A/N
You will all be pleased to know that I FINALLY remembered to write a little note. I always forget! I have a note at the bottom to make up for the missed one. (I'm a freak). Anyway, big thanks to all.out.carby and Eve for reading and reviewing…and to all who had the courage to read it. BIG huge thanks to Em for the encouragement and the listening (by that I mean reading) whatever odd things I had to say. Not to mention…Without her, you would all have the story I was gonna start out with. You should all be thanking her (Just kidding).
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Chapter 2-Resolutions
Abby sat at one end of the small kitchen table, Richard sat at the other. Still angry about his reaction to her news Abby had found their conversations to be cold and aggravating.
Three months had gone by since she had told him she was pregnant, and for three months Richard had spent his time either at the hospital or out of the house. If he did come home it was only to change clothes or grab a cheap breakfast, and when he came home they invariably fought.
"Why don't you want a baby?" she blurted out suddenly during one of their regular fights.
"Why do you?" Richard countered.
"Answer my question," she replied, ignoring his question but silently pleading with him to answer hers.
"It isn't that I don't want a baby," he started, "it's just…*we're* not ready." They both knew it had something to do with Abby's mother, but neither was willing to admit it.
"Well, it's happening," she said forcefully, her voice brooking no argument.
"I can see that," he replied flatly. "But you haven't thought this through, Abby. We aren't ready financially," he reasoned. "I just started my internship which doesn't exactly pay well as it is, I've got student loan repayments to make, there's the rent on this place, and if you're serious about starting med school in two years there'll be even less money…" Richard continued to make excuses along these lines, but Abby stopped listening. They had this conversation every time Richard came home. He never changed what he said, and Abby didn't either
Richard noticed that Abby's gaze had started to wander and that she was no longer listening. He stopped talking and stood up from the table.
"Fine, you've already made your mind up so I don't really need to be here. You sit at home with your decision. I'm going out." As he spoke he had walked over to the hallway to put on his coat, and as he finished he had grabbed his keys from the hall table and walked out into the night, slamming the door behind him.
Abby wanted to laugh.
*Surprise*
This was the way it always ended. They had never finished a fight. One of them would always run away from the argument, usually Richard, and then return later that night or the next day only to begin fighting again. She got up from her chair quickly and ran over to the recently closed door, opening it and shouting after his retreating figure.
"It's because of Maggie isn't it?" she yelled out to him…but he didn't stop, turn, or in any way acknowledge that she had spoken to him. He just kept walking down the stairs of their apartment and out the main door. Abby watched him go and slowly closed the door, leaning against it sadly.
"Fine," she whispered to herself.
~~~
Later that night Abby lay in bed, trying to sleep, but her thoughts kept her up. Sure Richard was only an intern, but she had supported them whilst he was at med school on just her nurse's salary, so it was possible they could raise a kid on his salary.
As she continued to make arguments to counter each of Richard's arguments, Abby began to wonder why. She knew, or at least she thought she knew the real reason for Richard not wanting to have children…at least not with her. She couldn't even say what it was that made her want to keep this baby anyway. Perhaps it was too much for her to ask Richard to be a part of this. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should have an abortion. There was still time.
She hated herself.
What little sleep she had that night was fitful. She couldn't get any real rest because she spent her time worrying instead. This wasn't what she was supposed to do. Maggie was the one who would sit in bed all day, the one who had internal conflicts that she couldn't seem to deal with. Abby was the strong one, the one who could sort through problems, and when she couldn't do that she could drown her problems in a beer or a couple glasses of wine.
Abby knew that with a child she couldn't drink…wouldn't drink…was that what she wanted? If she just got rid of the baby she could have a drink, and her problems would be solved.
She threw the comforter off her body, stood almost shakily, and walked to the window. In movies it seemed that people could solve their problems by staring out the window, looking for the insight they needed.
It didn't happen that way in real life.
What Abby saw was a courtyard, stories below her apartment. Dense fog rested heavily on the damp, green grass. In the center there were patches, and if she didn't look too closely the fog seemed to be the ghosts of small children playing in the park. Possibly her children. Either way they were condemned. Abortion, bi-polar disorder, it didn't matter. They were the ghosts of her children.
Abby sighed, defeated, and closed the curtains. She couldn't afford to think like that. She touched her stomach, hoping the unborn child could give her insight, then turned back into the room to return to her bed.
Just at she turned she heard the sound of the locks being turned in the apartment, and the next thing she knew Richard came charging into the room, skidding to a halt in front of her.
"Fine," he said.
