Author's Note, 12-12-02: Well, I should be reading Hamlet and The Glass
Menagerie, but I decided to put up another chapter instead. :) Enjoy! And,
btw, if something I've written doesn't quite fit in with things that have
happened in past ER episodes (for example, if there was talk of Carter
being an awful cook.), just humor me. I missed a few episodes here and
there.
Chapter 4
"Black and Blue"
*************
Clad in an extra after-work-outfit Susan had stuffed away in her locker - it was always safe to have backup clothes when you worked in a hospital, she said - and generously offered more or less in the same insistent fashion Carter had offered his home, Abby waited by the desk. It was also insisted upon that she be pushed out in a wheelchair, making the whole experience that more uncomfortable. Her body was sore as hell and her pride was pretty much smashed, but there was nothing wrong with her legs. Still, hospital procedure. She grimaced, wondering if sympathetic stares were also hospital procedure. Even Frank was looking at her with pity, an emotion he didn't seem capable of possessing. If one more person passed by to express how sorry they were for her, she was going to scream.
Abby fidgeted with Susan's clothes, which were a pinch too big on her. Luckily the pants had a drawstring, and Susan did have fairly decent taste. Baggy clothes were more comfortable right now, anyway.
"Ready to go?" Carter asked, returning with a bottle of Abby's pain killers and his winter coat. He wrapped the latter around Abby as she replied with an emphatic yes. When he saw the look she was giving him, he said, "I've got a coat in the car."
Carter nodded a farewell to Susan and wheeled Abby out the hospital doors. The icy afternoon air blasted into her face and she put her head down, cursing under her breath. She had never liked Chicago winters. Carter rushed towards the car, already warming up and waiting by the curb, and opened the passenger side door, helping Abby from the wheelchair and into the seat which was still reclined from her trip to the ER the night before. Aided by a nudge from Carter and the force of the wind, the door slammed shut and Abby was alone in the vehicle while Carter ran the wheelchair back inside. She tried to pull the lever to raise the seat some, but the effort of twisting and reaching left her breathless, with a shooting pain in her side. She decided reclining was good too.
Out of habit, Abby flipped the sun visor down to check her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't really gotten a good look at herself since the attack, and she was not prepared for the image before her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she surveyed the results of Brian's rage painted on her face in black and blue. And purple. And yellow. Damn it, she hated that color. The swelling around her eye had gone down some, though it was still red and puffy. She squinted, trying to tell if her fractured nose looked crooked or not. It didn't seem to be, thank God. According to Susan, the injuries would heal without leaving any traces of damage behind. Abby prayed it would be a fast healing.
When the driver's side door opened, she quickly pushed the sun visor back into place before Carter got in the car. He blew into his hands and turned the heat up another notch, hot air pouring from the vents and flooding the car with more warmth. "Lemme know if you get too hot," he said, glancing over at her and catching a glimpse of moisture in her eyes.
"You ok?" Carter immediately felt foolish. Of course she wasn't ok.
"Mm-hmm." Abby nodded and changed the subject as they pulled out onto the street. "Can we stop by my place? I need to get some clothes and things."
Carter hesitated. He didn't think taking her there was a good idea, but she did need her stuff and Brian couldn't possibly be stupid enough to hang around his apartment with the cops keeping an eye on it. "Sure. Just tell me what you need and I'll run in and get it."
"Carter-"
"Abby." He gestured out the window. "It's about 40 below. And you're supposed to rest so that rib will heal properly. I can get your things just as easily as you can. Easier."
He had a point. So when they reached her apartment Abby waited in the car with the doors locked while Carter ran in to get the things she had listed. He tried to shake off the paranoia, but he couldn't help wondering where Brian was and which door led to his apartment. It was a good thing Carter didn't know because he wouldn't have objected to breaking in and trashing the place.
Abby's apartment, on the other hand, was already broken into. The broken chain dangled uselessly, jingling when Carter pushed open the door and hesitated in the hall, memories of the night before playing in his head as he looked at the spot on the floor where he had discovered Brian and Abby. He wasn't sure if the bloodstains on the rug were Abby's or Brian's - truthfully, he didn't want to know. Shaking the images from his head, he moved to the closet and found the suitcase Abby said would be there. He stepped into her bedroom with a sense that he was about to invade her privacy. The guilt grew as he riffled through dresser drawers and the closet. He forced himself not to be interested in her choice of bras and panties, though the obvious preference for silky black underthings normally would have pleased him. He carefully placed the intimate apparel inside the suitcase and then filled it up with several pairs of pants and shirts. He attempted to fold them neatly, noticing how small everything was and how it all carried her familiar scent. Sweaters, pajamas, coat, socks, shoes.
