ONE SHOT AT HAPPINESS
Lyrics from "Orion in the Sky," S. Colvin and L. Klein
Chapter 1. Too Much to Ask
Is it too much to ask in a lifetime
For just one shot at happiness
Abby sifted through the medical supplies, organizing what was needed for each of the ER examination rooms to start the day. She had arrived at work early, in part to accomplish this never-ending task, and in part to avoid Carter. He was becoming a real pain in the ass with his constant questions about her frame of mind, her health, her drinking. She tried to change the subject when it arose, but he was extremely persistent. Now, she decided that avoiding him altogether was her best course of action. It might prove difficult, since they worked together throughout the day as patients constantly poured in, but hopefully the caseload would remain constant enough so that only work-related information need be exchanged between them. She smiled to herself-she had wanted his undivided attention for quite some time, but this wasn't what she had in mind. Be careful what you ask for.
"Abby."
She jumped at the quiet voice behind her. Spinning around, she huffed out a short breath.
"Luka, you startled me."
"Sorry." He gave a quick smile, no more than a rapid stretching of his mouth that relaxed to a somber expression. "I wanted to see how you made out your first night back in your apartment."
She smiled in return. "Fine. Everything was quiet. I finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and bathroom, had dinner delivered, watched a little television-pretty much back to normal."
"Good, good." He stood by the entrance to the supply room, awkward and unsure. "Listen, Abby-Carter stopped me in the hall and asked me about your drinking."
Abby turned back to work, suddenly absorbed in the task at hand. "Oh, he did, did he?"
"Yes," Luka sighed and ran his fingers through his already unkempt hair. "He is not very happy. He gave me holy hell about letting you drink."
Abby lost all interest in what she was doing. "He did WHAT?"
"Abby, do you have a drinking problem?"
She sputtered and gasped out a laugh. "What?"
Luka crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Carter said you had a drinking problem, that you should not be having anything to drink."
Her fury erupted, lightening sharp in intensity. She bobbed toward the entrance, and tried to maneuver her way around him. "He had no right-"
Luka cut off her exit, moving swiftly forward and grasping her by both shoulders. "No, but I have a right. I have a right to know if this is so, and why you kept it from me."
Abby swatted his hands away. "So, I have a beer or a glass of wine once in awhile. I have it under control. I know what I'm doing. That doesn't make me a drunk."
"You drink more than one beer or glass of wine" was his quiet reply. "You emptied the refrigerator of beer several times while you were staying with me."
"And I replaced it."
Luka dropped his hands in exasperation. "That's not the point. You are drinking too much. I didn't know, but that did not stop Carter from accusing me of letting you-no, ENABLING you to drink."
Abby gazed earnestly at Luka. "Listen, Luka. I'm all right. And I'll deal with Carter. I'm just sorry you were put in the middle of this." Abby brushed past him and headed down the hall toward the lounge.
Luka looked sadly after her. "I'm sorry, too, Abby."
------------------- Carter was not having a good day. It was only 8:45, and he had already mediated several fights between Pratt and Gallant. Carter shook his head in aggravation; the two of them were so exasperating, what with Pratt preening and posturing, and Gallant taking offense at everything Pratt said. At least Gallant listened to what Carter said, and didn't offer a counterargument on every instruction. Was he ever like that when he was a med student? He smiled wryly-no, Benton would have knocked it out of him. He opened his locker and rummaged through his coat pockets.
But Pratt and Gallant were the least of his worries. He had been somewhat disconcerted to find Luka at Abby' apartment, installing new hardware on her door. But that was nothing to the shock of seeing Abby with a beer in her hand. Abby, who had braved his anger and ill will when she turned him in to Mark Greene for his drug use. Abby, who had encouraged him to attend AA meetings, who bundled him off to a meeting after he swallowed and regurgitated the Vicodin, who had bullied him into telling Weaver about his slip. He thought of her as his mentor in his fight to stay clean-and there she was, drinking. What was she doing? Whatever could she be thinking? He shook his head in disgust, and closed the door to his locker.
The door to the lounge flew open and Abby stormed in. "Carter. I need to talk to you."
Carter laughed mirthlessly. "Funny, I thought you were avoiding me."
Abby glared at him from across the room. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Looking for a throat lozenge."
"You know what I mean-talking to Luka about my so-called drinking problem."
Carter repeated quietly, "So-called."
"Yes, so-called." Abby repeated emphatically. She walked away, then spun back. "God, Carter, stop making such a big deal about it. I had a few beers, that's all. I'm not a drunk."
Carter stared at her impassively. "It starts with a few beers, and escalates from there. No, Abby-" he added quickly as he saw her start for the door, and moved to cut her off. "You've been there, you know how it works. I told myself the same thing, 'Oh, it's only for awhile, I can stop anytime, I have it all under control.' "
"This is completely different," Abby sputtered.
"No, it's exactly the same." Carter shot back. "It's the first thing you think about in the morning, and the last thing you think about at night. You want it all the time, and you'll do anything to get it."
Abby gazed at him intently. "Back off. I mean it. If I need your help, I'll ask for it." She softened her tone when she saw the hurt on his face. "Listen, this is complicated. I can't come to you for help because of- well, us."
Carter gazed at her with the strangest expression-she couldn't read it at all. Was he happy, angry, surprised, or dismayed? She couldn't tell. "Us? What us?"
"You. Me. This thing we call a relationship."
"I didn't think we had a relationship."
It was Abby's turn to feel hurt, an odd hollowness in her chest. "Fine. Say whatever you want to me, just leave Luka out of it." She headed out of the lounge.
"Oh, God forbid I bother him." Carter snapped.
Abby slapped the door with both palms and pushed it open. "Stay out of my business, Carter."
She barely missed barreling into Susan, standing open-mouthed outside the door. "Morning to you, too," Susan called after her, then turned and looked levelly at Carter. "Hey Carter. What was all that about?"
Carter walked back to his locker and closed it, turning the combination lock to secure it. "Just another day in the ER."
"It sure didn't look like it." Susan changed the subject abruptly. "Hey, do you know where Weaver is? She's not in any of the exam rooms, and Jerry hasn't seen her in about an hour."
"No, I sure don't." Carter hesitated. "Listen, Susan-can I ask you for some advice?"
"Me?" Susan laughed shortly. "Well, if it's advice about relationships, I'm probably the last person to ask."
"No, no." Carter reddened slightly. "Suppose you have a friend, and this friend is doing something harmful to herself-or himself. Do you give advice and back off, or do you interfere to help stop the harmful behavior?"
"God, Carter, it's hard to say." Susan shrugged her shoulders. "At times, I interfered in Chloe's life, and other times I backed off. Neither approach seemed to work." She laughed, "And neither approach was appreciated. Chloe seemed to think I should back off when I interfered, and when I didn't interfere, she accused me of not caring. You can't win." She shrugged, then narrowed her eyes. "Which friend are we talking about?"
"Just a hypothetical friend."
"Right. Well, show Abby that you mean well-that you have her best interests at heart, and if that doesn't work, follow your gut. Your instincts are good."
Carter reddened again. "How did you-"
Susan cut him off. "Oh, come on, Carter, I'm not blind."
Malik appeared behind her. "Dr. Lewis, Dr. Weaver is looking for you."
"Well, I guess I've found her." Susan headed down the hallway, but threw over her shoulder. "Just follow your instincts, John. Do what you think is best."
Carter expelled the breath he had been holding. "If I only knew what was best.."
Chapter 2. Laugh at the Right Lines
Do you just have to laugh at the right lines
Her day was almost over, and thank God for that, Abby thought wearily. She just had to tough out the last hour and she'd be home free. One day at a time-well, that worked even when you were drinking. She'd wake up in the morning, full of fine resolve to stop drinking, going so far as emptying half bottles of wine down the sink, or throwing unopened bottles of beer into the dumpster outside her apartment building. Problem was, her resolve wouldn't last past her shift. And the wine and beer were easily replaced by a quick trip to the package goods store. But today would be different; today she would be strong. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself, to pull herself together, to take control of her life once more-
Her thoughts were interrupted by an argument between Pratt and Frank over whether a fax had come in or not. "I haven't taken anything off of the fax in the last hour or so," blustered Frank. "Well, somebody had to," bratted Pratt. "I've been expecting a fax all day-where the hell is it?"
"Not my problem," Frank tossed back. "But it looks like there's something sitting on the fax machine now."
Pratt picked up the pages, looked at them quickly, and disgustedly put them back on the tray. "This isn't what I'm looking for," he snapped. "Let me know if I get something," he threw over his shoulder as he stalked away.
"Sure thing," Frank called after him, "Your wish is my command." He sauntered over to the fax machine to glance at the papers transmitted. "Hey, it's a fax from Hawaii."
"Hawaii," exclaimed Susan, who had just strolled up. "Must be from Mark or Elizabeth." She glanced over Frank's shoulder. "It's addressed to the ER- Hey!" she shouted over her shoulder. "We've got a message from Mark."
Carter walked over from an attending room. "What does it say?"
Susan thrust the letter at him. "Here, you read it."
Carter perched on the front desk and settled into read the letter to the steadily gathering group. It told of Mark's admiration and affection for his coworkers, and of the lovely surroundings where he was meditating on his life. When Carter got to the end, he glanced quickly at the final page of the transmission, and his smile faded.
Susan asked tensely, "What is it?"
Carter cleared his throat, "Um, it's a, um, message from Dr. Corday." He stopped, tried to speak again, and had to clear his throat. "She says that Mark died sometime at 6:04 this morning, as the sun was coming up-his favorite time of day. She said she sent this along because we would want to know he was thinking of us, and he would appreciate knowing we'd remember him well."
An unnatural silence fell over the group. Carter stared blindly at the sheets of paper in his hand, as a small sob escaped from Susan. One by one, each person blindly wandered off on some mission of normalcy. Only Susan remained behind, motionless with shock. A hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed.
"Hey," Abby said gently, "You OK?"
"No, I'm not." Susan glanced at her quickly. "When is your shift over?"
"I was off half an hour ago. Why?"
"Me too. Wanna go get drunk?"
Abby smiled wickedly. "Sounds like a plan."
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The Lava Lounge was an eclectic little dump down in the bowels of the city that served theme drinks, leis, and Tiki masks. It was incredibly hot and stuffy inside, so Abby wandered out to the back porch off of the ally, cooling her face in the early spring breeze. She had downed several huge drinks and her head was spinning. She thought the cold air might sober her up, but perhaps she was beyond the point of sobering-or caring. She felt numb-a coworker had died, a respected and integral coworker, and she barely knew him. They had worked together just about every day for 2 years, and she knew little about him beyond his marriage to Elizabeth and his losing struggle with cancer.
