"I'm going to the Congo."
She stopped, turning away from the door. "What?"
"The Alliance de Médicine Internacionale," he clarified, moving towards her. "I'm off tomorrow, and then...I'm going to West Africa."
"I didn't realize that was so soon," she said quietly, fighting back a slight tremor in her voice.
A nod. And suddenly he was holding her, and despite herself she leaned into the embrace. Her mind might have forgotten what she'd shared with this man, but her heart hadn't. The memories sprung to life again, and a rush of warmth filled her.
Tears came to her eyes; she blinked them back, starting to push him away. Somehow, though, her arms disobeyed her, for one stayed wrapped around his waist, the other coming up to rest on his shoulder. 'I'll miss you,' she tried to say, but when she met his eyes, the words changed. "I've missed you."
Something shifted in his face; the forced, cheerful smile left his mouth. "Abby..." he trailed off, and she lifted her face to his, waiting for the kiss that would somehow heal all the wounds that the time apart had given them...
Abby Lockhart woke, suddenly, staring into the darkness. She rolled on her side before she could think, the memory of him so fresh in her mind that surely he must be there...
Nothing but an empty pillow, plump and cold, telling her plainly that the dream had been only that. Regret swamped her, and she curled into herself, fresh tears painting tracks on her face. The thought she'd been suppressing all day had come to a head as she slept, playing itself out, giving her a maddening glimpse of what might have been...
If she hadn't pushed him away. He might have stayed, he might not have been in that place, he might not have been - but she had. She'd pushed him away, and he'd gone, and he was dead. Pain tore at her heart, but she welcomed it; she deserved that pain, because it was her fault. Her fear had doomed them both, taking his life and all that made hers worth living.
((A/n: Part one is, of course, Foreign Affairs; part two is just after 10:1.))
She stopped, turning away from the door. "What?"
"The Alliance de Médicine Internacionale," he clarified, moving towards her. "I'm off tomorrow, and then...I'm going to West Africa."
"I didn't realize that was so soon," she said quietly, fighting back a slight tremor in her voice.
A nod. And suddenly he was holding her, and despite herself she leaned into the embrace. Her mind might have forgotten what she'd shared with this man, but her heart hadn't. The memories sprung to life again, and a rush of warmth filled her.
Tears came to her eyes; she blinked them back, starting to push him away. Somehow, though, her arms disobeyed her, for one stayed wrapped around his waist, the other coming up to rest on his shoulder. 'I'll miss you,' she tried to say, but when she met his eyes, the words changed. "I've missed you."
Something shifted in his face; the forced, cheerful smile left his mouth. "Abby..." he trailed off, and she lifted her face to his, waiting for the kiss that would somehow heal all the wounds that the time apart had given them...
Abby Lockhart woke, suddenly, staring into the darkness. She rolled on her side before she could think, the memory of him so fresh in her mind that surely he must be there...
Nothing but an empty pillow, plump and cold, telling her plainly that the dream had been only that. Regret swamped her, and she curled into herself, fresh tears painting tracks on her face. The thought she'd been suppressing all day had come to a head as she slept, playing itself out, giving her a maddening glimpse of what might have been...
If she hadn't pushed him away. He might have stayed, he might not have been in that place, he might not have been - but she had. She'd pushed him away, and he'd gone, and he was dead. Pain tore at her heart, but she welcomed it; she deserved that pain, because it was her fault. Her fear had doomed them both, taking his life and all that made hers worth living.
((A/n: Part one is, of course, Foreign Affairs; part two is just after 10:1.))