Title: Crosscurrent
Author: Kate (kate2130@yahoo.com)
Summary: Carter's POV, directly after he and Abby leave Susan's party in "Hindsight"
Spoilers: nothing past "Hindsight"
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I also don't have money. So you can stop thinking of suing, right now.
Thank You: to Jas and Lexa, who helped supply the title. Love you chicas.
Author's Note: I'm fairly certain this is the first time I've attempted anything in Carter's POV, so we'll see how it goes. As always, feedback is appreciated. Enjoy!
Something's wrong, I know that much. I've never been too adept at reading her moods, but we've been together long enough now that I can tell when something's troubling her. I glance over at her profile in the passenger seat. She has this glazed look on her face and keeps rubbing her forearm. Stroking it, really, and I reach over to cover her hand with mine. She stiffens immediately and shrugs her shoulder out of my reach.
"You okay?" I venture, placing two hands back on the steering wheel.
"Mmmm…" she mumbles distractedly, and turns to gaze out the window.
I'm not about to be defeated this easily. Abby has been opening up more and more to me lately, and I don't want to revert back. "So, what did you get in the exchange?" I ask brightly.
I can see her out of the corner of my eye stroking the snowglobe gently. "You weren't watching?" she asks dully, and it sounds more like she's asking just to say something, anything.
We're pulling in front of her building and I don't answer until we're both out of the car. "Yeah, I saw the snowglobe. Any idea who gave it?"
"No." Her response is immediate, almost too fast.
I look at her closely as she unlocks the door for us. "Hey." I stop her fast gait as we approach her front door with a hand on her arm. As she had in the car, she stiffens and moves slightly away. "Did something happen at the party?"
Entering the apartment, she places the snowglobe carefully on a shelf next to an empty picture frame. She stares at it for a moment before answering. "No, why?" Taking off her coat and tossing it on a chair, she heads for the kitchen, pulls open the refrigerator door. "Damn it, I thought I had some Diet Coke left."
I reach around her for the lone can sitting on the shelf and press it into her hand. "Well, I thought you were having a good time at the party…dancing with Yosh…" I allow myself a chuckle which she doesn't return. "…dancing with me…and now…"
"And now what?" she snaps defensively, taking a pull on the Coke that reminds me uneasily of someone downing a beer.
"Nothing. It's just…" I sigh, knowing I should probably drop the subject. But then something sneaks into my mind, a disturbing feeling I'd repressed as we were leaving the party. "What happened while you were getting our coats? With Luka?"
Abby slams the can of Coke down on the counter. "What about it? Nothing happened! Why are you always so paranoid about Luka?" She gives me a look close to disgust and leaves the kitchen.
I follow her desperately. "Do I have a reason to be paranoid?" As soon as I say it, I know it was the wrong reaction, but something compels me to continue. "I mean, the two of you just seem to have this…this history," I finish lamely.
"What do you think?" She sags against the back of the couch wearily. "Of course there's history with Luka and me. We dated for a year. But I'm with you now. I'm happy. I keep telling you I'm happy. Why would there be anything to worry about?"
I get the distinct and disturbing feeling that she's not talking to me at all, and I decide the time has come – no, the time has passed – to drop the subject. I should have known better than to bring Luka into the conversation, because that never does wonders for the situation.
Abby runs a hand slowly through her hair and looks away. "I'm going to bed," she mumbles tiredly as she heads to her bedroom, leaving me standing alone in the living room.
She's brushing her teeth when I finally get up the nerve to intrude on her thoughts. Walking up behind her, I wrap my arms around her body. "Hey," I whisper close to her ear, "My shift doesn't start for another hour. And I got those handcuffs…" I allow my voice to become huskier as I brush my lips over her hair, hoping for a positive reaction. In the mirror, I can see that her face's expression remains impassive as she continues brushing her teeth. She lets me hold her for a while longer, then shrugs me away so she can bend over the sink and spit. "Well?" I prod, resting my chin on her shoulder.
"I'm tired. I'm just going to go to bed." She looks pointedly at me and I know there will be no arguing. I let her follow me to the door.
As I'm leaving, I brush her arm with my hand once more, to the same stiff reaction. "Good night." The door closes but I pause, unwilling for some reason to leave right away. And through the door I hear faintly the strains of "Greensleeves" playing from inside the apartment.
The End