"What?" she asked, suddenly very tired. He had probably drunk too much again, and she was in no mood to deal with him when he was like this. Standing there, with her arms folded across her chest, she looked more like an obstinate child, rather than an angry adult.
"Let's have a baby," he blurted out.
Abby frowned. This wasn't like getting a puppy. You can't change your mind 'just because', and they both knew that.
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"Maybe it will help," he explained, then seeing her confusion he continued. "This is nuts, Abby. We act like idiots around each other. Maybe a baby will be the perfect thing for our marriage. You know, show us how to be adults."
Abby almost smiled. The smarmy little man had a point. However, the thought of using a child like that seemed amoral, like they were doing it for the wrong reasons. She almost didn't care anymore. So many fights had resounded off the walls of their apartment; so many doors had been slammed; she was just too tired to fight him anymore. She wasn't going to run away from her problems with Richard. After all, they were nothing compared to the troubles she had encountered with Maggie, so she simply nodded.
"I'm going to bed," she told him, her face void of emotion.
And they left it at that. No more running, no arguing. Just a simple statement and their problems were resolved…they were going to have a baby.
*****
Carter collapsed onto the couch in the lounge. From the beginning of his shift to the end traumas had flowed in steadily, leaving him little time for a break, and now he felt downright sick.
Sliding his right hand into his pocket he fingered a small clay figurine which Grace, the child he had found in the medicine cabinet earlier in the week, had made and given it to him as a form of atonement. The figurine itself was of little importance at that moment; what *was* important was the small vial beneath it. He couldn't remember what it contained…Morphine, Fentanyl, Versed…it could be any of them. He didn't really care. He had just grabbed. It was a pain killer, a narcotic, and that was all he needed to know. Relief was literally at his fingertips and, given a free moment, he would once again feel the medicine coursing through his blood, alleviating his troubles.
From the open window Carter could hear the sirens of another approaching ambulance. He figured more would follow, and rather than get caught up in the frenzy he slipped out of the ER unnoticed.
The crisp Fall air was a refreshing contrast to the warm, stuffy ER, but he couldn't enjoy it; he had too much to think about.
He had finally acquired his long-awaited painkillers, but that horrible feeling about taking them had returned. He longed to feel happy again, to sleep undisturbed by nightmares and a horrible rerun of Valentine's Day, but at the same time he thought about his cousin and the countless patients he saw each day: AIDS from infected needles, children neglected because their parents where too drugged up to care, the many they found in the turkey files, feigning injuries just to get drugs, people shot because they had the drugs someone else wanted.
He didn't want to become like that.
But there was no reason why he *should* become like that. He was a doctor, which meant no infected needles and no turkey files, he had no children, and he had no ties to any common street junkies.
So why was this so difficult?
He knew all he had to do was fill the syringe, inject the medicine, and he would be fine. Maybe he only had to do it once. If he just felt that little bit of relief he could move on with his life, forget about drugs, perhaps even feel happy again…
His thoughts turned briefly to Grace. The impish little girl had no worries of her own. He wanted to be like that. To make a small clay person (was that what it was?) and not care that it wasn't perfect, not care that he was giving it to someone who would probably not care that he had it.
He suddenly felt sorry for Grace. He had let her down too. He didn't care about the figurine, he didn't care about the child…it was his job to care, but he didn't.
Carter thrust his hand angrily into his pocket. He wanted to get rid of that little clay person, he didn't want a reminder that he had let yet another person down. Suddenly, he realized something was missing. He felt around his deep pocket…no syringe. In his rush, he had forgotten the syringe.
That settled nothing. He wanted the drugs therefore he needed the syringe. He turned in his tracks and began to trudge back to the hospital. Of course he could have waited, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to have second thoughts; he didn't want to worry about other people, about himself…about anything.
Back at the hospital, there were people waiting in chairs, but no doctors or nurses that he could see. They were probably all with patients or in traumas. With no one around he could easily get a syringe and slip into an empty room. He couldn't wait to do it at home; he had to get the drugs fast. Hopefully he could slip out of the hospital before anybody noticed he was there, and if anyone saw him then he simply forgot to leave his stethoscope…
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A/N
Yup, another one. As you have probably figured out by now (If you haven't, don't worry) this is an alternate universe kind of thing. Abby's parts are from the past, Carter's are around the time of season seven. Ok, quick vote: Would you guys really hate me if I kept going with the two separate time period thingys for a while? Not really long because then it would get redundant, but just a little longer. Hope you enjoyed it. Please R&R