Somewhere In Between

Part 4

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown."

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … However Dylan is my own creation.

C's Notes: Thanks so much to Robbie for taking on this project with me. This chapter is her creation. And all the credit goes to her on this one.

Robbie's Ramblings: I'm so glad I decided to take on this project because it's turned out to be so much fun! Which makes me sound kind of like things are winding up, but they're not.  The end is in sight, yes … but we have some more up our sleeves so stay tuned and keep reviewing.  As usual, your feedback is what helps lift us out of writer's block. Like CCC said, this chapter is again, all my creation, but thanks to her for beta-ing and for her support!

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            I step into the steamy shower feeling like my body has just been whipped through a blender on high speed followed by a complete gutting, fish style, only to be finished off with a re-stuffing.  In short, I'm drained. 

Physically I feel like every time I attempt to move a muscle, I'm met with a vengeful and searing pain of protest.  I feel like I have the energy to do things, but somewhere between my head and limbs the signals are getting mixed up, contorting into painful reminders of my fatigue. It's all I can do not to crawl right back into bed every time I stand up.

My mouth is parched from dehydration.  The nurse in me knows that I should be making a better effort to be drinking, but everything it seems like everything I put into my body is soon violently regurgitated.  My throat is sore from vomiting so much and my back and neck ache from spending so much time hunched over the toilet seat, heaving and retching. 

The wisps of steam from the scalding water blend nicely with the beads of cold sweat clinging to my forehead and back and send a chill down my spine.  I sigh deeply; inhaling the soothing vapors and allowing the water to cascade along my tender body.  As the water retains a massaging effect, I allow myself to daydream that the "fingers" I feel trembling across my limbs are those of a certain male whom you might say I'm smitten with. 

I've always heard that pregnancy takes an extreme toll on your body.  I was ready for some morning sickness and a little bit of discomfort while my body adjusts, but the hell I'm going through is beyond anything I could ever have imagined.  I'm exhausted from a gross lack of sleep.  When I'm not lying in bed, readjusting my position every 5 seconds to find something that can suit every groaning muscle, I'm hunched over the toilet seat overcome by stomach-churning nausea.  And I was stupid enough to believe that the term morning sickness implied you were only sick in the morning.

Emotionally, I'm no better off.  Since I spoke to Carter two nights ago, he hasn't contacted me.  I've been driving myself crazy wondering about his thoughts and reactions to the whole situation.  In addition, I'm so overcome with fear and ambivalence about carrying this stranger's baby.  Being pregnant is going to be a struggle, but I'm even more terrified by the thought of viewing my child's face.  What kind of mother has these thoughts about her own flesh and blood? What kind of mother can I be to my child if I'm having these thoughts?

I need to get out of the house, have some intelligent conversation with my fellow human beings.  This thought is the only thing fuels me with enough energy to leave the misty flow of water and begin to get ready for another day prowling the halls of County General's ER.

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            I walk up to the front desk some hours later, brushing up against the hard wood with a bare arm. In my oblivion, an unseen series of rough splinters jams into my skin.  Instantaneously, the jagged, torn skin becomes a stinging scratch that sprouts tiny droplets of scarlet red blood. Feeling the sting of a whoosh of frigid air against the sensitive scratch, I curse softly under my breath.  The small racket is enough to cause Jerry to look up at me from his pile of paperwork.

`

            A lopsided grin crosses his face. "Hey, Abby. Good to see you back, feeling better?"

            I shrug in reply. "I've been better."

            He looks suddenly apathetic. "You better escape into the lounge before Weaver comes looking for you.  She's on the prowl today.  Watch out."

            "Thanks Jerry, I'll see you in a couple minutes then." I turn to walk into the lounge but he stops me, reaching out to touch my shoulder blade with a large but gentle finger.  "Delivery came for you a couple of hours ago; it's on the table in the lounge."

            I'm suddenly weary, overcome with fear by a silly gift I know nothing about. "Who's it from?"

            He shrugs. "It's not my job to go snooping around in your personal things; I'm not Weaver, after all."

