He wasn't fine at all. He was sick. Terrible sick.
All he wanted was Abby. Abby who made his troubles dance away when he was with her. Abby who had done so much for him. The same Abby he'd left for no reason. If he'd recognized this, yet he'd said nothing to her. Until it was too late.
He picked up the phone. He promised he would call her again, but he didn't like this, what he was doing. He didn't want to pester her, and he didn't want to put himself through anticipation. This was the last time.
Ever.
Here goes, he thought.
"Third time's a charm," he said weakly.
-
Carter's head lay against the pillow. The room was still dark. He felt depressed and even sicker, and the dark would never help. For one, he couldn't get up to simply lift a switch. And for some reason the dark hid him from the world. He didn't want to be seen, heard or noticed at all today.
The receiver was softly against his ear. The dull ring filled it and he felt like he could bleed onto the bed. It hurt without her, and he knew he'd never see her. Never hear her. Again.
It surprised him. He'd given up so fast. He didn't know how long he'd been in this room. Not once had he gotten up to eat anything, or take a walk outside. Nothing. San Francisco wasn't anything to him. Why he'd come here... well, he didn't know.
There was a quiet click at the other end. His head stirred softly, barely at the sound. Something other than the answering machine.
"Hello?"
Abby. His mind spun in a million directions, and came back after a minute. He opened his mouth, but suddenly realized why he had lied down in the first place.
"Hello?" the voice repeated.
He swallowed. "Hi."
It was silent for a minute. "Who is this?"
John or Carter? Why did it matter? "John Carter."
Her sigh hit the phone with small force. "Hey."
He suddenly became aware of sweat making its way through matted hair. He caught an ill gasp and sniffed. "Hi."
"You sound like hell," she said.
He didn't know what to make of it. He knew he sounded like hell. He looked like hell, probably. He felt like hell. "Thanks."
It was more flirtatious banter. Usually, anyway. Now, it was nothing. They still remained silent. Too quiet.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't apologize," she said, her voice nearing a volume peak. "I don't want to talk about any of it."
"Why?"
Her voice was weaker now. "Because I don't need any of it." She sighed again. He wished he could see her face. He wished she could see the pain in him, aching from the loss of her beside him.
"We have to."
"You've run away twice now, Carter," Abby said, holding little strength. "And to... God knows where! Where in the hell are you anyway?"
His mind was invisible for a second or two. "San Francisco."
"California?" she said. "Could you get any farther away from me? Why are you so afraid, Carter? What's wrong with you?"
Another sickening sigh from his side. "I don't know
"You've been gone for a week, Carter! Weren't you - "
A week? "A week?"
"Eight days," she said. There was pain. He finally heard it. Detected it in her voice. Strong enough to show.
"God," he said.
"We're all wondering where you are," she said. "Weaver hasn't even taken you out, technically you still work here."
"What?"
"No one believes you're gone," she said. There was another pondering moment between the two as she cleared her throat, sighed once more and continued. "You are coming back right?"
"Do you want me to?"
Silence. Again. Not a single sigh; complete silence. Perhaps a sigh from her wouldn't be so bad right now. Maybe just the sound of her would be comforting.
Thankfully, she spoke.
"I think you should," she said.
He felt a smile. But it wasn't there long.
"But not to be with me," she said. "Because I don't want that."
--
Short again. I know.
My little note today: Most of my fic site is up. Enough of it anyway to get a start. If anyone would like to have their fic featured on my site (sooner or later...) check out the site (alloutcarby.cjb.net) and go to the submit page. If the submit thing doesn't work, let me know at alloutcarby@hotmail.com.
Thanks :)
-me
All he wanted was Abby. Abby who made his troubles dance away when he was with her. Abby who had done so much for him. The same Abby he'd left for no reason. If he'd recognized this, yet he'd said nothing to her. Until it was too late.
He picked up the phone. He promised he would call her again, but he didn't like this, what he was doing. He didn't want to pester her, and he didn't want to put himself through anticipation. This was the last time.
Ever.
Here goes, he thought.
"Third time's a charm," he said weakly.
-
Carter's head lay against the pillow. The room was still dark. He felt depressed and even sicker, and the dark would never help. For one, he couldn't get up to simply lift a switch. And for some reason the dark hid him from the world. He didn't want to be seen, heard or noticed at all today.
The receiver was softly against his ear. The dull ring filled it and he felt like he could bleed onto the bed. It hurt without her, and he knew he'd never see her. Never hear her. Again.
It surprised him. He'd given up so fast. He didn't know how long he'd been in this room. Not once had he gotten up to eat anything, or take a walk outside. Nothing. San Francisco wasn't anything to him. Why he'd come here... well, he didn't know.
There was a quiet click at the other end. His head stirred softly, barely at the sound. Something other than the answering machine.
"Hello?"
Abby. His mind spun in a million directions, and came back after a minute. He opened his mouth, but suddenly realized why he had lied down in the first place.
"Hello?" the voice repeated.
He swallowed. "Hi."
It was silent for a minute. "Who is this?"
John or Carter? Why did it matter? "John Carter."
Her sigh hit the phone with small force. "Hey."
He suddenly became aware of sweat making its way through matted hair. He caught an ill gasp and sniffed. "Hi."
"You sound like hell," she said.
He didn't know what to make of it. He knew he sounded like hell. He looked like hell, probably. He felt like hell. "Thanks."
It was more flirtatious banter. Usually, anyway. Now, it was nothing. They still remained silent. Too quiet.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't apologize," she said, her voice nearing a volume peak. "I don't want to talk about any of it."
"Why?"
Her voice was weaker now. "Because I don't need any of it." She sighed again. He wished he could see her face. He wished she could see the pain in him, aching from the loss of her beside him.
"We have to."
"You've run away twice now, Carter," Abby said, holding little strength. "And to... God knows where! Where in the hell are you anyway?"
His mind was invisible for a second or two. "San Francisco."
"California?" she said. "Could you get any farther away from me? Why are you so afraid, Carter? What's wrong with you?"
Another sickening sigh from his side. "I don't know
"You've been gone for a week, Carter! Weren't you - "
A week? "A week?"
"Eight days," she said. There was pain. He finally heard it. Detected it in her voice. Strong enough to show.
"God," he said.
"We're all wondering where you are," she said. "Weaver hasn't even taken you out, technically you still work here."
"What?"
"No one believes you're gone," she said. There was another pondering moment between the two as she cleared her throat, sighed once more and continued. "You are coming back right?"
"Do you want me to?"
Silence. Again. Not a single sigh; complete silence. Perhaps a sigh from her wouldn't be so bad right now. Maybe just the sound of her would be comforting.
Thankfully, she spoke.
"I think you should," she said.
He felt a smile. But it wasn't there long.
"But not to be with me," she said. "Because I don't want that."
--
Short again. I know.
My little note today: Most of my fic site is up. Enough of it anyway to get a start. If anyone would like to have their fic featured on my site (sooner or later...) check out the site (alloutcarby.cjb.net) and go to the submit page. If the submit thing doesn't work, let me know at alloutcarby@hotmail.com.
Thanks :)
-me