No Place Like Home Part 8: Walking On Ice

Author: Lexa

Email: c_rossingjordan@yahoo.com

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Yes. There are tons of spoilers. Spoilers for season nine that even the writers don't know about...... Ok, there are no spoilers!!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, I am Abby. So there, can't sue me NBC.

Alright, alright, I'm not Abby Lockhart. And Eric isn't my brother. At least I can say I invented Greg, alright? Everybody else I don't own. If I did, would I be wasting my time with a this little fanfic???? I think NOT.

Comments: Alright... we're getting close to the end people (of this series, I mean.... I didn't mean that in any Armageddon way...). I hope you've been enjoying it.... It's the first fanfic I ever wrote (and posted), although I have written and posted other fanfics since I've started this one.... Anyways, thanks to Jas who gave me the suggestion for the song way back in like, September or October when I started writing it. This song, by the way, is "Blood Makes Noise" by Suzanne Vega.

My final comment is this: Windows Me sucks and 3 Doors Down rocks.

That's all folks. Enjoy the show.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'd like to help you doctor

Yes I really really would

But the din in my head

It's too much and it's no good

I'm standing in a windy tunnel

Shouting through the roar

And I'd like to give the information

You're asking for

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Ow, cut it out!"

"You're the one who started it." Eric insists as he pushes me back on the floor.

"Let me sit on the couch." I try to get on, but end up sitting on him instead.

"Go sit on the recliner."

"No!"

This is when our father pops his head in the living room.

"What are you two doing?"

I fold my arms in front of my chest, "Eric won't let me sit on the couch."

"Abby's now sitting on me."

Greg chuckles.

"It's not funny," I tell him.

"You guys, this isn't 1978, and you're not seven years old. Can we act like adults please?"

"No."

"Never." Eric adds.

Finally the two of us start laughing and Greg goes back into the kitchen. After finally being able to settle on the couch beside Eric, I call into the kitchen.

"Dad, we've given up on a homemade Thanksgiving dinner. The pizza's going to be here any minute. What are you doing in there?"

"I'm looking for something in the pantry."

"What? A cooked turkey?"

I laugh at my brother's remark.

"You'll see."

Eric leans over and whispers to me, "You think he's got a turkey hidden somewhere in there?"

I grin, "You never know."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But blood makes noise

It's a ringing in my ear

Blood makes noise

And I can't really hear you

In the thickening of fear

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

'Ding-dong'

"Dad, whatever it is, give up. The food's here," I tell him as I go to open the door.

I hand the pizza guy a couple of bills and bring the food inside. Just as I'm doing that, Greg emerges from the kitchen holding a bottle of wine and three glasses in one hand, and an old record player in the other.

Eric looks at what's in his hands, and comments, "Hey, where's our turkey?"

I smile and set the pizza on the table, then take the record player from dad, who has a very confused look on his face.

"What?"

"Never mind that dad, Eric's just being funny. What's the record player for?" And why was it in the pantry? Oh, never mind, there's no point.

"I thought we could listen to that George Harrison record you brought down."

Eric groans, "Oh my god, I thought I'd never have to listen to that thing again."

I look at the two of them, "Am I the only one who doesn't remember this apparent obsession I had?"

"Mom probably doesn't remember."

Dad flashes Eric a look just as he says that.

"What? It's probably true."

"Come on, let's try to have a nice Thanksgiving."

"Hey, I'm not doing anything to damage this 'nice Thanksgiving'," my brother stubbornly insists. I knew this wasn't going to last long. It had been going well for a while, but now it's all going to go to hell. Nothing ever stays good in our family, and this time we know who to thank. Thanks Eric. Way to go Dad.

"What is that supposed to mean Eric?"

"I mean you and Abby are acting like everything's alright. When you're both really mad at each other, for who the hell knows what."

I finally intercept, "We've worked things out, Eric. Which you would know if you didn't just decide to blurt things out and make an ass of yourself."

"Oh really?" Eric stands up and we are now standing nose to nose.

"Alright, you guys, let's just calm down for a minute."

"Why dad? So we can have a 'nice Thanksgiving'? Like a nice little happy family? You know what I think would be nice? Is if the two of you stop playing this little charade."

Dad and I both give him questioning looks.

Eric goes over and grabs the bottle of wine from Greg. "This, for example. This, is something Abby can't drink."

Shut up Eric. Shut up. Shut up. Just put the bottle down and shut your mouth. You're not going to tell dad anything.

"Why?" Dad looks at both us, hoping one of us will give him an answer.

Of course, Eric does. "She's a drunk. That's why. She has been for years."

"SHUT UP ERIC!"

