Feel free to skip this Authors Notes part and just head to the good stuff ;-
)
I really wanted to write a series, but for the life of me I can't think of an original idea for one. So, I've decided to write a series of short standalones.
Confused? You won't be as soon as I get started ;-)
I must point out that this series isn't meant to fit into a specific point in Carter and Abby's relationship, it's just me letting my fuzzy side go wild.
I'm tempted to integrate some of my previous stand alone fics into this one so that I have at least one series to my name - I dunno, we'll see how it goes. . .
This fic, in its entirety, is dedicated to Erica Louise for her constant encouragement, be it supporting or bordering on the impatient side ;-)
And I must point out that I do realize that anything I write will never reach the standards of the experts out there - TaylorWise, KenzieGal, Sunni, Mandy (all.out.carby), Brookestar, Ali, TheREALCarbyLove, Anna, Jen, Aimee, Cat, Kitty, Nikki, Charli (soulofanangel) *hopes she's got everyone in that and is very sorry if she hasn't* - what can I say, you're an absolute inspiration.
Anyway, enough of me rambling on *shut up already*.
*****
Wonder Number One - Hope.
*****
I park my jeep in the usual spot, turning off the ignition. Stepping out, I close the door lightly and lock the car. The beeping shatters the calm night air, and for a few minutes I just stand there, leaning against my car.
I find it funny that even after being on the go non-stop all day, this is where I return to. All I want is food, a couch and then bed - and yet I don't go home. I come here.
I take the steps two at a time, pausing briefly to turn my key in the lock. In seconds I'm faced with another door, but this time I hesitate before going in. Using the key I was given so long ago, I open the door slowly, shutting it behind me as quietly as I can.
I think about calling her name, but decide against it knowing full well that after a day like today she might have entered her dreams a little earlier than usual tonight.
A small moan escapes my mouth as I collapse onto the couch, its cushions giving me the comfort that I've been craving for hours. Closing my eyes, I lie still, determined to enjoy the relaxation for as long as possible.
I must be more relaxed than I realize, because I don't hear footsteps behind me. I'm only aware of her presence as her lips make soft contact with the skin at the back of my neck, causing my hairs to stand up on end.
I reach my hand round to her side, pulling her onto the couch with me. I don't bother making room for her, as I know exactly which position she'll take.
Same as always.
Her back on my chest, her head between mine and the back of the couch, my arms wrapped around her stomach.
I slide her shirt up slightly, stroking her skin in my own rhythm. She mirrors this move on my arms - again, making my hairs react to her touch.
I feel her chest expand and I know she's going to speak.
"Thank you for doing that. I didn't mean to burden you with her, it's just. . . "
I don't wait for her to finish her sentence.
"It was no problem."
She relaxes again, taking one of my hands in hers, intertwining our fingers. We sit in silence again for a while, contemplating the day. I can feel that more needs to be said on the subject, but I'm not exactly sure what to say.
I start circling her navel with my fingers, and even though I cant see her face I know she's got her eyes closed.
"She went off OK you know."
Silence.
"She always does. She comes down here, wreaks havoc in my life for a few days, then goes. . ."
I decide to interrupt, telling her the one message Maggie asked me to pass on.
"She said to tell you that she loves you."
She's not relenting.
". . .and then I'm left to wonder when I'll see her next, or if there will even be a next time."
And with that, she climbs off me, and walks into her bedroom.
I never ceases to amaze me how moments like these can be made or broken by the same thing.
Words.
I don't follow her - I've learnt not to do that. She's upset, and although part of me is aching to go and hold her in my arms, I know that as much as I want it to, it actually won't do her any good at this moment.
Instead, I trail to the fridge. Pulling out some leftover chicken, I make myself a sandwich and devour it quickly.
I debate with myself over a glass of orange juice whether or not to join her yet, and against my better judgement, I do. Walking to her bedroom door, I realize I was right to think that it was too early to follow her.
