Title: Lines In the Pavement
Author: Noa
Rating: G
Spoilers: 'Lockdown', though it's set a few months after it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, I don't own Carter. I don't even own a Carter-shaped cookie, shame on me. Also, the title and summary are from the song 'Sorry' by one of Canada's best exports, the band Our Lady Peace.
Dedications: To Norla, because she asked for it. Love you, hon! And Lexie, thanks for beta-ing - I love you too :)
Summary: "I'm sorry, I can't lie / I'm wasting too much time / Drowning I've been blind / But I've opened up my eyes..." – Highly unrecommended for Abby/Carter shippers.
+ = + = +
You're sitting on the living room carpet, a large glass of Diet Cola in your hand. There are signs of dried tears on your cheeks, and usually you would go wash your face until there's no sign of them, but not today. Today's crying has been the good kind. It came after a long afternoon of wondering and pondering, ending with the most definite realization you have ever come to. Once he's home, you tell yourself, you will just spill it all out and hope for the best. He will understand, he has to.
About an hour or so passes before you hear the key entering the lock that you locked yourself a few hours ago, then the turn of the knob, and finally his face, looking around the apartment until he spots you.
You figured seeing you like that would frighten him, and not very surprisingly, you were right. He quickly rushes to you, bending down so he's at your eye level. You're not looking at him, so he gently holds your chin and makes you look up. "Abby? Are you okay?"
You don't answer him, too lost in yourself to really hear him. "Does this place feel like home to you, Carter?" you ask softly. He opens his mouth to answer, but you won't let him. "Because it doesn't for me, not by how people define a home as opposed to a house. I don't think any place ever really felt like home to me, you know? There have been places... Houses... Which I thought could be home to me, but they weren't – I wouldn't let them become that to me. Because I knew that as soon as I let them, as soon as I get attached, I would lose it... So I never did. People tried to make those houses a home to me, even you did I think, and it never really worked, because there was always this thing in me preventing it."
"Ab-" he starts, and you cut him off by placing your index finger on his lips.
"Let me talk," you order him, but your voice remains as soft as before. "I've been sitting here, in this exact position, for hours now, and I've been thinking... Thinking about us, and about me, and about everything else, and I realized something."
"What?" he asks, and you can tell he's unsure about speaking after being silenced by you.
"I realized I have problems," you pause, chuckling gently with some twisted amusement. "I guess you already knew that, because you said you want to help... And now I know it too. But more than that, more than that I realized something else..."
You pause, and he looks at you worriedly, waiting for you to continue.
"I really need to do it by myself. Get over it by myself."
"You don't have to," he half pleads, half states.
"I need to. Carter, you... You are great, one of my best friends, and I will never forget the things you have done... But it's something I really need to do by myself, for myself, and I can't be dating you, or anyone for that matter, during that time. It would just ruin everything all over again, probably making it worse."
"You're breaking up with me."
You nod your head gently. "It had to come eventually... I guess I kept hoping you would make the first step, because I didn't want to hurt you."
"Well, so much for that," he replies angrily. He gets up and starts wondering around the living room, mumbling some words to himself that you cannot understand.
"I'm sorry."
"Of course you are," he shouts back, as angry as before. "Just... Just tell me one thing, okay?"
You nod your head.
"Is it about Luka?"
"What?!"
"Are you, breaking up, with me, because, of, Luka?"
You rest your half-empty glass on the floor and get up, walking closer to him. "Why does it need to be about him? It's not, it's not. It's about me, the things I need, things you can't give me and that I could never ask you to give me."
"Fine then. Goodbye, Abby."
"Carter, wait!" He doesn't hear that, or at least pretends not to, because in a millisecond he's out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
--
The next day at work, you keep trying to find him and he keeps trying to avoid you. You're sitting in the lounge with Susan, both sipping coffee. He walks in to get one of his own. He greets Susan with a dry 'good morning', gets his coffee, and leaves as soon as he's done.
"Trouble in paradise?" Your friend wonders with genuine care.
You shrug your shoulders. "You can say that." You pause, wondering if it's really her place to know. "We broke up."
"What happened?"
You shrug your shoulders again. "I... I really rather not talk about it, not now anyway."
She nods, understanding. With that, you put your cup in the sink and leave, off to occupy yourself with some patients.
--
A few hours pass, and your shift is over – time to go home. You say goodbye to everyone, putting on your best smile as you do so... They don't need to know anything. You walk outside quickly, but once there, you start walking slowly.
There's no reason to rush home today, no one waiting there for you. Today that's completely okay with you... Tomorrow you may want and need him back, just for the sake of having someone – anyone – to go home to.
