The Relationship Chronicles: A Series of Firsts
Lately on the Carby board at FF, a bunch of us have been writing little Carby snippets that we'd love to see on the show. Hence the birth of this series – if you'd call it that. We have decided to devote this "story" to collecting a series of short romantic snippet scenes between Carter and Abby. They will appear in no apparent order and will be predominantly a catalogue of some important firsts in the relationship. At present, there is really no beginning or end, only the hopes for an ongoing place to keep these scenes. We'd also like to mention that each scene is compiled by different authors. Comments and feedback are both greatly appreciated. Enjoy and feel free to contact us if you'd like to contribute to the compilation or have a request of a scene you'd like for one of us to write.
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Robbie's Rambings: This snippet is an Abby POV ficlet that follows her thoughts and feelings during the last scene of the Season 8 finale 'Lockdown.' Thus, it contains spoilers through the end of Season 8, and yes, I do realize that I've plucked the exact dialogue from 'Lockdown.' My purpose is to open up the relationship chronicles with the firsts of firsts in this relationship – the first Carby kiss, with insight from Abby. It's written by me, Robbie, (curlygurly87@hotmail.com) and I'd love to hear your thoughts! Enjoy …
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I watch the door click shut with a resounding thud and briefly focus on the retreating figure of David Torres, one of the CDC representatives that's come to County to take over our little 'situation'. I'm not sure whether to fill a thrilling jolt of enthusiasm at the prospect of being locked up in a room with the object of my affections or to dread the confinement.
As I turn back, Carter's eyes briefly meet mine, communicating instantly his frustration with the situation. The spark of emotion seems to send his restlessness and savage feelings of captivation my way as these very emotions flare within me. I avert my eyes, breaking the intense gaze and watch as Carter walks across the room, stopping and rubbing the back of his neck with his palm.
"How much does this suck?" I deadpan; my voice is surprisingly dry with unbridled sarcasm and irritation.
He speaks up. "The department would like to thank you, but we can't bring you a fan …" Carter mimics the administration, voice dripping with sarcasm. He pulls idly at his scrub top, discomfort shining bright as a decoy across his face. "Is it just me, or is it like a sauna in here? I'm soaked." His face contorts in disgust, looking up at me and dropping his hands to his sides.
If we weren't in danger of loosing our lives, I might even make some crack about him taking off his shirt. I impulsively step forward, touching a cool finger to his forehead. Out of nowhere, a chuckle escapes out of my lips and I crack a smile. Maybe it's the heat, or maybe it's the pleasure of the electricity that passes through me as our skin makes contact. The hair on my arms prickles in anticipation.
"Do you have a fever?"
"No."
He pulls away in surprise, sending me a glare of stubborn annoyance. If it was anybody else, I'd be on my way to pissed at this point, but his pout does nothing more than to make me weak in the knees.
"Sit down" I suggest, the nurse in me jumping into action. I shoot him a playful grin before moving to pick up a thermometer off the counter.
"I'm fine," he assures me, trying to resist becoming the patient.
"Just sit down!" I command, coming off slightly more annoyed than I mean to. However, he sits all the same and I hand him the thermometer.
"Take your temperature," I
tell him, in no way asking, but telling.
Immediately, stubbornness flashes across his face and I put myself up
for a fight.
"I'm not infectious," he
states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. At this point, I'm beginning to get slightly
annoyed with his tough guy attitude. Or
maybe it's the heat and the isolation finally getting to me.
"Just stick the thermometer in your
ear," I counter, my flashing eyes daring him to refuse me again. Any other day under different circumstances
this whole thing would be slightly funny – and I'm sure in after sight we'll
laugh. But now, I need him to shut his
mouth and let me take care of him.
He complies with my demand, sulking slightly but picking up on my venomous vibes. Any other day, I would take pleasure in the power I have over him, but there's no more space in this cramped little room for any more emotion.
I cross the room, walking over to the supply cabinet. As I open the wooden door, a coil snaps out of place and the door springs back and hits me in the forehead. I swing back in annoyance; cursing the door under my breath and with added force, successfully open the cabinet. I reach in and quickly locate an ice-pack, taking the plastic sac into my hands and beginning to crush it.
"It started out like a normal day, huh?" Suddenly he's trying to make conversation and possibly to apologize for his earlier behavior. Malik's words echo in my head.
"Just kiss and make up."
My heart skips a beat as I feel the
small sac within the plastic bag rupture and the inner fluid spreads rapidly
throughout the bag. In a matter of
seconds, the entire mixture turns cold against my warm skin.
I turn and begin walking back
to where he's sitting. Carter holds up the thermometer in triumph.
"99. Told you."
"Okay," I assent, letting him bask in the results of his testosterone-fest. I fold the ice pack in half and reach around his neck with the icepack, arranging it against the back of his neck. "You're still hot."
We sit in compatible silence for a second or two as he closes his eyes in apparent pleasure. Before I allow my mind to wander and wonder if he could be enjoying the feeling of my arms around his neck I speak again. "Is that better?"
He nods, looking me in the eye. There's a beat. I focus my eyes above his head at a stain on the bright yellow of the trauma room wall then slowly avert my eyes back to meet his gaze.
"The worst of this is over, right?"
For the first time since I can remember, I'm scared and actually seeking
comfort. Comfort from him. He draws a breath, looking away and then back
up at me. I try to read his expression,
but can't.
"Tell me we're going to be okay" I murmur. My voice is the epitome of fear itself; raw and exposed. I'm begging for his reassurance, pleading for comfort amidst the feelings coursing through my body.
His eyes focus downward, fixing his gaze on something … the floor? Suddenly I'm overcome by a rush of energy that explodes across my body in goose bumps. I'm hot and cold at the same time, waiting for his answer. I inhale sharply, but before I can release the air, his lips are on mine. Soft and full, they grope tenderly against mine. My hands are still wrapped around his clammy neck, and I pull him closer leaning expectantly into the kiss as he pulls away.
The look in his eyes now is almost unreadable. With my chest wrenching against my rib cage, I realize that he's terrified; looking to me for guidance. But at the same time, the look in his eyes is so encouraging and brings such comfort. A comfort like that I've never felt before. These new feelings devour me, and I hunger for his touch. He stands up, coming towards me and I lean in expectantly, rearranging my hands closer to his flesh.
"We're going to be okay," he whispers. My heart melts … I can't see straight. I'm in my own fantasy world, just me and him, together in eternity. It's a struggle to breathe as he speaks again with a newer solidity, conviction, and sureness that I've seen shine through him in midst of all troubles, time and time again, "We're going to be okay."
Before I know what's happening, his lips are on mine again. This time I reciprocate, eagerly entering his mouth with my tongue; glorifying in his heated, salty taste. The kiss deepens and I pull him closer as my arms snakes up his shoulder, gently massaging all the while.