She's frantically clearing the room up, putting objects that were previously in disarray back to where they belong. I lean against the doorway, and she moves swiftly past me to put a towel in the dirty laundry basket.
I sigh heavily, and drop into a sitting position onto her bed.
My side of the bed, but her bed none the less.
It's not until I've sat that I realize what she's doing. She hasn't touched any of my belongings, and she's barely moved her own. Everything that she makes contact with was used the past few days by the same person.
Maggie.
Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth just as she walks back into the bedroom.
"She's your Mother Abby. For better for worse, whatever state of mind she's in. . .she's your blood."
She stares at me, her brown eyes piercing mine.
"Thicker than water, right?"
I'm not sure how to take that, but seeing her turn back into the bathroom makes me realize it wasn't meant in a positive.
There's only one thing for it.
Following her, I reach the doorway to find her staring intently at her reflection in the cabinet mirror. I prepare myself for outburst as she turns to face me.
But boy, am I wrong.
Closing the distance between us, she envelops me in her embrace, clinging to my chest.
Wow.
It takes me a while to react. . .she's never done that before. It's always been me going to her. Slowly but surely, I wrap my arms around her form, savouring every second.
It suddenly occurs to me that I don't need her thanks. I don't need her gratitude, I don't need her appreciation. I know how much what I did meant to her, regardless of how many times she tells me she's grateful.
In a bid to tell her this without her even uttering another word, I change my stance. Looking down at her, I tip her chin up with my fingers to meet my gaze.
"Anytime."
I lean down, softly rubbing my nose along the length of hers. Reciprocating, she snuggles closer still into my torso, making me instinctively wrap my arms even tighter around her small frame.
And so we stand.
For seconds. . . minutes. . . who's counting? All that matters is us.
Her.
And me.
Us.
I love that. I find it hard to fight the smile off my lips whenever anyone refers to us as one. Not two separate people, but one.
Two halves of a whole?
Not yet.
Soon, though.
She stirs, bringing me back to reality. With a final squeeze, she leaves my arms and returns to the bathroom to begin her nightly ritual.
For a moment, I consider watching her as I usually do. But she solves my predicament, as I hear her voice filter through from the other room.
"Aren't you gonna warm up the bed?"
I can almost hear the smile in her voice.
Typical.
Even though I'm not within her view, she knows I'm still standing in the same position. . . the memory of our embrace too precious to leave just yet.
But I do leave.
Because I'm safe in the knowledge that there will be plenty more to come.
Taking off my clothes, I discard them in a heap on the floor. Wearing boxers and a t-shirt, I shift over to her side of the bed and close my eyes.
Whenever I'm alone in bed, I instinctively move to her side - be it for the whole night, or just ten minutes while she completes her routine.
Like now.
It looks like time's up. Walking through the doorway, she takes off her clothes and folds them neatly on a chair. Suddenly, she motions for me to sit up.
I oblige, smiling slightly as I realize her game.
She grabs the hem of my upper garment, lifting it over my head.
Within seconds, she's wearing my t-shirt and motioning for me to move over.
I don't move, choosing instead to look at her with mock surprise.
"Hey! What if I get cold?"
By this point she's pushing me over to the other side, giving me no choice but to move.
"You wont."
"And how do you know?"
"Because you. . ."
She stops mid sentence to wrap her arms around my abdomen, turning me on my side so she fits in perfectly behind me.
". . .have me."
I take one of her hands and bring it up to my lips, kissing it lightly.
"Then I can't really complain, can I?"
I feel her grin into my neck, as she kisses it lightly before settling down up against me once more.
Slumber is approaching, and I'm almost there when I hear her voice. It's quiet, but unmistakably clear.
"You give me hope, John. . .In a way that no one else can."
She sighs softly, relaxing against my back before inhaling once more.
"And you'll never know how grateful I am for that."
Once again, I don't need to hear it.
Because she's wrong.
