Author's note: I don't own any of these characters, though don't I wish I did? Please read and review, and be gentle. This is my first fan fiction.

Reflections on the Water Chapter One

Do I really ruin everything I love?

Abby stared at the reflection of the moon on Lake Michigan. Being out here alone at 3 a.m. wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, she knew, but she had nowhere else to go. She couldn't sleep.

She'd lain in bed for hours after getting off work. She'd tossed and turned endlessly, then moved out to the couch. Channel surfing hadn't helped. Reading a book hadn't helped. She'd picked up the phone, then realized she had no one to call. Her mother? Not a chance. Susan? She liked the woman, but they weren't close enough for middle-of-the-night phone calls. Other friends? She didn't really have any.

She couldn't call her brother, not that she would, because they hadn't spoken in weeks.

And Carter? Even if he was in the country, he probably wouldn't speak to her. What could she say to him, anyway? She'd apologized every way she knew how, and nothing had worked. In the pit of her stomach she worried it was over between them. What she couldn't decide was if she was sad about that.

Did she love Carter? She didn't think so. She cared for him a lot, yes, but if she loved him why couldn't she stop thinking about Luka?

She missed him, she realized, and had for some time. Not just since he'd left for the Congo a few weeks ago. Every time she fought with Carter, she thought of Luka, and lately there'd been a lot of fights. Ever since Eric had crashed Gamma's funeral. That had probably been the beginning of the end for them. She'd tried to make things right with Carter, but nothing had worked. He'd slipped through her fingers, and she was alone again. Maybe it was a good thing she was used to being alone.

She stood and stretched before heading home again. To her empty apartment. The urge to stop by a store and buy a bottle was fierce, but she resisted it.

Without realizing it, she found herself rounding the corner and approaching Luka's building. She stood on the sidewalk and stared up at his window. He still didn't have curtains. She wondered who was feeding his fish. Probably one of his neighbors. She wished he'd asked her to do it.

She wondered when he'd be back. That last night, at the hospital, he hadn't said. Only that it would be a while before she saw him again. She closed her eyes as she remembered the bittersweet feel of having his arms around her again. She loved the way she felt against him, her head resting against his heart, his big strong arms holding her close. It had felt so good to be held against him again, she'd had to fight back tears when he released her.

She dipped her hands into her pockets and absently jingled her keys. Her fingers instinctively closed around one key, and she withdrew her hand from her pocket. It was Luka's key. He'd given it to her last year, when she'd stayed with him after Brian's attack. She'd moved back to her own apartment eventually, but he'd never asked for it back. She hadn't really thought much about it until now. She looked at the key, then up at his window and back again. It was a bad idea. She didn't have his permission to stay here now. Then again, if he were here, would he turn her away? She didn't think so. He'd wanted her to stay longer last year. And truth be told, a part of her had wanted to stay too.

"What the hell," she muttered as she entered the building. It was the middle of the night. She was here. He was half way around the world. And every sane person in the building was asleep. No one would ever know she'd been here.

She unlocked his door and slipped inside. She locked it quietly behind her and leaned back against it. She really was crazy. Maybe the Wyczenski curse hadn't skipped her after all.

She dropped her keys back in her pocket and walked through the living room. Her fingers trailed over the back of the couch, across the kitchen counter, ad then she was there, in the doorway of his bedroom. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She half-expected him to roll over in bed and ask her what she was doing here.

But he wasn't here. He was thousands of miles away.

She stood in the doorway for endless minutes, staring toward his bed. It had been almost two years since she'd shared it with him. Regret rushed up, swift and volatile. She'd made so many mistakes with him, and she was sorry for every one of them.

She stepped into the room, drawn like a magnet to the wide expanse of the bed. She rested a hand on the dark spread and felt a tear slide down her cheek. Damn, she missed him. She hurt, she missed him so much.

She slipped out of her jacket and sat on the edge of the bed. She'd just sit down for a minute, then she'd leave. She rested her hand on his pillow, pictured his dark hair against the blue pillowcase. She loved his hair. Thick and silky. She closed her eyes and pictured it sifting through her fingers. She pictured his hair falling into his eyes as he hovered over her in this very bed. She lifted a hand to her cheek, almost able to feel the soft rasp of his beard stubble as he kissed her.

She pulled back the spread and crawled beneath the sheets. It wouldn't hurt to lay down for a few minutes. She just wanted to rest a bit before she left.

She rested her head against his pillow and took a deep breath. It smelled like him. Even after weeks, it retained a hint of his scent, a combination of his woodsy aftershave and the fragrance that was uniquely his. She curled up on her side, wishing he was here to slide an arm around her. He'd pull her up against his side, and she'd rest her cheek on his chest before drifting off to sleep.

And though she'd never said it aloud, on many of those nights, she'd whispered I love you as she drifted into dreams.