Disclaimer: "They're not mine, but they're not yours either, so back off, biatches." (You can thank Andrea for that.) Or, you know, I don't own 'em. Way to burst my bubble.
A/N: Big thanks to ANDREA for giving me the push I needed to actually post this here. Have a stolen cupcake.
Also shoutouts to the OCOH crowd, and big hugs to Meggie-Weggie and Alleycat.
Summary: Written in response to a challenge at the OCOH board – had to include the phrase 'how to say I love you.'
He stood at the desk, reading a chart, completely oblivious to her presence. It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable he seemed to have been around her in days – and the irony of this was not lost on her. Nor was the sharp stinging pain its acknowledgment brought to her chest, each and every time she remembered their fight.
"Where is this going, Abby? Am I just supposed to wait around forever? Just sit and wait until you finally get up the nerve--"
"--I told you, I'm not afraid, I'm just --"
"NO!" The sound exploded from of him, and her eyes widened in surprise at his outburst. "That's not…it's not enough anymore. The excuses just…aren't. I'm telling you that I love you, that I want to be with you, that I can't see myself NOT being with you, and if that doesn't mean anything to you, Abby, if that--"
"John--"
"--if that isn't how you feel too, then maybe it's time one of us…calls it."
And in that moment, her brain had flooded with dozens of responses, each one a variation on the same theme: Don't leave me. But she'd stood, rooted to the spot, and watched as his shoulders slumped, resigned, defeated.
"We…I need some time…to figure out where we are."
The familiar words had echoed in her ears as he'd grabbed his bag, and with a last glance upwards, he'd left, eyes fixed firmly on the ground.
And she'd broken. Lost all control, all sense of security, all faith and hope; the tentative stirrings of belief in a happy ending that had been slowly pushing towards the surface over their time together beating a hasty retreat to the depths of her soul.
The sound of a gurney being shoved through the doors broke her from her reverie, just in time to see him set aside his file and move to assess the situation, listening to the paramedic's bullet. Stepping to the side as they came by, fully staffed, she could not fail to notice the hurt evident in his eyes as he automatically glanced over at her before quickly looking away. Hurriedly, she went in search of something to do that didn't involve confronting a broken relationship or a lost friendship. She'd deal with it. Eventually. Just…not now.
*~*~*
This might not be the best time, either, come to think of it.
No two ways about it. Showing up at your boyfriend's…ex-boyfriend? On-a-break-boyfriend? What were they to each other now? The lack of definition worried her.
'Possibly former lover and best friend whose life was so inextricably entangled with hers that she didn't know how to function on her own anymore' had a nice ring.
Regardless, showing up at the Carter mansion at one in the morning was not the wisest of plans. She briefly considered retreating back to her cab, and even went so far as to turn around, only to see its taillights fading into the distance down the long drive.
Well, shit.
Fate, perhaps?
A mirthless little laugh escaped her lips as something wet hit her arm and she realized it was starting to rain.
Perhaps not. Bad luck, more like it.
Pessimistic Abby, always paying a visit at the most inopportune time.
Sprinting the final few feet to the door, she stood, shivering, and rang the bell.
No answer.
"C'mon, Carter…" she muttered under her breath, reaching for the bell with one hand and the knocker with the other. Finally, she could hear footsteps moving towards the heavy wooden door, and it opened to reveal an unsmiling face with very familiar bed-hair.
"Hey."
*~*~*
They'd been sitting across from each other at the kitchen table for nearly ten minutes now, by the clock on the wall. She was nursing a cup of coffee, staring down into its black depths, searching for answers amongst its welcome warmth and caffeine. She could feel his eyes on her, questioning, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why she was here in the first place, soaking wet and – oh, yes – completely uninvited and unannounced. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, looking at the time.
"Abby--"
"--I was scared."
Well, hello, voice. Nice of you to make an appearance. Any reason you felt the need to show up minus your life-partner, logic? Who is this newcomer you've invited along, this…unguarded truth, was it?
She paused, her mouth slightly agape, searching for words. She had his full attention again, and she needed to keep it.
"You played baseball when you were a kid, right?"
