A/N: See the first chapter for the disclaimer. Updates may become a little less frequent... kinda getting a lot on my plate at the moment, and there isn't as much time to write. But, I'm trying my best to see that doesn't happen. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and please review. :)

Chapter 9: Ready for You

Abby put the plates on the table, smirking to herself as she reached for the matches. "You know, this doesn't exactly count," she said.

Tony shrugged from his spot at the stove. "This is more of an apartment warming, thank you dinner," he replied.

"Gibbs helped you move?"

"And McGee."

"I can't get McGee to pick up my clothes from the cleaners," she said, holding the match she just lit in front of her face before placing it to the wick of the candle. "How'd you get him to help you move?"

"That's a long story," Tony replied, glancing over. "It involves a bad day, booze, and Gibbs' house."

"Oh, now you have to tell me."

Tony chuckled. "After dinner."

"No way. With that teaser, you're telling me now." She blew out the match before walking over to the sink. She turned on the water, running it over the match before turning to look at a very confused Tony. "What?"

"You already blew it out."

"But sometimes it doesn't completely go out. I had this one friend, he used a match to light a burner in his lab, blew on the match, and threw it in the trash. A few minutes later, the trash can was on fire."

He shrugged. "Nice story, but something tells me that wasn't entirely truthful," he said.

"Well, I may have been there," she said.

"And…?"

"And… maybe I was the one that put the match in the trash, but either way."

Tony smirked, pulling the bread out of the oven.

"Did I mention that the food smells wonderful?" she asked.

"Only about a dozen times," he replied. "But, always nice to hear."

She smiled. "Can I open the wine?"

"Go for it." He handed her the corkscrew before pulling the boiling pot of pasta off the burner and moving it toward the sink.

"You ever notice how whenever you make me dinner, it's always pasta?" she asked, pouring the wine in the glasses.

He shrugged. "It's my specialty. Besides, whenever you make me dinner, it's always fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and rice."

"Hey, at least it's a different wine every time."

"And what have we learned?"

"Fried chicken doesn't seem to go too well with Chianti."

"Exactly," Tony said warmly, draining the pasta before rinsing it. He portioned it out on their plates before handing one to Abby, allowing her to put her own amount of Tony's homemade sauce on it.

"You know, I don't think I tell you this enough, but you're a great cook," Abby said, smiling.

"Grazie, Principessa."

"Prego, Principe." She kissed him on the cheek, sitting down at one end of the table while he sat at the other. "Cheers," she said, holding up her glass. He clinked his against hers gently, and both took a sip. "Okay, so you've gotta tell me about how you got McGee to help you move."

Tony shook his head. "Sorry, Abs," he said. "I'm not quite drunk enough for that conversation yet."

"If I ask you to be honest with me…"

"I promise, I will be. I just don't want to get into it until after dinner. Please?"

Abby sighed. "Fine. But only because you almost never say 'please'."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. So, moving onto other topics, how're the boys doing out at sea?"

"Oh, they're alright. One of them emails me every few days."

"They miss you."

Tony shrugged. "Almost wish I could say the same thing about them," he said.

"You miss them," Abby commented.

"Maybe a little."

"If you didn't, you wouldn't bother with their emails."

"I guess that's true. But maybe I'm just a nice guy."

"Well, I think that statement depends on who you ask." Abby wiggled her eyebrows, and Tony shook his head.

"You're so mean to me."

She shrugged, smirking as she took a bite.

*~*~*~*

After dinner and clean up, Abby and Tony retired to his new living room with the bottle of wine. "So, you gonna tell me now?" she asked.

"You're persistent," Tony replied.

"Only when I really want something."

"Okay then." Tony took a drink from his glass before sighing softly. "McGee and I went out one night last week, and we got pretty drunk. Gibbs had to pick us up from the bar, that's how bad it was. And, well, we were drunk, more came out than we intended."

"Is that where 'Teddy' comes from?"

"Yep."

"And McGee feels sorry for you?"