I do know.
And it's more than enough.
I really wanted to write a series, but for the life of me I can't think of an original idea for one. So, I've decided to write a series of short standalones.
Confused? You won't be as soon as I get started ;-)
I must point out that this series isn't meant to fit into a specific point in Carter and Abby's relationship, it's just me letting my fuzzy side go wild.
I'm tempted to integrate some of my previous stand alone fics into this one so that I have at least one series to my name - I dunno, we'll see how it goes. . .
This fic, in its entirety, is dedicated to Erica Louise for her constant encouragement, be it supporting or bordering on the impatient side ;-)
And I must point out that I do realize that anything I write will never reach the standards of the experts out there - TaylorWise, KenzieGal, Sunni, Mandy (all.out.carby), Brookestar, Ali, TheREALCarbyLove, Anna, Jen, Aimee, Cat, Kitty, Nikki, Charli (soulofanangel) *hopes she's got everyone in that and is very sorry if she hasn't* - what can I say, you're an absolute inspiration.
Anyway, enough of me rambling on *shut up already*.
*****
Wonder Number One - Hope.
*****
I park my jeep in the usual spot, turning off the ignition. Stepping out, I close the door lightly and lock the car. The beeping shatters the calm night air, and for a few minutes I just stand there, leaning against my car.
I find it funny that even after being on the go non-stop all day, this is where I return to. All I want is food, a couch and then bed - and yet I don't go home. I come here.
I take the steps two at a time, pausing briefly to turn my key in the lock. In seconds I'm faced with another door, but this time I hesitate before going in. Using the key I was given so long ago, I open the door slowly, shutting it behind me as quietly as I can.
I think about calling her name, but decide against it knowing full well that after a day like today she might have entered her dreams a little earlier than usual tonight.
A small moan escapes my mouth as I collapse onto the couch, its cushions giving me the comfort that I've been craving for hours. Closing my eyes, I lie still, determined to enjoy the relaxation for as long as possible.
I must be more relaxed than I realize, because I don't hear footsteps behind me. I'm only aware of her presence as her lips make soft contact with the skin at the back of my neck, causing my hairs to stand up on end.
I reach my hand round to her side, pulling her onto the couch with me. I don't bother making room for her, as I know exactly which position she'll take.
Same as always.
Her back on my chest, her head between mine and the back of the couch, my arms wrapped around her stomach.
I slide her shirt up slightly, stroking her skin in my own rhythm. She mirrors this move on my arms - again, making my hairs react to her touch.
I feel her chest expand and I know she's going to speak.
"Thank you for doing that. I didn't mean to burden you with her, it's just. . . "
I don't wait for her to finish her sentence.
"It was no problem."
She relaxes again, taking one of my hands in hers, intertwining our fingers. We sit in silence again for a while, contemplating the day. I can feel that more needs to be said on the subject, but I'm not exactly sure what to say.
I start circling her navel with my fingers, and even though I cant see her face I know she's got her eyes closed.
"She went off OK you know."
Silence.
"She always does. She comes down here, wreaks havoc in my life for a few days, then goes. . ."
I decide to interrupt, telling her the one message Maggie asked me to pass on.
"She said to tell you that she loves you."
She's not relenting.
". . .and then I'm left to wonder when I'll see her next, or if there will even be a next time."
And with that, she climbs off me, and walks into her bedroom.
I never ceases to amaze me how moments like these can be made or broken by the same thing.
Words.
I don't follow her - I've learnt not to do that. She's upset, and although part of me is aching to go and hold her in my arms, I know that as much as I want it to, it actually won't do her any good at this moment.
Instead, I trail to the fridge. Pulling out some leftover chicken, I make myself a sandwich and devour it quickly.
I debate with myself over a glass of orange juice whether or not to join her yet, and against my better judgement, I do. Walking to her bedroom door, I realize I was right to think that it was too early to follow her.