I have to smile at his attempts at humor.  It's obvious he can see the dejected lack of spring in my step and dark bags coloring my under-eyes. 

"Thanks Jerry."

He nods again, and I cross the hall into the lounge.  Stepping in, my senses are attacked by a bouquet of simply gorgeous red roses arranged in a large glass vase that is situated next to a fuzzy brown teddy bear on the table.  A breath hitches in my throat, and I feel the familiar sting of tears behind my eyelids; damn hormones. Surely this can't be the delivery Jerry was referring to.  

I tentatively walk over to the arrangement and inhale the heavenly scent of the flowers.  I gently graze a finger-tip across one of the petals. It is powdery soft as the downy hair on a newborn; a thought that sinks to the bottom of my stomach with a sickening thud. 

A white card pokes out from the tangled green stems and I carefully reach in, taking caution not to prick myself on a thorn.  As I'm about to open it, Susan darts into the lounge, slamming the heavy door and leaning up against it tiredly, her eyes closed in a moment of peace.  I look up at her, almost guiltily as her eyes open and focus on mine.

Even exhausted, Susan's exuberance and bubbly personality shine through. "Hey," she murmurs.  "You feeling better? Kerry said you were out with a touch of flu."

"Yeah … I'll tell you about it later, okay?" Susan's eyebrows raise, but I know that she won't probe any further.  I need to work things out with Carter before I go spreading anything around.  She walks over to the coffee pot and, taking a mug from the cabinet, begins to pour the lukewarm liquid. 

As I finger another petal between my thumb and forefinger, she looks at me almost flirtatiously. "You got a secret admirer that I don't know about?"

I almost laugh, but the sound comes out as more of a strangled moan and instead I smile at her. "If I do, it's news to me."

"Is there a card?"

"Right here." I lift it from its precarious position on the table, and hold it up so she can see. 

"Open it, silly," she commands, downing a sip of County's excuse for coffee. A frown crosses her face as she swallows, but her eyes never leave me.

I slit open the envelope with a fingernail and a small card drops to the floor. I bend down to pick it up, my eyes immediately focusing on the scrawled print and beginning to read.

Abby,

Talking to you the other night gave me a chance to really think about what the future holds for us.  I'm so sorry for not getting in touch sooner, but I felt it better not to talk while my emotions were still so raw.  The only way to properly do this is to speak to you in person.  Please meet me at the end of your shift up on the roof so we can talk things over.

                                      ~ John   

            "It's from Carter," I whisper.

She nods knowingly.  "I'm going to get back out there.  You take a couple minutes, okay?" As she leaves, I murmur a soft thank you, wondering for a fleeting moment if she's talked things through with Carter.  But my thoughts are soon consumed again by the possible catastrophe that might happen with him on the roof in a couple of hours.  With a sigh, I open my locker and begin to get ready to take my mind off things with work.

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            The air outside is hot; balmy and humid.  In other words, not the type of day you'd spend away from the air conditioner.  I step out onto the roof, squinting in the bright sunlight and quietly shut the door behind me, all the time feeling like an undercover sleuth.  He's standing a couple of feet away from me, leaning against the wall and gazing out over the city.  He nurses what appears to be an iced coffee in his left hand, his right hand hanging idly at his side.  The warm breeze tousles his hair and I can't help but feel like he's never looked so vulnerable … or so sexy.

            I take a step forward, planting my right leg heavily on the cemented ground.  At the sudden noise, he turns around, meeting my eyes in an intense gaze.

            "Hey." God.  How am I going to be able to resist this man if everything down to his voice is a sultry and seductive reminder of my passion and lust for him? He takes a step towards me, and I suddenly feel like I'm being backed against the brick wall yards behind me.  A thin covering of goose bumps springs out across my arms and back and I wonder how I can suddenly be so cold in this heat. 

            "Tell me we're going to be okay?" I murmur. My voice is the epitome of fear itself; raw and exposed. I'm begging for his reassurance, pleading for comfort amidst the feelings coursing through my body. 

