Title: "Scar Tissue."





Description: Post-ep for "Next of Kin." Second chapter in "The Long Way," a series of Season 9 post-eps beginning with "First Snowfall." Carter's POV.





Author: KenzieGal (a/k/a It's Always Something)





Disclaimer: Carter and Abby do not belong to me - they are the property of the wise and wealthy minds of TPTB at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.





Notes: Thanks to everyone for the helpful and encouraging feedback. When I said, after "First Snowfall," that I hoped to continue this Carter POV series as long as tptb kept up their end of the bargain, the travails of "Next of Kin" weren't exactly what I had in mind. But I'm slowly learning, that when tptb give you lemons, you learn to make lemonade.





Special thanks to Lanie (a/k/a Sunni), the world's best - and most prompt - beta-angel. Ever.



Spoilers: Everything during Season 9 up to and including "Next of Kin."

Credits: The song playing in the background is "Your Body Is A Wonderland" by John Mayer, from his exceptional Room for Squares CD. Somehow it always managed to find its way to the radio airwaves whenever this piece found itself percolating inside my head.

* * * * * * * * * *

We got the afternoon

You got this room for two

One thing I've left to do

Discover me

Discovering you



I entered the lounge, pleased to find it empty. I plopped down on the couch and took a long swig of a Diet Coke. I rubbed my eyes and massaged my weary neck muscles, my fingers not nearly up to the task, as hers would have been.

She was right.

It was always different.

My perspective had changed somewhere between Oklahoma and Nebraska - or perhaps during the points in between. I smiled wryly imagining a map with little pushpins demarking the road trips I'd taken with the Wyzenski family.

It had been Eric's turn this time. Another rug had been pulled out from under her. He had been her rock, a constant supporting player in her lifelong dance with Maggie. Now his role had been stripped away by the disease that bound them together. I had been her willing accomplice not once but twice now, though my role had shifted from concerned friend to supportive lover.

I had left her in our darkened motel room the previous morning as the sun crept up over Omaha to catch an early morning flight back to O'Hare. I could still smell the sweet shampoo in her hair and taste the nicotine on her breath.

I had spoken to her a few times since then. Following the Air Force's decision to provide a medical discharge and forego the court martial, she was bringing Eric back to Chicago, having pulled some strings to get him into a top-notch local day treatment program. Maggie was still tagging along - and due to her persistent fear of flying, the three of them were taking the scenic route back to Union Station via Amtrak.

How long would he stick around? Would he stay on his meds? Could I handle him - both of them - in our lives? Now Abby had two kinfolk who could suddenly, without warning, go round the bend at any time. Double the pleasure. Double the fun.

Who was I kidding?

Face it.

I was besotted.

If I had to, I would follow her follow Maggie and Eric to the ends of the earth. If that's what it took to be with her. To be there for her. I'd be as strong - or as gentle - as she needed me to be.

The door swung open and Susan entered the lounge

"So that's where you've been hiding." She rubbed her temples.

"Tough, day?"

"Uh - yah.

"You've morphed into quite the poohbah around here."

"Well, not by choice. Let's see - Kerry's off trying to lighten Romano's load and Luka's on only when he's not unloading on his bimbo du jour.

"Sounds like you need to dial up the Girl's Club."

"What time's Abby's train getting in, again?"

"Whoa. Don't even think about it. Maggie and Eric are coming back with her, you know."

"Carter, you are so far gone," she punched my arm playfully. "You should see the look on your face. One of my roommates in college used to refer to it as the 'cow face'."

"Who, me? Nah." I tried my best to feign innocence.

"Oh, come on."

"What do you expect me to do -- start mooing?"

"Hey, I find it all very endearing."

"You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, as I recall, someone enjoys her role as Cupid."

"Yeah, that's me. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride." She used her fingers to paste a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

"It'll happen for you. Just when you least expect it."

"Now, you sound like Cookie."

"Your mom? Is that bad?"

"Well, considering the last time she told me that I was actually still dating Dix - you know, the cowboy from Phoenix - I wouldn't say it was a good thing."

"Sorry."

"Well, as much as I'd love to continue our little Hallmark moment, I do have an ER to run," she deadpanned. "Give Abby my love," she smiled slyly. With that, she sauntered out the door.

I shook my head, wondering how hard it was going to be to steal moments alone with Abby with Maggie and Eric around.

It didn't matter.

I couldn't wait to have her home.

So I could be whole again.