God, Elizabeth-what must she be going through? She tried to imagine what her emotions would be if Richard had been the one to die, but that love was long gone. As was her love for Luka, if you could call it that. She cared for Luka, and knew he cared for her, but they could not coexist peacefully, and there was no future for them, she knew with a certainty. He had told her with a certain degree of desperation that he didn't know how to make her happy, and he was right. If she couldn't make herself happy, how in the hell could he? All my love's in vain, she hummed to herself, and lit another cigarette. And Carter? She snorted. That train had left the station a long time ago. Their timing was wrong-when he was available, she was in a relationship; and when she was available-well, she had approached the situation stupidly, clumsily, and flown off the handle at his response. He had been right, she thought ruefully, she hadn't been over Luka-then. She and Carter were better off apart, although it hurt nonetheless the way he had closed himself off entirely to her, so that their friendship was nothing but a long-ago memory. He had come by the apartment when she first moved back, but had quickly left when he saw the bottle of beer in her hand.
Now, he was acting like her frigging big brother, questioning her drinking and lecturing Luka, as if poor Luka had any insight into or influence over what she did. God knows Richard never had, nor did Eric. As she took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke, she watched a car drive by slowly. A Jeep. Oh, not now, please not now. Not another freaking lecture.
The car passed slowly by, but returned several minutes later. The driver parked at the curb, doused the lights, and emerged, walking briskly out of her line of sight. Perhaps he had just come to join the gang for a last toast to Mark. Or maybe he wanted to see Susan. Maybe he'd just pop in for a few minutes, see she was gone, and leave. Their last conversation had not ended well. Maybe he was smart enough to leave things alone.
She heard the door behind her open. No such luck. Without turning around, she knew it was Carter. Well, Abby reflected wryly, she might as well attack the situation head on.
"John Carter makes an appearance," she declared, without turning around.
"Abigail Lockhart sits alone," Carter retorted. He knew she'd be hiding out here, even before Susan had pointed him in her direction. How much had she had to drink? She seemed pretty far gone, judging by her voice and posture, and he didn't want to say or do anything to push her away. Susan had told him to follow his gut, but his gut was being pretty silent on the matter.
He sat down beside her and bantered with her for a few moments, mindless chatter about table dances and the number of patients Dr. Green had saved; he hardly knew what he said, he was so distracted by her presence. When they ran out of conversation, they gazed at each other. God, she was so beautiful-her face was flushed and her eyes were shining. He had always thought she was pretty but, in certain moments, she was so beautiful it stole his breath away. He wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything, but he knew that was wrong-the timing was wrong, as it always seemed to be for them. He would be taking advantage of her drunkenness, and when or if he ever did kiss her, he wanted both of them to be on equal footing.
Making a sudden decision, he slid off the stoop and stood in front of her, holding out his hands. "Come on."
She laughed. "Come on what?"
"Let's get out of here."
"And ditch our friends?"
"They'll get over it."
"O.K.' She stood up unsteadily, so he tucked her arm into the crook of his and clasped her hand. "I've got a free Tiki mask in there," she blurted out.
"I'll buy you another one." As they approached his car, she repeatedly asked him where they were going and he avoided answering. Once she was safely seated in the Jeep, he told her their destination. She propelled herself out of the car, laughing and muttering "Oh no, no, no, no." They started a strange dance, weaving back and forth between the car and the bar, Carter coaxing her to come to the A.A. meeting, and her steadfastly refusing. When she made a dash for the bar, he swung her around and threw her over his shoulder. "You are going to that meeting, Abby" he exclaimed as he stalked toward his car.
Abby was angry, and slightly nauseous from being jostled over his shoulder. "John, put me down! Help, help!" she screamed. He ignored her. Reacting instinctively, she did the first thing that came into her head.
"OW! SON OF A BITCH!" bellowed Carter, and dropped her unceremoniously onto the pavement. "You bit me?"
She laughed breathlessly. "You dropped me?"
"I can't believe you bit me."
"I told you to put me down!"
"I think it's bleeding."
"Good!"
A voice from the back door of the bar tentatively called out, "Is everything OK?" The bartender peered out at them.
"Yes," they responded simultaneously. The bartender retreated into the bar.
Abby felt like laughing and crying at the same time. She sat on the ground where he dropped her and held her head in her hands. Looking up at him, she quietly stated, "I'm sorry, but I won't go to that meeting tonight. I can't." Her voice sounded far away and childish to her.
Carter could sense she was near the edge, and that his continued persistence would nudge her over. Time to change his strategy. "Then let's go get something to eat, a cup of coffee. Come on." Carter held out his hand to her.
She gazed up at him and, clasping his hand, rose unsteadily to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her and helped her to the car. Without a word, she climbed in and gazed ahead of her, arms wrapped around her middle. He got in on the driver's side, started the engine, and glided away from the curb.
"Where do you want to go," he asked.
She was too tired and much too drunk to sit in a restaurant. "Please, just take me home."
"Abby, I don't want to leave you alone."
She glanced at him. "I have coffee at my apartment. I can make a pot for us and we can talk there. Besides, I'm feeling a little queasy."
He looked at her. "Well, don't get sick in my car."
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She sat in a corner of the sofa with her feet curled under her, her hands clasped around the hot mug. She felt infinitely better with the strong, hot coffee in her stomach, and she was nearly sober. Abby knew she'd have a hangover in the morning, but at the moment she felt pretty good. She had washed her face and brushed her teeth, and felt something approximating human again. A good 8 hours sleep should set her right up.
Carter sat on the opposite end of the sofa, watching her. "Feeling more human?"
She started-it was unsettling the way he could read her mind at times. "Yes, thank you."
The silence stretched between them until Abby blurted, "It started on my birthday."
Carter looked confused. "What?"
"The drinking. It didn't start when Brian hit me; it started before that. And if I hadn't been drinking, I probably wouldn't have let him in my apartment that night."
Carter just shook his head. "Self pity excuse," he commented.
She snorted, "Yes, but it's one of my better ones." She glanced at him, then quickly away, unnerved by his expression. He was staring at her as if trying to memorize her features. He had looked at her in a similar fashion outside the bar-was it really only a few hours before? It already seemed ages ago. She stood up abruptly. "Well, it's getting late. I'm on at 6:00 tonight and need some sleep."
"Let me take you to a meeting," Carter coaxed.
She groaned, "Oh, no, I'm too tired. I promise I'll go before my shift."
"O.K., I'm off." Carter stood and stretched, then extended his hand to her. "Walk me to the door?"
Placing her hand carefully in his, she let him tug her up. "We're getting pretty good at this-you pulling me back on my feet." She bit her lip and looked at him earnestly. "Thanks for bringing me home. And thanks for being such a good friend."
He smiled thinly at her. "What's a friend for? Get some sleep." He closed the door softly behind him, and leaned against it. If she wanted a friend, well, he could be one. He grimaced in disappointment. But he didn't want to be just a friend. He started slowly toward the steps. His shift started in less than an hour. He had cheated himself out of a night's rest-but it was time well spent. Any time with her was time well spent. He shook his head to clear it. Sentimental fool, he thought to himself, mooning over someone who only wants to be friends with you. When will you learn? He moved toward the stairs, and headed out of the building.
On the other side of the door, Abby placed her back against the door and leaned her head back to gently thump it a few times. Idiot! She had acted like such an idiot tonight! Little wonder he only wanted to be friends with her. Well, that was better than barely speaking to each other except to ask for some surgical instrument. But she felt an odd disappointment. She wanted to be more than friends-or did she? Running both hands through her hair, she huffed out a breath and went off to bed. She probably wouldn't sleep, but hopefully could rest her mind for a bit. She was tired of thinking about her life, her relationships, and her lack of relationships. She was weary of feeling confused. She just wanted some quiet, a stretch of white noise in her head so she could relax and let go. She was too tired to think. She lay down and pulled the soft, thick duvet over her legs and up under her chin. Just sleep for a while, and then think about attending a meeting.
Chapter 3. Face to Face with the Looking Glass
Until you come face to face
With the looking glass
To be reckoned with the sins of our time
Carter stood at the front desk and gazed at the admittance board. Not too bad for a warm summer's day-a few children who, having fallen out of trees, needed stitches; a barbecuing incident from a summer office party; several older people who had overexerted themselves and now complained of chest pains. If this kept up, he could leave work at a normal time. He glanced over to the nearest exam room, where Susan and Abby were discussing treatment for one of the patients. Maybe Abby would want to grab a bite to eat later. They had been avoiding each other since that night at the bar several weeks ago. They were friendly enough with each other, but there was still a cool reserve between them. Carter suspected that Abby was embarrassed, but he didn't know how to get beyond that. He hoped that a quiet dinner and a little casual conversation would get them back on a better footing. He hoped-
"Dr. Carter." Gallant's voice broke into his thoughts. "Parents have brought in a couple of sick children that I think you should look at."
"Cant' handle it yourself?" Pratt smirked from behind Gallant.
Carter glared at Pratt as Gallant reddened. "They've been waiting for awhile," Gallant elaborated, ignoring Pratt. It was best to ignore Pratt. "Where are they?" Carter asked.
Gallant led him over to a couple sitting next to two huddled bundles of quilts that presumably held children. "Hi, I'm Dr. Carter. What seems to be the problem?"
The mother, a blonde with short hair and a worried expression, explained, "They started with a rash a couple of days ago, and today they're feverish." She lowered the quilt from the one child's face, as her husband did the same with the other child. Carter gaped when he saw the white pustules on the children's faces; the little girl's outbreak was much worse than the boy's. God, no, it couldn't be. He stammered, "Could you raise her shirt so I could see her chest?"
The mother replied, "The rash isn't on her chest. Do you think it could be an allergic reaction?"
Carter shook his head no. "Wait here, I'll be right back." He rushed toward the lounge, and threw open the doors, startling Malik, who was pouring a cup of coffee. "Where are the tubes?" he asked abruptly. "What?" Malik asked, looking confused.
"The tubes with the informational posters that we get each month from CDC," Carter snapped impatiently.
"Over in the corner." Malik pointed.
Carter stooped quickly over the tubes. Removing a poster from the top-most one, he glanced at the pictures, and felt his stomach sink. So he wasn't wrong. Grasping the poster, he raced from the room, ignoring Malik's shout of "What's the matter?"
As he headed for the family, he grasped Gallant by the arm and hissed for him to find Dr. Lewis and bring her to Trauma Yellow. He picked the little girl up in his arms and asked the family to follow him. Moving swiftly down the hall, he ducked numerous patients and visitors milling about, focused on reaching Trauma Yellow. Once inside, he lowered the little girl onto one of the beds, and gestured for the father to do the same with his son. When Susan didn't come, he went and got her, dragging her down the hall by the wrist to the window outside the trauma room. In hushed tones, he explained, "I think I've got two cases of smallpox."
"No, it can't be," whispered Susan in horror. "Smallpox was eradicated in the 1950's."
"Look-" Carter unrolled the poster and showed her the photos. "The conformance of the pustules, their appearance-it has to be."
"Oh my God," Susan whispered in horror. The two of them stood side by side, staring stupidly through the glass.
