Title: Weary Miles

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to.

Spoilers for 'Next of Kin'.

Notes: Special thanks for IAS for her continued faith in me. It's friends like you that make this all worthwhile. And I can't forget Starsy and her undivided beta attention. May Santa put something extra in your stocking on Wednesday. :o)

Uploaded revised version 02/03/03

He left. Said he didn't need me anymore. Didn't want me.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I barely made it to the end of the hallway before the dam broke and the tears came. I couldn't cry in front of him. No. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Rejected.

I open my eyes and fixate them on the ceiling. Outside, the cold night air sends wistful shadows dancing above my head. The light from the street filters into the otherwise darkened room. The glow is eerie and oddly comforting.

I wish I could go back and change it. Change it all.

But what would I do differently?

I wouldn't have pursued it…

I wouldn't have pushed so hard to prove my suspicions…

I wouldn't have gone after him…

I wouldn't have done anything differently.

I blink twice in the darkness and roll my head to the side, gazing at the sleeping figure lying next to me. His back faces me. He'd fallen asleep this way, I suspect, after I shrank away from his touch when he tried to comfort me. Don't, I warned. Don't try and tell me that it'll be okay.

I sigh and lean towards him a little. I draw a hand up from underneath the covers and trace a small circle on his back. I bite my lower lip.

It won't be okay.

I take a deep breath and pull myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I can feel the cool hardwood floor through my socks as I stand and search around the room for more clothes. I spot a sweater hanging over the chair in the corner and reach for it, pulling it over my t-shirt. I look down. I'm wearing a pair of flannel night pants. I should be warm enough. I don't plan on going very far.

I just need some air.

I find my way to the living room without having to turn on any lights. Opening the closet door, I quietly pull out a pair of sneakers. I slip my feet into them and yank on the shoelaces, tying them tightly. Straightening, I reach back into the closest, looking for a jacket. I almost pull out the first one my hands land on, but decide against it.

It has to be my own surroundings tonight.

I swing my coat over my shoulders, snaking my hands through the arms. I drop my head to my chest and begin to work the buttons with an unusual amount of concentration.

"Running away?"

My head snaps up. He's standing in the doorway on the other side of the room, watching me.

Damn.

"Come back to bed."

I shake my head. "I just… I'm just going to go for a walk. I need the air."

He frowns. "Abby… It's after midnight."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah well, I couldn't sleep, all right?"

His eyes widen and I immediately regret the harshness of my outburst.

"I'll be okay. Go back to bed."

He looks over his shoulder at the empty bed, then back at me. He clears his throat. "Do you want some company?"

I pause before answering, hoping he'll think I'm contemplating the idea. I'm not.

I look down at my feet. "No."

"Oh."

I can hear the hurt in his voice.

I turn and unlock the door. I open it a little and glance over my shoulder. He's frozen in his spot. Stunned.

"Go back to bed."

I slip into the hallway quickly and quietly, closing the door behind me. In less than a minute, I'm outside on the front step. The night air is cold and dry. I pull my collar up around my neck and shove my gloved hands into my pockets. I descend the stairs slowly, as if every step requires a certain amount of push. At the bottom, I look back. It's all I can do not to run back inside. Shaking my head, I set my jaw and begin my journey.

Twenty-seven years. How can he just throw that all away? How can he expect me to throw it all away? Doesn't he remember anything we went through with Maggie? The late night rages. The broken dishes. The screaming. The confusion. The fear. Does he remember any of it?

Oh, if I could just get him to see how much he is hurting himself. He needs help. Not from her. Not just from me.

He's not the same person he once was. And yet, at the same time, he's exactly the same. That plucky little boy I used to tease and tickle until tears streamed down his face. The boy with those wide eyes, asking me if everything would be okay. Those same eyes that could see through me when I was lying.

You're not that person anymore.

Neither are you, Eric. But you're still my brother. The first person I ever really loved. The only one I ever allowed myself to really love…

It's denial. The first stage of grief. Grieving something that has been lost.

His mind. His control. His life.

He's sick, and there's nothing more that I can do to get through to him. Why?

He's angry. It's stage two. The outbursts, the sarcasm… It's bitter. I don't blame him. But he blames me. Why?

You are my brother, and I love you. I still love you. I will always love you. And I will always be there for you.

Always.

I shake myself from my reflection-induced trace and stare out along the street. My hands grope the insides of my pockets for a familiar package. I groan inwardly when their search comes up empty. Damn. I left my cigarettes back at the apartment. I stop walking and turn around. I'm tempted to go back and retrieve them. But if I do, I won't be back out here. So I continue my trek away from home.

