You know, I don't usually consider myself a feminist, and yet some things...such as that last scene from the season finale "Lockdown"...make me very irritated. Don't get me wrong; I've been waiting for those two to get together somehow. But did they have to make Carter so damned chauvinistic, overpowering the submissive female? (If I'm exaggerating, it's only slightly, and you know it.) So here's Abby's side of the story--or what I say is Abby's side. And it seems perfectly reasonable to me...write a review and let me know if you agree or not. ;-)
The Part Where I Give Disclaimers: Don't own characters, make no profit off story, intend no copyright infringement. If I've made any mistakes, I apologize--I didn't record this ep (though I wish now I had), so I'm working off memory.
Sweet Nothings
Bastard, she thought, even as she returned his kiss.
She'd been worried all day, worried and angry and guilty. When he'd ripped off his mask and goggles while trying to save the boy, the worry and anger and guilt had only multiplied. When she'd felt his forehead, and thought he had a fever...
She could really do with a drink right now.
But that obviously wasn't an option. And she wasn't about to mention that thought to him, either. There were times when he became entirely too older-brotherish.
And it was his fault she'd been feeling so worried and angry and guilty all day. Starting right with his telling her she should have noticed those kids earlier.
Bastard.
She'd settled for getting him the cold pack while he took his own temperature, holding it to the back of his neck, the relief she felt about his temperature almost going unnoticed among the other thoughts and feelings busily rushing through her mind. They had a moment to catch their breath. There was nothing for them to do now. She could speak up. She could ask the big question.
"Tell me we're going to be alright."
She was unnerved by the look he gave her, and her heart seemed to stop when he leant in to kiss her. Time was suspended while her numbed brain tried to catch up with this current event and place it in the context of what had occurred during the day. Her brain wasn't, unfortunately, responding.
"We're going to be okay," he replied after he pulled back. She stared down at him, sluggishly trying to translate those words into something that related to that kiss. He stood up so that she had to crane her neck to look up into his thin face, his soft brown eyes. There was a quiet confidence, a certainty, about him that had been missing since he realized what was wrong with the two kids who'd been waiting too long in chairs. That had been one of the hardest things about the day. Watching his fear.
"We're going to be okay," he repeated and pulled down toward her. She leant up to meet him halfway, even as that thought crossed her mind. Bastard.
Why the hell did you have to choose now to do this?
The kiss was soft, and sweet, contained within the silence of this room, exactly what she'd been wanting from him for months. But God he had the most fucked up timing she'd ever seen.
She could understand why he'd done it. She could already feel her own tension draining away, so much so that only that kiss seemed to hold her upright. She'd probably get a crick in her neck from standing this way for so long--and his back was probably already killing him, only he didn't know because he wasn't paying attention. No, really, when you get right down to it, this was a great way to kill off some spare hours.
He was still a bastard. She didn't need this on top of everything else. She didn't want this on top of everything else. She wanted this for itself, not because they were in quarantine for smallpox, and he'd just watched a little girl he'd tried to save die, and he'd just watched a little boy he had saved force him to promise that that same little boy would go on living. He was tense, and he was tired, and she was tense, and she was tired, and they both knew they'd both wanted this anyway.
It wasn't fair. Selfishly, she wanted this for herself, not for any of that.
But she'd long ago learnt to take what she could get.
So even as she returned that kiss with passion equal to his, she thought:
Bastard.