--------------------------------------------------- Ten hours later, and the worst of it was over, Carter hoped fervently. They had lost the little girl, but saved the boy. He had promised Adam that he wouldn't die, and he intended to keep that promise. He just wished CDC would make a decision, let them go or vaccinate them. If it was smallpox, he was infected. He wondered idly how Deb and Pratt were feeling; they had been exposed the previous week. He looked up at the clock-he had been on for 14 hours. God, he wanted a shower so badly-or maybe a cool breeze from a fan. It really stunk that he couldn't leave this area for who knew how long. The waiting was nerve wracking.
The door swung open and Abby stalked in, briskly stripping off her surgical gloves. "His urine output is 50 cc, so his kidneys are functioning normally."
"That's something," responded Carter.
Abby brushed one palm over her forehead, pushing her damp hair off of her face. "They can't make up their minds whether to vaccinate us or not. So, I don't know whether to go ahead and set up a clinic, or wait for them to tell me to do it." She tore off her gown and threw it on the floor.
"I guess they're being cautious," he replied. He was so tired, it was difficult to make conversation, but he roused himself to respond to her.
She retorted, "I think they don't have a clue what to do. Everyone keeps saying they haven't seen the disease for since 1949, and it's apparent no one has a plan for what to do to deal with it." She hoisted herself onto the exam bed next to his, and pulled her legs up in front of her. "If this really is smallpox, this is just the start of the nightmare. Think of all the people who have been exposed to that family. Who have Dr. Chen and Pratt been in contact with this week? And what about all of those patients out in the ER? Much as I'd like to see some of them have a communicable disease, this isn't the one I had in mind."
Carter grinned. "What did you have in mind?"
She smiled in turn, "Something painful and itchy." Her smile faded. "You look exhausted-are you feeling all right?"
"Fine as I can be with the temperature in here and the fact that I can't leave or take a shower."
"That was a great save, Carter. You pulled that boy through."
He smiled back. "So did you." He grimaced, "I am so hot, I'm soaked!" He pulled at the neckline of the T-shirt under his scrubs. "I feel disgusting, and smell even worse."
She tried to feel his forehead, but he smacked her hand away. "Do you have a fever? Let me take your temperature," Abby suggested, retrieving the thermometer.
"No, I'm fine," he replied peevishly. He didn't want her fussing over him.
"Go ahead," she insisted, "Sit down." She held the thermometer out to him. "Just take your temperature. What can it hurt?"
As he placed the thermometer in his ear, Abby rummaged through the supply cabinet and extracted a cold pack. The thermometer beeped, and Carter said with deep satisfaction, "99.9 degrees. Normal." Abby transferred the pack back and forth between her hands, and settled it on the back of his neck, holding it firmly in place with both hands so that her arms were gently linked around his shoulders. "Better?" she asked.
Carter groaned in relief, and dropped his head forward onto his chest. They remained in the same intimate posture for several seconds until Abby broke the silence.
"So, the worst of this is over, right?" she asked. Carter raised his head and looked at her. His focus sharpened and his expression intensified. She returned his gaze steadfastly, and continued urgently, "Tell me we're going to be alright."
He looked at her a moment longer, then leaned forward and kissed her. It was a mere brushing of lips. When Carter leaned back, Abby swayed toward him, staring at him stupidly. Carter slowly stood and pulled her toward him again. "We're going to be alright," he replied, gazing at her with a smoldering intensity. "We're going to be alright," he whispered. He lowered his head and kissed her again, a tentative, slow exploration of her mouth.
His mouth was gentle and sweet. She leaned into him, and he deepened the kiss to something wet and hard and not so gentle. She felt like she was drowning in emotion, pushing her way through her desire. Carter pulled her hard against him, so that they were touching from forehead to chest to pelvis, and kissed her with a passion that he had dreamed of for months. She clasped his shoulders to keep from falling, and the cold pack fell to the floor with a splat. The noise it made brought her back to reality.
She backed sharply away from him and stared stupidly, breathing hard. "Abby," Carter blurted, but she cut him off. He was looking at her with regret in his eyes, she thought. That kiss--it was a relief mechanism, a channeling of pent-up emotion. He would be sorry later, and she couldn't bear to hear him apologize for something that had shocked and thrilled her. "I can't do this," she murmured. "I'm sorry, but I can't." Turning on her heel, she snatched up a gown and mask, fumbled for gloves, and sped from the room to check on the patient, ignoring Carter's low call of "Abby, wait."
Carter stared after her, astounded. What in the hell had just happened? He was shocked that he had kissed her. It had been a split-second decision, a reaction to being near her, of her loving gesture of placing the pack on his neck. It was all part of the sudden impulse to mark her, touch her, with his imprint. And she had responded; he knew he had not misread her response. She had kissed him as hungrily as he kissed her, their bodies touching intimately. So, what happened? Letting out a groan, he fell back on the gurney and covered his face with his arm.
For the remainder of the lockdown, Abby avoided Carter. She remained in the quarantine area, but chose to stay with the family and Adam as much as possible, actually taking up station by his bed to check on him periodically. When Carter entered the room to check the boy's vitals, she slipped away to the outer room, moving back in when his examination was completed. Carter had tried to speak to her several times, but she ducked her head and moved away, so he gave up, partly out of frustration and partly out of respect for the grieving parents nearby. He had been patient so far; he could be patient a bit longer.
Chapter 4. Orion in the Sky
I love you baby
I can see you and I
As we fly away together
Up to Orion in the sky.
The staff on duty during the lockdown was released from the hospital the following afternoon; the news had come back from the CDC's test lab that they were dealing with monkey pox, a less virulent strain of the disease. Abby had set up a clinic, and, assisted by Malik and several of the interns, had proceeded to vaccinate staff and patients. Carter had been the first to be vaccinated, and he had stood quietly while she performed the procedure, pricking the skin of his arm multiple times like the video had demonstrated. He had glared at her the entire time, but she was able to avoid his gaze by pretending great absorption in her task.
Several hours after the mass inoculation was completed, the staff was free to go. The police and patients had dispersed, while CDC officials escorted the parents of the infected children downtown to be questioned on their contacts over the last several weeks. Adam remained in the trauma room, under observation. Romano, Kerry, and the other nurses were finally admitted into the ER, and the story had to be told and retold to everyone's satisfaction. Kerry huddled in one corner of the front desk with Carter and Susan, discussing next steps. Abby chose that moment to slip away, but not before Kerry noticed her and shouted, "Abby, stay home tomorrow-I don't want to see you back in here until Sunday." She nodded, and turned to leave, ignoring Carter's pointed look.
As she left the building, Luka caught up with her. "How are you holding up?" he asked in concern.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm fine. How are you doing?"
"It was a long night, but we only had two traumas to care for. After awhile, the prisoners settled down." He laughed briefly. "I think seeing the riot police shoulder to shoulder outside the door brought them to their senses." They looked about at the ground littered with sections of yellow police barrier tape, evidence of the earlier mob scene.
"Thank God, or we might have been vaccinating half of Chicago," she remarked in turn.
He gazed at her affectionately. "Can I give you a ride home?"
"No, thanks, I'll just hop on the El. I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company."
He smiled briefly. "I understand what you mean. Take care of yourself."
"You, too." She squared her shoulders and set off at a brisk pace for the train platform. He looked after her with a sad smile on his face, and glanced back towards the ambulance bay. Carter was standing inside the door, watching. Luka raised several fingers to his forehead, and saluted. Carter backed up abruptly.
Watching her, was he? thought Luka. Well, he had told Abby that Carter could have her when they broke up, and it seemed like Carter was determined to make it a reality. He couldn't blame Carter. Luka remembered telling her that ugly night that she wasn't that pretty or special, but he had been lying. Abby was special to him, but that did not help him to understand her. She was so independent and prickly about her independence; she pulled you toward her at the same time she pushed you away. Their relationship had never truly matured beyond physical desire. So, it was time to put it behind them. They had the potential for a good friendship, and that would have to do. He moved briskly toward the parking garage.
Back inside the ER, Kerry was pushing to review the current emergency procedures and what needed to be revised, but Susan was too exhausted to discuss it and Carter was too anxious to leave. He had to talk to Abby and find out what was going on in her head. He had not imagined the power of their kisses, and something was not right about her reaction. He knew he should probably leave her alone this evening, but first thing tomorrow morning was a different matter.
-------------------------------------
Abby sat up in bed, extremely disoriented. What time was it? She looked at the clock-it was 9:00! Had she overslept? She sat quietly until she remembered it was Saturday, and she was off today. Plopping back down on the pillows, she attempted to go back to sleep, but her mind was already racing. A day off-what should she do. Meeting, she thought, and immediately pushed it aside. She hadn't had a drink in over a month-her 'adventure' with Carter at the Lava Lounge had humiliated her into a recommitment to sobriety. She had been to a meeting several days before, and would go again before the week was over, but not right now.
A knock on her apartment door startled her. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she threw her robe on over the plaid boxers and gray sports bra she had worn to bed. Firmly knotting the sash, she padded into the living room and squinted through the peephole. Jesus, did he ever give up? Sighing in resignation, she unlocked the deadbolt, slid the chain out of the clasp, and opened the door a crack.
"Hey," Carter spoke quietly. "May I come in?" He was dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt, with a jean jacket slung over his arm. "I come bearing gifts." He held up a white paper bag that smelled like French Roast.
She sighed gustily, and opened the door. "It's early, Carter. What's up?"
"Coffee-and we have some unfinished business." He brushed past her into the apartment, looking around casually. "Don't we always?" she muttered, and closed the door.
"Are you alone?" he asked pointedly.
"No, Luka is still asleep in the bedroom." Noticing his thunderstruck expression, she spread her hands palms up in front of her and exclaimed with exasperation, "Of course, I'm alone. Luka and I broke up months ago."
"You were staying at his apartment-"
"On the sofa," she finished his sentence. "I'm sorry, that was a bad joke. I didn't mean to push any buttons."
"No, of course not," he replied sarcastically. He placed the coffee on the table, and placed his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. "About yesterday-" he began slowly.
"Can I have that cup of coffee?" Abby interrupted him quickly. "I'm not quite awake and it smells wonderful."
"Oh, sure." Opening the bag, he withdrew one large covered cup and handed it to her, then pulled out a second cup for himself. "Black, right?"
She smiled wanly. "That's how I like it. How are Dr. Chen and Pratt doing today, have you heard?"
"Dr. Weaver has them under observation, but she thinks they just have the flu."
"Oh, thank God. And how is Adam?" she hurried on.
"He's stable. Listen, Abby," Carter began impatiently, "I didn't come over here to talk about the situation at the ER, although I'd be happy to fill you in later. I wanted to talk to you about what happened between us yesterday."
Abby blushed. "It was just the heat of the moment, relief that we would be alright."
Carter stared at her. "Do you really think that was all that was? Relief?"
She laughed nervously. "Well, what else could it be?"
"I can't believe you," Carter paced around the apartment. "You're going to stand there and deny that those kisses meant anything beyond some knee-jerk reaction to the end of a crisis." He stopped directly in front of her. "Abby, what happened after I kissed you yesterday? I thought I had finally gotten through, that you acknowledged the attraction between the two of us and were ready to take the next step." Please don't deny this, he thought with rising despair.