* * * * * * * * * * *

One mile to every inch of

Your skin like porcelain

One pair of candy lips and

Your bubblegum tongue



I stood at the admit desk working on charts. The phones were ringing off the hook. Jerry was juggling what seemed like five lines at once. Leon, Pratt's brother, was having some sort of meltdown on the other side of the desk, preventing Pratt from taking his call from urology.

"County." Jerry put urology on hold and picked up yet another call.

He turned toward me. "Someone's asking for you."

"Did you get a name?"

"Anita Coffee."

I looked up at him, actually trying at first to place the name. Jerry looked back at me with a raised eyebrow, his eyes twinkling.

She hadn't fooled him. Though she had me going there for awhile.

Her back was toward me as I ran out into the ambulance bay and zipped up my jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. My heart leapt into my throat. By now, it was a familiar routine. Mr. Flip, meet Mr. Flop. Mr. Flop, Mr. Flip.

"Is that a pseudonym or a cry for help?"

She turned around to kiss me. Her breath smelled stale from nicotine. She was smoking too much.

"Pretty clever, huh?"

"Hey."

"Hi."

"It's freezing, why didn't you come inside?"

"I didn't feel like dealing with anyone, I guess," she said wrinkling her nose and pushing her bag up onto her shoulder. "Did you get someone to cover for you?"

"Yeah. Is everything OK?"

"Yup. I just needed some company."

Almost in sync, I threw my arm across her shoulder and she threw her arm across my waist as we headed to Doc Magoo's in search of that elusive cup of coffee.

* * * * * * * * * *

And if you want love

We'll make it

Swimming in a deep sea

Of blankets

Take all your big plans

And break 'em

This is bound to be a while



We sat in our now familiar booth. She filled me in on the details of what had happened since she had arrived back in Chicago with Maggie and Eric in tow. It was apparent that the value of Abby's choice of treatment seemed to be lost on her mother and brother.

A waitress came by to refill her coffee. She gulped it quickly.

"So how was it left?"

She leaned back against the window. Her voice was subdued, matching my tone. "She went back to my apartment, I came here. I'll pick him up tonight, we'll have dinner, it'll be fine." she shrugged, crossing her legs and attempting to minimize its significance.

".as soon as she leaves."

I nodded. "What happens then?"

"Then, Eric and I will get into a routine with his treatment. And I'll work days so I can keep an eye on him at night."

"Really?"

"And I'll probably get a bigger apartment, I guess."

"You're going to be roommates, now." I hated the flatness in my voice. I hated that she was back to shouldering the burden all by herself. As if nothing I had done in the past few months had ever mattered.

"Well, I can't just let him wander off and hope for the best. He needs my help." She sounded as if she were talking to a petulant child. She took another sip of coffee.

I nodded, unable to find the words, afraid to risk her wrath.

"You think that's too much?"

I looked away toward the window, unable to meet her gaze.

I tried the tactful approach. "I think that's a responsibility that you could share."

"With who? Maggie?" She practically spit out her name. Her response cut like a knife through my heart, painfully reminding me that that though I had been accepted into the Wyzenski circle, I still wasn't a full-fledged member.

"Huh? Do you know when she would leave us she used to do it when we were sleeping? Did I ever tell you that?"

I shook my head.

"So it became part of our morning routine. We would get up, go pee and check to see if Mom had abandoned us. And on the mornings when she was gone, I was left with my little brother, this skinny little kid who never did anything wrong. And was good and beautiful and sweet and I would have to tell him that everything was going to be OK."

"What would he say?" My voice sounded even more subdued, if that were possible.

"You're a liar."

We sat together in silence several moments longer, each lost in our thoughts, until I picked up the check and paid the waitress.

After touching her cheek outside the diner with a promise to call later, I watched her fade out of view across the street.

A line suddenly filled my head from one of the Norah Jones songs I had listened to on the plane to Nebraska. It seemed appropriate for the moment.

Shoot the moon and miss completely.

* * * * * * * * * *

I made my way in the chilly night air down the sidewalk toward her apartment, unsure of what I expected to find.

As I grasped the post at the bottom of the rail and turned up the snow- covered steps, I was startled to see her sitting there, legs perfectly crossed, one black-gloved hand holding a cigarette.

"Every once in awhile, I'll have a really perfect cigarette. You know? Everything about it is perfect. The taste, the moment. Of course, 97 percent of the time, it tastes like crap."

I climbed the steps and sat down one below her.

"It causes cancer."

"That too."

"I left you a message. How'd it go?"

"With what?" She took a long drag on her cigarette, still amused by the cleverness of her soliloquy, and turned towards me.