I've been meaning to quit – again – anyway.

My father left us when I was seven. For years I wondered what I'd done wrong to make him leave like that. Then, slowly, my self-blame progressed into resentment towards Maggie and her illness. She drove him away - I was convinced. Who would want a faulty wife?

I don't think I ever really forgave her for his departure. Even later, when he came back for one of his spur of the moment visits to check up on us, a part of me always blamed her for being too much to handle. I knew it wasn't fair. But it was the way I felt.

As I walk down the sidewalk, I notice a house further down the block and across the road. It's not hard to spot – there's got to be at least a couple thousand Christmas lights adorning it. It stands as a bright pillar on this otherwise darkened street – a symbol of the fast approaching season.

We used to decorate the house. It was never anything fancy. A few strings of lights, a wreath in the front door… A tree and a menorah. Of course, after he left, we did away with Hanukkah tradition. Mom enrolled us into Catholic school. She wanted us to be raised the same way she'd been raised.

Good Christians.

Sometimes she tried so hard. Other times, she hardly tried.

I cross the street at the corner and proceed onto the next block. My breath freezes in the night air as I struggle to keep up with my fast-paced footfalls. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't have that cigarette.

Cancel Christmas.

Oh, if only I could.

I begin to wonder what time it is. It feels like I haven't been out here very long, and yet I've covered a fair bit of ground. I can almost picture Carter lying awake at home, waiting for me. If I'm out any longer, I wouldn't put it past him to come looking for me.

That's just the kind of person he is. Always making sure everyone is okay. Always wanting to fix everything.

In some ways, we're exactly alike.

I'm faintly aware of approaching music.

I look down at the ground and then across the street.

I don't notice the door that's opening or the people coming out until I nearly run into them.

"Oh hey! Careful there!"

I shake my head at the sudden start and glance at the pack that almost bowled me over.

"Sorry," I manage to mumble.

"Hey, no prob!" Someone replies.

I stare at them for a few seconds.

The music is louder, now.

"Are you going in?" Someone else asks.

I frown. "What?"

"Inside. Are you going inside?"

The door opens again, music, conversation and smoke wafting out into the street. I peek inside.

It's a bar.

"So?"

I stare at the interior for a moment longer than I probably should.

I want to go inside.

"Hey, lady…"

Just one drink.

Something snaps in my head, bringing me back to reality.

"Uh… No." I smile weakly. "No I'm not."

"Okay."

I watch the door close.

The crowd starts to disperse.

"Hey!" I call to no one in particular.

Someone turns around. "Yeah?"

"Do you, um… Do you have the time?"

"Er… Yea. It's uh… Ten-till-one."

I nod. "Thanks."

"Whatever."

And then I'm alone again. I stand there for a minute or two, I'm not sure. Willing my legs to move. Away from the temptation.

Walk away. Just go home.

And so I do. Though I'm not sure how I get there. My head is a daze. Still, I eventually find myself trudging up the steps and into my apartment.

I shiver as I remove my coat and opt to keep my sweater on for as long as I can stand it. I stop in the doorway to the bedroom and wait to see if he responds. His body lies still. I creep around to my side of the bed, pulling the covers up around me. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows as the dance above my head.

The bed shifts next to me. I feel the deep breath that preludes his voice.

"Your legs are cold."

I close my eyes, sighing.

"Sorry."

***

***

"There's a single MVA coming in."

"When?"

"Now."

"Okay, I've got it. Gallant, you're with me. Abby, can you help?"

I look up from a chart and glance from Chen to Lily. "I'm off."

Lily smiles and bushes past me. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks." I look down at the chart again, staring blankly at the notes I just made.

"Has anyone seen Dr. Carter?" Someone inquires. I look up briefly. It's Harkins.

"Lounge."

"Great."

I blink once more at the chart, shake my head and stash the clipboard with the rest of the pile. Sighing, I rest my elbows on the desk, rubbing the palms of my hands over my face.

"You okay?"

I roll my head to the side and peer up at the source of the voice. He's looking down at me, his eyes warm and inviting, his smile interlaced with concern and comfort.

As always.

I shrug. "I just want to go home, take a bath, crawl into bed and forget this week ever happened."

His smile fades and he nods. "You're off now."

"Yeah." I pause and we exchange another look. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

Carter straightens, glancing around at the hubbub of the ER. "I don't know how soon I'm going to get out of here." His eyes drift back to meet mine. "Go home. Put your feet up. Take that bath." His smile returns. "Just don't use up all the hot water."

I laugh for the first time in what feels like days. "Don't tempt me."

