TITLE: Full Circle
AUTHOR: palver
EMAIL: palver@mail.com
CATEGORY: Angst
RATING: G
SPOILERS: Season 7
DISCLAIMER: "ER" is a production of Constant c Productions and Amblin Television in association with Warner Bros. Television. All characters, situations, and logos © Constant c, Amblin Entertainment, Warner Bros., or Michael Crichton. No challenge to or infringement of their status is intended. This original work of fan fiction is written for entertainment purposes only, and I am receiving no compensation for it.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual locations and events, is purely coincidental.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story is projected from the end of season 7, set in a fictional series finale in ER's 8th season. Although the story is admittedly grim, I hope that all Abby and Carter fans will like it.
SUMMARY: Carter's last day at County
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Full Circle
"A circle has no end..."
Isaac Asimov, Second Foundation
John Carter trudged along the snow-filled path leading up to County General, a path he knew well, having traveled along the same route to work for the last 8 years of his life. He walked conscientiously though, not because he was afraid to slip on the ice, but because he did not want the trip to slip by unnoticed. Not this trip; not this time.
It was a bitterly cold day. He drew his fur coat closer around him, but to no avail; the wind still stung him through all the warm clothing. It was not the kind of weather he had hoped for. Especially not today. He had so wanted today to be perfect.
Eight years. It was a long time to spend in any one place, but it really did not seem that long to him. He liked working at County, liked helping sick people get better, but the last year as Chief Resident really wore him out by all the administrative duties and political maneuverings he had had to deal with. And somehow, it was almost as if the toil had taken its toll on him, and being a doctor just did not seem that appealing anymore. Or maybe it was because he wanted to run away from a place that had lost its magic to him, a place that had brought him enough pain in the past few years to balance any measure of happiness he had received. Anyway, he had jumped at the offer of a teaching position in Philadelphia, and today was his last day at County.
"Are you all right, John?" a welcome voice interrupted his reverie.
Carter turned towards his wife walking beside him and saw that her face was creased in concern. Desperate to reassure her, not wanting her to worry about him, especially not today, he replied in as cheery a voice as he could muster. "I'm fine, Abby. It's just the cold. You know how I hate cold weather,"
Abby did not look as if her fears were allayed, but she smiled affectionately at him anyway, and reached to pull up the collar of his coat and brush off the thin sprinkling of snow that had accumulated on his shoulders.
"We're almost there. I'll make you a hot cup of coffee in the lounge...hot enough to scald your tongue," she said with a warm smile and in that cheerful tone that he had now come to associate with her desperately trying to hide her worry for him.
He had proposed to Abby a year ago during the annual ER banquet, in front of all the hospital staff (He remembered she looked radiant that day in a blue silk gown). The nurses later told him that it was the most unromantic thing to do. Even Dr. Greene, who was not exactly an expert on love, had gently chastised him about it: "Nice work, Carter. You basically left her no choice."
Abby had looked surprised. Actually, shocked would have been a closer description. But she had accepted the proposal with quite a fetching smile. He did not think that she had agreed just to save him the blushes. Somehow, he knew that she would say yes...
He doubted, seriously doubted, whether he would have gotten over his painkiller addiction and his depression of the last couple of years without Abby. She had been incredibly supportive, incredibly patient. He wondered if it was because of her experiences with alcoholism and her mom's bipolarism that made her naturally empathetic towards what he was going through, or whether it was because of love. Was he that charming, that handsome, to warrant all the care and affection that she had showed? Wasn't Luka more handsome, more charming?
"Do you still love Luka?" he asked before he could stop himself.
He turned and saw the hurt in her eyes, the question having come too fast and too unexpected for her to mask that. He looked away immediately, guilt gnawing inside him like a pain that cannot be soothed, the day he so wanted to be perfect completely ruined. He knew that she loved him deeply; he saw it in her eyes everyday. But he was never able to convince himself what she saw in him that made her choose him over Luka.
"Abby, I'm sorry. I don't know what..." he began lamely.
She kept walking beside him; her gentle, reassuring grip on his arm never once wavered.
* * *
Frank was at the admit counter when they entered, and he smiled toothily when he saw them and called out a greeting. Luka was there too.
"Hey, Abby, Dr. Carter. I thought yesterday was your last day?" Frank inquired.
"It was. I just forgot to get something from my locker. Is Dr. Weaver in today?" Carter replied, unconsciously putting his free hand over Abby's hand, which was on his other arm.
"Nope. She's off today. I thought you knew?"
