Disclaimer: *sings* All I want for Christmas is the rights to ER, the rights to ER, the riIIggGhHTs to ER! *glass shatters* well, you get the point...
Rating: PG-13
Category: Carby my dear! (Note that my name is aljc0129...)
Credit and Thanks: Alex, Marianne, Jessi, Amber, and all my Carby friends! You're the best!
Summary: What happens when an obsessed fan takes a promo scene a bit too seriously? Read on, and find out!
Spoilers: Nope. Just up until 8.01: Four Corners.
Authors Notes: Hey everyone; I'm baAAcCCk!!!!!!!! With an incredibly short chapter, but oh well; at LEAST I wrote. Really sorry about the lacks of updates, but we've been having some major family emergencies lately; My Grandma's health was looking extremely bad for awhile; Her kidneys were failing, which was a wholde new problem, her doctor's a quack, and... Well, she's out of the woods now, and it looks good so, phew! This is a long author's note, isn't it? Well, If you're reading this far, congratulations! I thank you! My *big* concern is to be posted here: Should I cease this work of fanfiction, or continue it?? I barely got any reviews for the last chapter, I think only 4 or 5 (which to whom I thank everyone!), so it comes to mind that I shouldn't continue it. Well, I'll leave you to read my work of... *coughs* art.
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"We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance."
Harrison Ford, quoted by Garry Jenkins in 'Harrison Ford: Imperfect Hero'
~~~
Irony never ceases to amaze me.
There was this song, a couple of years ago, that was pretty popular. I forgot whom it was by. Ana.... Morsel, maybe? I'm not sure. Anyways, it talked about Irony. Something like 'a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break' and something else about an old man having his birthday, winning the lottery, and then dying the next day. Well, I have a couple of lines to add to it: the mother who gave you life trying to take it away; and being born into wealth, and almost dying because of it.
Don't get me wrong; Death and I are pretty good friends. I've been over to her place a couple of times; she's been over to mine. There are times when she wants me, and times when I want her. I remember Abby talking one time about her mom, and how 'this is the dance they do.' Well, this is the dance Death and I do. Sometimes it's slow dancing; full of wanting and promise, and the other times it's the rapidly-paced tango with death leading; wondering whether or not to take me back to her place permanently this time.
Also somewhat ironic that my mom insisted on dance lessons when I was little.
God, I miss Abby. It's been bad enough with me opening my mouth and "proclaiming" my feelings last May, but I haven't seen her, or any friends, for a long time.
Overall, I'm kind of gracious for that. I mean, what would I say? What on earth could I say?
Nothing. Better to keep silent.
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"Today I begin to understand what love must be...When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence."
- Goncourt
To put it simply; she missed him. And she had thought last summer seemed liked an eternity... 3 1/2 weeks without seeing him, talking to him, or even hearing rumors about him. No one did.
To put it minimally; she felt incomplete. Like a major part of her was missing, mainly around her heart. She felt hollow.
To put it in the most minimal of simple ways; she felt his absence. The absence of those deep, imploring mahogany eyes that read her like a book. The absence of his smile; the type of smile that just light his entire face up. The absence of him; which penetrated deep into her soul, making her feel even more broken.
"Abby? Abby? ABBY?!," a sudden jolt broke Abby's train of thought. Ignoring Haleh's weird look, and trying her best to recover, she replied smoothly, "Yes? Do you need something?" Haleh, her eyes penetrating through Abby's shield of protective emotional cover; which she had worn all her life, until she met John; shook her head and said, "MVA. 1 trauma, 1 minor. ETA 7 minutes." Abby replied brainlessly, "Okay," and went to go get her stunning trauma gown and elegant gloves on. Haleh smiled. The girl had it bad. But, for that matter, the boy had it bad too. If only they'd open their eyes and realize it...
~~~
Carter walked quietly up to the discharge desk. It was amazing what wonders physical therapy did for him. He still had leg braces and crutches to aid him, but it would only be a matter of time. Singing his signature on the dotted line by the bold "X", he turned around to leave.
~~~
Abby guided the gurney with to the elevators. Dr. Corday was taking the 37 year old female to the OR to operate on the injured spleen. She heard the elevator give its customary bell chime as the doors opened. Grabbing the necessary supplies, she looked up just in time to see a retreating male figure. Seeing his height and brown hair, she started to walk after him. But then Dr. Corday's voice called, "Ready transport," and she went back to the elevator. Just missing the departing individual, one she could have sworn she recognized.
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The End. Or will it be? You decide! I have a secret in my head, and if the #s of reviews/feedback fall terribly below it, I'll stop.
BTW, I'm in the middle of making a Carby site. I won't tell you anymore, but if you want: be intrigued!
Thanks for reading; Love you all!
~Tori