Abby took a deep breath and sat on the sofa. "Carter-John." She gazed up at him. A fluttering panic moved through her. "Please sit down." She indicated the other end of the sofa, and Carter lowered himself to the sofa corner and looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. "The kiss-it was-very nice," she started.
"Nice?" Carter repeated incredulously.
"More than nice, then. But don't you think we're moving too fast?"
Carter snorted. "Glaciers move faster than we do." He leaned towards her. May as well throw the dice, he thought recklessly, lay my cards on the table, all of those gambling metaphors. "Abby, I think I'm in love with you." She stared at him. "I have been for some time, but the moment hasn't been right to tell you."
She laughed shakily and looked at her hands, clasped in her lap. "John, I think you're confusing gratitude and friendship for love." This was too much, too big-she'd screw it up for sure if she let him get into a relationship with her. Stop it now before he realized what a big mistake it was. "I was there for you when you needed support to get over your addiction; you were there for me with my drinking. We've leaned on each other and become good friends." She met his gaze. "It would be a mistake to read more into it than that."
Carter looked stunned and a little sick. "So, you're telling me you don't feel the same way that I do?"
He looked so hurt that she lowered her guard for a moment. She stood suddenly and extended her arms in front of her in a plaintive gesture. "John, I care for you so much-but it's not fair for you to have to be a constant source of help for me. My life is a train wreck; you know that just as well as I do. My childhood was a mess, and my marriage a bigger mess. I've got a drinking problem, I can't stay in a stable relationship to save my life, I don't know what I want to do with my life-and I have a deeply disturbed mother who could show up on my doorstep at any moment. I can't always turn to you for help." She walked over to the window and gazed out at the landscape below. Another beautiful day, she thought idly.
Carter replied quietly, "Did you ever think that maybe I was the one who needed help?'
"You?" she laughed shakily. "You're doing fine, John. You have your life together. You have direction and purpose. You don't need any help, and you certainly don't need to be mixed up with my problems."
He stated emphatically, "You're wrong. You're exactly what I need." He stood and walked slowly across the space that separated them, placing his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her. "I don't want some perfect woman. God knows I'm not perfect myself. You had a lousy childhood? Well, so did I. Just because I grew up wealthy doesn't mean I was happy." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I watched my brother die of leukemia, and there was nothing I could do. I watched my mother pull away from all of us, and go into her own little world-nothing I could do about that, either. I watched my father bury himself in his work. And when both of them left, because they couldn't stand to remain in such a sad place, I was foisted onto my Grandmother."
"But your Grandmother loves you-"
"Yeah, Gamma loves me. And Maggie loves you. She just didn't know how to take care of you and your brother. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and move beyond that. Accept that you didn't have an ideal childhood, and move on."
She stared down at the floor. "I ruin every relationship that I'm in. I screwed up my marriage-"
"I don't think you were alone in that."
She looked straight at him. "And I messed up my relationship with Luka." There, she had said it. It sat between them like an 800-pound elephant, so she may as well acknowledge it.
Carter glanced away. "Well, I don't know much about your relationship with Luka. I know he obviously still has feelings for you." He thought back to the scene he witnessed between the two of them the previous day. "But I don't know how you feel about him."
She shrugged awkwardly. "I care deeply about him-he's been a good friend to me," she hurried on, seeing his glum expression. "But I don't love him in the way that you're thinking. We tried and it didn't work. It was disastrous for both of us, and we're better off apart. That way, he doesn't have to deal with my drinking-and you shouldn't have to, either," she finished hurriedly.
Carter impulsively moved toward her and clasped both her hands in his. "You've screwed up your relationships? So have I. You drink? Well, I've got an addiction problem that nearly cost me my career. I may have it together now, but it's a tenuous hold some days." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Abby, you're one of the few people who understand how I feel inside. You say you're a mess? Well, so am I. I just hold it together better now, and I had you to lean on until I was strong enough to stand on my own."
"John-" she tried to tug her hands away.
"No, wait. Hear me out. Both of us have had lousy childhoods where we had to grow up too soon. Both of us have made mistakes. We're human-it's to be expected. What I don't expect is for you to give up."
"I'm not giving up-"
"Then, what's with all of this feeling sorry for yourself?" His smile took some of the sting out of the comment.
She cried out in frustration, "IT-WOULDN'T-WORK! It would be a big mistake. What is so difficult about that to understand? We are friends, John-good friends, so let's leave it at that. We don't have a future together. I'm incapable of loving you. There's no place in my life for a romantic relationship with you. Get that into your head, and we'll both be better off!"
He looked as though she had slapped him. "Fine," he said through stiff lips, "I'll just get the hell out of here and stop wasting your time." He pivoted and stalked to the door, opened it, and slammed it shut, without looking back.
Chapter 5. Back to Paradise
He's the last of the fallen angels
He's the light of the Southern Cross
Maybe he can take us baby
Back to the paradise we've lost
The slam of the door reverberated behind him. He was gone, gone for good if he knew what was best for him. He should be grateful to her that she had driven him off, she thought. He had escaped just in time, before she could suck him into the misery that her life had become. He was safe, and she could get on with-with what? What would make tomorrow any different than today? Besides, was she ready to trust her heart to someone again? Better hold onto it herself-safer not to care, she thought distractedly.
She picked up the empty coffee cups and headed briskly into the kitchen. She placed the cups in the garbage, and turned on the coffee maker she had prepared the previous night. Better take another shower and wash my hair, she thought idly. She knew the refrigerator was empty, so she needed to plan a trip to the grocery store. Get a pad and pencil and make a list. That was the first order of the day, after coffee and shower. Maybe she could get something to fix for dinner. Maybe Susan was free this evening and she could invite her to dinner-and get grilled about Carter? Maybe not.
Moving back toward the kitchen table to grab paper and pencil, she noticed that Carter had left his jacket behind. She unthinkingly picked it up off of the chair and held it to her face. It smelled like him, and the finality of his departure struck her like a slap across the face. A sharp pain ripped through her. He was gone and he wouldn't come back. He was smart and sexy, earnest and loving and kind. He had treated her like gold, and she had treated him like trash. He was gone and he wouldn't come back. Gone, gone, gone-it rang through her head like a mocking chant, and she felt the scalding emotion that she had fought against so long well up inside her.
Abby bent her head, and the tears she had been holding back came in a torrent. She held the jacket to her mouth to mute the noise, but not before a wrenching sob escaped her. She leaned against the table for support as she sobbed and gasped and choked for breath. Her lost childhood, her ruined marriage, her struggle with drinking-nothing felt like the pain and loss coursing through her now. Her muffled sobs echoed through the apartment.
"Need a handkerchief?"
Her head snapped up. Carter was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb. In her self-absorbed misery, she had not heard the apartment door reopen, or his entry.
"Did-did you forget something?" she stuttered.
"My jacket.' He gestured toward her. "But it looks like you're using it right now." He gazed at her intently, as she hastily dropped the jacket back on the chair.
"That was some act you just put on. 'There's no place in my life for you, Carter,' " he mimicked quietly. " ' It was all a big mistake. I'm incapable of loving you.' " He looked steadily at her. "What a liar you are," he marveled.
"I didn't lie." She swiped her palms across both eyes quickly, blinked several times.
"Oh, of course not.' Carter said evenly. "You're just crying your eyes out because-what? You're out of coffee? You broke a nail?"
She tried to steady herself. "I'm crying because I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."
Carter continued to look steadily at her. "Really."
"Yes, really."
"Why were you using my jacket as a handkerchief?"
She gaped at him, not knowing what to say.
He pushed away from the door and moved slowly toward her, so that she retreated as he advanced. "You're a liar," he repeated as he backed her up against the kitchen counter. "You enjoy acting like you're so cold, like you couldn't care less." He snorted. "Look at you-you're a wreck, and you can't even admit why."
"I already told you why," she repeated dully.
"Liar," he repeated. "You know what I think? I think you're so in love with me it scares the hell out of you."
"You're crazy," she gaped at him.
"Am I? Then look me straight in the eyes and tell me you don't love me."
She looked down at the kitchen floor, "I don't love you."
He grasped her hard by the shoulders and shook her gently. "No, look me in the eyes and tell me."
She raised her head and looked into his dark, angry eyes. He was so close to her she could feel his warm breath on her face, and smell the clean tang of his aftershave. She felt lightheaded, and even as she opened her mouth, knew she couldn't say the words. How could she? And how could he know? She had been so careful. She was silly in love with him; she felt dizzy with it, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her face crumpled as the tears came again. She grasped his shirtfront with both hands. "Damn you," she sobbed, "Goddamn you for doing this to me."
"It's about time someone did." He gave her a gentle shake. "Say it, Abby," Carter coaxed. "Say it."
"Alright, I do love you, damn it!" Abby pushed against his chest with both palms. "I love you so much it hurts! I love you so much I can't stand it. You're right, it scares the hell out of me, and I don't know what to do! There, I've said it. Are you happy now?"
Carter exhaled, and pulled her tightly into his arms, crushing the breath out of her. "Well, it's a start." He dropped a light kiss on her down- turned head, laughing shakily. "God, I was starting to wonder if I imagined it or not. But I knew it couldn't be my imagination, not when I feel a pull like gravity every time I'm near you."
"Yes, sucking you into a black hole," she sniffed.
"Abby, please look at me."
She buried her face deeper into his shirt. "I can't."
"Yes, you can." With one hand under her chin, he gently lifted her head until he could gaze into her eyes. "I love you. I have for quite some time. You move me in ways no one else ever has. I feel all sorts of possibilities when I look into your eyes, and I want to explore those possibilities with you."
She sniffled, and shook her head from side to side. "This is not a good idea. I'll end up hurting you, and I don't want to do that."
He took both of her hands in his and squeezed tight. "Step off the ledge, Abby-take a chance. If I'm willing to, then you should be, too. C'mon, Abby, I've hurt you, too, and I probably will again. But that's what happens with relationships that are honest. If we love each other, we're way ahead of the game."
"I do love you," she said with wonder. She rested her head against his shoulder, and gave out a long breath. "It is SO hard to be vulnerable," she sighed. When she felt his shoulders shake slightly, she raised her head and glared at him. "You're laughing at me?" she sputtered.
He gazed at her with affection. "You are such a drama queen. No, don't get mad at me." He laughed as she huffed and tried to pull away. "It's one of the strange things I love about you." He smiled at her. " And I do love you, Abby, warts and all."
"I can't understand why," she sighed shakily.
"You don't have to understand, just accept it." He kissed her gently. When they finally broke apart, she sighed and leaned against him. "It's hard to accept-", and he cut her off with another kiss.
"I don't want to talk any more," he explained. As they looked at each other, her smile slowly blossomed, and spread, so that her full smile dazzled him. As he gazed in her face, he saw a world of possibilities for both of them reflected in her eyes. He laughed joyously, and held her close. "Let's put our time to better use."
