A/N: As you probably guessed from the title, this chapter is composed entirely of letters between characters. Each font represents a different one and you should be able to tel which is who from the context. This is pretty short, and ends abruptly. Many thanks to The Princess for her nagging and beta-power, and to Mel, the biggest anti-shipper in the world, who still has the patience tolisten to me going on and on about this.

Disclaimers: [insert the usuals here]

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And the Moment...
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CHAPTER NINE: LETTERS



Eric,
Maybe I should feel bad for thinking that any good could possibly have come out of Abby's accident. And maybe i should feel worse for not feeling bad. In some strange way I feel that this may have been intended to bring us together (Fate and all that). The most important thing to say that while I regret the circumstance that we met under, I can't regret the meeting. I miss you already, and if Carter and your sister heard me saying things like this they'd never let me hear the end of it. It's going to be a long year.


Susan,
I'm not very good at this, and doesn't help that I'm sitting here imagining what Abby will say when she learns about us. Stop laughing! I won't say I'm glad this all happened because I'm not. But I am glad that we were there for each other. You probably felt as I did--watching on the sidelines with Carter and Maggie, trying to calm one or the other, but feeling kind of alone all the same. Rest assured that you won't feel that way as long as I have anything to say about it. You and John take care of Abby.

Eric,
I hope you are as good for this girl as she is for you. I like her every bit as much as I like John. I don't get to see my children happy often enough and call me crazy, but I believe that a fairy-tale-ending is in store. Both you and Abby will live happily ever after. I'm your mother; I know these things.

Eric,
Abby was asking for you today! She's improved so much that by the end of the week she'll most likely move from ICU to CCU. That's the Critical Care Unit. Carter promised her a phone call to you when she's been moved. Then he left the room. I followed him and found him grinning through his tears. I didn't blame him, I felt the same. It's the most lucid she's been, especially with the cutback on the drugs in the past several days. Carter and I cried on each other's shoulders until your mom came and told Carter that Abby ordered an extra-thick milkshake. That's our Abby.

Abby,
Sorry I couldn't be there longer with you, kiddo! Times like this make me wish that the Air Force didn't own my time. But my mind can rest knowing that John and Susan are there to keep you out of any more trouble. They're better than any of the MPs around here! Keep on shining and do what John tells you. He IS the doctor, after all.

Susan,
When I read your last letter I nearly cried in front of a lot of guys in my infantry. It's a good thing I read the milkshake part or I may have ended up in tears instead of laughing. I wish I'd been there for her to recognize me, but I guess i'll be happy with knowing that she missed me there. I miss me there, too, and I miss you.

Eric,
I read your letter to Abby out loud to her and I think it really made her day. A few of her various -ologists (I won't bore you with the details) told us that she will be able to move to Critical Care tomorrow. You can guess how overjoyed we all are. Abby says that you owe her donuts, but she won't tell me what that means so I'll assume that you know or that the small doses of morphine she's still on are talking. She also says that your time after the Air Force will be more precious for the freedom. Now I KNOW it's the morphine. She sends love, as do your mother and Susan.


Abby,
Whoa, now you have your boyfriend ganging up on me about the donuts? How the heck did you remember that, anyway? I'd send you fresh ones but the food here isn't exactly Krispy Kreme, so instead I'm enclosing two dollars. Tell John what to get.

John,
When I was thirteen I broke my leg and one night I talked her into going to a twenty-four hour grocery store to get me some donuts. She came back with the wrong kind and to this day maintains that I told her to get a raspberry jelly-filled and a cinnamon cruller even though she knows full-well that I'm allergic to raspberry and that i HATED cinnamon crullers. So here are my instructions: no matter what she asks for, get her one of those Bavarian cream ones and a blueberry cake donut, accompanied by the enclosed scrap of paper.

[enclosed paper]
You've been repaid in full.

Eric,
I'm SO mad that I missed the phone call! The ER nazis had me on a shift. Meanwhile Maggie's been off on one mysterious errand or another and Abby doesn't remember your phone number. Maybe I'll get it out of one of them before you get this...

Eric,
I've been reduced from doctor to secretary since your sister is still indisposed though she's off the morphine drip, so here goes the dictation:
Wish you were here so I could spend a day not speaking to you for the donuts. Carter and Mom enjoyed them.
I just spent about ten minutes trying to get her to say more but she says that's it and even though she's pretending to sulk, she's grinning at the look she imagines you'll have on your face when you read that.

Mom,
Have you talked to Abby yet? Told her what you told me? Life is short, you know. Don't waste any more time.

Eric,
I don't think she's quite ready to hear that yet. Meanwhile Susan cornered me this evening to get your number. For heaven's sake, why didn't you give it to her before you left???