"With your brother." I looked away as I could feel a long puff of smoke waft the side of my face. At least she wasn't drinking. Not as far as I could tell. "You're going to let me in or do I have to guess? Or."

"Nothing happened."

"Nothing. C'mon." I motioned emphatically with my hand for her to continue.

"Despite the best laid plans, nothing happened. Mostly because they left."

"What?"

"They went off into the sunset together, it was very romantic."

"Wait, your mom and Eric, they're gone?" I didn't know whether to be surprised, upset, elated or relieved.

"You know, I don't really want to talk about this right now because it's ruining my perfect smoke."

"Sorry."

And then, only because on these very same steps, she once promised me that she wouldn't hide anymore, she continued, "It's OK. I'm done." She stood up. "I'd done with the both of them. I'm done with all of it."

She trudged up the steps and stepped into the foyer, leaving the door ajar behind her. At least she had left it open.

"Cancel Christmas."

I guess we wouldn't be getting our families together after all.

I sat there motionless, my eyes riveted to a couple who walked by, pushing a baby carriage.

Would that ever be us? Could we ever be like them?

At the very least, I'd have given anything to trade places with them. Even for a moment.

Anything to be anywhere else.

Anything to be anywhere but where we were.

* * * * * * * * * *

Your body is a wonderland

Your body is a wonder

(I'll use my hands)

Your body is a wonderland



Several days passed. Abby floated through them in a fog of quiet melancholy, with me, as had become my standard practice, a two-step shuffle behind.

We went through the daily motions of going to work, treating patients, eating only to avoid starvation and wordlessly collapsing into each other's arms at night under an army of blankets, as if we could never get warm enough. We talked about everything and nothing. Her lovemaking - I still clung to the notion that that's what it was - took on a desperate urgency as if she was trying to exorcize the demons of the recent past with nightly cathartic workouts.

Though she had buried it deep inside of her in a place I dared not tread, the final scene that had played outside the chain locked door of Eric's hotel room, obviously had cut to the marrow. Knowing how much she had loved him, tried to protect him and given up for him, she simply couldn't understand how he could have turned against her. She viewed it as a breach of faith - as though he had irrevocably crossed over some invisible line to Maggie's side.

With Christmas just around the corner, it was a bittersweet time. Up until a few weeks ago, I had had such high hopes for the season, our first as a couple. But ever true to her word, she wanted none of it. So I backed off, no tree, no decorations, no non-alcoholic eggnog, and took all my cues from her. Bah humbug.

Although I had promised to be the constant in her life, it was getting harder with each passing day. I felt hollow inside - like a piece of me had mysteriously taken flight. I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

She had put up a wall between us - exasperating me and giving me a hard on all at the same time.

Tonight, though, she had seemed a bit more upbeat, coquettishly asking at the end of our shift if we could do something "fun." So against my better judgment, I accompanied her to see "Solaris." She had a thing for George Clooney. Afterwards, we had stopped at Starbucks for a nightcap and then walked the short distance to my apartment.

Here we were.

She entered the room wearing a ratty old Northwestern sweatshirt that she had scavenged from the back of my closet and what appeared to be the last of her respectable stash of underwear from the Nebraska trip.

I was already under the covers, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. She climbed into bed soundlessly and mimicked my pose. It brought back memories of our first tentative nights lying on gurneys in the lockdown-shrouded ER.

"Thanks," she said, turning out the light and reaching over through tired eyes to peck me on the cheek.

"For what?"

"For tonight. For sitting there with me while I lost myself in someone else's story."

"That's what "constant companions" are for," I said lightly. "But next time I get to pick the movie."

"Tired?"

"Beat."

"OK, I'll give you a reprieve from my irresistible advances. But just this once."

"Don't do me any favors."

"OK, I won't." Under the goose down comforter, I could feel her body sidle up to me, her eager fingers rhythmically massaged my abdomen, soothing the dull rumbling in a corner of my belly where my impromptu dinner of popcorn, Raisinettes and espresso hadn't sat particularly well. I could feel her hand groping in the dark, searching the lower left portion of my abdomen and underneath the waistband of my boxers where my back hit the mattress.

I knew what she was looking for. She had been on a treasure hunt of sorts for the past couple of nights. Only I didn't want to go there.

Not tonight.

In what I thought, was a smooth, subtle move, I gently redirected her inquiring hands a little farther southward, hoping she'd catch my drift.

Obviously it was a move I hadn't yet perfected, as I felt her deliberately unclasp my hand and resume her careful probe.

She hadn't intended on meeting her match on this one. I pushed her hand away, more firmly this time. Maybe a little bit too firmly, slapping it loudly against her inner thigh.

