I want to thank my awesome Beta Reader TwoSexySombreros - without her, this story wouldn't be publishable xD

Disclaimer: I own nothing... sadly.

Warning: Description of violence

Chapter One: White has an edge

Tony was sleeping.

About half an hour ago he'd laid his head on his desk in the bullpen and drifted off. Normally, he would never do that. After a tough case, he would never sleep in a place where he wasn't alone, because falling asleep meant losing control over his actions. In sleep, he was in mercy of his dreams and he couldn't control his reactions to them. Of course, occasionally sleep was simply inevitable, but he always tried to avoid these situations.

But sometimes, it was just too hard to stay awake.

This and the previous days had been very bad.

He'd killed a person.

It wasn't a surprising thing considering his profession, but it felt amiss every damn time he pulled the trigger and ended someone else's life. It seemed easy in movies, and characters in them always looked unmoved by their actions.

Not in a real life, though.

In real life, he could hear every intake of breath of a dying person, before they exhaled for the last time. At nights, he could see terrified eyes widened in realization when they saw that this was the end. It was like they knew he was going to shoot them even before he did. They still fought, though, and didn´t give up, but Tony was faster. He was a trained federal agent, after all.

Passing judgment on other people was a part of his job.

It ended with their deaths, because those people were fighters. They fought for what they thought was important to believe in. They fought for their opinions and for their passions; for those dearest to them.

They fought for their lives.

And Jeffrey was a fighter. Anyone else would say he was just another maniac – another psychopath, but Tony knew better.

His eyelids quivered as a memory flashed before his eyes.

"I really liked him."

"Yeah... Yeah, I can see that."

His hands were covered with Jeffrey's blood, even if it couldn't have been seen by the naked eye and Gibbs stood over him, looking unattached like he usually did. When he'd opened the door, Tony almost considered not reacting to his presence. He'd wanted to just sit there, in a blood-splattered car and ignore his boss. But he had to tell somebody that he didn´t like what he'd done. He didn't like it at all and even then, in the car, he knew Jeffrey would later sneak in his dreams and would possibly never leave them… or him.

It was another dead body. Another one who simply lost their fight, but somehow this felt more personal. Tony knew that he himself had once been on very thin ice, and if not for his choice twenty years ago, he could have become another Jeffrey.

Who knew how many Jeffreys were out there right now; how many had decided to take the wrong paths in their lives...

And how many were Tony?

Tony subconsciously felt his body stirring. It was very possible he even groaned in his sleep. Surely, everyone near him could hear it. He pictured Kate rolling her eyes. She would have definitely thought he was dreaming about some woman. Although he had a feeling the groan sounded more disturbing, more serious…

Hopefully, Kate wouldn´t notice.

Maybe Gibbs would, but he was sure to be in the director's office or somewhere else. He had lots of more important things to do than to watch Tony in his sleep.

That left McGee, but Probie was still a probie. He wouldn't notice if the groan struck his head...

Oh, another memory was demanding his full attention.

"I know you don't have any backup, Tony."

How did he know?

"How do you know that, Jeffrey?"

"I thought you might be a cop," Jeffrey paused. "That's why we took that swim in the stream and that's why I crashed the truck… No bugs."

He sounded very proud of himself. He couldn't have been praised very often in his life. Maybe he had been never... And when you have no one to praise you, you start doing it by yourself. That Tony knew from experience.

"There's a reason Lane isn't here, isn't there?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"You're having naughty thoughts, Tony," Jeffrey said as he leaned closer and put a hand on his shoulder. His breath was hot against Tony's ear as he spoke for the last time.

"Just so you know… when I said no one ever treated me like you did… I meant that."

Tony felt cold metal behind his neck and he tightened his grip on his gun. He knew he treated Jeffrey differently, with more care, and he knew it wasn't because it was his undercover job. He wanted to do it. He needed to do it.

"I know." That was before a heavy mist clouded his mind.

Kate watched as Tony stirred in his sleep and she smiled to herself. She had been very worried when they'd learned Jeffrey was a killer and now she could finally relax, knowing everything was how it was supposed to be; that everyone on the team was safe in this building.

McGee was hovering over Tony and seemed ready to do something. Kate threw a crumpled paper at him. "Hey, what are you doing?" she whispered.

"Nothing." McGee looked around. Gibbs was nowhere to be seen.

"So, why the strange behavior?" Kate stood up and went slowly to Tim, who gulped.