Lyrics from "Orion in the Sky," S. Colvin and L. Klein
Chapter 1. Too Much to Ask
Is it too much to ask in a lifetime
For just one shot at happiness
Abby sifted through the medical supplies, organizing what was needed for each of the ER examination rooms to start the day. She had arrived at work early, in part to accomplish this never-ending task, and in part to avoid Carter. He was becoming a real pain in the ass with his constant questions about her frame of mind, her health, her drinking. She tried to change the subject when it arose, but he was extremely persistent. Now, she decided that avoiding him altogether was her best course of action. It might prove difficult, since they worked together throughout the day as patients constantly poured in, but hopefully the caseload would remain constant enough so that only work-related information need be exchanged between them. She smiled to herself-she had wanted his undivided attention for quite some time, but this wasn't what she had in mind. Be careful what you ask for.
"Abby."
She jumped at the quiet voice behind her. Spinning around, she huffed out a short breath.
"Luka, you startled me."
"Sorry." He gave a quick smile, no more than a rapid stretching of his mouth that relaxed to a somber expression. "I wanted to see how you made out your first night back in your apartment."
She smiled in return. "Fine. Everything was quiet. I finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and bathroom, had dinner delivered, watched a little television-pretty much back to normal."
"Good, good." He stood by the entrance to the supply room, awkward and unsure. "Listen, Abby-Carter stopped me in the hall and asked me about your drinking."
Abby turned back to work, suddenly absorbed in the task at hand. "Oh, he did, did he?"
"Yes," Luka sighed and ran his fingers through his already unkempt hair. "He is not very happy. He gave me holy hell about letting you drink."
Abby lost all interest in what she was doing. "He did WHAT?"
"Abby, do you have a drinking problem?"
She sputtered and gasped out a laugh. "What?"
Luka crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Carter said you had a drinking problem, that you should not be having anything to drink."
Her fury erupted, lightening sharp in intensity. She bobbed toward the entrance, and tried to maneuver her way around him. "He had no right-"
Luka cut off her exit, moving swiftly forward and grasping her by both shoulders. "No, but I have a right. I have a right to know if this is so, and why you kept it from me."
Abby swatted his hands away. "So, I have a beer or a glass of wine once in awhile. I have it under control. I know what I'm doing. That doesn't make me a drunk."
"You drink more than one beer or glass of wine" was his quiet reply. "You emptied the refrigerator of beer several times while you were staying with me."
"And I replaced it."
Luka dropped his hands in exasperation. "That's not the point. You are drinking too much. I didn't know, but that did not stop Carter from accusing me of letting you-no, ENABLING you to drink."
Abby gazed earnestly at Luka. "Listen, Luka. I'm all right. And I'll deal with Carter. I'm just sorry you were put in the middle of this." Abby brushed past him and headed down the hall toward the lounge.
Luka looked sadly after her. "I'm sorry, too, Abby."
------------------- Carter was not having a good day. It was only 8:45, and he had already mediated several fights between Pratt and Gallant. Carter shook his head in aggravation; the two of them were so exasperating, what with Pratt preening and posturing, and Gallant taking offense at everything Pratt said. At least Gallant listened to what Carter said, and didn't offer a counterargument on every instruction. Was he ever like that when he was a med student? He smiled wryly-no, Benton would have knocked it out of him. He opened his locker and rummaged through his coat pockets.
But Pratt and Gallant were the least of his worries. He had been somewhat disconcerted to find Luka at Abby' apartment, installing new hardware on her door. But that was nothing to the shock of seeing Abby with a beer in her hand. Abby, who had braved his anger and ill will when she turned him in to Mark Greene for his drug use. Abby, who had encouraged him to attend AA meetings, who bundled him off to a meeting after he swallowed and regurgitated the Vicodin, who had bullied him into telling Weaver about his slip. He thought of her as his mentor in his fight to stay clean-and there she was, drinking. What was she doing? Whatever could she be thinking? He shook his head in disgust, and closed the door to his locker.
The door to the lounge flew open and Abby stormed in. "Carter. I need to talk to you."
Carter laughed mirthlessly. "Funny, I thought you were avoiding me."
Abby glared at him from across the room. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Looking for a throat lozenge."
"You know what I mean-talking to Luka about my so-called drinking problem."
Carter repeated quietly, "So-called."
"Yes, so-called." Abby repeated emphatically. She walked away, then spun back. "God, Carter, stop making such a big deal about it. I had a few beers, that's all. I'm not a drunk."
Carter stared at her impassively. "It starts with a few beers, and escalates from there. No, Abby-" he added quickly as he saw her start for the door, and moved to cut her off. "You've been there, you know how it works. I told myself the same thing, 'Oh, it's only for awhile, I can stop anytime, I have it all under control.' "
"This is completely different," Abby sputtered.
"No, it's exactly the same." Carter shot back. "It's the first thing you think about in the morning, and the last thing you think about at night. You want it all the time, and you'll do anything to get it."
Abby gazed at him intently. "Back off. I mean it. If I need your help, I'll ask for it." She softened her tone when she saw the hurt on his face. "Listen, this is complicated. I can't come to you for help because of- well, us."
Carter gazed at her with the strangest expression-she couldn't read it at all. Was he happy, angry, surprised, or dismayed? She couldn't tell. "Us? What us?"
"You. Me. This thing we call a relationship."
"I didn't think we had a relationship."
It was Abby's turn to feel hurt, an odd hollowness in her chest. "Fine. Say whatever you want to me, just leave Luka out of it." She headed out of the lounge.
"Oh, God forbid I bother him." Carter snapped.
Abby slapped the door with both palms and pushed it open. "Stay out of my business, Carter."
She barely missed barreling into Susan, standing open-mouthed outside the door. "Morning to you, too," Susan called after her, then turned and looked levelly at Carter. "Hey Carter. What was all that about?"
Carter walked back to his locker and closed it, turning the combination lock to secure it. "Just another day in the ER."
"It sure didn't look like it." Susan changed the subject abruptly. "Hey, do you know where Weaver is? She's not in any of the exam rooms, and Jerry hasn't seen her in about an hour."
"No, I sure don't." Carter hesitated. "Listen, Susan-can I ask you for some advice?"
"Me?" Susan laughed shortly. "Well, if it's advice about relationships, I'm probably the last person to ask."
"No, no." Carter reddened slightly. "Suppose you have a friend, and this friend is doing something harmful to herself-or himself. Do you give advice and back off, or do you interfere to help stop the harmful behavior?"
"God, Carter, it's hard to say." Susan shrugged her shoulders. "At times, I interfered in Chloe's life, and other times I backed off. Neither approach seemed to work." She laughed, "And neither approach was appreciated. Chloe seemed to think I should back off when I interfered, and when I didn't interfere, she accused me of not caring. You can't win." She shrugged, then narrowed her eyes. "Which friend are we talking about?"
"Just a hypothetical friend."
"Right. Well, show Abby that you mean well-that you have her best interests at heart, and if that doesn't work, follow your gut. Your instincts are good."
Carter reddened again. "How did you-"
Susan cut him off. "Oh, come on, Carter, I'm not blind."
Malik appeared behind her. "Dr. Lewis, Dr. Weaver is looking for you."
"Well, I guess I've found her." Susan headed down the hallway, but threw over her shoulder. "Just follow your instincts, John. Do what you think is best."
Carter expelled the breath he had been holding. "If I only knew what was best.."
Chapter 2. Laugh at the Right Lines
Do you just have to laugh at the right lines
Her day was almost over, and thank God for that, Abby thought wearily. She just had to tough out the last hour and she'd be home free. One day at a time-well, that worked even when you were drinking. She'd wake up in the morning, full of fine resolve to stop drinking, going so far as emptying half bottles of wine down the sink, or throwing unopened bottles of beer into the dumpster outside her apartment building. Problem was, her resolve wouldn't last past her shift. And the wine and beer were easily replaced by a quick trip to the package goods store. But today would be different; today she would be strong. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself, to pull herself together, to take control of her life once more-
Her thoughts were interrupted by an argument between Pratt and Frank over whether a fax had come in or not. "I haven't taken anything off of the fax in the last hour or so," blustered Frank. "Well, somebody had to," bratted Pratt. "I've been expecting a fax all day-where the hell is it?"
"Not my problem," Frank tossed back. "But it looks like there's something sitting on the fax machine now."
Pratt picked up the pages, looked at them quickly, and disgustedly put them back on the tray. "This isn't what I'm looking for," he snapped. "Let me know if I get something," he threw over his shoulder as he stalked away.
"Sure thing," Frank called after him, "Your wish is my command." He sauntered over to the fax machine to glance at the papers transmitted. "Hey, it's a fax from Hawaii."
"Hawaii," exclaimed Susan, who had just strolled up. "Must be from Mark or Elizabeth." She glanced over Frank's shoulder. "It's addressed to the ER- Hey!" she shouted over her shoulder. "We've got a message from Mark."
Carter walked over from an attending room. "What does it say?"
Susan thrust the letter at him. "Here, you read it."
Carter perched on the front desk and settled into read the letter to the steadily gathering group. It told of Mark's admiration and affection for his coworkers, and of the lovely surroundings where he was meditating on his life. When Carter got to the end, he glanced quickly at the final page of the transmission, and his smile faded.
Susan asked tensely, "What is it?"
Carter cleared his throat, "Um, it's a, um, message from Dr. Corday." He stopped, tried to speak again, and had to clear his throat. "She says that Mark died sometime at 6:04 this morning, as the sun was coming up-his favorite time of day. She said she sent this along because we would want to know he was thinking of us, and he would appreciate knowing we'd remember him well."
An unnatural silence fell over the group. Carter stared blindly at the sheets of paper in his hand, as a small sob escaped from Susan. One by one, each person blindly wandered off on some mission of normalcy. Only Susan remained behind, motionless with shock. A hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed.
"Hey," Abby said gently, "You OK?"
"No, I'm not." Susan glanced at her quickly. "When is your shift over?"
"I was off half an hour ago. Why?"
"Me too. Wanna go get drunk?"
Abby smiled wickedly. "Sounds like a plan."
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The Lava Lounge was an eclectic little dump down in the bowels of the city that served theme drinks, leis, and Tiki masks. It was incredibly hot and stuffy inside, so Abby wandered out to the back porch off of the ally, cooling her face in the early spring breeze. She had downed several huge drinks and her head was spinning. She thought the cold air might sober her up, but perhaps she was beyond the point of sobering-or caring. She felt numb-a coworker had died, a respected and integral coworker, and she barely knew him. They had worked together just about every day for 2 years, and she knew little about him beyond his marriage to Elizabeth and his losing struggle with cancer.
