Abby sat at her kitchen table, head in her hands. Her face rested on the cool surface of the table. She gazed vacantly across the table, to the newspapers, dirty dishes, and bottles piled haphazardly around the kitchen. I'm such a slob, she thought. I can't even pick up my own junk.
On shaky legs, she stood up from the table and headed across the kitchen. On her way to the fridge, she accidentally kicked over a pile of bottles that were laying on the ground. One of the bottles still had a little something left in the bottom of it. She sniffed the bottle's contents. Vodka, she deduced. She considered drinking it, but realized that she didn't want to. She didn't want to do anything.
As she examined the bottle, she remembered a time, a long, long time ago. It was a time when she had proudly pocketed her five year chips, when she had told Carter and anyone else who cared to know that she was through with that life, that she wasn't going to be like that anymore. Carter had said he didn't believe her. It looked like Carter was right.
It had been so easy. A drink at a party, then at a bar, then at home. Then more drinks. Next thing she knew, she was getting drunk almost every night. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone to work without a hangover. Her coworkers had gotten used to her biting their heads off over the smallest offenses.
It had become her life. They had tried to help her. Susan had, Carter had, even Weaver had. There was nothing they could do. She wanted to be this way. Didn't she?
Tears blurred Abby's eyes. "I don't want to be like this anymore," she whispered hoarsely, slowly setting the vodka bottle on the table. But what else was there? She had been sober for more than five years, but she had slipped up, and now she was right back where she had started. If five years of sobriety wouldn't do it, what would?
Could things ever change? Even after five years, she still craved alcohol. Whenever trouble struck, she knew that she could always count on the bottle to numb her pain. It was the only thing that would never let her down.
"I...I don't want it," she said, begging, pleading. To who, she didn't know. But she wanted to be stronger than this. She wanted to be able to walk past a bar without slowing down.
But this was who she was. This was all she would ever be. How could she fight this? She wasn't strong enough.
Tears ran down Abby's face as she took a drink from the bottle.
__________________________________________________________________
"Hey, Carter, you coming to Chuni's party? There will be dancing," Susan said enticingly.
Carter nodded. "Of course. I would never miss one of Chuni's parties," he said jokingly.
"I assume that means I can bum a ride?" Susan asked, eyebrows raised.
Carter laughed. "Sure thing, Susan. But if you're coming, c'mon."
Susan didn't have to be told twice.
When they got to the party, there was indeed dancing, and laughing, and talking, and drinking. Carter greeted a couple of his coworkers, but broke off him small talk when he noticed the woman sitting at a table, drink in hand. Was that Abby?
Carter's heart pounded as he approached his girlfriend. Well, at least he thought she was still his girlfriend. Lately, he didn't know what was going on with them. She had started drinking again, and she didn't want to stop. He had told her she was out of control, that she needed to stop before she did something she would regret. She didn't care what he thought. He had done everything he could to help her, but she didn't want his help. She had pushed him away, told him to mind his own business, rejected his help. They hadn't talked in weeks.
"Abby?" Carter said, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Hi there, beautiful. You looking for a girlfriend? Cause I don't got a girlfriend-boyfriend, I mean." The woman laughed uproariously at her own joke.
Carter withdrew his hand, repulsed by the woman's drunkenness. His heart sank when he realized that this was Abby. No, this particular woman wasn't Abby, but this was what Abby was like, every night she went out to a bar. She got dead drunk, just like this woman, and did things she would never normally do. She was an alcoholic. A fall down drunk. What had happened to the woman he used to love?
The woman was now smiling in the face of the man who had sat down next to her, and he had wrapped him arm around her waist. Carter felt like his heart was breaking. Did Abby really go to bars and embarrass herself, just like this woman? Carter knew she did.
And she didn't care. He had tried to stop her, but she was happy with her new life. So he had given up on her, written her off. He stopped talking to her outside of work. He figured that was all he could do.
He looked at the drunken woman again, who was now leaving with the man she just met. Could he really just forget about Abby, the woman he loved, the one he had thought he would spend the rest of his life with? True, she had changed for the worse, but he had to help her. He couldn't let her destroy her life like this.
But she didn't want his help. He had tried, too many times to count. She had run away, slammed the door in him face, done whatever she needed to do to let him know that she didn't need his help.
But she did, no matter what she thought. But was there really any point in trying again? She had made it clear what she thought of his 'help'.
Yes. He had to try. He was her friend, and more than that, he loved her. He couldn't leave her like this. He would keep trying until he couldn't anymore.
He would go to her house. He glanced around the room. He wasn't very interested in partying anymore; he could go now. All he needed to do was find Susan and ask if she could ride home with someone else.
______________________________________________________________
Tears soaked the carpet under Abby's face as she lay on the floor.
Why am I even alive? she wondered. I'm not helping anyone. All I'm doing is making a mess out of everything.