"I did, I did. Just checking, that's all,"
"You look great, Abby. Dr. Carter's lucky to marry you," Frank commented off-handedly.
"Yes, you look beautiful, Abby," Luka added.
Carter felt Abby tense up, and he tightened his grip on her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture to her that she need not worry that he would feel jealous, or anything of the sort. He caught himself this time before he could let out a bitter laugh. He could not help but feel that he was a hypocrite, and his self-loathing and despair grew deeper. It did not help at all that Luka was looking like a million bucks, clean-shaven and all.
Abby did look beautiful, her shoulder length hair (with a sprinkling of snow) augmenting her face perfectly, the light in the admit area making her eyes twinkle. It just never crossed his mind to tell her, that's all. She knew that he loved her, right?
"We gotta get going. John's picking up his stuff and I have to make him a cup of coffee for the cold," Abby said, deliberately overlooking Frank's and Luka's praises.
"Yes, yes. It is cold. Typical Chicago, eh?" Luka agreed, then, seeming to sense Abby's unease, continued, "Listen, I still have a few patients to see. So I guess this is goodbye, huh? I'm going to miss you. And you too, Carter. Take care," he smiled at them both before trooping off. He did not look back.
"We're gonna miss you too, Luka," Carter called after him, which Luka acknowledged with a wave of his hand.
They turned towards the lounge. The pain in his side, the pain from the old wound, was a throbbing presence again. Somehow, the pain had not gone away with the healing of the wound, and he tried hard not to grimace. He hoped Abby did not notice his slight limp.
At the entrance to the lounge, he turned to her and said, "Could you help pack my stuff from the locker? I just want to see the place one last time before leaving,"
"Strong enough to forgo the coffee?" she smiled.
"I'm not a wimp," he smiled back.
"Okay, then. So I'll meet you at the exit in 15 minutes?"
"Better make it twenty. I want to imprint this place in the back of my mind,"
She laughed, for the first time that day, a joyful laugh that brought warmth to his heart.
"It's gonna take more than 20 minutes to do that," she said before turning towards the lounge.
It was only when he released his hand on hers when she left his side that he realized how hard he had been gripping her.
* * *
Abby entered the lounge and was relieved to find it empty. She rubbed her hand, hoping to lessen the pain, but knew that the true pain inside her would not subside that easily.
Without her knowing it, tears had started to stream down her cheeks. Weary of having to put on a brave front in John's presence, and tired of the all too familiar emotional strain that had somehow crept back into her life, she succumbed to the despair that now overwhelmed her, and sobbed uncontrollably.
It was an awful feeling, not being able to cry freely, having to repress the sobs so nobody would hear, nobody would know. The pain was somehow hemmed in and amplified, and she always felt the worse afterwards. She was exhausted, but she knew that she had to be strong for John, just as she had been for her mom. His question about Luka hurt her, but she knew it wasn't him speaking.
The look in his eyes for the past few weeks had frightened her. It was the hollow look of a trapped animal, as if he was trying to escape from something. He denied that he was in pain when she asked him about the old wound. But he was restless and furtive, and his temper was short. She had seen that behavior in him before, when he was recovering from his painkiller addiction. She had helped him out of that, but it had been an extremely emotionally draining experience, and it had taken its toll on her health.
She realized, much to her relief, that she had stopped crying, and tried to dry her tears and wink out the last remnants from her eyes.
Abby wondered whether she ought to seek help this time regarding John. Mark had left the hospital, but there was still Kerry, and Deb. But she quickly decided against that route. John had told her that he never felt so cornered and lowly in his life as when he was confronted by half the hospital staff trying to force him to admit to his addiction. She had felt a pang of guilt when he told her that, and she still felt guilty whenever she thought about it, because she was the one who had told Mark and Kerry that she had seen him stick that needle into his wrist, back when she was a medical student.
She did not want him to feel that way ever again. She knew that he loved her deeply, and he did not deserve this treatment. He had had a rough year, and the last thing he needed was his wife announcing his troubles to the world. No, she had helped him out the first time, and she was sure that she could handle it alone again if there was a relapse. She just needed to be strong, that's all.
She suddenly felt very, very tired. The weariness and dejection was sometimes too much to bear, and she tried to think of the happy times, when John was charming and humorous and they would joke about everything from his high-school perm to her med school blunders. She wondered what their new life in Philadelphia would be like...
The pain in her chest came unbidden, sharp and acute, and she realized with a start that she had not taken the pills for her heart since Monday, three days ago.