"What strange behavior?" He tried to sound innocent but Kate wouldn´t buy it. She went up to him. "You at Tony´s desk… when he's asleep," she said and moved even closer, folding her arms, until she was standing right in front of him. "Planning on something, McGee? Maybe a little prank?"

McGee looked sideways. She got him. "And… what if I said yes?" he asked slowly.

Kate narrowed her eyes. "After everything he went through today?"

McGee sighed. "Yes…" He looked guiltily at her.

Kate smirked mischievously. "Okay, go on," she said cheerfully.

He just stared at her.

"Oh, come on. It's not like he wouldn't do it either to one of us."

"Wouldn't do what?" Gibbs barked at them, appearing, as always, from nowhere, holding a new coffee in his hand. How he had managed to refill his cup in such a short time was beyond everyone.

They both jumped and answered in unison. "Nothing!"

"Smart move," Gibbs remarked as he sat down at his own desk and casted one quick glance over at Tony's sleeping body. He had one hand underneath his face and the other one was covering his head like a shield. The position looked uncomfortable.

"Why's he still here?" he asked the rest of his team.

"Well…" McGee looked over to Kate.

"He was filling out his report and fell asleep," she finished for him.

Gibbs said nothing, his eyes remaining on Tony.

"Eh… should we wake him up?" McGee asked. "Send him home?"

Gibbs looked at the clock. It was six o'clock at night.

"Give him an hour and then wake him," he told them and diverted his attention from his senior field agent and focused on the files that were placed on his desk, instead.

He was glad that Tony was back and was mostly unharmed, if not counting several bruises from his stampede with Jeffrey. With Tony here at his desk, Gibbs could watch over him for the time being and didn't have to worry if his agent was fine and resting properly.

Not that he was really worried about Tony… It was his responsibility to take care of his team and if he sometimes overreacted when Tony was facing any danger that could harm him, no one said a word.

Gibbs once again glanced over at Tony and sighed inaudibly. It had been a very long day.

They were sitting in a car when Jeffrey spoke out of blue.

"My father used to have a cabin like this. He used to bring me and my sister here."

Tony winced. Talking about family - parents especially - was never good.

He forced himself to say something, anything. "Good times?"

"Used to beat the crap out of me," Jeffrey answered. That surprised Tony, but he tried not to show it on his face. Jeffrey's records didn't say anything about abuse.

Jeffrey sighed and continued in a little, shaky voice. "Your parents are supposed to help you, Tony, not hurt you." He paused. "Your father hurt you?"

Tony was unprepared for such a question but tried to remain calm and react without lingering. "No, he was too drunk to hurt anyone."

A strong feeling washed over him. He couldn't quite place it, because this emotion was new. He had never told anyone about this side of his for-the-world-otherwise-perfect father. Sure, Gibbs knew he was a drinker, but that was the end of it. At least, Tony hoped it was this way. And that his father had never laid a hand on him… That was true, right?
He'd never harmed him physically, almost never laid his eyes on him. No, his father was too great for the world to be wasting his valuable time on someone like Tony. If he had wanted to punish his good-for-nothing son, he'd had other people to do it. Other people who could have afford to lose time with him...

Tony winced again. This wasn't time to be remembering all those lovely memories. Not now, not ever.

"I hate it here," Jeffrey said and brought him back to reality.

Tony smiled broadly at him. He hoped he got the smile right. "Then let´s get out of here. Make us some money."

"Hell, yeah… Let's go make us lots of money," Jeffrey smiled back and Tony started the car.

Tony opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the pain in his arms. He was lying in an awkward position and his whole body felt stiff.

The next thing was that something was tickling his ear.

He swept his hand in that direction but the tickling stopped only for a second before it returned.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

That sounded like Kate. He rose from his position and blinked several times. He was at his desk in the NCIS headquarters.

Kate ruffled his hair playfully. "I started to think you would never wake up and would sleep through the end of the world," she commented.

He looked up at her. "Is it?"

"What?"

"The end of the world," he specified.

"No."

Tony groaned and looked around. "Too bad." Beside Kate, there was no one else from the team present.

"McGee´s gone home already and Gibbs is somewhere in the building. Not sure where, though," Kate said as if she was reading his thoughts. "And you should go home as well and rest."

Tony grinned at her. "Worried about me?"

She pursed her lips but smiled eventually. "Me? How could I?"

Tony was standing before his apartment´s door and was fishing the keys in his bag when a small creature jumped up on him from behind.

"Hey, Tony!" the creature shouted cheerfully.

Tony took the child off his back and smiled. "Hey Robin."