            His eyes focus downward, fixing his gaze on something … the floor? Suddenly I'm overcome by a rush of energy that explodes across my body in goose bumps.  I'm hot and cold at the same time, waiting for his answer. I inhale sharply, but before I can release the air, his lips are on mine.  Soft and full, they grope tenderly against mine.  My hands are still wrapped around his clammy neck, and I pull him closer leaning expectantly into the kiss as he pulls away.

            The look in his eyes now is almost unreadable.  With my chest wrenching against my rib cage, I realize that he's terrified; looking to me for guidance.  But at the same time, the look in his eyes is so encouraging and brings such comfort. A comfort like that I've never felt before.  These new feelings devour me, and I hunger for his touch. He stands up, coming towards me and I lean in expectantly, rearranging my hands closer to his flesh.

            "We're going to be okay," he whispers.  My heart melts … I can't see straight.  I'm in my own fantasy world, just me and him, together in eternity.  It's a struggle to breathe as he speaks again with a newer solidity, conviction, and sureness that I've seen shine through him in midst of all troubles, time and time again, "We're going to be okay."

            Before I know what's happening, his lips are on mine again.  This time, I reciprocate, eagerly entering his mouth with my tongue; glorifying in his heated, salty taste.  The kiss deepens and I pull him closer as my arms snakes up his shoulder, gently massaging all the while.

            Standing here with him, alone, I'm transported back to that fateful day we shared our first and only kiss.  The same passionate vigor overcomes me, leaving me shivering in its wake.  His face now is friendly, inviting, urging me to speak.  But I'm lost in another time, another place, and the words simply aren't there.  I lick my dry, salty lips and struggle to remember the heavenly taste of him and the tremendous power the feeling of his lips pressing against mine produces.  I fleetingly wonder what I'm doing, attempting to draw strength from the past …

            "Abby?"

            My attention snaps back to him.  How insane I must look standing here, gawking into space.  But I can't break this chain of thought.  I feel like I've been hollowed, I'm empty, cold and shaking.  I close my eyes for a moment, suddenly overcome by a wave of lightheaded dizziness.  I gasp and reach out for the wall, steadying myself to gain composure.  Instantly, he's at my side, his arms latched under my armpits. 

            I shake my head to ward off these feelings and recall that I haven't eaten anything today.  After spending the day on my feet working, this is my body's way of reminding me that I'm not taking adequate care of it. I step away from his grasp, removing myself from the one thing I hunger; his touch.

"I'm okay, John.  I haven't eaten anything today, just got a little dizzy."

He sighs, quickly catching onto the game I'm playing. I can tell he's not buying my excuses. "You sure?"

I nod vehemently. 

"Let's sit down."

Always the perfect gentleman, he takes my hand delicately in his and leads me over to the ledge.  We sit and I wait for him to speak.  But he's silent, simply staring into my eyes, trying to read me.

"What happened to your drink?" I wonder aloud, noticing his suspiciously empty hands.

He chuckles and the tension is temporarily relieved.  "I guess I left it on the ledge over there." He idly motions with a hand.

"And you're just going to leave it like that?" He shrugs, buying into my cheap attempt to make things okay between us. I chuckle. "Y'know John, tempting a pregnant coffee-addict isn't such a great idea."

"You going post-partum on me?"

"Maybe." I shrug, and focus my eyes on the city below us.  We're stalling the inevitable again, just like always.  That damn tension is back.

"It's decaf, you want some?" I shake my head, not looking back at him.  My skin prickles with the physical need I have to be held in his arms. Slowly, as to not startle me, he reaches out and runs a finger along my cheekbone, gently pivoting my face so that we're facing one another.

"You okay?"

I begin to nod, but soon I'm shaking my head no.  After all we've been through together, I can't pretend with him anymore.  He sees right through me.  "We still need to talk, John."

He nods thoughtfully, reaching out and discreetly clasping my hand in his, linking our fingers together.  I take a deep breath, composing myself again.  I seem to be doing this a lot around him.  But all it takes is a touch from his direction and that spark of electricity flies between us, and leaves my skin tingling.  Still silent, he absently rubs my knuckle with the thumb from his opposite hand.

