys away from that thought and instead thinks about yesterday. It had been a good day. They had sat on the porch swing, her in a white sundress with little pink flowers and him in a sailor suit like the one he is wearing now. She had hummed him a lullaby as she carded her fingers through his hair and he had been her baby even though he had secretly thought he was too big for that. But he hadn't been, not really. And now...now eight had never felt so old...

Tony DiNozzo was eight years old and he loved his mother more than anything and he didn't know what was going to happen to him now that she was...gone.