"Jesus, Carter."

She sat up in one fell swoop and turned on the light.

* * * * * * * * * *

Damn baby

You frustrate me

I know you're mine all mine

But you look so good it hurts sometimes



She glared at me, her eyes crunched up, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

"Don't play games with me."

"Abby, trust me. You don't want to go there. When I hit the wall with you, I've learned to stop pushing. Give me the same courtesy on this one. "

"No, you don't want me to go there." She paused, then continued. "Just give me one good reason. Why won't you ever let me see them?"

I thought about it for a moment. "They're not exactly souvenirs of a time in my life I'm particularly proud of."

"Talk to me, Carter. Let me help you."

"Oh, just like you've been talking to me? You should take a look at yourself. Haven't you learned that you can't always fix what you perceive to be everyone else's problems by doing what you think is best for them? Besides, I'm not broken." There was no mistaking the mockery in my voice.

I regretted it instantly.

I sat up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

She bit her lip, a wounded look creeping across her face.

"Abby, you let me see your scars, but you won't let me inside of them. They're yours and yoursalone. You wrap yourself so tight around them, how can you expect anyone to push through? Why won't you let me in? Just because I wasn't there when you were growing up? Because as heir to the Carter family fortune, I can't possibly understand what you're going through? I think you've let me in further than you've ever let anyone, but you're still out there all alone. And so am I."

She sat there quietly, digesting my comments. In a small voice, she said. "I know. But trust me, I'm working on it."

Her eyes, wide and luminous, bore into mine. Mirrored in them, she sensed that my steely resolve was crumbling. Without a word, they gave her tacit permission. What was it about this woman that could send all my defenses packing?

"Roll over."

I obliged.

She straddled my back, resting the soft cheeks of her butt just below my own. Her fingers, soft as feathers, gently traced the two deep, jagged scars where Sobricki's knife had penetrated skin. Once an angry red, their color had softened a bit over time, though they still puckered my skin in a way my eyes would never get used to. From there, her hands moved toward the much neater incision, the remnant of my colostomy and Anspaugh and Benton's valiant effort to save my left kidney.

I laid very still beneath her. Please, I thought. Don't be repulsed.

If she was, she gave no indication. There was a graceful symmetry to her touch as though she were trying to rub some terrible wrong out of the ravaged scars.

She lay over me, kissing the back of my head, then rolled over and sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. I propped myself up on one elbow and turned toward her.

"So what do you think?" my voice was barely audible.

"Can you handle the brutal truth?"

"I guess so."

"You need to bulk up on the carbs. You're looking a little skinny." She smiled, unwrapping her arms from her legs and stretching out her toes. "Just kidding."

In a wistful voice, she continued, "Do you want to really know what I think? I think that If I live to be a very old woman, I don't think I'll ever again see the entire ER pull together or fight harder to save two patients' lives."

I couldn't help the old bitterness from creeping into my voice. "Couldn't save Lucy. Couldn't save me from what happened later."

"Now who's full of self-pity? The scars are part of you, Carter. They'll always be part of you. But they don't define who you are."

"I used to like to think I left them in Atlanta."

"What do you think now?" There was a challenge in her voice.

I thought for a moment, collecting my thoughts. "It took me a long time to realize it. The scars are what make me whole. They've helped me come full circle."

"You've lost me."

I kept going. One last attempt to shoot the moon.

"Neither one of us had a choice in where we came from. But we can choose where we end up and how we get there."

I looked at her with absolute certainty, trying hard to gauge the reaction on her face. Searching desperately for a glimmer of knowingness.

Her face gave away nothing.

"Think about it. You may not think so now, but you've needed everything. Every one of Maggie's benders. Everything you tried to protect Eric from. Every drink. Every hangover. Every AA meeting. Every miserable moment with Richard. Every night you spent in Luka's hotel room. Every night you spent alone. So that someday you could be whole. So that you could appreciate what you have now. And where I hope you want to go. With me. Always, always with me."

I still couldn't read her face. What if the tables had been turned? What if it was too late? What if she had already slipped back into the darkness?

There was no going back. I lay there on the precipice, gasping for air.

At long last, she broke the silence.

"Take me there," she whispered, rolling over on her back and pulling me on top of her.

And so, her lips melting into mine, she began her journey, wanting nothing more, I knew, than to wrap herself in the solace of my steadfast convictions.



Something 'bout the way

Your hair falls in your face

I love the shape you take when crawling

Towards the pillowcase

You tell me where to go and

Though I might leave to find it

I'll never let your head hit the bed

Without my hand behind it

* * * * * *