She's frantically clearing the room up, putting objects that were previously in disarray back to where they belong. I lean against the doorway, and she moves swiftly past me to put a towel in the dirty laundry basket.
I sigh heavily, and drop into a sitting position onto her bed.
My side of the bed, but her bed none the less.
It's not until I've sat that I realize what she's doing. She hasn't touched any of my belongings, and she's barely moved her own. Everything that she makes contact with was used the past few days by the same person.
Maggie.
Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth just as she walks back into the bedroom.
"She's your Mother Abby. For better for worse, whatever state of mind she's in. . .she's your blood."
She stares at me, her brown eyes piercing mine.
"Thicker than water, right?"
I'm not sure how to take that, but seeing her turn back into the bathroom makes me realize it wasn't meant in a positive.
There's only one thing for it.
Following her, I reach the doorway to find her staring intently at her reflection in the cabinet mirror. I prepare myself for outburst as she turns to face me.
But boy, am I wrong.
Closing the distance between us, she envelops me in her embrace, clinging to my chest.
Wow.
It takes me a while to react. . .she's never done that before. It's always been me going to her. Slowly but surely, I wrap my arms around her form, savouring every second.
It suddenly occurs to me that I don't need her thanks. I don't need her gratitude, I don't need her appreciation. I know how much what I did meant to her, regardless of how many times she tells me she's grateful.
In a bid to tell her this without her even uttering another word, I change my stance. Looking down at her, I tip her chin up with my fingers to meet my gaze.
"Anytime."
I lean down, softly rubbing my nose along the length of hers. Reciprocating, she snuggles closer still into my torso, making me instinctively wrap my arms even tighter around her small frame.
And so we stand.
For seconds. . . minutes. . . who's counting? All that matters is us.
Her.
And me.
Us.
I love that. I find it hard to fight the smile off my lips whenever anyone refers to us as one. Not two separate people, but one.
Two halves of a whole?
Not yet.
Soon, though.
She stirs, bringing me back to reality. With a final squeeze, she leaves my arms and returns to the bathroom to begin her nightly ritual.
For a moment, I consider watching her as I usually do. But she solves my predicament, as I hear her voice filter through from the other room.
"Aren't you gonna warm up the bed?"
I can almost hear the smile in her voice.
Typical.
Even though I'm not within her view, she knows I'm still standing in the same position. . . the memory of our embrace too precious to leave just yet.
But I do leave.
Because I'm safe in the knowledge that there will be plenty more to come.
Taking off my clothes, I discard them in a heap on the floor. Wearing boxers and a t-shirt, I shift over to her side of the bed and close my eyes.
Whenever I'm alone in bed, I instinctively move to her side - be it for the whole night, or just ten minutes while she completes her routine.
Like now.
It looks like time's up. Walking through the doorway, she takes off her clothes and folds them neatly on a chair. Suddenly, she motions for me to sit up.
I oblige, smiling slightly as I realize her game.
She grabs the hem of my upper garment, lifting it over my head.
Within seconds, she's wearing my t-shirt and motioning for me to move over.
I don't move, choosing instead to look at her with mock surprise.
"Hey! What if I get cold?"
By this point she's pushing me over to the other side, giving me no choice but to move.
"You wont."
"And how do you know?"
"Because you. . ."
She stops mid sentence to wrap her arms around my abdomen, turning me on my side so she fits in perfectly behind me.
". . .have me."
I take one of her hands and bring it up to my lips, kissing it lightly.
"Then I can't really complain, can I?"
I feel her grin into my neck, as she kisses it lightly before settling down up against me once more.
Slumber is approaching, and I'm almost there when I hear her voice. It's quiet, but unmistakably clear.
"You give me hope, John. . .In a way that no one else can."
She sighs softly, relaxing against my back before inhaling once more.
"And you'll never know how grateful I am for that."
Once again, I don't need to hear it.
Because she's wrong.
I do know.
And it's more than enough.