Title: Detailed

Spoilers for "Saint in the City"

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.

Coming soon: Crossover chapters with KenzieGal ("The Long Way").

No one said love would be easy. Relationships don't come with an instruction manual, or even a three-year warranty. There is no 30-day money-back guarantee. You just have to take the good bumps with the bad bumps, and hope the car doesn't stall out on the way to wherever you're going.

Stalled. Stonewalled. Conked out.

It's happened before. I've felt the frustration many times over. The disagreements. The tension. The lack of…forward movement.

I hadn't expected it to last this long. Not with him. Not with us. We had a rhythm going. It was steady… nice. It was comfortable.

And now… I can't describe it.

When did the music stop?

"And if you call within the next ten minutes, we'll throw in this – "

I hit the mute button on the remote control and toss it onto the cushion beside me. Looking around my dimly lit apartment, I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my robe around my legs. I clasp my hands together and rest my chin between my knees, sighing heavily.

Just a few more minutes.

I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander back through the evening in random fashion.

"I promise, next time we'll so something you want to do."

I was looking forward to this evening. I wanted to go. I wanted to hob-knob. I wanted to eat canapés… Whatever they were. I wanted to see how the other-half lives.

I wanted to escape from my life, even just for a few hours.

I wanted to impress him.

I wanted to know everything about him… This life he feels so compelled to hide. Though I'd never admit to him how curious I was, there was no denying the anticipation I felt as we drove to the gala. How would the evening go? How would Carter hold himself to the crowd? How would he hold me?

And how would I hold my own, so obviously out of my element? I was nervous. I might as well have had "I don't belong here" stickered across my forehead.

I remember the last time we'd attended an event similar to this, almost two years ago. We were friends, back then. Friends who did favors for each other. Friends who supported each other, whether they were fighting addictions or coping with familial dysfunction. Friends who cared.

Friends who were constantly denying their feelings for one another.

"So many people in John's life..."

Gamma. The woman he's held near and dear to his heart for longer than he can remember. His mother figure. The woman who has the power to influence – whether he likes it or not – his way of thinking… His life.

The matriarch.

He says he doesn't care. But he does. I can see it. Tonight, when he turned her down. It wasn't the first time he's done that. Not from the look on their faces as they exchanged pleasantries. They both knew it was coming.

When you've been trapped in a cycle for this long, all actions pretty much become reflex. The same lines playing out over and over again, like a song you can't get out of your head.

I know he regrets it. The offer, the refusal. The feeling of obligation. As if what he does isn't good enough for them.

I'm beginning to get the impression that it never was.

I open my eyes and look at the clock. It's almost midnight. I bite my lip as I lower my feet to the floor.

I know he's not coming home tonight.

Pushing myself off the couch, I pick up the remote and turn off the television. The glow vanishes from the room, leaving darkness in its place. I slowly make my way towards the bedroom, keenly aware of every step I take.

I hate this feeling.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. My efforts are useless. His biting words reverberate in my mind.

"I know you mean well, but don't try to tell me what to do with my life. Okay?"

If I could count the number of times I've been on the giving end of that line…

But it's different, now, being the receiver. And yet, it seems to be happening more and more often, now.

Maggie, Luka, Eric…

John Carter. One more to add to the list.

I flip on the light in the bathroom and squint against the harsh rays that greet my eyes. Standing in front of the sink, I examine the reflection staring back at me.

The damp hair. Those tired, sad eyes. The exhaustion etched in my features.

Same old Abby?

Something like that.

Only tonight… I feel a little more like the old old Abby of times past. It's a familiar image I hadn't expected to see again.

I'd say "welcome back," if I knew that I meant it.

My eyes wander down towards the sink, spotting my earrings resting beside the soap dish, where I'd left them as I jumped in the shower. I carefully pick them up and gingerly place them in the palm of my left hand. Turning off the light in the bathroom, I enter the bedroom and remove my bathrobe. I stop in front of my dresser and hold the platinum teardrop earrings up to the lamplight, admiring them briefly. A gift from Carter, for my birthday, along with the jewelry case I place them in. My fingers graze over the small carvings on the lid, remembering his words when I first opened it.

