TITLE: Through the Door (2/10)
AUTHOR: C. Midori
CATEGORY: JC/AL Angst
RATING: R for adult themes and language
SPOILERS: All of Season 8, except "Lockdown." (Crappy season finale? What crappy season finale?)
ARCHIVE: Please ask first for permission.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations owned by Not Me. These Other People may include, but are not limited to: NBC, Warner Bros., Michael Crichton, etc. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Susan and Abby were unexpectedly fun to write—so fun, in fact, that I briefly considered making this a SL/AL slash fic until Carter through a tantrum. *pats Pouty!Carter* Also, please review!
SUMMARY: See Abby smoke. See Abby drink. See Abby make non-concessions about Carter but throw a bone to the Sunshine and Shadow folks.
CHAPTER ONE
River Going Through
Neon shines through
smoky eyes tonight
It's 2 AM, I'm drunk again
It's heavy on my mind
It's heavy on my mind
I could never love again
So much as I love you
Where you end where I begin
Is like a river going through
* * *
Several months later.
Abby paced the perimeter of the ambulance bay outside County, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso and freeing her hands only to coax a snug cigarette from its pack, and nurture a clumsy lighter to flame. Raising the cigarette to her lips, she inhaled deeply, spitting the smoke out in time to the throbbing in her head. The cigarette did nothing to quell the headache; what she really needed was a drink. She glanced at her watch: two more hours.
She wasn't cold, but she shivered.
A shriveled wisp of smoke whispered into her eyes, clouding her vision in lavender. The world suddenly scattered, fracturing like light through a prism, and her knees gave way, her body collapsing with a dull thud.
"Abby!"
Knees ground against the gravel, hand planted against a wall for balance, Abby blinked in confusion, her heart thudding painfully against her ribcage and her head swarming feverishly.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." She waved off Carter's extended arm, and tried to ignore the concern etched in every line of his handsome face.
"Let me help you." Amidst her protests, he aided her small frame to a place on the bench, kneeling before her while his hands warmly bookended her upper arms. "You've got a nasty gash there," he noted quietly, a finger tentatively grazing her temple.
"It's okay," she muttered, flinching slightly at the contact. "It's just a cut. No big deal."
"What happened? How'd you fall?"
"The wall just jumped out in front of me, Officer," she deadpanned. "Either that, or I didn't eat breakfast, and got lightheaded."
Carter smiled, then let go of her arms. "Okay, then," he said, taking a seat besides her. "You should eat. I'm off in fifteen minutes; want to go to Doc Magoo's?"
"I'm still on for another couple of hours." Abby shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Coffee and pie's on me." He said hopefully, repeating their oft-reiterated line.
"Thanks," she said tightly, reaching absently to rub her eye, "But I don't—" Her hand swiping the gash, Abby cursed quietly to herself as the metallic scent of blood filled her lungs and trickled down the side of her face. "Son of a bitch," she muttered, reaching for her sleeve.
"Don't," Carter admonished, "You'll irritate it." Turning so that he was facing her, his hand swept along the cut carefully, cleanly, fingers whispering against her skin like the wind rippling the surface of a pond. "There," he breathed, after a moment. "All done. You should have that looked at when you go inside."
"Thanks." A spring of panic suddenly, inexplicably, bubbled up inside of her. "I gotta go." Rising quickly from the bench, she nodded to him and walked inside, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.
She could still feel his eyes on her long after she had turned around.
* * *
Snow fell wetly, fell thickly, blanketing the small world in a temporary glaze. Abby shook the small globe in front of her, her eyes darting to follow the trajectory of the artificial flakes.
"Oh, God, it's hot." Susan Lewis slumped into a chair next to her friend, an unopened can of soda in her hands. "Why did I buy these shoes?" she asked plaintively, kicking them off under the table.
"Because they were cute." Abby smiled half-heartedly.
Susan gave her friend a curious look. "So what's up?" she inquired, popping the soda open and taking a long swig.
"Nothing." Abby shrugged, shaking the globe again.
"The weather looks so nice in there." Susan nodded in the direction of the little trinket, smiling at the thought of a respite from the oppressive heat. "Hottest day of the year so far, and the air conditioner breaks right on schedule. Tell me again why I work at County, and not in private practice," she grinned.
"Right, because air conditioners never break in private practice," Abby laughed, her eyes on the miniature world before her.
"Exactly." Susan paused. She hesitated before continuing. "I heard you collapsed earlier today," she said off-handedly. "In the ambulance bay. Are you okay?"
"Collapsed," Abby scoffed. "You make it sound so dramatic. Tripped is more like it." She paused. "Let me guess: Carter told you?"
Susan examined her hands. "Not really. I mean, he might've mentioned something about you…and falling…and…God, I'm not doing a great job covering up for him," she finished with a laugh.
"No, you're not," Abby agreed.
Susan looked at her closely. "Hey," she said gently. "I'm off in an hour. You look beat. Wanna go get a drink or something?"
Abby put down the globe, and hesitated. She looked at her friend. "I'd say you've got yourself a date."