He opens his mouth to say something more, but the doors to the ambulance bay suddenly burst forth with the latest trauma.

"I'll see you later." He calls as he rushed towards the action. I smile and nod at his retreating form.

I push myself away from the admit desk and head into the lounge. Fumbling with the combination on my locker, I barely acknowledge the figure standing at the counter, watching me.

"Long day?"

I frown and look over my shoulder at the source of the voice. "Oh… Yeah."

Susan nods and sits down at the table where a stack of charts wait for her. "You know, sometimes I wonder how crazy I must be to love this job so much."

Pulling my coat and bag out of the locker, I turn around and set them on the table. I smirk. "I'm told it's an acquired taste."

She laughs at my response.

My smile fades and I rummage through my coat looking for my scarf.

"Are you okay?"

Seems to be the question of the day.

I try to hold back a sigh and fail. "Not really." I look at her. "It'll pass."

She purses her lips together in thought. "It's always hard the first time."

I raise my eyebrows. "What?"

"The first time they leave… It's always the hardest."

I stare at her for a moment. Shaking my head, I pull my scarf from it's hiding spot and wrap it around my neck.

"You've been talking to Carter." My voice is hard. Bitter.

"He's worried about you."

I shrug into my coat and begin doing up the buttons. "He shouldn't be."

"Abby…"

I look up.

"I know what it's like."

"What what's like?" I challenge.

Susan sighs, leaning forward in her seat. She bows her head for a moment and then looks up.

"Chloe used to do it all the time… She still does. It's like she's testing me."

"Testing you for what?"

Susan shrugs. "To see how far I'll go."

"Oh." I look at my hands. "How far do you go?"

"However far she needs me to go."

I nod silently. We're quiet for several seconds. She sits back, waiting for my next question.

"It's always the hardest… The first time?"

She shakes her head. "No… But it's always comforting to think that things will get easier."

I smile. "Unconditional love."

Susan tips her head to the side, returning the expression. "Yeah. The only problem is, we get so used to dishing it out that when it comes time to receive it, we panic."

I swallow "I guess so."

"He really is worried about you."

"I know."

She gives me another reassuring smile that reminds me how lucky I am to have such a good friend, and shifts her gaze towards the charts.

"Well, I should get some of these done if I want to get home at a decent hour tonight."

I laugh. "Yeah. Probably." I pick my bag up from the table and sling it over my shoulder. "I should get going, too."

I make my way towards the door and pause.

"Hey..."

She turns around. "Yeah?"

I smile. "Thanks."

She nods. "Anytime."

I watch her turn back to her work before I quietly slip out the door. I give one glance towards the ER before heading out into the evening.

It's always hardest the first time.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.

I guess we'll see.

***

I twist my head from side to side as I open my eyes. I frown.

I don't remember going to bed.

I sit up on the bed and take in my surroundings. The lights are off… That familiar nightly glow is back. I look to my side. He's lying on his stomach, one outstretched arm resting casually behind his back and the other shoved underneath his pillow. He's never slept like this before.

Taking John's advice, I'd come home and taken that bath. He'd returned a few hours later with Chinese food and a movie. I checked my messages on the machine. Still nothing from Maggie. Not that I was surprised. I'd told her not to bother.

As grateful as I was for his company tonight, there was no mistaking the underlying awkwardness that insisted on weaving itself into the silence that lingered between us. I found his choice of a movie to be quite amusing… As did he, apparently.

Insomnia

I must have fallen asleep sometime during the evening, because I don't remember much else. Funny, I didn't even stir when he carried me into the bedroom. I look over at him again, watching his back rise and fall with the rhythm with his breathing. I reach over and stoke the side of his face gently, my fingers lingering in the warmth of his presence. Sighing, I drag myself out of bed for the second night in a row.

This time, unlike the first night, I traipse into the bathroom first. Turning on the water, I splash some of it over my cheeks and dry them off gently. Brushing my teeth next, I turn around and peer into the bedroom again, looking for any signs that he might be waking up.

I know I'm stalling.

I rinse out the sink and give myself a once over in the mirror, then pad back into the bedroom. I'm still dressed in the sweatshirt and sweatpants I changed into after my shower. I don't need anymore layers, I know tonight won't be as cold as last night was. Still, my eyes wander around the room until they finally transfix themselves on the man lying peacefully in front of me.

I'm tempted to wake him. Shake him. Call his name. Something… Anything to get his attention.

I don't feel like walking alone tonight.

I give up eventually and make my way out to the closet. I'm a little less quiet gathering my things tonight. I wrap my coat around me and tie up my laces in the usual fashion. Grabbing my cigarettes off the table, I shove them into my coat. I pause briefly at the door, looking back into the bedroom one last time.