After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab the few remaining items Abby had requested, Carter lugged the bulging suitcase towards the front door. When he spotted and reached for Abby's purse there was something else close by that caught his eye: a glass of unfinished red wine. He paused, frowning. Before he could come to any conclusions, however, the continuous sound of a honking horn snapped him back to the present moment. Concerned about the woman who was alone in his car - though it was left running, the doors were locked, and she had his cell phone - Carter rushed out of the apartment with Abby's bags in his hands. He made it down the steps in record time and fumbled to open the door that led outside. He was greeted with a rush of cold air and the sight of Abby resting calmly in the car. Parked in front of the building across the street, an impatient taxi driver was laying on the horn and, from the looks of it, using every filthy word in the book.
A cloud of visible breath formed in front of Carter as he sighed with relief. He was glad Abby didn't look in his direction until he had reached the car and regained his composure. She pressed the power locks button to let him in and he tried not to let too much cold air invade the vehicle as he placed her things on the backseat.
"Well, I think I got everything," he said, sliding into the seat beside Abby. "If you need anything else I could always come back, or just buy it."
"Throwing your money around already, Carter," Abby commented in jest.
"If you've got it, flaunt it," he replied.
They shared their first mutual hints of a smile.
*************
Abby trailed the heavy washcloth over her arms and chest, watching streams of water roll off her skin and drip back into the tub. The first thing she wanted to do upon arriving at Carter's place was take a steaming hot bath. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could still feel Brian on her body. It made her nauseated.
She leaned back on the damp porcelain and pressed her feet against the other end of the tub, letting her eyes wander around Carter's bathroom. It definitely belonged to a bachelor, yet it was very... tidy. In a masculine sort of way. Abby smiled to herself. Just what she would have expected from John Carter.
When the bath water was lukewarm and Abby had thoroughly scrubbed every inch of her tender skin, she pulled the plug and eased her way out of the tub as the water circled noisily down the drain. She unfolded the thick blue towel Carter had given her earlier, patting herself dry and wincing when she accidentally hit a sore spot. Since she no longer had a robe - hers was in an evidence bag somewhere by now - Carter let her borrow his. Abby slipped it on and rubbed the towel through her hair as she stepped out of the bathroom.
Carter was on the living room couch, perusing the newspaper. His attention immediately went to Abby as she entered, looking like she could get lost in the terrycloth material that was wrapped around her. "Feel better?" he asked.
Abby nodded. "Little bit."
There was an awkward silence until Carter tossed aside the paper and stood up. "Are you hungry? I'm making lasagna."
"You know how to cook?" Abby cocked an eyebrow in surprise.
"Don't sound so skeptical. If I wasn't a doctor I could have been a chef," he said, giving her a wink.
Chef Carter. That would be something, Abby thought with amusement. She wondered if he would wear one of those big white hats.
"You're in luck too. Lasagna's my specialty."
"I'm really not that hungry," she said, reluctant to turn him down. Food just didn't appeal to her right now.
"When's the last time you ate?"
"Umm..." She hesitated, knowing full well he wasn't going to like her answer. "Yesterday afternoon."
"Abby, you need to eat something."
Both adults stood with their arms crossed, eyes fixed on each other like they were about to draw their weapons for a showdown.
"Fine." Abby just wanted to get off the hook and get dressed. "But it better be damn good lasagna."
That was good enough for Carter. He chuckled to himself as she marched towards his bedroom, kicking away the long robe that tangled itself around her feet. He was glad to see she hadn't lost any of her spunk.
Moments later Abby wandered into the kitchen in sweats and socks, her damp hair combed and left to dry naturally. Carter was unaware of her presence, so she took a moment to lean against the doorway and watch him as he set the table. She'd never had a man fix her dinner before. Hopefully it would taste as delicious as it smelled. Deciding that maybe she could eat, she padded over to the table where Carter was cutting the lasagna into neat sections.
"You slicing that or giving it an incision?" Abby questioned, inspecting his work.
Carter reddened. He had a tendency to be a little too precise with things like this, and he hadn't realized she was standing there watching. He finished the last square and lifted it with a spatula, placing it on Abby's plate. "Hope you like Coke," he said, licking sauce from his thumb. "It's all I've got."