Author: Noa
Rating: G
Spoilers: 'Lockdown', though it's set a few months after it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, I don't own Carter. I don't even own a Carter-shaped cookie, shame on me. Also, the title and summary are from the song 'Sorry' by one of Canada's best exports, the band Our Lady Peace.
Dedications: To Norla, because she asked for it. Love you, hon! And Lexie, thanks for beta-ing - I love you too :)
Summary: "I'm sorry, I can't lie / I'm wasting too much time / Drowning I've been blind / But I've opened up my eyes..." – Highly unrecommended for Abby/Carter shippers.
+ = + = +
You're sitting on the living room carpet, a large glass of Diet Cola in your hand. There are signs of dried tears on your cheeks, and usually you would go wash your face until there's no sign of them, but not today. Today's crying has been the good kind. It came after a long afternoon of wondering and pondering, ending with the most definite realization you have ever come to. Once he's home, you tell yourself, you will just spill it all out and hope for the best. He will understand, he has to.
About an hour or so passes before you hear the key entering the lock that you locked yourself a few hours ago, then the turn of the knob, and finally his face, looking around the apartment until he spots you.
You figured seeing you like that would frighten him, and not very surprisingly, you were right. He quickly rushes to you, bending down so he's at your eye level. You're not looking at him, so he gently holds your chin and makes you look up. "Abby? Are you okay?"
You don't answer him, too lost in yourself to really hear him. "Does this place feel like home to you, Carter?" you ask softly. He opens his mouth to answer, but you won't let him. "Because it doesn't for me, not by how people define a home as opposed to a house. I don't think any place ever really felt like home to me, you know? There have been places... Houses... Which I thought could be home to me, but they weren't – I wouldn't let them become that to me. Because I knew that as soon as I let them, as soon as I get attached, I would lose it... So I never did. People tried to make those houses a home to me, even you did I think, and it never really worked, because there was always this thing in me preventing it."
"Ab-" he starts, and you cut him off by placing your index finger on his lips.
"Let me talk," you order him, but your voice remains as soft as before. "I've been sitting here, in this exact position, for hours now, and I've been thinking... Thinking about us, and about me, and about everything else, and I realized something."
"What?" he asks, and you can tell he's unsure about speaking after being silenced by you.
"I realized I have problems," you pause, chuckling gently with some twisted amusement. "I guess you already knew that, because you said you want to help... And now I know it too. But more than that, more than that I realized something else..."
You pause, and he looks at you worriedly, waiting for you to continue.
"I really need to do it by myself. Get over it by myself."
"You don't have to," he half pleads, half states.
"I need to. Carter, you... You are great, one of my best friends, and I will never forget the things you have done... But it's something I really need to do by myself, for myself, and I can't be dating you, or anyone for that matter, during that time. It would just ruin everything all over again, probably making it worse."
"You're breaking up with me."
You nod your head gently. "It had to come eventually... I guess I kept hoping you would make the first step, because I didn't want to hurt you."
"Well, so much for that," he replies angrily. He gets up and starts wondering around the living room, mumbling some words to himself that you cannot understand.
"I'm sorry."
"Of course you are," he shouts back, as angry as before. "Just... Just tell me one thing, okay?"
You nod your head.
"Is it about Luka?"
"What?!"
"Are you, breaking up, with me, because, of, Luka?"
You rest your half-empty glass on the floor and get up, walking closer to him. "Why does it need to be about him? It's not, it's not. It's about me, the things I need, things you can't give me and that I could never ask you to give me."
"Fine then. Goodbye, Abby."
"Carter, wait!" He doesn't hear that, or at least pretends not to, because in a millisecond he's out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
--
The next day at work, you keep trying to find him and he keeps trying to avoid you. You're sitting in the lounge with Susan, both sipping coffee. He walks in to get one of his own. He greets Susan with a dry 'good morning', gets his coffee, and leaves as soon as he's done.
"Trouble in paradise?" Your friend wonders with genuine care.
You shrug your shoulders. "You can say that." You pause, wondering if it's really her place to know. "We broke up."
"What happened?"
You shrug your shoulders again. "I... I really rather not talk about it, not now anyway."
She nods, understanding. With that, you put your cup in the sink and leave, off to occupy yourself with some patients.
--
A few hours pass, and your shift is over – time to go home. You say goodbye to everyone, putting on your best smile as you do so... They don't need to know anything. You walk outside quickly, but once there, you start walking slowly.
There's no reason to rush home today, no one waiting there for you. Today that's completely okay with you... Tomorrow you may want and need him back, just for the sake of having someone – anyone – to go home to.