Nothing.

I sigh and head outside.

I subconsciously choose the same path as last night, making my way up the quiet street. There are a few more lurkers out tonight, and I do my best to avoid them. Everyone's worried enough about me as it is, there's no need to give them justification for their concerns.

I pull a cigarette out of my pack and manage to get it lit without having to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Inhaling a long drag, I'm comforted by the familiar surge of energy that follows. I don't know why, but I've always felt that rush whenever I've had a smoke. It's not something I could explain to anyone, if I was asked…

The perfect smoke. I know this isn't it, and I know it'll probably be ages before one comes again. Maybe never, if I choose to quit for good. Though I always say that. I'll quit for good. And I never do.

It's frustrating, more than anything, to realize that in times of crisis I tend to turn to artificial means of satisfaction. Rather than working through my problems, I choose to bury them in bad habits. I did that with my mother, I did it with Richard… Luka. I did it last year. I'm doing it now.

The smoking.

The drinking.

Mind you, it's been weeks since my last drink. But the temptation is still there. It sure was last night, and I don't believe it will ever completely go away. That craving.

It's an addiction, after all. And you never really get over an addiction… Do you?

I brush past an older woman on the sidewalk. She mutters something under her breath. I can't quite make it out. I turn around and watch her walk away, secretly hope that I'll never end up like that.

Oh, who are you kidding Abby? You're wandering the streets in the middle of the night.

"I have news for you…" I say to myself. "You're already like that."

It isn't long before I come up to that one house, again. All lit up for the holidays. Only this time, I stop, stamp out my cigarette, and study the scene for a moment.

The front yard is decorated with all the trimmings of the season. A giant Santa stands in the corner, his sack slung over his shoulder, a big grin plastered across his fat cheeks. In front of him, a wooden depiction of the very first Christmas takes up any remaining land space. On the other side of the lawn resides a menorah flanked by little penguin cutouts. I frown, shaking my head.

They sure did cover all the bases. I sigh and move on.

Would we ever have that?

I told him I didn't want Christmas, and now… I'm a little sad that I did. I'm not in any sort of holiday spirit, but I knew he was looking forward to our first Christmas together. I shouldn't ruin things for him just because I'm not in the mood.

Just a few decorations. Nothing too elaborate. I'm still brooding.

I stop at the next corner and weigh a silent debate of whether or not to keep going. I can see the bar across the street in the distance, patrons filing in and out, music streaming from within.

I turn my back to the urge walking home.

He's still asleep when I creep in a short while later, though his position has changed. I'm sure he didn't wake up while I was out, or he'd be waiting up for me.

I stop in the bathroom, running my hands under warm water – trying to edge out some of the numbness.

Crawling into bed, I pull the covers over me and roll over so my back chest faces his back. I resist the urge to warp my arm around his torso and cuddle up to him for warmth. Instead, I get as close to him as I can without touching him.

It shouldn't be this awkward.

But it is.

***

"Jerry," I call out. "Where's Pratt?"

Jerry looks up as I approach him, frowning. "Uh… I think he's in triage."

I grip the chart in my hands tightly. "What's your second guess?"

"Lounge?" He suggests, shrugging.

I shake my head. "Well, when you find him tell him to dis--" I cut out as I spot the young resident walking towards the admit desk.

"I was looking for you."

Pratt smirks, as he roots through the line of charts. "Really… I always knew you had a thing."

I thrust another one in front of him. "You need to dispo the kid in three."

He laughs and makes a face at Jerry, who bobs his head up and down in amusement. "I did that already."

"Then why is he still here… And why isn't his chart signed?" I ask, waving the clipboard for emphasis.

Pratt rolls his eyes. "Okay… I guess I fell a little bit behind."

"Yeah, well, catch up." I toss the chart on top of the one he's holding and walk away.

"Yes, sir…. Man, what's gotten into her?"

I stop, my hands pressed against the lounge door. I take a deep breath before turning around.

"Just get it done, okay?"

Pratt's head snaps towards me, his face showing as much remorse as he could muster. "Sure."

I nod sharply and turn back towards the lounge. I push the door open a little and freeze when I hear my name being spoken from inside.

"… I mean, I really want to be there for her, but I can't stand watching her tear herself apart like this."

"You've got to give her time, Carter. She's been through so much."

I bite my lip and inch back, closing the door. I fold my arms across my chest, swaying away from the lounge ever so slightly. His words echo in my head.

I really want to be there for her.

I want to be angry with him for going to Susan first. I thought we were at the point in our relationship where we could come to me with any concerns. I thought he said he didn't want to hide anymore…

I can't stand watching her tear herself apart like this.