"That's fine." Abby went to the fridge to get a couple cans of the soda pop, trying to ignore a dizzy spell that hit when she tugged too hard on the door handle. When she returned to the table, Carter was seated in the chair across from her. He thanked her for the Coke and a silence followed as they tried out the food. Abby glanced up to see an expectant look on Carter's face.
"When Weaver finally fires you, at least you'll have something to fall back on," she said, letting him know he was indeed a fine cook.
They shared a small laugh and some sporadic conversation followed. Carter had just finished off his second helping of lasagna - Abby was still picking at her first - when he decided to ask her something he'd been debating whether or not to mention at all. He didn't want to put her on the spot in any way, but he was concerned. "Can I ask you a question?"
Abby played with the tab on her Coke can. She could tell she wasn't going to like this otherwise he would have no need to start off that way. "Um, okay?"
"Have you been drinking again?"
She looked up quickly. "What?"
Carter tried to proceed gently. "At your apartment... I saw the wine. Maybe it's none of my business but I-"
"You're right, it isn't any of your business," Abby interjected.
"Abby, just hear me out. I've been through this. I know what it's like to want so badly to forget, to not feel anything- "
Pushing her chair back with such abruptness it almost tipped over, Abby stood up to walk away but had to steady herself as a lightheaded feeling overwhelmed her. "You haven't been through this," she said in a whisper. "You haven't been through anything like this."
"I meant a problem with addiction, Abby. God, I didn't mean..."
"Well, my addiction isn't your problem either," Abby said, letting go of the table. "I'm not your problem to solve." Unable to deal with anymore, she hurried out of the room, ignoring Carter's plea for her to come back. She slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned against it, letting herself slide to the floor.
"Shit." Carter slammed his hand against the table. He had totally screwed that up. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he cleared the dishes and put away the leftover lasagna before drifting back towards the bedroom. Uncertain of what sort of response he would get, he tapped lightly on the door. "Listen, Abby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure you've... got it under control." Silence. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "It's time for my shift."
Silence.
"I won't work any longer than I have to."
Silence.
"Call me if you need me." Carter reluctantly backed away from the room, and a few minutes later Abby heard the front door close. Curling up on the floor, she thought about what Carter had said. She thought about how tired she felt. She thought about the events that had led up to all of this. And she cried. It was the first time she had been truly alone since the attack, and at last she could sob as loudly as she wanted to.
Chapter 4
"Black and Blue"
*************
Clad in an extra after-work-outfit Susan had stuffed away in her locker - it was always safe to have backup clothes when you worked in a hospital, she said - and generously offered more or less in the same insistent fashion Carter had offered his home, Abby waited by the desk. It was also insisted upon that she be pushed out in a wheelchair, making the whole experience that more uncomfortable. Her body was sore as hell and her pride was pretty much smashed, but there was nothing wrong with her legs. Still, hospital procedure. She grimaced, wondering if sympathetic stares were also hospital procedure. Even Frank was looking at her with pity, an emotion he didn't seem capable of possessing. If one more person passed by to express how sorry they were for her, she was going to scream.
Abby fidgeted with Susan's clothes, which were a pinch too big on her. Luckily the pants had a drawstring, and Susan did have fairly decent taste. Baggy clothes were more comfortable right now, anyway.
"Ready to go?" Carter asked, returning with a bottle of Abby's pain killers and his winter coat. He wrapped the latter around Abby as she replied with an emphatic yes. When he saw the look she was giving him, he said, "I've got a coat in the car."
Carter nodded a farewell to Susan and wheeled Abby out the hospital doors. The icy afternoon air blasted into her face and she put her head down, cursing under her breath. She had never liked Chicago winters. Carter rushed towards the car, already warming up and waiting by the curb, and opened the passenger side door, helping Abby from the wheelchair and into the seat which was still reclined from her trip to the ER the night before. Aided by a nudge from Carter and the force of the wind, the door slammed shut and Abby was alone in the vehicle while Carter ran the wheelchair back inside. She tried to pull the lever to raise the seat some, but the effort of twisting and reaching left her breathless, with a shooting pain in her side. She decided reclining was good too.
Out of habit, Abby flipped the sun visor down to check her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't really gotten a good look at herself since the attack, and she was not prepared for the image before her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she surveyed the results of Brian's rage painted on her face in black and blue. And purple. And yellow. Damn it, she hated that color. The swelling around her eye had gone down some, though it was still red and puffy. She squinted, trying to tell if her fractured nose looked crooked or not. It didn't seem to be, thank God. According to Susan, the injuries would heal without leaving any traces of damage behind. Abby prayed it would be a fast healing.