Abby searched frantically into her bag, found the bottle, and took it out. She remembered now why she had missed taking the pills: The bottle was empty; it had been empty since Monday.
* * *
John Truman Carter whistled as he made his way towards the exit. The day had become cheerful to him again, and he walked with an extra spring in his step. The pain in his side had subsided, and with it, all the negativity he had felt that morning. The day was perfect once again.
He took in County General one last time as he walked, and thought of Abby. She would not have to worry for him again. He wondered where he would take her for dinner tonight. Or maybe he would cook for her. He could not remember when was the last time he did that.
He turned to the exit, preparing to greet her with a great, big smile, and saw that she was not there. He went to the reception counter, where Frank was doing some paperwork.
"Frank, have you seen Abby?"
"What...Abby? Saw her go into the lounge. Didn't notice whether she came back out,"
"Thanks,"
Carter walked towards the lounge and entered. Abby was sleeping on the couch. She looked very peaceful, serene, the way she always looked when she slept. Carter was a bit surprised that she would fall asleep while packing his stuff, then felt guilty again when he remembered that she had not had a good night's sleep over the past week. She had stayed up well into the night listening to him talk because he couldn't sleep. The pain had kept him awake.
The phone in the lounge rang at that moment. In the quiet ambience it sounded unusually loud. He turned to pick it up, then realized that Abby had not woken up. She was a light sleeper.
"Abby?" he called, but she did not stir from her sleep. She looked so tranquil, so calm.
He walked towards her, ignoring the phone, and suddenly slipped on a bottle he had not noticed was lying on the floor. He fell down hard on his side, and the pain that shot through him was excruciating. Grimacing, he tried to recover the bag he had dropped when he fell, vaguely aware that Abby had still not woken up, and saw the bottle on which he had slipped. The label on the bottle held him transfixed for a moment before the full realization of what he had read struck him.
He tried to get up, but discovered that he could not because of the pain. He screamed at the top of his voice, desperately calling for help which he knew by experience and knowledge would be futile and too late.
Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't he noticed anything?
He continued screaming, hardly noticing his bag containing the now crushed bottles of painkillers he had stolen from the medical store, or the prickling from the fresh tract marks on his wrists.
And all this while, the phone was ringing, its sound an awful, awful intrusion.
He continued screaming.
--------------------------------End------------------------------------------
AUTHOR: palver
EMAIL: palver@mail.com
CATEGORY: Angst
RATING: G
SPOILERS: Season 7
DISCLAIMER: "ER" is a production of Constant c Productions and Amblin Television in association with Warner Bros. Television. All characters, situations, and logos © Constant c, Amblin Entertainment, Warner Bros., or Michael Crichton. No challenge to or infringement of their status is intended. This original work of fan fiction is written for entertainment purposes only, and I am receiving no compensation for it.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual locations and events, is purely coincidental.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story is projected from the end of season 7, set in a fictional series finale in ER's 8th season. Although the story is admittedly grim, I hope that all Abby and Carter fans will like it.
SUMMARY: Carter's last day at County
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Full Circle
"A circle has no end..."
Isaac Asimov, Second Foundation
John Carter trudged along the snow-filled path leading up to County General, a path he knew well, having traveled along the same route to work for the last 8 years of his life. He walked conscientiously though, not because he was afraid to slip on the ice, but because he did not want the trip to slip by unnoticed. Not this trip; not this time.
It was a bitterly cold day. He drew his fur coat closer around him, but to no avail; the wind still stung him through all the warm clothing. It was not the kind of weather he had hoped for. Especially not today. He had so wanted today to be perfect.
Eight years. It was a long time to spend in any one place, but it really did not seem that long to him. He liked working at County, liked helping sick people get better, but the last year as Chief Resident really wore him out by all the administrative duties and political maneuverings he had had to deal with. And somehow, it was almost as if the toil had taken its toll on him, and being a doctor just did not seem that appealing anymore. Or maybe it was because he wanted to run away from a place that had lost its magic to him, a place that had brought him enough pain in the past few years to balance any measure of happiness he had received. Anyway, he had jumped at the offer of a teaching position in Philadelphia, and today was his last day at County.
"Are you all right, John?" a welcome voice interrupted his reverie.
Carter turned towards his wife walking beside him and saw that her face was creased in concern. Desperate to reassure her, not wanting her to worry about him, especially not today, he replied in as cheery a voice as he could muster. "I'm fine, Abby. It's just the cold. You know how I hate cold weather,"
Abby did not look as if her fears were allayed, but she smiled affectionately at him anyway, and reached to pull up the collar of his coat and brush off the thin sprinkling of snow that had accumulated on his shoulders.
