Title: I've Been Here Before

Spoilers for "A Little Help From My Friends"

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended.

I've been here before.

As an OB nurse, we'd dread the call. The couple who would come in, nervous and scared. We'd run through the routine… The ultrasound, the examination, and more. We'd deliver the news, comfort the patients, observe them for a while and then discharge them. Then we'd move on. To a story with a happier ending.

For me, it happened more often, back then.

Back then, it was my job.

I look away from the window as someone enters the lounge. It's Kerry.

I try to smile warmly. "Hey… Are you ready to go?"

She nods silently and turns towards her locker. I check the buttons on my coat before reaching to pick my bag up off the table. I watch her as she gathers her things slowly… carefully. Something falls to the floor, and she hesitates for a moment before reaching down to pick it up. She stands still, looking at the item in her hands. From behind, I can see her shoulders rise with a shaky breath before sagging back down sadly. I can tell she's been crying, and for a moment I wish I was somewhere else.

I've been here before.

"What time did you get off?"

I swallow. "About twenty minutes ago."

She turns and looks at me. Her eyes are red, her face flushed and tired. I never thought I'd see her look so… fragile. She glances away and begins to busy herself with her things.

"You didn't have to wait… I could have taken a cab."

I open my mouth to wave off the inconvenience, but stop. I frown. "You … Didn't bring your car today?"

"No, I…" She pauses, closing her eyes. "I took the El."

I bite my lip. "Oh."

Kerry opens her eyes, looking at me. "Why?"

I sigh and glance around the room awkwardly. "Carter took his Jeep… " My eyes land on her again. "I can't drive you."

She lowers her head. "Oh."

I shake my head and turn for the door. "I'll get you a cab."

"No."

Her voice halts me.

"I mean… You don't need to do that."

I close my eyes. "Dr. Weaver… You need a ride home."

She stares at me for a moment, as if she's contemplating a fight. Finally she sighs, giving in. "Okay."

I nod and push the door open.

"Abby?"

I face my boss once more.

She smiles weakly. "Thank you."

I return the expression and watch her as she returns to gather her things. Her motions are concentrated, deliberate. She's trying to be strong. For herself. For Sandy. For the baby they lost.

I've been here before.

***

I know what it's like.

It was five years ago, and things were… Things were what they were. Richard was working all the time. I barely saw him. Conversations were rare and more often than not ended up in argument. Money was tight. We were still paying off student loans. Independence was not all it was cracking up to be.

And I was restless.

Day in, day out, the same thing over and over again. I tried hard to convince myself that I loved my job. That I was happy with my life. My marriage. That I didn't need more. However, something was nagging. Do something with yourself, Abby. Don't be afraid to take chances.

I'd been sober for less than a year when I decided to go to medical school. Richard tried to talk me out of it. It's too risky. We need the money. Think about it for a few years. What if you don't like it? Don't be selfish, Abby.

Selfish?

Typical, Richard. Thanks for the confidence.

It's a wonder how, amid all the chaos… I ever got pregnant.

I know what it's like.

I'd just come home from checking Maggie into yet another psychiatric hospital. Finals and deadlines were looming. I wouldn't ask for an extension or a waiver. I was determined to do it. To prove to him that I could do it. To prove to myself that this was worth it.

I should have seen the signs. The vomiting. The insomnia. Chalked up to the stress of being a first year med student. I didn't even flinch when I missed my period, despite the fact that I was so regular, you could time the moon phases by my cycle. I was too busy to notice.

Or maybe I was too scared.

Oddly enough, it was a professor that suggested I have myself checked out. I guess I'd excused myself from class one time too many. I tried to brush it aside, but it was too late. The seed had been planted in my head, and it was more than I could shake off.

I knew the test was positive the moment I saw the look on the doctor's face. A look I'd seen so many times before, only this time it wasn't directed at someone else. It was meant for me.

No. It can't be. How?

Six weeks. A mental count confirmed the doctor's prediction. What timing.

Maggie. Richard. School. Work. My sobriety. And now this.

Why me? Why now?

It's a miracle I passed any of my courses that spring. I pushed the news aside so I could concentrate on my exams, but soon it became hard to ignore such a big event. I couldn't tell anyone. Still… I couldn't act as if everything was okay. Because it wasn't.

I needed to make a decision.

I couldn't have this baby. I wasn't at that stage in my life - yet. I could barely take care of myself, never mind a helpless infant with wants and needs completely different from mine. Richard would flip out. We'd never even talked about having children, always so wrapped up in our own lives. And at this point in our relationship, I wasn't sure if I could count on him as a husband. How would I be able to count on him as a father?

I wanted this baby. From the moment I even considered the possibility, I began to change my lifestyle. I slept more. I stopped smoking. I laid awake at night, thinking of diapers and baby showers and cradles and maternity leave. Everyday I helped new parents bring life into the world. Now it was my turn.

I deserved it.

I could make this work. I could tell Richard, and he would be overjoyed. We would move into a larger apartment, or even a house. We'd by a crib and a stroller… He'd come to my appointments and enroll us in Lamaze classes. Everything would work.

But those wishes weren't rooted in reality.

I'd have this baby, and I would raise it. On my own, if I had to. I would take care of it, just like I had Eric. Just like I had taken care of Maggie…

Maggie.

The thought was always there, lurking in the shadows. It had lined everything in my life to this point. That illness. A disease. It was in my genes.

What if my baby was bi-polar? Was I ready to raise another Maggie? And if I was, was I ready to put my child through the same mental torment that ruled my mother's life for longer than I could remember?

