DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em – never did, never will! (except,
of course, the characters I made up – you know who they are)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had originally meant this to be another
chapter of my other fic, "Life After Rampage," but after writing it I think it
stands better alone and actually it is in no way connected to the events in
that fic. This takes place sometime
after season 7, so basically everything that is true at the end of "Rampage" is
true here. Please read and review!
FAMILY TIES
"Abby!"
Abby Lockhart groaned as she heard Kerry Weaver call her
name at the end of her shift. If there
was another trauma coming in…She just wanted to get home. She turned to see Kerry standing in back of
her with that "I know you won't want to do this, but…" look on her face.
"Dr. Weaver, I'm off now.
Whatever it is, can't someone else do it?"
Weaver raised her eyebrows at Abby's unusual display of
unwillingness. She ignored Abby's
protests and continued. "There's a
7-year-old girl in Exam 1 that I want you to talk to. She just came in with a stab wound to her arm. She's okay, but I need to find out if
there's anyone we can call for her. She
doesn't seem to want to talk to anyone – maybe you can try."
Abby was puzzled.
"What makes you think that I can do anything? I'm not exactly a pediatrician, you know."
Weaver hesitated.
"Abby, the girl's mother is the one who stabbed her." Another pause. "The mother is bipolar, Abby, and off her meds. Could you please try to talk to the girl?"
Suddenly, Abby felt the ground shift under her and she
reached out to the wall to steady herself.
She closed her eyes, memories coming unbidden. Maggie, her mother, off her meds, chasing Abby around the kitchen
with a knife…yelling, screaming, while Abby tried to quiet her down so she wouldn't
wake Eric…
"Are you okay, Abby?" asked a concerned Weaver.
Abby snapped out of her reverie and nodded. "I'll talk to her." Slowly she made her way to Exam 1, pausing
at the door. A small girl sat on the
bed, holding a bandaged arm. Abby
entered the room and sat in a chair next to the bed. "My name's Abby. What's
yours?"
The girl looked at Abby and said shyly, "I'm Emily. Can I go home now?"
"Well, sweetie, I first want to talk to you. Your mommy hurt your arm, didn't she."
Emily's eyes widened.
"It wasn't her fault! Don't let
her get into trouble. Please. It was my fault. I forgot to remind her to take her medicine. If she doesn't take the green pill in the
morning, sometimes she gets mad. It wasn't
her fault."
"You know…" Abby stopped, her voice momentarily failing
her. She cleared her throat and started
again. "You know, my mommy sometimes
forgets to take her medicine too."
Emily scrunched up her nose, thinking. Then her face brightened. "Oh!
So do you build sand castles with your mommy too?"
Abby was confused. "Sand
castles?"
"Um hum," Emily explained, "Sometimes when Mommy forgets to
take her pills it's fun. Yesterday she
took us to the beach and we built a huge sand castle. She said we could live in it if we wanted, but then a wave crashed
over it and she got really sad and started crying. We had to go home."
Yes, Abby thought, it always ended with tears. She remembered the mural they painted once
on their living room wall. Maggie had
been so proud of the landscape, until the green paint started dripping. She had changed in an instant, screaming and
sobbing and finally locking herself in the bedroom for hours. Abby felt herself getting dizzy again, until
Emily's voice pulled her out of the past.
"I need to go home so Jared doesn't get scared."
"Who's Jared?" Abby questioned, already guessing the answer.
"Jared's my brother.
He's five. I told him to go to
Mrs. Ruiz's house after I called 911 because I didn't want him to see the
ambulance taking me and mommy away."
Abby's heart broke for Emily as she recalled her own protectiveness
towards her brother, Eric. "We'll get
someone to make sure Jared is okay," promised Abby.
Remembering why Weaver had wanted her to talk to the girl,
Abby asked, "Does your daddy know where you are?"
Emily shook her head.
"Daddy doesn't like it when Mommy doesn't take her medicine, so he doesn't
live with us anymore."
"Do you know where he lives?"
Again, the little girl shook her head. "I don't remember." She still looked very worried and said
anxiously, "It wasn't my mommy's fault.
It was my fault. I was supposed
to make sure she took her pills."
Abby moved to sit on the bed with Emily. "No, sweetie, it wasn't your fault. You did a very brave thing when you called
911. Now your mommy can get some help
so she can remember to take her medicine."
Emily put her small hand in Abby's. "Did you ever call 911 for your mommy, Abby?"
Abby closed her eyes, guilt settling around her heart. No, I just let her continue to destroy
her life, and mine, and Eric's… "No,
I was too afraid to tell anyone about my mommy. I bet you were scared too."
Emily nodded as Abby continued. "That's
what makes you so brave. You did
something even though you were scared."
Just then, Weaver looked in the door and motioned for Abby
to come out. Abby squeezed Emily's hand
and followed Weaver. "She doesn't
remember where her dad lives," she started.
"That's okay," Weaver answered, "We found his number in the
mother's purse. He's coming over right
now."
"What's going to happen to Emily and Jared?" Abby asked, almost fearfully.
Weaver shuffled through some papers in her hands before
answering. "We called Children and
Family Services. The children will
probably be placed in their father's custody until more permanent arrangements
can be made."
Abby knew she should be happy that Emily wouldn't be going
back to live with her mother, but she couldn't seem to shake an uneasy
feeling. Growing up, she had always
been aware of the possibility that she and Eric might, at any time, be taken
away from their mother. As much as she had
hated what her mother's illness had done to their lives, as a girl she had been
terrified at the possibility of losing her mother. She supposed it would be the same for Emily.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After saying goodbye to Emily, Abby barely made it to the
lounge without being noticed by more of the staff. She sat heavily on the couch, clasping her shaking hands in her
lap. Why, why, why? her mind
screamed. She didn't notice that Luka
had come in until she felt the couch move as he sat down next to her. "I heard about the little girl and her
mother. Are you okay?"
Abby played absentmindedly with the tie on her scrub pants. "That little girl was me, Luka. I looked at her face and I know that she
hadn't cried at all, not even when her own mother stabbed her. She's only seven years old! Seven-year-olds should still know how to
cry! She was me. I didn't know how to cry either. Maggie chased me around the kitchen with a
knife, and all I could think about was how to make her quiet down so Eric wouldn't
wake up. What will she have to live
with? She deserves a normal
childhood. Oh, why?"
Abby's entire body
was shaking now, and Luka held her, stroking her back. When her breathing finally slowed down and
she could move without feeling faint, she stood up and walked out. Luka watched her leave, not knowing what to
do. Abby went home and climbed in bed
without even changing her clothes. All
night she was plagued by dreams, running away from a woman with a knife. She ran and ran and ran, but never escaped
until she woke up, sweaty and trembling, and was gathered once again in Luka's
arms.