"We're almost there. I'll make you a hot cup of coffee in the lounge...hot enough to scald your tongue," she said with a warm smile and in that cheerful tone that he had now come to associate with her desperately trying to hide her worry for him.
He had proposed to Abby a year ago during the annual ER banquet, in front of all the hospital staff (He remembered she looked radiant that day in a blue silk gown). The nurses later told him that it was the most unromantic thing to do. Even Dr. Greene, who was not exactly an expert on love, had gently chastised him about it: "Nice work, Carter. You basically left her no choice."
Abby had looked surprised. Actually, shocked would have been a closer description. But she had accepted the proposal with quite a fetching smile. He did not think that she had agreed just to save him the blushes. Somehow, he knew that she would say yes...
He doubted, seriously doubted, whether he would have gotten over his painkiller addiction and his depression of the last couple of years without Abby. She had been incredibly supportive, incredibly patient. He wondered if it was because of her experiences with alcoholism and her mom's bipolarism that made her naturally empathetic towards what he was going through, or whether it was because of love. Was he that charming, that handsome, to warrant all the care and affection that she had showed? Wasn't Luka more handsome, more charming?
"Do you still love Luka?" he asked before he could stop himself.
He turned and saw the hurt in her eyes, the question having come too fast and too unexpected for her to mask that. He looked away immediately, guilt gnawing inside him like a pain that cannot be soothed, the day he so wanted to be perfect completely ruined. He knew that she loved him deeply; he saw it in her eyes everyday. But he was never able to convince himself what she saw in him that made her choose him over Luka.
"Abby, I'm sorry. I don't know what..." he began lamely.
She kept walking beside him; her gentle, reassuring grip on his arm never once wavered.
* * *
Frank was at the admit counter when they entered, and he smiled toothily when he saw them and called out a greeting. Luka was there too.
"Hey, Abby, Dr. Carter. I thought yesterday was your last day?" Frank inquired.
"It was. I just forgot to get something from my locker. Is Dr. Weaver in today?" Carter replied, unconsciously putting his free hand over Abby's hand, which was on his other arm.
"Nope. She's off today. I thought you knew?"
"I did, I did. Just checking, that's all,"
"You look great, Abby. Dr. Carter's lucky to marry you," Frank commented off-handedly.
"Yes, you look beautiful, Abby," Luka added.
Carter felt Abby tense up, and he tightened his grip on her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture to her that she need not worry that he would feel jealous, or anything of the sort. He caught himself this time before he could let out a bitter laugh. He could not help but feel that he was a hypocrite, and his self-loathing and despair grew deeper. It did not help at all that Luka was looking like a million bucks, clean-shaven and all.
Abby did look beautiful, her shoulder length hair (with a sprinkling of snow) augmenting her face perfectly, the light in the admit area making her eyes twinkle. It just never crossed his mind to tell her, that's all. She knew that he loved her, right?
"We gotta get going. John's picking up his stuff and I have to make him a cup of coffee for the cold," Abby said, deliberately overlooking Frank's and Luka's praises.
"Yes, yes. It is cold. Typical Chicago, eh?" Luka agreed, then, seeming to sense Abby's unease, continued, "Listen, I still have a few patients to see. So I guess this is goodbye, huh? I'm going to miss you. And you too, Carter. Take care," he smiled at them both before trooping off. He did not look back.
"We're gonna miss you too, Luka," Carter called after him, which Luka acknowledged with a wave of his hand.
They turned towards the lounge. The pain in his side, the pain from the old wound, was a throbbing presence again. Somehow, the pain had not gone away with the healing of the wound, and he tried hard not to grimace. He hoped Abby did not notice his slight limp.
At the entrance to the lounge, he turned to her and said, "Could you help pack my stuff from the locker? I just want to see the place one last time before leaving,"
"Strong enough to forgo the coffee?" she smiled.
"I'm not a wimp," he smiled back.
"Okay, then. So I'll meet you at the exit in 15 minutes?"
"Better make it twenty. I want to imprint this place in the back of my mind,"
She laughed, for the first time that day, a joyful laugh that brought warmth to his heart.
"It's gonna take more than 20 minutes to do that," she said before turning towards the lounge.
It was only when he released his hand on hers when she left his side that he realized how hard he had been gripping her.
* * *
Abby entered the lounge and was relieved to find it empty. She rubbed her hand, hoping to lessen the pain, but knew that the true pain inside her would not subside that easily.