She called the night before. Crying. Begging me to come and get her. She was scared and alone. She said she loved me and never meant to hurt me. Why did I hate her?

Please, Abby… Please help me.

The next morning, I had an abortion. I couldn't do it. I couldn't subject my child to a life like this.

I've never forgiven myself for the decision I made that day. I never will.

I know what it's like.

***

I fumble to find my key to the apartment, reaching for the doorknob in front of me. Playing on a hunch, I give it a short twist, smiling to myself as it rotates cleanly. Pushing open the door, I'm greeted by an empty front room. The only light comes from the lamp on the end table, and I toss my keys beside it, kicking the door closed. I drop my bag onto the floor, looking around the room for any signs of life.

Peeking inside the darkened bedroom, I notice light coming from the bathroom. The faint sound of running water drifts from the partially opened door. I smile, imagining him in the shower, going through his usual routine. A small part of me is tempted to jump in there with him, just for some fun. Yet, something holds me back. If he had wanted company, he would have waited.

Instead, I travel to the kitchen, flipping on the light. I stand in front of the open fridge door for a few minutes, trying to figure out whether I'm hungry enough to eat. I pull out a plate of leftover chicken, followed by the mayonnaise, a tomato, lettuce and a couple of green onions, placing the items on the counter behind me. Looks like sandwiches, tonight.

As I shut the fridge door, I catch sight of the something tacked to the freezer. I roll my eyes and shake my head. I wonder how many times he's going to have to remind me between now and then.

I set about making our dinner, losing myself in the task. I'd like nothing more than to forget about what happened today, but I know that will be easier said than done.

I'd called for the cab, waiting outside with Kerry until it came. And when it did, I offered to accompany her for the ride, just to make sure she got home okay. She smiled, looking up at me with those tired, saddened eyes.

"I think I'll be all right. Thank you, Abby. "

I watched as she shut the door and settled into her seat. I watched as the cab pulled away and rounded the next corner. I watched until I knew it was safe for me to go.

I've been there. I know the grief she's feeling. Only for me, it was self-inflicted pain. It was my choice.

I know she'll be okay in the morning. It's tonight that will be the hardest.

I'm shaken out of my thoughts as strong arms wrap themselves around my waist, pulling me away from the counter slightly.

He kisses my shoulder. "Hi."

I smile. "Hey."

"What'cha making?"

"Chicken salad sandwiches." I twist my head to the side, inhaling the scent of his freshly shampooed hair. "You hungry?"

"Mmm." He straightens his body and leans against the counter, facing me. "Starving."

I resume cutting up the chicken. "Good."

"Can I help?"

I glance up briefly, winking at him. "I'm not going to say no."

I pick up the tomato and hand it to him. He takes it carefully and turns around setting it on the cutting board in front of him. Choosing a knife, he begins his appointed task. He slices the tomato with an unusual amount of concentration, his body leaning forward, his brow furrowed. I look over and shake my head, laughing quietly. When it comes to John Carter, there's no such thing as half-assed.

"So umm… Where'd you rush off to?" I inquire.

He pauses a moment before answering. "I uh… I went to help someone."

I nod, pursing my lips together. I glance over at him. "Everything all right?"

He finishes cutting and turns around wiping his hands on his jeans. "Yeah."

"Really?"

He smiles at my concern. "Yeah."

"Good." I reach behind him to retrieve the tomato slices and playfully elbow him in the side. I grin wryly.

"Oww." He laughs and brushes past me to get to the fridge. I watch him open it up and pull out the milk carton. He closes the door and ticks the card pasted up in front of him.

"Don't forget."

I roll my eyes. "I won't. It's next week, right?"

"Yup." He pulls a couple of plates from the cupboard and sets them beside me before he takes two glasses and sits down at the table.

I cut the sandwiches in half and place them on the plates. "I need to get a dress."

"You'll look fabulous."

I pick up the plates and turn towards him. "Easy for you to say, you're…" I stop and look at the package sitting on the table in front of us.

"What's this?"

He shrugs, trying to hide a smile. "Looks like a present."

I set a plate in front of him and sit down. I eye the gift first, then the man sitting next to me. "You know you're a day early."

"Actually, I'm only four hours early." He leans forward in his seat and inches the box closer to me. "I guess I'm trying to make up for last year."

I sigh, thinking back to my not so happy birthday last January. "I think you've more than made up for that." I smile warmly, looking over at him. "What a difference a year makes."

He nods, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Go ahead, open it."

I pick up the gift and gingerly finger the ribbon holding it together. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at him. "Can I wait?"

He considers my request for a moment, a smile creeping its way to his lips. "Sure."

I smile up at him and place the box back in the center of the table. He catches my hand as I withdraw.

"Something wrong?" He asks as he brings our hands down underneath the table.

I shake my head and shrug, fingering my sandwich with my free hand. "Long day." I glance up at him, silently hoping he'll drop the subject.

But I know him better than that.

"Want to talk about it?"

I wiggle my hand out of his grasp. I wish I could tell him what was on my mind, but I promised someone that I wouldn't say anything. I wish I could cry to him and confess my sins, but I promised myself I wouldn't.

So instead, I simply look at him, watching him as he waits for me. Patiently. I know he understands.

"Not really."

He nods quietly, just as I knew he would, and returns to his dinner. I follow, picking up my own sandwich. We're silent for the rest of the meal. No explanations are needed.

And I know he'll follow me to bed tonight. Holding me close. Stroking my hair in usual motion. We'll fall asleep in each other's arms, like so many nights before this one. Because it's us.

I know what it's like because I've been here before. Only this time, it's different. This time… I'm not alone.

***