"You done catching the bad guys?" Robin asked, continuing to cling to his arm. She was a lovely ten year old daughter of his neighbors and to Tony she seemed very smart for her age.

"Not yet," Tony replied. He finally got to his keys and, while trying not to fall down due to his new burden, he managed to open the door.

"There's lots of them so it takes some time."

"Hmm," Robin seemed to think it through and then smiled again. "I'm sure you´ll manage. You're a hero, right… like Superman, you know?"

Tony smirked. "Why don't I be Batman and you be Robin? We can chase the bad guys together."

"But Robin is a boy!" she exclaimed, outraged.

Tony laughed. "You have the same names, so no one will know." He stepped inside his apartment and kicked off his shoes in the process.

"Do you want some ice cream?" he asked Robin.

She shook her head. "Nah, not today. Ma wanted to watch Doctor Who with me and besides, daddy says I bother you too much anyway."

He ruffled her hair with affection. "That will never happen."

"Yeah, I know," Robin smiled and then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "But we need to save our faces, right?"

Tony winked at her. "Of course," he whispered back. "Now go back. It's late, so you shouldn't be here anyway."

"I´m a big girl, I can handle anything and anyone," she proclaimed confidently.

"Sure, sure," Tony said and then shooed her back to her own apartment. He closed the door and made his way to the kitchen.

Robin was very fortunate to have such nice parents. Tony had met them several times, even had a dinner with the whole family. They were the perfect example of what parents were supposed to be.

Tony took a deep breath. He needed a drink.

He found bourbon in a cupboard which he stored there for Gibbs. His boss had been in his apartment only once but had already managed to complain about the lack of alcohol. So Tony had bought bourbon even despite the fact that Gibbs had never showed up again.

At least now it came in handy.

Tony poured himself a glass and studied the pure liquid. In the dim kitchen light, it sparkled like there were little stars floating in it. It reminded him of something mostly forgotten. It reminded him of a snowy night when his whole life had changed from the bottom up.

He stood in his father's office. Next to him was Paul whom Tony guessed was some sort of secretary for his father. That was what it looked like, at least. He was everywhere where his father appeared and he was doing errands for him all the time. It seemed like Paul's life revolved around his work for Tony's father.

Tony didn't need to look up to see the hatred in Paul's eyes, which was definitely being aimed at him. He didn't know what he had done to this man, but since the first day they'd met, Paul had made it clear that he didn't like Tony – hated him, even.
Tony wouldn´t normally mind; he was used to receive the similar kind of hatred from his father, but from Paul… that was bad, because Paul was the one responsible for Tony´s punishments. It was him who always decided what sort of punishment was equal for Tony's childish 'crimes'.

Tony finally looked up at his father, only to see him gazing over to nowhere. He was holding a glass of a pure, golden liquid. Alcohol. It was casting dancing lights on his father's frowned face. Tony guessed it was bourbon. He learned various sorts of alcoholic drinks from the way his father handled them. Bourbon, he was holding very gently and was sipping it slowly, like he wanted to savor the taste.

Tony grimaced and turned his attention to Paul. He regretted it immediately when Paul glanced back at him, a cruel expression on his face. And Tony knew that this time it was going to be very, very bad.

His father started speaking about what Tony had done wrong this time to deserve a new punishment. Tony stopped listening after the first sentence. It was always the same. His father was an expert on finding mistakes on his own son and couldn't have been generally bothered by assuring they would never occur again, so he handed the right to do so to Paul, who was more than willing. Tony gave up trying to understand what was wrong with him – all of them – a long time ago.

Now, he silently received his punishment and everyone's lives went on.

However, today, he felt very anxious for no obvious reason. He didn't know why, but looking in Paul´s eyes for a brief moment, he had a feeling he would find out very soon.

Tony slammed the glass down, spilling half of the content out, and rubbed his eyes with his other hand. The undercover operation was supposed to go smoothly but no, Jeffrey had had to start talking about fathers.

Tony looked at the bourbon again and felt suddenly nauseous. He quickly poured it all out into the sink and went to living room so he couldn't smell it. He sat on his couch and stared at nothing in particular.

He felt miserable, but oddly enough very active as well. He glanced at the clock. It was after eight so there was no chance he would be able to fall asleep. He could still watch a movie or just click through the channels on television, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Finally he made up his mind and reached for his cell phone, dialing a number. He waited a heartbeat before a familiar voice responded.

"Hey, Tony! Haven't heard from you for a while."

Tony paused, gathering his thoughts. "Well, yeah… Sorry, been busy," he finally replied.

The man on the other end of the line seemed concerned. "Kid, are ya alright?"