"I think he feels like he needs to help."

"How come?" Abby asked.

"How many times have you been drunk with me?" Tony countered.

"Point taken."

Tony nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. Abby took a drink from her wine, silent. After a little while, Tony said, "Hey Abs?"

"What's up?" she replied.

"If I ask you something, you promise to be truthful?"

"It's only fair."

"How much do you know?"

"Well, I like to think I know a lot, but…"

Tony shot her a light glare.

"That's not what you meant," she said.

"No," he replied.

"You're talking about…"

"Yeah."

"Enough, I guess," she said with a shrug.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, if you're asking me if I, like, know, the answer is maybe. It depends. I mean, I know you were tortured. I think I have an idea about what happened."

"So, you know."

"I know enough."

"No, Abby, you know."

"What do you think I know?"

He shot her another look.

"Details?" she asked.

He only nodded, closing his eyes again.

"If you're asking if I know what Ducky and Gibbs were hiding, the answer is no. Someone else processed the evidence from the room you were held in. And, honestly, I know it bothers you and I know you're pretty messed up, but… I'm not guessing. I'm curious, but I'm also not sure that I want to know. You're one of the strongest people I know, and if it messed you up this badly… I don't think I want to know. But, if it'll help you to talk about it…"

"I don't think right now's a good time," Tony said, clearing his throat.

Abby nodded. "I'm here for you, Tony," she said softly.

"I know."

"So, be honest with me now."

"Okay."

"When you were away, what did you use as your crutch?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you were here, before you left… you talked to Gibbs a lot, you talked to me, you talked to Ziva… but, when you left, we almost never heard from you."

Tony took a drink of his wine, looking down.

"You said you really didn't make friends when you were afloat," Abby continued. "So… what did you lean on?"

Tony swallowed, staying quiet for a moment before sighing. "I'm my parent's son," he said softly.

"What exactly does that mean?" she replied.

"It means that nights like the one with McGee were common, except usually no one else was there."

"I thought you don't drink alone," she practically whispered, his confession shocking and confusing her.

"I normally don't," he replied, just as quiet. "But, there's nothing else to do, or anyone to hang with. I'd just gotten Jenny killed… I wasn't interested in making new friends."

"Tony…"

"It was my fault, Abby. It's still my fault. We should've stopped it, and we didn't."

"You didn't know. You were following orders to stay away."

"We never should have."

Abby bit her lip, frowning. "What is it going to take for you to finally hear me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, confused.

"I tell you to call me if you need anything, you don't. I tell you that it's not your fault, and you don't believe me. Is it something about me, or do you just not listen to anyone who talks against you?"

"I think you've had too much wine."

"Maybe, but tell me, am I wrong?"

Tony let out a deep breath. "No," he admitted softly.

Abby frowned again. "Is there anything I can do to make you hear me?" she asked, worried.

"I don't know. I care about you, and I care about your opinion, but… I guess it's the narcissism talking."

"You're quick to blame that."

"It's a personality disorder. It makes sense."

"No, it doesn't."

"Ducky said…"

"Ducky's not always right, Tony," Abby cut in, putting her hand on his.

"He's not?" Tony replied, giving her a look.

"Not about you."

"Has been so far. Do you know that before I left, he warned me to be careful? I didn't get what he meant until I was so far down. I was quickly becoming my parent's son, the very being I never wanted to become."

"And you didn't try to stop it?"

Tony scoffed. "I didn't even notice until right before Gibbs got me out of there, when Drew asked me if I was alright."

Abby sighed, moving closer to Tony on the couch. She hugged his upper arm, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Ducky was right," Tony said. "And what's worse is that I can't make it go away. I can't stop feeling guilty, and I can't go back in time and change things. So, now I'm stuck in this hole, and I can't get out."

"You're not alone," Abby said softly. "And, anytime you're ready to talk, I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere."

Tony didn't say anything, choosing instead to wrap his other arm around her and kiss her on the top of her head.