Abby gritted her teeth. Right now, she was disgusted by the thought of alcohol. She couldn't imagine how she had allowed herself to sink to such a pathetic level. She never wanted to drink again. But that would change soon enough. After a while, probably by tomorrow, she would feel the yearning for alcohol once more. She wanted to pour out every drop of alcohol in her house, but she knew there was no point. If she did, tomorrow she would be back at the store, buying more.
She was alone. Completely alone. She had pushed everyone away: Susan, Carter, every other friend she had. She had let them know that she didn't want their help, and they had backed off. Now, she needed someone, anyone, to help her, but there was no one. No one who could rescue her from the depths of despair, from her disgusting, pathetic life.
Even if she did have any remaining friends, what could they do? Snatch the bottle out of her hands? Watch her day and night to keep her from drinking? There was nothing she or anyone else could do, and she had finally come to realize that.
She hated her life. She hated what she had become. But this was her life now. This was all she could be.
She closed her eyes in disgust. This was all she would ever be.
__________________________________________________________________
As Carter drove down the dark, rain-slicked streets, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. If he would just get the door slammed in his face once again.
But he had to try.
Abby would probably reject him. Again. But he would give her a chance to take his help.
Soon enough, he was at Abby's apartment building. He held the door open for an old woman who was going inside, then walked in behind her. His thoughts were conflicted as he knocked on the door.
_________________________________________________________
When Abby heard the knock at the door, she considered not answering it. Why bother; it couldn't possibly be good news. But when she realized the person at the door wasn't going away, she decided to answer it, just to make them go away.
Abby opened the door.
_________________________________________________________
Then, just like that, she was standing in front of him. Carter looked at her, taking in every inch of her body. She looked sad, tired, miserable. Carter's heart felt like it was being torn in two. How had she let herself sink to this level?
"Can I come in?" he asked softly.
I don't mean to pry,
But I'm seeing signs
I can't ignore
Abby felt the familiar tears returning to her eyes. Just seeing a friend standing at her door as enough to make her want to cry. What was he doing here? Why did he want to see her? She hadn't realized how much she had missed him. "C-Carter," she said, her voice cracking, all the emotions she had been trying to hide tumbling out.
Carter stepped into the house.
You've been holding something deep inside,
and I can't keep quiet anymore.
"What are you doing here?" Abby asked, trying to sound tough. She sounded lost, afraid, heartbroken.
"Abby, we need to talk."
"About what?" Abby asked, already knowing the answer.
"About you."
Of the urgency I'm well aware,
I'll take you anywhere,
If you're dissatisfied.
"Abby, you can't keep living like this."
I know, Abby wanted to say. "I'm fine," Abby said. "I don't need your help."
"Yes, you do."
She wanted his help so desperately. But what could he do? He couldn't save her, so there was no point in him getting involved with her again.
"I'm not having this conversation. Goodbye, Carter," she said, ushering him towards the door. In her mind, she was screaming, Please, please don't leave me here all alone. I need you. Please help me.
But she wouldn't say these things aloud, wouldn't expose her vulnerability. She would push him away, and he would go away, and in would be just her and the bottles. Again.
As Abby pushed him towards the door, Carter spun around so he was facing her. He grabbed her by her arms, staring at her until she was forced to look at him.
"Just tell me you're happy. Tell me you like living like this, and I'll go away and never bother you again."
The silence hung thick in the air between them. The words of his proposal ran rampant through Abby's head. Tell me you're happy and I'll leave you alone.
She wasn't happy; she was miserable. She was sick of her life, sick of living out of control. She remembered what happiness was like. She wanted to be happy again.
Something in her broke, and before she knew it, silent tears were streaming down her face. Her chest heaved with sobs as she looked down, ashamed to be crying in front of him.
Carter pulled her close to him. "It's okay, Abby. It's okay to cry."
So she did. She cried, and Carter held her in his arms.
Let's just drive
Take a deep breath and I swear,
Everything will be alright
"We need to talk."
"Yes, we do," Abby finally admitted. She was sick of living like this, sick of being like this.
Carter realized that she was finally ready to ask for help.
"You want to go for a drive?" he asked her, extending his hand.
Abby took it.
Let's just drive
Until it gets us somewhere,
Even if it takes all night,
Let's just drive
Carter opened the passenger side door and helped Abby inside. They would go for a drive. They would drive as long as they needed to, until he was sure she was okay.
They would talk. They would talk about whatever was bothering her, and he would do whatever he could to help.
Abby buckled her seat belt as she waited for Carter to get in the car. She was giving it up. It wasn't going to be easy, but what choice did she have?
Carter got into the car. "Ready?" he asked her.
She nodded. She was ready. Ready to pull her life back together.
THE END
A/N: The song in this fic is Drive, by All Star United. When I heard it I knew I HAD to write a fic for it, so here it is. You read? You like? You review!