God, Elizabeth-what must she be going through? She tried to imagine what her emotions would be if Richard had been the one to die, but that love was long gone. As was her love for Luka, if you could call it that. She cared for Luka, and knew he cared for her, but they could not coexist peacefully, and there was no future for them, she knew with a certainty. He had told her with a certain degree of desperation that he didn't know how to make her happy, and he was right. If she couldn't make herself happy, how in the hell could he? All my love's in vain, she hummed to herself, and lit another cigarette. And Carter? She snorted. That train had left the station a long time ago. Their timing was wrong-when he was available, she was in a relationship; and when she was available-well, she had approached the situation stupidly, clumsily, and flown off the handle at his response. He had been right, she thought ruefully, she hadn't been over Luka-then. She and Carter were better off apart, although it hurt nonetheless the way he had closed himself off entirely to her, so that their friendship was nothing but a long-ago memory. He had come by the apartment when she first moved back, but had quickly left when he saw the bottle of beer in her hand.
Now, he was acting like her frigging big brother, questioning her drinking and lecturing Luka, as if poor Luka had any insight into or influence over what she did. God knows Richard never had, nor did Eric. As she took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke, she watched a car drive by slowly. A Jeep. Oh, not now, please not now. Not another freaking lecture.
The car passed slowly by, but returned several minutes later. The driver parked at the curb, doused the lights, and emerged, walking briskly out of her line of sight. Perhaps he had just come to join the gang for a last toast to Mark. Or maybe he wanted to see Susan. Maybe he'd just pop in for a few minutes, see she was gone, and leave. Their last conversation had not ended well. Maybe he was smart enough to leave things alone.
She heard the door behind her open. No such luck. Without turning around, she knew it was Carter. Well, Abby reflected wryly, she might as well attack the situation head on.
"John Carter makes an appearance," she declared, without turning around.
"Abigail Lockhart sits alone," Carter retorted. He knew she'd be hiding out here, even before Susan had pointed him in her direction. How much had she had to drink? She seemed pretty far gone, judging by her voice and posture, and he didn't want to say or do anything to push her away. Susan had told him to follow his gut, but his gut was being pretty silent on the matter.
He sat down beside her and bantered with her for a few moments, mindless chatter about table dances and the number of patients Dr. Green had saved; he hardly knew what he said, he was so distracted by her presence. When they ran out of conversation, they gazed at each other. God, she was so beautiful-her face was flushed and her eyes were shining. He had always thought she was pretty but, in certain moments, she was so beautiful it stole his breath away. He wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything, but he knew that was wrong-the timing was wrong, as it always seemed to be for them. He would be taking advantage of her drunkenness, and when or if he ever did kiss her, he wanted both of them to be on equal footing.
Making a sudden decision, he slid off the stoop and stood in front of her, holding out his hands. "Come on."
She laughed. "Come on what?"
"Let's get out of here."
"And ditch our friends?"
"They'll get over it."
"O.K.' She stood up unsteadily, so he tucked her arm into the crook of his and clasped her hand. "I've got a free Tiki mask in there," she blurted out.
"I'll buy you another one." As they approached his car, she repeatedly asked him where they were going and he avoided answering. Once she was safely seated in the Jeep, he told her their destination. She propelled herself out of the car, laughing and muttering "Oh no, no, no, no." They started a strange dance, weaving back and forth between the car and the bar, Carter coaxing her to come to the A.A. meeting, and her steadfastly refusing. When she made a dash for the bar, he swung her around and threw her over his shoulder. "You are going to that meeting, Abby" he exclaimed as he stalked toward his car.
Abby was angry, and slightly nauseous from being jostled over his shoulder. "John, put me down! Help, help!" she screamed. He ignored her. Reacting instinctively, she did the first thing that came into her head.
"OW! SON OF A BITCH!" bellowed Carter, and dropped her unceremoniously onto the pavement. "You bit me?"
She laughed breathlessly. "You dropped me?"
"I can't believe you bit me."
"I told you to put me down!"
"I think it's bleeding."
"Good!"
A voice from the back door of the bar tentatively called out, "Is everything OK?" The bartender peered out at them.
"Yes," they responded simultaneously. The bartender retreated into the bar.
Abby felt like laughing and crying at the same time. She sat on the ground where he dropped her and held her head in her hands. Looking up at him, she quietly stated, "I'm sorry, but I won't go to that meeting tonight. I can't." Her voice sounded far away and childish to her.
Carter could sense she was near the edge, and that his continued persistence would nudge her over. Time to change his strategy. "Then let's go get something to eat, a cup of coffee. Come on." Carter held out his hand to her.
She gazed up at him and, clasping his hand, rose unsteadily to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her and helped her to the car. Without a word, she climbed in and gazed ahead of her, arms wrapped around her middle. He got in on the driver's side, started the engine, and glided away from the curb.
"Where do you want to go," he asked.
She was too tired and much too drunk to sit in a restaurant. "Please, just take me home."
"Abby, I don't want to leave you alone."
She glanced at him. "I have coffee at my apartment. I can make a pot for us and we can talk there. Besides, I'm feeling a little queasy."
He looked at her. "Well, don't get sick in my car."
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She sat in a corner of the sofa with her feet curled under her, her hands clasped around the hot mug. She felt infinitely better with the strong, hot coffee in her stomach, and she was nearly sober. Abby knew she'd have a hangover in the morning, but at the moment she felt pretty good. She had washed her face and brushed her teeth, and felt something approximating human again. A good 8 hours sleep should set her right up.
Carter sat on the opposite end of the sofa, watching her. "Feeling more human?"
She started-it was unsettling the way he could read her mind at times. "Yes, thank you."
The silence stretched between them until Abby blurted, "It started on my birthday."
Carter looked confused. "What?"
"The drinking. It didn't start when Brian hit me; it started before that. And if I hadn't been drinking, I probably wouldn't have let him in my apartment that night."
Carter just shook his head. "Self pity excuse," he commented.
She snorted, "Yes, but it's one of my better ones." She glanced at him, then quickly away, unnerved by his expression. He was staring at her as if trying to memorize her features. He had looked at her in a similar fashion outside the bar-was it really only a few hours before? It already seemed ages ago. She stood up abruptly. "Well, it's getting late. I'm on at 6:00 tonight and need some sleep."
"Let me take you to a meeting," Carter coaxed.
She groaned, "Oh, no, I'm too tired. I promise I'll go before my shift."
"O.K., I'm off." Carter stood and stretched, then extended his hand to her. "Walk me to the door?"
Placing her hand carefully in his, she let him tug her up. "We're getting pretty good at this-you pulling me back on my feet." She bit her lip and looked at him earnestly. "Thanks for bringing me home. And thanks for being such a good friend."
He smiled thinly at her. "What's a friend for? Get some sleep." He closed the door softly behind him, and leaned against it. If she wanted a friend, well, he could be one. He grimaced in disappointment. But he didn't want to be just a friend. He started slowly toward the steps. His shift started in less than an hour. He had cheated himself out of a night's rest-but it was time well spent. Any time with her was time well spent. He shook his head to clear it. Sentimental fool, he thought to himself, mooning over someone who only wants to be friends with you. When will you learn? He moved toward the stairs, and headed out of the building.
On the other side of the door, Abby placed her back against the door and leaned her head back to gently thump it a few times. Idiot! She had acted like such an idiot tonight! Little wonder he only wanted to be friends with her. Well, that was better than barely speaking to each other except to ask for some surgical instrument. But she felt an odd disappointment. She wanted to be more than friends-or did she? Running both hands through her hair, she huffed out a breath and went off to bed. She probably wouldn't sleep, but hopefully could rest her mind for a bit. She was tired of thinking about her life, her relationships, and her lack of relationships. She was weary of feeling confused. She just wanted some quiet, a stretch of white noise in her head so she could relax and let go. She was too tired to think. She lay down and pulled the soft, thick duvet over her legs and up under her chin. Just sleep for a while, and then think about attending a meeting.
Chapter 3. Face to Face with the Looking Glass
Until you come face to face
With the looking glass
To be reckoned with the sins of our time
Carter stood at the front desk and gazed at the admittance board. Not too bad for a warm summer's day-a few children who, having fallen out of trees, needed stitches; a barbecuing incident from a summer office party; several older people who had overexerted themselves and now complained of chest pains. If this kept up, he could leave work at a normal time. He glanced over to the nearest exam room, where Susan and Abby were discussing treatment for one of the patients. Maybe Abby would want to grab a bite to eat later. They had been avoiding each other since that night at the bar several weeks ago. They were friendly enough with each other, but there was still a cool reserve between them. Carter suspected that Abby was embarrassed, but he didn't know how to get beyond that. He hoped that a quiet dinner and a little casual conversation would get them back on a better footing. He hoped-
"Dr. Carter." Gallant's voice broke into his thoughts. "Parents have brought in a couple of sick children that I think you should look at."
"Cant' handle it yourself?" Pratt smirked from behind Gallant.
Carter glared at Pratt as Gallant reddened. "They've been waiting for awhile," Gallant elaborated, ignoring Pratt. It was best to ignore Pratt. "Where are they?" Carter asked.
Gallant led him over to a couple sitting next to two huddled bundles of quilts that presumably held children. "Hi, I'm Dr. Carter. What seems to be the problem?"
The mother, a blonde with short hair and a worried expression, explained, "They started with a rash a couple of days ago, and today they're feverish." She lowered the quilt from the one child's face, as her husband did the same with the other child. Carter gaped when he saw the white pustules on the children's faces; the little girl's outbreak was much worse than the boy's. God, no, it couldn't be. He stammered, "Could you raise her shirt so I could see her chest?"
The mother replied, "The rash isn't on her chest. Do you think it could be an allergic reaction?"
Carter shook his head no. "Wait here, I'll be right back." He rushed toward the lounge, and threw open the doors, startling Malik, who was pouring a cup of coffee. "Where are the tubes?" he asked abruptly. "What?" Malik asked, looking confused.
"The tubes with the informational posters that we get each month from CDC," Carter snapped impatiently.
"Over in the corner." Malik pointed.
Carter stooped quickly over the tubes. Removing a poster from the top-most one, he glanced at the pictures, and felt his stomach sink. So he wasn't wrong. Grasping the poster, he raced from the room, ignoring Malik's shout of "What's the matter?"
As he headed for the family, he grasped Gallant by the arm and hissed for him to find Dr. Lewis and bring her to Trauma Yellow. He picked the little girl up in his arms and asked the family to follow him. Moving swiftly down the hall, he ducked numerous patients and visitors milling about, focused on reaching Trauma Yellow. Once inside, he lowered the little girl onto one of the beds, and gestured for the father to do the same with his son. When Susan didn't come, he went and got her, dragging her down the hall by the wrist to the window outside the trauma room. In hushed tones, he explained, "I think I've got two cases of smallpox."
"No, it can't be," whispered Susan in horror. "Smallpox was eradicated in the 1950's."
"Look-" Carter unrolled the poster and showed her the photos. "The conformance of the pustules, their appearance-it has to be."
"Oh my God," Susan whispered in horror. The two of them stood side by side, staring stupidly through the glass.