* * *
"Classy," Abby remarked, taking in her surroundings for the first time that evening. As always, her short stature allowed her to swing her legs while perched atop a bar stool. Idly, she traced the circle of water her glass had left on the glossy wood finish, and she inhaled the rich cigar smoke that permeated the dim room. Lighted with old kerosene lamps, the room gave off a warm, brassy glow—almost as warm as the bronzed liquid in her glass, as the heat that was beginning to diffuse throughout her body.
"Yeah, well, it isn't the Lava Lounge," Susan replied, taking a sip of her cocktail. "So we've been downing drinks for the last hour, but you haven't said a thing. What's up with you?"
"Not much," Abby shrugged. "I work. I go home. I have dates with my couch. Sometimes the pint of Rocky Road and I make out." She stirred her drink, then lifted her glass to empty it of its contents.
"We should go out more often." Susan suggested, calling the bartender over to refill their drinks.
"We should."
"We always say that."
"We do."
"But we never do."
"I know."
At the last remark, both ladies laughed loudly, attracting the attention of a few patrons and the bartender, who gave them an indulgent smile. Tossing her heavy curls, the bartender turned back to her task of wiping glasses down.
"She's hot," Susan noted with a nod in her direction, her eyes sparkling.
Giving her a surprised glance, Abby opened her mouth to speak, and instead giggled.
"I say that from the perspective of a completely heterosexual woman," Susan rolled her eyes. "What, like women can't check out other women?"
"Completely allowed," Abby grinned. "But I beg to differ."
"What, you don't think she's hot?"
"Maybe in a guys-want-to-bed-her, women-want-to-bat-for-the-other-team kind of way." Abby leaned back in her stool, nearly toppling over. "Whoa!" she laughed. "But not, like, hot," she managed to sputter in the middle of her giggles.
"Right, because she's not Carter."
"Whoa, whoa, no, no, no, no." Abby leaned forward, propping her chin up with one hand. "Carter does not figure into this conversation."
Susan let out a surprised laugh. "You guys are still doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"This! This, oh, we don't really like each other, we're just friends, but we're going to flirt scandalously in the workplace as we refuse to acknowledge our feelings." Susan burst out laughing.
"We do not flirt!" Avoiding eye contact, she ordered another drink. "And I am not attracted to him. Maybe before," she conceded, "But not now." Nodding a thank you to the waitress, she threw her head back and downed its contents.
Susan gave her friend an appraising look, half-smiling and half-knowing. "Right," she said, sarcasm lacing her voice. "You guys don't flirt. And Carter and I have loads of sexual chemistry."
"I think you still like him." Abby smirked. "And you're trying to pin it on me."
"And I think you're drunk," Susan giggled.
"Admit it."
"What, that you're drunk?"
"No, that you still like him."
"I do not!"
"You do too!"
"Oh god, we sound like a couple of first graders. And you're one to talk!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Abby tried to ignore the dull headache that was beginning to pound mercilessly at the back of her head; giving up, she ordered another round of shots.
"It means that you're attracted to him." Susan sipped her cocktail. "I mean, yeah, I'm attracted to him too, but in that, oh you're a cutie, let's go out, wait we already did, crap, we have no chemistry, let's not go out again and instead spend our days in the ER engaged in friendly and sometimes flirtatious banter."
"And me?" Abby fidgeted with her napkin, her eyes downcast.
Susan leaned forward, propping her face up on her elbows and fixing Abby a look. "Oh, God. You're attracted to him in that, he's my best friend, sometimes he's obnoxious, but I think I'm in love with him, he wants to risk it all but I'm too scared to, kind of way."
Abby snorted, trying to stifle her giggles. "Now that's a load of bull."
"He's in love with you, you know that," Susan said suddenly. She punctuated her words with her drink umbrella, stabbing recklessly at the air. "He has been, for some time. For a long time, I'd guess."
Abby grew quiet, and looked down at her hands. When she looked up again, her cheeks were tinged with color and her eyes smiled.
The corner of Susan's mouth turned upwards. "Don't tell me he hasn't ever said anything about it."
Abby paused. "Yeah, sure" she said finally, after a long while. She threw a shot back. The liquor burned in her mouth, scorching the back of her throat, but it was nothing in comparison to the delirious buoyancy in her toes.
"So tell me, why didn't you two ever get together again?"
Considering her friend for a moment, Abby cocked her head and stared down at the glass in her hands. She could, just barely, see her muddled reflection on the drink's surface, glaring back at her. "I told you," she said finally, her voice wavering like its surface in her trembling hands. "Timing."
"You sure about that?" Susan regarded her friend closely.
"What? Yes." Abby snorted, swirling the colorless liquid in its glass, noting the way the light skating along its rim. "Timing. Bad timing. I am a victim of bad timing, my life is a victim of bad timing," she finished dramatically. She paused. "I think."
Susan stared at her friend. Gesturing for the bartender, she pulled out her wallet. "It's on me," she said, amidst Abby's protests. "And I think we need a taxi."
They rode home in silence, enjoying each other's company. As the cab pulled away from Abby's apartment, Susan never noticed that she never made it to her door.
* * *
CREDITS: The chapter of the title is
taken from the lyrics of "Grace is Gone" by the Dave Matthews Band. Also, a
couple of lines of dialogue were snipped from the episode "The Letter" in order
to bolster my feeble insistence that I do pay attention to continuity issues.
^_^