Without her knowing it, tears had started to stream down her cheeks. Weary of having to put on a brave front in John's presence, and tired of the all too familiar emotional strain that had somehow crept back into her life, she succumbed to the despair that now overwhelmed her, and sobbed uncontrollably.
It was an awful feeling, not being able to cry freely, having to repress the sobs so nobody would hear, nobody would know. The pain was somehow hemmed in and amplified, and she always felt the worse afterwards. She was exhausted, but she knew that she had to be strong for John, just as she had been for her mom. His question about Luka hurt her, but she knew it wasn't him speaking.
The look in his eyes for the past few weeks had frightened her. It was the hollow look of a trapped animal, as if he was trying to escape from something. He denied that he was in pain when she asked him about the old wound. But he was restless and furtive, and his temper was short. She had seen that behavior in him before, when he was recovering from his painkiller addiction. She had helped him out of that, but it had been an extremely emotionally draining experience, and it had taken its toll on her health.
She realized, much to her relief, that she had stopped crying, and tried to dry her tears and wink out the last remnants from her eyes.
Abby wondered whether she ought to seek help this time regarding John. Mark had left the hospital, but there was still Kerry, and Deb. But she quickly decided against that route. John had told her that he never felt so cornered and lowly in his life as when he was confronted by half the hospital staff trying to force him to admit to his addiction. She had felt a pang of guilt when he told her that, and she still felt guilty whenever she thought about it, because she was the one who had told Mark and Kerry that she had seen him stick that needle into his wrist, back when she was a medical student.
She did not want him to feel that way ever again. She knew that he loved her deeply, and he did not deserve this treatment. He had had a rough year, and the last thing he needed was his wife announcing his troubles to the world. No, she had helped him out the first time, and she was sure that she could handle it alone again if there was a relapse. She just needed to be strong, that's all.
She suddenly felt very, very tired. The weariness and dejection was sometimes too much to bear, and she tried to think of the happy times, when John was charming and humorous and they would joke about everything from his high-school perm to her med school blunders. She wondered what their new life in Philadelphia would be like...
The pain in her chest came unbidden, sharp and acute, and she realized with a start that she had not taken the pills for her heart since Monday, three days ago.
Abby searched frantically into her bag, found the bottle, and took it out. She remembered now why she had missed taking the pills: The bottle was empty; it had been empty since Monday.
* * *
John Truman Carter whistled as he made his way towards the exit. The day had become cheerful to him again, and he walked with an extra spring in his step. The pain in his side had subsided, and with it, all the negativity he had felt that morning. The day was perfect once again.
He took in County General one last time as he walked, and thought of Abby. She would not have to worry for him again. He wondered where he would take her for dinner tonight. Or maybe he would cook for her. He could not remember when was the last time he did that.
He turned to the exit, preparing to greet her with a great, big smile, and saw that she was not there. He went to the reception counter, where Frank was doing some paperwork.
"Frank, have you seen Abby?"
"What...Abby? Saw her go into the lounge. Didn't notice whether she came back out,"
"Thanks,"
Carter walked towards the lounge and entered. Abby was sleeping on the couch. She looked very peaceful, serene, the way she always looked when she slept. Carter was a bit surprised that she would fall asleep while packing his stuff, then felt guilty again when he remembered that she had not had a good night's sleep over the past week. She had stayed up well into the night listening to him talk because he couldn't sleep. The pain had kept him awake.
The phone in the lounge rang at that moment. In the quiet ambience it sounded unusually loud. He turned to pick it up, then realized that Abby had not woken up. She was a light sleeper.
"Abby?" he called, but she did not stir from her sleep. She looked so tranquil, so calm.
He walked towards her, ignoring the phone, and suddenly slipped on a bottle he had not noticed was lying on the floor. He fell down hard on his side, and the pain that shot through him was excruciating. Grimacing, he tried to recover the bag he had dropped when he fell, vaguely aware that Abby had still not woken up, and saw the bottle on which he had slipped. The label on the bottle held him transfixed for a moment before the full realization of what he had read struck him.
He tried to get up, but discovered that he could not because of the pain. He screamed at the top of his voice, desperately calling for help which he knew by experience and knowledge would be futile and too late.
Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't he noticed anything?
He continued screaming, hardly noticing his bag containing the now crushed bottles of painkillers he had stolen from the medical store, or the prickling from the fresh tract marks on his wrists.
And all this while, the phone was ringing, its sound an awful, awful intrusion.
He continued screaming.
--------------------------------End------------------------------------------