How could he do this to me? He wanted me to patch things up with Greg, and I did. Now because of him it probably all went to hell. Everything always goes to hell. This is yet another way that I've failed him. I've already failed as a wife, a girlfriend, a friend, a sponsor, and a med student. Now my father knows I've failed as a daughter, too.

Thanks a lot, Eric. I appreciate that.

".... And then there's Dad." He just can't seem to stop. I don't think I've ever seen him like this, in such an outrage. My brother and I always had to be the ones who stayed level headed.

"Alright Eric, that's enough," Greg is trying to stop him from saying something.

"-Who's been seeing this woman Joann for the past three years, and won't even tell you Abby because he thinks you'll disapprove. But why he suddenly wants approval from his kids is beyond me."

That's great. My father's about to marry a woman and I've never met her, never even heard of her until today. Why would I disapprove? Maybe somebody in our family will be happy for once.

Nobody's saying anything. Eric's looking at both Greg and I, Greg's looking at me, and I'm looking at the floor.

"Ok... let's just... " Greg says rubbing his face, "Let's just calm down here for a moment." He takes the bottle from Eric's hand. "I'm going to put this away. The two of you get plates."

Eric and I still stand frozen as Greg goes into the kitchen. Neither of us really knows what to do, I guess. After all the troubles we've had in this family, they've never been between Eric and I.

Finally, Eric goes into the kitchen and comes back with three plates. Without saying a word to each other, or even looking at each other, we set everything out on the living room table.

Greg now comes back in with a bottle of Pepsi and a couple of juice glasses.

None of us want to say anything as we pour the drinks and start to eat our food. Suddenly, Dad gets up and picks up the George Harrison record I brought from upstairs.

As I slowly bite into my cheese pizza, what apparently was my favourite song begins to play.

"Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting......."

Is it really melting? Or is it freezing up again? This could go two ways. This new revelation could just bring us to the exact same way we were before, or we could become more of a normal family. One that sees each either more than once every five years. One that tells each other things.

We're either going to go back to walking on ice again. Or we're going to start walking in puddles, all that's left of the ice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I think that you might want to know

The details and the facts

But there's something in my blood

Denies the memory of the acts

So just forget it Doc.

I think it's really

Cool that you're concerned

But we'll have to try again

After the silence has returned

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I look away from the window, and realize nobody's said a word in five minutes. Eric is sitting on the couch, staring aimlessly into space. Greg is by the TV unit, trying to make himself busy by straightening one of the drawers. None of knows what to do with ourselves.

Turning back to the window, I see the street is basically empty. Nobody wants to go out when it's dark. Too scary. You don't know what's lurking out there. There might be an old woman walking her dog. There might be somebody trying to mug you. You never really know.

None of us knew what was really lurking for this weekend. We could have argued throughout the entire Thanksgiving. We could have gone pretending everything was alright. We could have resolved what happened twelve years ago. We could have actually told each other what was going on our lives. We never really knew.

Now we know everything, after the longest (about a half hour, should be some kind of record...), most honest, and heartfelt conversations we've ever had, and we also know what we should have expected from this weekend. Greg knows that I'm a drunk. That I almost died from drinking too much and passed out on the floor of a bar. I finally found out that he's been dating this woman for almost three years now and is getting married to her in June. She's a school teacher who is about twelve years younger than dad, which is why I'm guessing he thought I'd disapprove. And now we all know that Eric has a difficult time keeping his mouth shut.

"Abby?"

My heart jumps because nobody's said a word in a while, so hearing my father's voice was startling. I turn away from the window again and look at him.

"Yeah?"

"I hope you don't mind me asking, well, I was just wondering... How long have you been sober?"

He looks kind of timid. Which is odd from a man who is always trying to be the strong one. Okay, so I think I know where Eric and I get that from.

"Six years, dad."

He nods. "Abby..."

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know, you could have come to me. I would have been there for you."

I nod slowly, "I know..."

He gives me a smile small, and it goes quiet again for a moment.

"Hey Abby." I gues Greg and I are both surprised to now hear Eric. "So... you really have to leave tomorrow?"

I sigh. I almost forgot about leaving. "Yes, I have to work on Tuesday."

"The two of you should come up here more. Especially you Abby."

"We will dad."

"I promise."

I don't make promises often, so I guess that says a lot. At the beginning of the weekend I was disappointed because I thought this was the closest to home I'd ever get. Alright, so I'll admit, even if that is true, I guess it's not all that bad.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cause blood makes noise

It's a ringing in my ear

Blood makes noise

And I can't really hear you

In the thickening of fear

Blood makes noise..

~*~*~*~*~*~*~