Domestic Affairs

A/N: I wrote this before I watched the finale, it's the way I would have liked Foreign Affairs to end. The actual writers chose to let us suffer with the angst for a little longer instead… but love them writers for giving us a good Carby scene to end the season! Anyway, this is Carter POV. Hope you enjoy. Please review, it would make my day. Oh, and if the italics actually worked, the words in italics are lyrics to Warning Sign by Coldplay.

Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own these characters. If I did, they'd have a lot more cute moments than we've gotten to see lately. Don't own the Coldplay song either.

**********

"Could you please just leave me alone?"

I felt a pang of regret at the hurt that sprung into her eyes in the moment before she turned away, but I pushed it forcefully out of my head. I had every right to be furious. All of the times I'd dropped everything to help her with her issues, and she deserted me in my hour of need, then turned Gamma's funeral into a disaster. Why couldn't she put me first for once?

Storming off to my car, I sat and fumed for a minute in the gloomy staff parking lot before I got myself under control enough to drive. Even then, I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were completely white. I drove mechanically, still thinking about everything that was going wrong in my life. The only member of my family who I'd ever been close to was gone; my girlfriend, who is supposed to cheer me up when I'm upset, is causing me more frustration instead; even at the ER, things couldn't work out for me, it seemed…

A shiny silver sports car swerved into my lane, cutting me off, and I honked angrily. Who did these people think they were? Shaking my head at the world in general, I hit play on the CD player, looking for anything to distract me from my thoughts.

Coldplay came blaring from the speakers and I relaxed a little, loosening my grip on the wheel. I concentrated on the lyrics in a way that I never had before, willing everything else out of my head.

And the bubble burst.

I started looking for excuses..

I started looking for a warning sign.

Looking for excuses… wasn't that what I'd done? When did I get to this point where every song I heard seemed to relate to my love life? I couldn't remember, but it had been a long time, that much I know. The events at the funeral had been an excuse to hide behind, though. My father was right - it wasn't Abby's fault. Her brother had a psychological disorder; I knew that as well as anybody. She couldn't prevent what had happened.

Looking for warning signs had always been Abby's game. Find a reason to worry as soon as possible, that way it hurts less when you're inevitably disappointed in the end. Don't let yourself get too close. At least then, you'll be able to save a shred of self-respect, tell yourself that you had seen it coming. Oh, I saw the logic in her approach to life. I always had, just didn't believe it was the best way to live. Think what you deprive yourself of when you shut yourself off that way, I'd always argued.

Yet here I was, playing that same game. For weeks now I'd been doing it, watching for any evidence that this wasn't going to work. Much as I'd always wanted a serious relationship like this, when it came down to it, it scared me a little. At one simple, honest sentence from her, I'd put that ring back into my pocket, not ready to take the risks. Which, of course, was a warning sign to her, and she withdrew, so I pulled away more and became determined to find the flaws in our relationship. Things cycled that way, our fears feeding off of each other and being amplified - a positive feedback loop, though how anything like this could be labeled positive was beyond me.

Wait a minute, though. She really had left when I was basically begging her to stay. I needed her that day, and she ran off to her family, as usual. My temper rose again. I deserve better than that, I insisted to myself. I deserve someone who's willing to make sacrifices for me, to let me be the most import thing in her life. But even as I thought it, I could see her standing there in my mind, brown eyes pleading, trying to apologize and I wouldn't give her a chance.

My arms ached because it had been too long since they'd been wrapped around her. They didn't seem to understand that I was mad at her. 'Stop being selfish,' they urged me. 'There've been times when you've disappointed her too.' Yes, my arms told me this. People talk about their hearts speaking; well, the rest of the body also has ways of making its opinions known. OK, maybe the heart had something to do with the message, too.

We could figure out our issues later. We would; I couldn't stand to lose her. Right now, the only thought that could scream loud enough to make itself known amidst the jumble of my brain was that I needed Abby.

When the truth is, I miss you.

Yeah, the truth is, I need you.

When I reached her apartment, I tiptoed up the stairs and let myself in quietly. Walking softly though the familiar apartment in total darkness, I narrowly avoided a collision with an end table and arrived safely at her bedroom door. In the moonlight, I could make out her sleeping form, sprawled across the bed, her silky hair hiding her face. The wooden floor creaked beneath my foot as I stepped forward, and her head turned towards me.

"John?" A sleep-muffled voice asked.

Wordlessly, I walked over to her and lay down, reaching out for her. As she curled up against me, I felt more secure than I had in weeks.

So I crawl

Back into your open arms.