He isn't hiding, Abby.

You are.

The door to swings open, jolting me to attention. As it closes I find myself face-to-face with Susan.

"Hey," She calls, brightly. "Just the person I wanted to see."

I perk up. "Really?"

I search her face for any indication of the tone of her parting with Carter, but come up empty.

"Yeah… You off?"

"Yeah, I am. You?"

Susan rolls her eyes and groans playfully. "I wish."

"Oh. Was there… Anything that you needed?"

She frowns, shaking her head slowly. "Nope… Actually, I wanted to get your opinion on something, but it can wait. We'll have to have lunch soon, though."

I nod. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Susan smiles knowingly. "He's waiting for you."

I return the smile. "Okay."

She moves so I can slip past her towards the door. I can see him sitting at the table.

"You two have a good night."

I look over my shoulder at my friend. "We will."

Pushing open the door, I step into the lounge. His head pops up at my entrance, the familiar smile creeping across on his face.

"Hey."

"Hi."

***

It's amazing how, after all this mess, I can still find something good about my life.

Of course, it's isn't a very hard search when that something good is lying next to me… holding me.

I sigh and trace small patterns all over his sleeping chest. I'm still awake, for the third night in a row.

Something about this seems so frustrating. I'm exhausted, and yet I can't help but lie awake thinking about the reasons why I cannot sleep. As if there's some force that's preventing me from letting go…

I can't relax. There's no release.

I lift my head off his chest and turn over to look at the clock. Rolling back, I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at the man lying beside me.

How did I get so lucky?

I push. He pushes harder. Never giving up.

I'm not going anywhere.

He's truly lived up to his testament, now. He could have easily walked away. Rejected me. Just like all the others. But he's here. He's committed.

My fingers graze his face lightly - across his temples, his cheeks, around his ears, his mouth. His muscles flinch at my touch, his lips curling up in a small grin. I smile back as I lean down and kiss him.

Wake up.

His hand travels to my back as his eyes flutter open.

"Hi," I whisper.

He stares up at me, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Will you take a walk with me?"

He sighs and reaches up, brushing a lock of hair away from my face.

"I'd love to."

We get out of bed and dress silently. In the other room, we put on our coats and do up our shoes silently. We leave the apartment and head out into the night… Silently.

For there need be no words. Just each other.

I take his hand once we are outside, travelling up the street. His fingers wrap around my palm tightly and he brings my hand closer to his body.

"So…"

"Shh…" I look up at him and smile. "No talking."

He nods quietly and looks ahead as we walk.

We walk like this for several minutes. Our path wanders through the sleepy streets of Chicago. The destination and course of travel are unknown, but it's not the trip I'm interested in. It's my travelling companion.

"Thank you for coming with me."

He squeezes my hand. "Thank you for asking."

I look at the ground we tread. "I won't shut you out anymore."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Abby."

The words hit me like a slap. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

He sighs heavily and stops walking.

"I just don't want you to set standards for yourself. Abby… I know you're hurting. I know you're upset. And yes… I do wish that you would let me in when you feel like this. I can't help but think that you're forcing yourself to go through this alone because that's what you've done in the past. You're not alone, Abby. Not anymore."

I close my eyes. "I know that, John. It's just that…" I drift off, words failing me.

He responds by pulling me close, wrapping his arms around my shoulders tightly. I take the opportunity to bury my head in his jacket, inhaling him. It's the closest we've gotten since the night he left me in Nebraska.

"It's just that I want so badly to take away your pain. Sometimes I forget to realize that you're the strongest person I know."

I laugh. "Hardly the strongest."

He pulls away slightly, looking down at me. "Definitely the strongest. But those walls…"

I smile. "You want me to build a door?"

He kisses my forehead. "It would be nice."

I sigh and gaze up at him. "I'll get right on that, then."

"Okay."

I catch something out of the corner of my eye and I'm suddenly aware that we're standing in front of that brightly decorated house once more. My smile grows and I try and hold back a giggle.

He looks down at me, puzzled. "What is it?"

I look up at him. "I was just thinking."

He raises an eyebrow. "About?"

"About… How nice it would be to get a tree."

"Really?"

I purse my lips together. "Yeah. It's is our first Christmas, after all."

He smiles widely and pulls me closer. "Ah. Well, I think that can be arranged."

I smile and reach up on my tiptoes, kissing him softly on the lips.

"I love you."

He touches the side of my face, gazing down at me.

"I love you too, Abby."

I smile at him as I take his hand and turn us around.

"Let's go home… I think I can sleep, now."

***