Tony chuckled. "You realize I'm a grown man and you still call me kid?"

"What can I say? Habit," the man laughed. "So what is it? You really fine?"

"Yeah, Steve," Tony said. "I just wanted to know how you're doing."

"Same old, same old. Lynette's started playing piano and my wife's still the same… You know her, so I bet you get the picture. She's worried about you and me, and I would guess about the rest of the police world too, but, well, it's kinda sweet."

Tony smiled. He felt better just talking over the phone to this man.

"Kid, you sure you're fine?" Steve asked again, concern apparent in his voice.

Tony sighed. "Yeah, no… I don´t know, maybe. I wasn't but now I am and I'm sure it's gonna be fine. Think I just need some sleep." He surprised even himself with his honesty.

"Okay, Tony, but if you need anything just call me, yeah?" Steve said.

"Sure," Tony replied. He doubted that if anything happened he would bother Steve, but he didn't need to know that.

"Right…" Steve sighed.

"Say hello to Carol and Lynette… and thanks for everything," Tony said.

Steve chuckled. "Kid, you don't have anything to thank me for."

Tony smiled. "I think we'll never agree on this matter."

"We can't have everything, now, can we?" He paused and then added, "Goodnight, kid."

"Goodnight." Tony ended the call and resigned himself to his bed.

He left his father´s office and headed to his room, Paul right behind him. Tony took one step at a time and tried not to go either too fast or too slow. He didn't want to get to his room because that meant facing Paul all alone. Although, it wasn't abnormal and the punishments always took place in his room, he could sense that tonight was different. How, he didn't know yet but he feared the time when he'd find it out.

A shiver ran through his body as he entered his room. He could hear Paul's quickened breathing and he knew that whatever was holding him together would vanish the moment the door closed. Tonight would not be about the normal kinds of his punishment. He would not be forced to stand a whole night without sleep in a corner and hold a pile of books in raised hands. He would not have to write 'till morning what he had done wrong.

No, tonight would be different.

Tony turned around when he heard the door being locked and was immediately backhanded and slammed into the wardrobe. His head made a nasty crack sound and he lost vision for a moment.

When he regained it again, Paul was screaming directly in his face, little droplets of spits hitting Tony.

"You little piece of **! I've worked for this company and your father for ten years now! Ten years!" He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and shook him, slamming him again into the wardrobe with such force that Tony was certain he could destroy the massive wood using only his head. "I sacrificed my marriage to this job; for my career and what do you think I get in return?"

He grabbed Tony's body and pushed him to the floor. Tony landed on his left arm and it snapped. He cried out in pain but didn't have the time to get away. Paul hauled him up by his hair and slapped him hard across the face, sending him to the floor again. "Ten years!" he screamed repeatedly, beating him.

Tony tried to crawl away and fight back but the man was bigger and stronger than him. Through the haze he could make out few sentences and understood immediately.

"I work so hard… wanted to prove myself to him… wanted to take over the company when… was always competent and loyal… worked so hard… ten **ing years! I'm not the heir, he says… I don't have his blood, he says… not his **ing son, he says!"

He stopped suddenly and looked directly into Tony's eyes. "He doesn't even like you," he whispered and Tony wanted to stop existing. It would be so much simpler that way, if he only stopped existing…

"He hates you, you know?" Paul said in a low, cold voice. "Did you know he blamed you for her death?"

Tony gulped. Yes, he was well aware of that.

"He always says how great of a son I would be and that I would make him proud… not like you… I would never be a nuisance to him."

Tony felt tears running down his cheeks. He would give everything for Paul's words not to be true, but he knew there was no lie hidden in them. His father blamed him for mother's death. His father hated him and thought him a nuisance. His father would be happier with this sadistic man as his own son and heir... but he would never replace Tony, because his father was a man of principles.

He was DiNozzo and DiNozzos didn't take the easier paths in life.

Paul punched him again and slammed his body harder into the wooden floor. His father had to have heard the noise, right? Tony prayed for someone, anyone, to come in and to help him.

No one came.

At some point, he stopped feeling the pain and his mind shut down completely.

Tony woke up in an instant and rushed to the bathroom. The urge to vomit was so strong and yet his body refused to relieve him from the pain that was building inside him. He shook violently and sank helplessly to his knees, hitting the cold floor. He rested his head against the tiles.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Why did he have to torture himself like this?

Tony closed his eyes. What was in past should stay there and it was absolutely useless to relive those things.

It never made a difference.

Please, let me know how you liked the first chapter :)