When the driver's side door opened, she quickly pushed the sun visor back into place before Carter got in the car. He blew into his hands and turned the heat up another notch, hot air pouring from the vents and flooding the car with more warmth. "Lemme know if you get too hot," he said, glancing over at her and catching a glimpse of moisture in her eyes.
"You ok?" Carter immediately felt foolish. Of course she wasn't ok.
"Mm-hmm." Abby nodded and changed the subject as they pulled out onto the street. "Can we stop by my place? I need to get some clothes and things."
Carter hesitated. He didn't think taking her there was a good idea, but she did need her stuff and Brian couldn't possibly be stupid enough to hang around his apartment with the cops keeping an eye on it. "Sure. Just tell me what you need and I'll run in and get it."
"Carter-"
"Abby." He gestured out the window. "It's about 40 below. And you're supposed to rest so that rib will heal properly. I can get your things just as easily as you can. Easier."
He had a point. So when they reached her apartment Abby waited in the car with the doors locked while Carter ran in to get the things she had listed. He tried to shake off the paranoia, but he couldn't help wondering where Brian was and which door led to his apartment. It was a good thing Carter didn't know because he wouldn't have objected to breaking in and trashing the place.
Abby's apartment, on the other hand, was already broken into. The broken chain dangled uselessly, jingling when Carter pushed open the door and hesitated in the hall, memories of the night before playing in his head as he looked at the spot on the floor where he had discovered Brian and Abby. He wasn't sure if the bloodstains on the rug were Abby's or Brian's - truthfully, he didn't want to know. Shaking the images from his head, he moved to the closet and found the suitcase Abby said would be there. He stepped into her bedroom with a sense that he was about to invade her privacy. The guilt grew as he riffled through dresser drawers and the closet. He forced himself not to be interested in her choice of bras and panties, though the obvious preference for silky black underthings normally would have pleased him. He carefully placed the intimate apparel inside the suitcase and then filled it up with several pairs of pants and shirts. He attempted to fold them neatly, noticing how small everything was and how it all carried her familiar scent. Sweaters, pajamas, coat, socks, shoes.
After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab the few remaining items Abby had requested, Carter lugged the bulging suitcase towards the front door. When he spotted and reached for Abby's purse there was something else close by that caught his eye: a glass of unfinished red wine. He paused, frowning. Before he could come to any conclusions, however, the continuous sound of a honking horn snapped him back to the present moment. Concerned about the woman who was alone in his car - though it was left running, the doors were locked, and she had his cell phone - Carter rushed out of the apartment with Abby's bags in his hands. He made it down the steps in record time and fumbled to open the door that led outside. He was greeted with a rush of cold air and the sight of Abby resting calmly in the car. Parked in front of the building across the street, an impatient taxi driver was laying on the horn and, from the looks of it, using every filthy word in the book.
A cloud of visible breath formed in front of Carter as he sighed with relief. He was glad Abby didn't look in his direction until he had reached the car and regained his composure. She pressed the power locks button to let him in and he tried not to let too much cold air invade the vehicle as he placed her things on the backseat.
"Well, I think I got everything," he said, sliding into the seat beside Abby. "If you need anything else I could always come back, or just buy it."
"Throwing your money around already, Carter," Abby commented in jest.
"If you've got it, flaunt it," he replied.
They shared their first mutual hints of a smile.
*************
Abby trailed the heavy washcloth over her arms and chest, watching streams of water roll off her skin and drip back into the tub. The first thing she wanted to do upon arriving at Carter's place was take a steaming hot bath. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could still feel Brian on her body. It made her nauseated.
She leaned back on the damp porcelain and pressed her feet against the other end of the tub, letting her eyes wander around Carter's bathroom. It definitely belonged to a bachelor, yet it was very... tidy. In a masculine sort of way. Abby smiled to herself. Just what she would have expected from John Carter.
When the bath water was lukewarm and Abby had thoroughly scrubbed every inch of her tender skin, she pulled the plug and eased her way out of the tub as the water circled noisily down the drain. She unfolded the thick blue towel Carter had given her earlier, patting herself dry and wincing when she accidentally hit a sore spot. Since she no longer had a robe - hers was in an evidence bag somewhere by now - Carter let her borrow his. Abby slipped it on and rubbed the towel through her hair as she stepped out of the bathroom.