--------------------------------------------------- Ten hours later, and the worst of it was over, Carter hoped fervently. They had lost the little girl, but saved the boy. He had promised Adam that he wouldn't die, and he intended to keep that promise. He just wished CDC would make a decision, let them go or vaccinate them. If it was smallpox, he was infected. He wondered idly how Deb and Pratt were feeling; they had been exposed the previous week. He looked up at the clock-he had been on for 14 hours. God, he wanted a shower so badly-or maybe a cool breeze from a fan. It really stunk that he couldn't leave this area for who knew how long. The waiting was nerve wracking.
The door swung open and Abby stalked in, briskly stripping off her surgical gloves. "His urine output is 50 cc, so his kidneys are functioning normally."
"That's something," responded Carter.
Abby brushed one palm over her forehead, pushing her damp hair off of her face. "They can't make up their minds whether to vaccinate us or not. So, I don't know whether to go ahead and set up a clinic, or wait for them to tell me to do it." She tore off her gown and threw it on the floor.
"I guess they're being cautious," he replied. He was so tired, it was difficult to make conversation, but he roused himself to respond to her.
She retorted, "I think they don't have a clue what to do. Everyone keeps saying they haven't seen the disease for since 1949, and it's apparent no one has a plan for what to do to deal with it." She hoisted herself onto the exam bed next to his, and pulled her legs up in front of her. "If this really is smallpox, this is just the start of the nightmare. Think of all the people who have been exposed to that family. Who have Dr. Chen and Pratt been in contact with this week? And what about all of those patients out in the ER? Much as I'd like to see some of them have a communicable disease, this isn't the one I had in mind."
Carter grinned. "What did you have in mind?"
She smiled in turn, "Something painful and itchy." Her smile faded. "You look exhausted-are you feeling all right?"
"Fine as I can be with the temperature in here and the fact that I can't leave or take a shower."
"That was a great save, Carter. You pulled that boy through."
He smiled back. "So did you." He grimaced, "I am so hot, I'm soaked!" He pulled at the neckline of the T-shirt under his scrubs. "I feel disgusting, and smell even worse."
She tried to feel his forehead, but he smacked her hand away. "Do you have a fever? Let me take your temperature," Abby suggested, retrieving the thermometer.
"No, I'm fine," he replied peevishly. He didn't want her fussing over him.
"Go ahead," she insisted, "Sit down." She held the thermometer out to him. "Just take your temperature. What can it hurt?"
As he placed the thermometer in his ear, Abby rummaged through the supply cabinet and extracted a cold pack. The thermometer beeped, and Carter said with deep satisfaction, "99.9 degrees. Normal." Abby transferred the pack back and forth between her hands, and settled it on the back of his neck, holding it firmly in place with both hands so that her arms were gently linked around his shoulders. "Better?" she asked.
Carter groaned in relief, and dropped his head forward onto his chest. They remained in the same intimate posture for several seconds until Abby broke the silence.
"So, the worst of this is over, right?" she asked. Carter raised his head and looked at her. His focus sharpened and his expression intensified. She returned his gaze steadfastly, and continued urgently, "Tell me we're going to be alright."
He looked at her a moment longer, then leaned forward and kissed her. It was a mere brushing of lips. When Carter leaned back, Abby swayed toward him, staring at him stupidly. Carter slowly stood and pulled her toward him again. "We're going to be alright," he replied, gazing at her with a smoldering intensity. "We're going to be alright," he whispered. He lowered his head and kissed her again, a tentative, slow exploration of her mouth.
His mouth was gentle and sweet. She leaned into him, and he deepened the kiss to something wet and hard and not so gentle. She felt like she was drowning in emotion, pushing her way through her desire. Carter pulled her hard against him, so that they were touching from forehead to chest to pelvis, and kissed her with a passion that he had dreamed of for months. She clasped his shoulders to keep from falling, and the cold pack fell to the floor with a splat. The noise it made brought her back to reality.
She backed sharply away from him and stared stupidly, breathing hard. "Abby," Carter blurted, but she cut him off. He was looking at her with regret in his eyes, she thought. That kiss--it was a relief mechanism, a channeling of pent-up emotion. He would be sorry later, and she couldn't bear to hear him apologize for something that had shocked and thrilled her. "I can't do this," she murmured. "I'm sorry, but I can't." Turning on her heel, she snatched up a gown and mask, fumbled for gloves, and sped from the room to check on the patient, ignoring Carter's low call of "Abby, wait."
Carter stared after her, astounded. What in the hell had just happened? He was shocked that he had kissed her. It had been a split-second decision, a reaction to being near her, of her loving gesture of placing the pack on his neck. It was all part of the sudden impulse to mark her, touch her, with his imprint. And she had responded; he knew he had not misread her response. She had kissed him as hungrily as he kissed her, their bodies touching intimately. So, what happened? Letting out a groan, he fell back on the gurney and covered his face with his arm.
For the remainder of the lockdown, Abby avoided Carter. She remained in the quarantine area, but chose to stay with the family and Adam as much as possible, actually taking up station by his bed to check on him periodically. When Carter entered the room to check the boy's vitals, she slipped away to the outer room, moving back in when his examination was completed. Carter had tried to speak to her several times, but she ducked her head and moved away, so he gave up, partly out of frustration and partly out of respect for the grieving parents nearby. He had been patient so far; he could be patient a bit longer.
Chapter 4. Orion in the Sky
I love you baby
I can see you and I
As we fly away together
Up to Orion in the sky.
The staff on duty during the lockdown was released from the hospital the following afternoon; the news had come back from the CDC's test lab that they were dealing with monkey pox, a less virulent strain of the disease. Abby had set up a clinic, and, assisted by Malik and several of the interns, had proceeded to vaccinate staff and patients. Carter had been the first to be vaccinated, and he had stood quietly while she performed the procedure, pricking the skin of his arm multiple times like the video had demonstrated. He had glared at her the entire time, but she was able to avoid his gaze by pretending great absorption in her task.
Several hours after the mass inoculation was completed, the staff was free to go. The police and patients had dispersed, while CDC officials escorted the parents of the infected children downtown to be questioned on their contacts over the last several weeks. Adam remained in the trauma room, under observation. Romano, Kerry, and the other nurses were finally admitted into the ER, and the story had to be told and retold to everyone's satisfaction. Kerry huddled in one corner of the front desk with Carter and Susan, discussing next steps. Abby chose that moment to slip away, but not before Kerry noticed her and shouted, "Abby, stay home tomorrow-I don't want to see you back in here until Sunday." She nodded, and turned to leave, ignoring Carter's pointed look.
As she left the building, Luka caught up with her. "How are you holding up?" he asked in concern.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm fine. How are you doing?"
"It was a long night, but we only had two traumas to care for. After awhile, the prisoners settled down." He laughed briefly. "I think seeing the riot police shoulder to shoulder outside the door brought them to their senses." They looked about at the ground littered with sections of yellow police barrier tape, evidence of the earlier mob scene.
"Thank God, or we might have been vaccinating half of Chicago," she remarked in turn.
He gazed at her affectionately. "Can I give you a ride home?"
"No, thanks, I'll just hop on the El. I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company."
He smiled briefly. "I understand what you mean. Take care of yourself."
"You, too." She squared her shoulders and set off at a brisk pace for the train platform. He looked after her with a sad smile on his face, and glanced back towards the ambulance bay. Carter was standing inside the door, watching. Luka raised several fingers to his forehead, and saluted. Carter backed up abruptly.
Watching her, was he? thought Luka. Well, he had told Abby that Carter could have her when they broke up, and it seemed like Carter was determined to make it a reality. He couldn't blame Carter. Luka remembered telling her that ugly night that she wasn't that pretty or special, but he had been lying. Abby was special to him, but that did not help him to understand her. She was so independent and prickly about her independence; she pulled you toward her at the same time she pushed you away. Their relationship had never truly matured beyond physical desire. So, it was time to put it behind them. They had the potential for a good friendship, and that would have to do. He moved briskly toward the parking garage.
Back inside the ER, Kerry was pushing to review the current emergency procedures and what needed to be revised, but Susan was too exhausted to discuss it and Carter was too anxious to leave. He had to talk to Abby and find out what was going on in her head. He had not imagined the power of their kisses, and something was not right about her reaction. He knew he should probably leave her alone this evening, but first thing tomorrow morning was a different matter.
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Abby sat up in bed, extremely disoriented. What time was it? She looked at the clock-it was 9:00! Had she overslept? She sat quietly until she remembered it was Saturday, and she was off today. Plopping back down on the pillows, she attempted to go back to sleep, but her mind was already racing. A day off-what should she do. Meeting, she thought, and immediately pushed it aside. She hadn't had a drink in over a month-her 'adventure' with Carter at the Lava Lounge had humiliated her into a recommitment to sobriety. She had been to a meeting several days before, and would go again before the week was over, but not right now.
A knock on her apartment door startled her. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she threw her robe on over the plaid boxers and gray sports bra she had worn to bed. Firmly knotting the sash, she padded into the living room and squinted through the peephole. Jesus, did he ever give up? Sighing in resignation, she unlocked the deadbolt, slid the chain out of the clasp, and opened the door a crack.
"Hey," Carter spoke quietly. "May I come in?" He was dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt, with a jean jacket slung over his arm. "I come bearing gifts." He held up a white paper bag that smelled like French Roast.
She sighed gustily, and opened the door. "It's early, Carter. What's up?"
"Coffee-and we have some unfinished business." He brushed past her into the apartment, looking around casually. "Don't we always?" she muttered, and closed the door.
"Are you alone?" he asked pointedly.
"No, Luka is still asleep in the bedroom." Noticing his thunderstruck expression, she spread her hands palms up in front of her and exclaimed with exasperation, "Of course, I'm alone. Luka and I broke up months ago."
"You were staying at his apartment-"
"On the sofa," she finished his sentence. "I'm sorry, that was a bad joke. I didn't mean to push any buttons."
"No, of course not," he replied sarcastically. He placed the coffee on the table, and placed his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. "About yesterday-" he began slowly.
"Can I have that cup of coffee?" Abby interrupted him quickly. "I'm not quite awake and it smells wonderful."
"Oh, sure." Opening the bag, he withdrew one large covered cup and handed it to her, then pulled out a second cup for himself. "Black, right?"
She smiled wanly. "That's how I like it. How are Dr. Chen and Pratt doing today, have you heard?"
"Dr. Weaver has them under observation, but she thinks they just have the flu."
"Oh, thank God. And how is Adam?" she hurried on.
"He's stable. Listen, Abby," Carter began impatiently, "I didn't come over here to talk about the situation at the ER, although I'd be happy to fill you in later. I wanted to talk to you about what happened between us yesterday."
Abby blushed. "It was just the heat of the moment, relief that we would be alright."
Carter stared at her. "Do you really think that was all that was? Relief?"
She laughed nervously. "Well, what else could it be?"
"I can't believe you," Carter paced around the apartment. "You're going to stand there and deny that those kisses meant anything beyond some knee-jerk reaction to the end of a crisis." He stopped directly in front of her. "Abby, what happened after I kissed you yesterday? I thought I had finally gotten through, that you acknowledged the attraction between the two of us and were ready to take the next step." Please don't deny this, he thought with rising despair.