"This is nice, huh?" he observes, staring at some inanimate object below us.  I couldn't disagree more.  I'm in agony, waiting for him to really talk to me.  I've been in agony since we hung up the phone, but my stomach has physically started to churn, and I'm praying I won't have to jump up and throw up in the corner before we finish this conversation. 

He turns and smiles at me.  In his eyes, I can read so much confusion, indecision, conflict.  I blink and realize that it's pain, embezzled deep into his dark chocolate eyes.  Pain that I've caused him.  I bite my lip, but can't break the silence between us.  I'm feeling stifled and threatened all of a sudden.  I'm having difficulty breathing. 

"John," I beg him.  The raw fear in my voice, soft and seductive, bleeds with emotion.  My lower lip is trembling. 

"I know," he whispers.  He's admitting that he doesn't know what to say, trying to buy himself a couple more seconds to work out his conflicting emotions.  Neither of us imagined how difficult this really would be.  But I'm dying here.  I can't give him those few seconds. 

Suddenly he turns to focus on me, and my stomach lurches with the knowledge that I know his reply is coming. "I've had my eyes set on you since the first day we spoke to each other, that day I was stabbed.  Even though I didn't know you, I felt like I'd let you down by seeing my shoot up in the trauma room that day.  I'd ruined any and all chances of getting to know you better and possibly becoming friends.  But when I came back from Atlanta, things were suddenly different.  I was a new person, and you were willing to give me another chance." He smiles genuinely at me. "I've never been more grateful for that chance … just look at what we've become."

My emotions are getting the better of me and I choke back tears, managing to maintain a straight face, though my eyes never waver from his gaze. 

"As our friendship grew, it got harder and harder for me to deal with Luka and the implication that because of him, I couldn't have you." He momentarily pauses, looking flustered as the arm he's just unclasped from mine and waving like a conductor in front of a band comes to a halt.  "Not have you but …" 

John Carter is suddenly at a loss for words, and I tilt my head in silent urging for his continuance.  Not taking the hint, he rotates his wrist and shakes his hand as if sifting in the air for the words to continue.  I nod at him and crack a reassuring smile while lending a squeeze to the hand that is still clasped in mine.

  "Go ahead." Relief at escaping the tension brakes out across his face like pimples on a teenager's. 

"When you two finally broke things off, I couldn't be the rebound guy.  Relationships like that never work out and I wanted everything for us to be perfect.  I was selfish and involved Susan in this whole mess." He pauses to smile at me, slowing breaking into an easy chuckle. 

"When we broke up after that whole sexual-harassment class, she told me that I should take my chances and go for you.  Even she could recognize that I was obviously head over heels in love." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but I'm not ready for him to stop speaking.  I squeeze the hand he has intertwined with mine again. 

"I was so scared that night we finally kissed.  Things weren't as perfect as I had wanted them to be, but I guess I didn't want to loose you without knowing if my feelings were one-sided. And then all this happened" He shakes his free hand, motioning again to something that doesn't exist suspended in the air.

"So what are you trying to tell me, John?"

He smiles again. "I want to give us a chance.  Just like you did after Atlanta.  I've thought things through, and throwing away what we have is a big mistake.  If it means the baby is involved in the equation …" My brow furrows, still unsure how he really feels about this.

"I'm still getting used to the idea of raising a stranger's baby.  And not knowing how things are going to work out … I'm ready to try, to experiment.  I see people come in here every day that regret things they never did.  Sometimes they're sick or dying and can't do anything about it. But I can, and I'm going to"

My lip trembles and my voice wavers as I speak. "So you're saying that we're an us now?"

I watch as the faintest smile crosses his lips and he leans in and locks his lips with mine.  That emptiness inside me fills slightly, as that amazing feeling of pure adrenaline rush runs through me.  It's that feeling I get every time I'm close enough to touch him … and he's the only one who can make me feel this way.  A tear of relief runs down my cheek and he stops to kiss it away before pulling me into a tight embrace. 

"We are going to be okay, you wait and see."

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