The question had obviously caught him by surprise, and he paused before nodding. "Yeah, I played left field."
"You ever have a long drive hit to you? And you run as fast as you can to catch it, and you're so close, so close to having it in your hand, and it would win the game for your team – and then you trip?"
He cleared his throat. "Yeah…so?"
"So…sometimes it felt like that." Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his.
He raised his eyebrows at her, not sure of where she was headed.
"I mean…you and me. Us. It was like I was so close to having everything I wanted – it was all right there in front of me, and it could have been so easy. All I had to do was not screw it up, right? But…" her voice began to crack, and she looked away, finding the refrigerator a much less intimidating point of focus.
"…But I did." She brought her eyes back to meet his, and was surprised to find them soft and inviting her to continue.
"I pushed you away. And I meant to. But I did it for you, believe it or not. I didn't understand why you seemed to want me, and I was sure you'd wake up one day and realize that you could do so much better. And I thought that would be a good thing, you know? Because you deserve everything wonderful, John. I want that for you."
"What about what I want?" he asked. "What if everything that I'd ever wanted was already right next to me?"
She choked on a laugh, and was startled to find a few lone tears making their ways down her cheeks and a lump stuck in her throat. Hurriedly, she reached to wipe the tears away, but before her hand could reach them, his fingers were brushing her cheek, and her eyes were closing and she was holding her breath.
"Why do you put up with me?" she whispered, unsure if it was loud enough for him to make out.
"Because you're…you. You're Abby. You're beautiful and smart and funny and--"
"--John…I don't deserve that. And I don't deserve forever from you. But I need to tell you...I was happy. I was so happy. You taught me that. How to be happy, I mean. You showed me what it was to say 'I love you' and mean it as more than just words. You taught me how to say 'I love you' and for it to be…an action, to be…all-encompassing, to mean everything."
"You've been in love before." He had clasped her left hand between both of his, and was studying it carefully.
"Yeah…but this was different. This was new and exciting, and comfortable and familiar at the same time, you know? This had the potential to be…it. Forever and ever, amen."
"Yeah." This time, it was his voice that was barely audible. She reached forward and placed her free hand on top of his.
"You gave me that. You taught me that."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" He was looking at her again now, a worried expression across his face, like a child trying so hard to understand the concept of forever, of infinity, of the unknown.
She sniffled again, feeling more tears on her face but not releasing his grasp to wipe them away. "Because I didn't know how. I didn't know how to say it without risking getting hurt."
"And what's changed?" he asked, still looking confused.
"I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd never get the chance to tell you all that you'd done for me, and how grateful I was for it. How much I love you. How the day drags when you're not with me. How…how when you're not there, it feels like I've forgotten how to breathe. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, John. I never meant for it to wind up like this." Her face in her hands, she was crying in earnest now, choking on sobs, open and exposed, her soul wounded and raw, the kind of crying she hadn't done in front of someone since she was a little girl, instead having since chosen to do it late at night, in the dark, water running to cover the sound, even when she was completely alone.
She felt him move to the seat next to her, closing his arms around her, enveloping her in his warmth. She buried her face into his chest, letting the soft cotton of his t-shirt muffle her noise, and felt him rocking her slightly, until she'd subsided, and the only sounds she could make out were coming from the rain hitting the windows and the thudding of his heart and the whispering of his breath on her hair.
*~*~*
At some point, they must have moved to his bedroom, because her next entirely conscious thought was of the indescribable warmth and sense of calm spreading through her body as she stretched underneath the down comforter, moving closer to the figure next to her, and propped herself up on an elbow. Gently, so as not to wake him, she ran a fingertip across his features, though they were already ingrained deep into her memory. She caught sight of her still-damp clothes from last night draped over the chair in the corner, and brought the sleeve of his faded Northwestern sweatshirt she now wore up to her nose, inhaling deeply, reveling in the familiar scent of him. Carter.
"Good morning."
His voice startled her, brought her back to greet reality. And for once, she was happy to do so.
"Hey."
"The storm passed."
She smiled, laying back down, his shoulder her pillow, her hand seeking his out underneath the covers and pressing back when he squeezed her fingers.
"It always does."
*~*~* Fin. *~*~*