Abby took a deep breath and sat on the sofa. "Carter-John." She gazed up at him. A fluttering panic moved through her. "Please sit down." She indicated the other end of the sofa, and Carter lowered himself to the sofa corner and looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. "The kiss-it was-very nice," she started.
"Nice?" Carter repeated incredulously.
"More than nice, then. But don't you think we're moving too fast?"
Carter snorted. "Glaciers move faster than we do." He leaned towards her. May as well throw the dice, he thought recklessly, lay my cards on the table, all of those gambling metaphors. "Abby, I think I'm in love with you." She stared at him. "I have been for some time, but the moment hasn't been right to tell you."
She laughed shakily and looked at her hands, clasped in her lap. "John, I think you're confusing gratitude and friendship for love." This was too much, too big-she'd screw it up for sure if she let him get into a relationship with her. Stop it now before he realized what a big mistake it was. "I was there for you when you needed support to get over your addiction; you were there for me with my drinking. We've leaned on each other and become good friends." She met his gaze. "It would be a mistake to read more into it than that."
Carter looked stunned and a little sick. "So, you're telling me you don't feel the same way that I do?"
He looked so hurt that she lowered her guard for a moment. She stood suddenly and extended her arms in front of her in a plaintive gesture. "John, I care for you so much-but it's not fair for you to have to be a constant source of help for me. My life is a train wreck; you know that just as well as I do. My childhood was a mess, and my marriage a bigger mess. I've got a drinking problem, I can't stay in a stable relationship to save my life, I don't know what I want to do with my life-and I have a deeply disturbed mother who could show up on my doorstep at any moment. I can't always turn to you for help." She walked over to the window and gazed out at the landscape below. Another beautiful day, she thought idly.
Carter replied quietly, "Did you ever think that maybe I was the one who needed help?'
"You?" she laughed shakily. "You're doing fine, John. You have your life together. You have direction and purpose. You don't need any help, and you certainly don't need to be mixed up with my problems."
He stated emphatically, "You're wrong. You're exactly what I need." He stood and walked slowly across the space that separated them, placing his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her. "I don't want some perfect woman. God knows I'm not perfect myself. You had a lousy childhood? Well, so did I. Just because I grew up wealthy doesn't mean I was happy." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I watched my brother die of leukemia, and there was nothing I could do. I watched my mother pull away from all of us, and go into her own little world-nothing I could do about that, either. I watched my father bury himself in his work. And when both of them left, because they couldn't stand to remain in such a sad place, I was foisted onto my Grandmother."
"But your Grandmother loves you-"
"Yeah, Gamma loves me. And Maggie loves you. She just didn't know how to take care of you and your brother. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and move beyond that. Accept that you didn't have an ideal childhood, and move on."
She stared down at the floor. "I ruin every relationship that I'm in. I screwed up my marriage-"
"I don't think you were alone in that."
She looked straight at him. "And I messed up my relationship with Luka." There, she had said it. It sat between them like an 800-pound elephant, so she may as well acknowledge it.
Carter glanced away. "Well, I don't know much about your relationship with Luka. I know he obviously still has feelings for you." He thought back to the scene he witnessed between the two of them the previous day. "But I don't know how you feel about him."
She shrugged awkwardly. "I care deeply about him-he's been a good friend to me," she hurried on, seeing his glum expression. "But I don't love him in the way that you're thinking. We tried and it didn't work. It was disastrous for both of us, and we're better off apart. That way, he doesn't have to deal with my drinking-and you shouldn't have to, either," she finished hurriedly.
Carter impulsively moved toward her and clasped both her hands in his. "You've screwed up your relationships? So have I. You drink? Well, I've got an addiction problem that nearly cost me my career. I may have it together now, but it's a tenuous hold some days." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Abby, you're one of the few people who understand how I feel inside. You say you're a mess? Well, so am I. I just hold it together better now, and I had you to lean on until I was strong enough to stand on my own."
"John-" she tried to tug her hands away.
"No, wait. Hear me out. Both of us have had lousy childhoods where we had to grow up too soon. Both of us have made mistakes. We're human-it's to be expected. What I don't expect is for you to give up."
"I'm not giving up-"
"Then, what's with all of this feeling sorry for yourself?" His smile took some of the sting out of the comment.
She cried out in frustration, "IT-WOULDN'T-WORK! It would be a big mistake. What is so difficult about that to understand? We are friends, John-good friends, so let's leave it at that. We don't have a future together. I'm incapable of loving you. There's no place in my life for a romantic relationship with you. Get that into your head, and we'll both be better off!"
He looked as though she had slapped him. "Fine," he said through stiff lips, "I'll just get the hell out of here and stop wasting your time." He pivoted and stalked to the door, opened it, and slammed it shut, without looking back.
Chapter 5. Back to Paradise
He's the last of the fallen angels
He's the light of the Southern Cross
Maybe he can take us baby
Back to the paradise we've lost
The slam of the door reverberated behind him. He was gone, gone for good if he knew what was best for him. He should be grateful to her that she had driven him off, she thought. He had escaped just in time, before she could suck him into the misery that her life had become. He was safe, and she could get on with-with what? What would make tomorrow any different than today? Besides, was she ready to trust her heart to someone again? Better hold onto it herself-safer not to care, she thought distractedly.
She picked up the empty coffee cups and headed briskly into the kitchen. She placed the cups in the garbage, and turned on the coffee maker she had prepared the previous night. Better take another shower and wash my hair, she thought idly. She knew the refrigerator was empty, so she needed to plan a trip to the grocery store. Get a pad and pencil and make a list. That was the first order of the day, after coffee and shower. Maybe she could get something to fix for dinner. Maybe Susan was free this evening and she could invite her to dinner-and get grilled about Carter? Maybe not.
Moving back toward the kitchen table to grab paper and pencil, she noticed that Carter had left his jacket behind. She unthinkingly picked it up off of the chair and held it to her face. It smelled like him, and the finality of his departure struck her like a slap across the face. A sharp pain ripped through her. He was gone and he wouldn't come back. He was smart and sexy, earnest and loving and kind. He had treated her like gold, and she had treated him like trash. He was gone and he wouldn't come back. Gone, gone, gone-it rang through her head like a mocking chant, and she felt the scalding emotion that she had fought against so long well up inside her.
Abby bent her head, and the tears she had been holding back came in a torrent. She held the jacket to her mouth to mute the noise, but not before a wrenching sob escaped her. She leaned against the table for support as she sobbed and gasped and choked for breath. Her lost childhood, her ruined marriage, her struggle with drinking-nothing felt like the pain and loss coursing through her now. Her muffled sobs echoed through the apartment.
"Need a handkerchief?"
Her head snapped up. Carter was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb. In her self-absorbed misery, she had not heard the apartment door reopen, or his entry.
"Did-did you forget something?" she stuttered.
"My jacket.' He gestured toward her. "But it looks like you're using it right now." He gazed at her intently, as she hastily dropped the jacket back on the chair.
"That was some act you just put on. 'There's no place in my life for you, Carter,' " he mimicked quietly. " ' It was all a big mistake. I'm incapable of loving you.' " He looked steadily at her. "What a liar you are," he marveled.
"I didn't lie." She swiped her palms across both eyes quickly, blinked several times.
"Oh, of course not.' Carter said evenly. "You're just crying your eyes out because-what? You're out of coffee? You broke a nail?"
She tried to steady herself. "I'm crying because I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."
Carter continued to look steadily at her. "Really."
"Yes, really."
"Why were you using my jacket as a handkerchief?"
She gaped at him, not knowing what to say.
He pushed away from the door and moved slowly toward her, so that she retreated as he advanced. "You're a liar," he repeated as he backed her up against the kitchen counter. "You enjoy acting like you're so cold, like you couldn't care less." He snorted. "Look at you-you're a wreck, and you can't even admit why."
"I already told you why," she repeated dully.
"Liar," he repeated. "You know what I think? I think you're so in love with me it scares the hell out of you."
"You're crazy," she gaped at him.
"Am I? Then look me straight in the eyes and tell me you don't love me."
She looked down at the kitchen floor, "I don't love you."
He grasped her hard by the shoulders and shook her gently. "No, look me in the eyes and tell me."
She raised her head and looked into his dark, angry eyes. He was so close to her she could feel his warm breath on her face, and smell the clean tang of his aftershave. She felt lightheaded, and even as she opened her mouth, knew she couldn't say the words. How could she? And how could he know? She had been so careful. She was silly in love with him; she felt dizzy with it, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her face crumpled as the tears came again. She grasped his shirtfront with both hands. "Damn you," she sobbed, "Goddamn you for doing this to me."
"It's about time someone did." He gave her a gentle shake. "Say it, Abby," Carter coaxed. "Say it."
"Alright, I do love you, damn it!" Abby pushed against his chest with both palms. "I love you so much it hurts! I love you so much I can't stand it. You're right, it scares the hell out of me, and I don't know what to do! There, I've said it. Are you happy now?"
Carter exhaled, and pulled her tightly into his arms, crushing the breath out of her. "Well, it's a start." He dropped a light kiss on her down- turned head, laughing shakily. "God, I was starting to wonder if I imagined it or not. But I knew it couldn't be my imagination, not when I feel a pull like gravity every time I'm near you."
"Yes, sucking you into a black hole," she sniffed.
"Abby, please look at me."
She buried her face deeper into his shirt. "I can't."
"Yes, you can." With one hand under her chin, he gently lifted her head until he could gaze into her eyes. "I love you. I have for quite some time. You move me in ways no one else ever has. I feel all sorts of possibilities when I look into your eyes, and I want to explore those possibilities with you."
She sniffled, and shook her head from side to side. "This is not a good idea. I'll end up hurting you, and I don't want to do that."
He took both of her hands in his and squeezed tight. "Step off the ledge, Abby-take a chance. If I'm willing to, then you should be, too. C'mon, Abby, I've hurt you, too, and I probably will again. But that's what happens with relationships that are honest. If we love each other, we're way ahead of the game."
"I do love you," she said with wonder. She rested her head against his shoulder, and gave out a long breath. "It is SO hard to be vulnerable," she sighed. When she felt his shoulders shake slightly, she raised her head and glared at him. "You're laughing at me?" she sputtered.
He gazed at her with affection. "You are such a drama queen. No, don't get mad at me." He laughed as she huffed and tried to pull away. "It's one of the strange things I love about you." He smiled at her. " And I do love you, Abby, warts and all."
"I can't understand why," she sighed shakily.
"You don't have to understand, just accept it." He kissed her gently. When they finally broke apart, she sighed and leaned against him. "It's hard to accept-", and he cut her off with another kiss.
"I don't want to talk any more," he explained. As they looked at each other, her smile slowly blossomed, and spread, so that her full smile dazzled him. As he gazed in her face, he saw a world of possibilities for both of them reflected in her eyes. He laughed joyously, and held her close. "Let's put our time to better use."