Carter was on the living room couch, perusing the newspaper. His attention immediately went to Abby as she entered, looking like she could get lost in the terrycloth material that was wrapped around her. "Feel better?" he asked.
Abby nodded. "Little bit."
There was an awkward silence until Carter tossed aside the paper and stood up. "Are you hungry? I'm making lasagna."
"You know how to cook?" Abby cocked an eyebrow in surprise.
"Don't sound so skeptical. If I wasn't a doctor I could have been a chef," he said, giving her a wink.
Chef Carter. That would be something, Abby thought with amusement. She wondered if he would wear one of those big white hats.
"You're in luck too. Lasagna's my specialty."
"I'm really not that hungry," she said, reluctant to turn him down. Food just didn't appeal to her right now.
"When's the last time you ate?"
"Umm..." She hesitated, knowing full well he wasn't going to like her answer. "Yesterday afternoon."
"Abby, you need to eat something."
Both adults stood with their arms crossed, eyes fixed on each other like they were about to draw their weapons for a showdown.
"Fine." Abby just wanted to get off the hook and get dressed. "But it better be damn good lasagna."
That was good enough for Carter. He chuckled to himself as she marched towards his bedroom, kicking away the long robe that tangled itself around her feet. He was glad to see she hadn't lost any of her spunk.
Moments later Abby wandered into the kitchen in sweats and socks, her damp hair combed and left to dry naturally. Carter was unaware of her presence, so she took a moment to lean against the doorway and watch him as he set the table. She'd never had a man fix her dinner before. Hopefully it would taste as delicious as it smelled. Deciding that maybe she could eat, she padded over to the table where Carter was cutting the lasagna into neat sections.
"You slicing that or giving it an incision?" Abby questioned, inspecting his work.
Carter reddened. He had a tendency to be a little too precise with things like this, and he hadn't realized she was standing there watching. He finished the last square and lifted it with a spatula, placing it on Abby's plate. "Hope you like Coke," he said, licking sauce from his thumb. "It's all I've got."
"That's fine." Abby went to the fridge to get a couple cans of the soda pop, trying to ignore a dizzy spell that hit when she tugged too hard on the door handle. When she returned to the table, Carter was seated in the chair across from her. He thanked her for the Coke and a silence followed as they tried out the food. Abby glanced up to see an expectant look on Carter's face.
"When Weaver finally fires you, at least you'll have something to fall back on," she said, letting him know he was indeed a fine cook.
They shared a small laugh and some sporadic conversation followed. Carter had just finished off his second helping of lasagna - Abby was still picking at her first - when he decided to ask her something he'd been debating whether or not to mention at all. He didn't want to put her on the spot in any way, but he was concerned. "Can I ask you a question?"
Abby played with the tab on her Coke can. She could tell she wasn't going to like this otherwise he would have no need to start off that way. "Um, okay?"
"Have you been drinking again?"
She looked up quickly. "What?"
Carter tried to proceed gently. "At your apartment... I saw the wine. Maybe it's none of my business but I-"
"You're right, it isn't any of your business," Abby interjected.
"Abby, just hear me out. I've been through this. I know what it's like to want so badly to forget, to not feel anything- "
Pushing her chair back with such abruptness it almost tipped over, Abby stood up to walk away but had to steady herself as a lightheaded feeling overwhelmed her. "You haven't been through this," she said in a whisper. "You haven't been through anything like this."
"I meant a problem with addiction, Abby. God, I didn't mean..."
"Well, my addiction isn't your problem either," Abby said, letting go of the table. "I'm not your problem to solve." Unable to deal with anymore, she hurried out of the room, ignoring Carter's plea for her to come back. She slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned against it, letting herself slide to the floor.
"Shit." Carter slammed his hand against the table. He had totally screwed that up. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he cleared the dishes and put away the leftover lasagna before drifting back towards the bedroom. Uncertain of what sort of response he would get, he tapped lightly on the door. "Listen, Abby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure you've... got it under control." Silence. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "It's time for my shift."
Silence.
"I won't work any longer than I have to."
Silence.
"Call me if you need me." Carter reluctantly backed away from the room, and a few minutes later Abby heard the front door close. Curling up on the floor, she thought about what Carter had said. She thought about how tired she felt. She thought about the events that had led up to all of this. And she cried. It was the first time she had been truly alone since the attack, and at last she could sob as loudly as she wanted to.