"I immediately thought of you when I saw it."

"Why?"

"Because it's so detailed. Delicate. Beautiful... Just like you."

"I'm detailed?"

"Oh, yeah."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Oh, yeah. Trust me, Abby… I love tracing every single intricate pattern you've webbed. There's no place I'd rather be."

"Thank you."

"Believe me… It's my pleasure."

I sigh and turn on my heel. Pulling back the covers on the bed, I lower myself to the mattress with concentrated ease. I twist around to adjust the pillows behind me before lying back, resting my head partly against the headboard. Reaching over, I turn off the bedside light, once again leaving myself in darkness. I fold my hands across my abdomen and stare up at the ceiling.

Where are we?

"Why don't you just get involved with the foundation and change its priorities? Give the money to health care, education, needle exchange -- I don't know, anything you felt passionate about?"

He thinks that if he gives in, that's it. The end of Dr. Carter. He can't see past it… He can't see how much good he'd be doing if he just…

"I feel passionate about what I'm doing, okay? I feel passionate about working at County."

He saves lives. Everyday. He cares – more than most do. He's the most amazing doctor I have ever had the privilege of working with. The most wonderful man I've ever had the privilege of loving. I agree. The world needs John Carter.

County needs you.

Chicago needs you.

Your grandmother needs you.

I roll my head to the side, looking at his pillow.

I need you.

But can you even see past the money, and find the good that can come from it?

"I give something more important than money. I give my time, and I do it every day to real people and it makes a difference."

"And I think that's great. I really, really do. But money makes a difference, too".

He has the power and the incentive to change it. But he's jaded. And so, it's become the born and bred have not lecturing the have not wannabe.

He thinks he knows what it's like. Living paycheck to paycheck. He doesn't.

Growing up, he never had to wonder about where the money was going to come for groceries or heat or electricity. He never had to knock on the neighbor's door, looking for something to eat. He was never veiled in the pity of others.

He never had to be the martyr.

"I'm not ashamed of who I am."

Then why do you hide, John? Why is it that I never get to hear stories about the legacy of John Carters - past and present? Why won't you tell me?

Do you think I'll judge you? Because I won't. I don't.

You are who you are, Carter. No amount of denying is going to change your heritage.

Just like it didn't change your feelings for me.

"There's still lots of kids freezing to death every winter, Carter."

I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

"I'm not the only one with details, Carter…"

"I know."

I lie still, my heart caught in my throat.

The bed shifts with his weight. His breathing is slow and even. Calm.

I open my eyes slowly and venture a look across the mattress.

"I didn't think you'd come back."

He sighs. "Yes you did." He turns, facing me, smiling weakly. "You forgot the chain."

I shrug against the sheets and reach an arm out in his direction. "Force of habit, I guess."

He takes my offering, gently caressing the back of my hand with his thumb.

"Abby, you have no idea what it's like to be me."

"And you have barely grasped what it's like to live my life, Carter." I close my eyes briefly and shake my head. "No… That's not what I meant."

"I know."

I squeeze his hand. "I want to know you, John."

He looks away.

"Where did you go?" I ask, hoping he'll open up.

He stands, letting go of my hand, and begins to unbutton his shirt. "To McNulty's clinic."

I roll over onto my side, propping my head up in my hand. "And?"

"And…" He sits down on the bed and begins to remove his shoes and socks. "… And he ripped up the check I gave him."

I raise my eyebrows. "You gave him money?"

"I tried to give him money…"

I watch him with resounding interest as he removes the rest of his clothing and dresses for bed. Moments later he slips underneath the covers, mirroring my position so that we're face-to-face.

I smile at his closeness. "What did he say?"

He reaches out, fingering the neckline of my nightshirt, his eyes downcast. "He said he didn't need it."

"Do you believe him?"

He pauses for a moment, his hand lingering near my collarbone. "No."

"Then why do you think he said no?"

Another pause. He looks up at me.

"I figure his pride got the better of him."

We stare at each other for a moment as our eyes exchange their silent apologies. I smile and take his hand, guiding him around me as I roll over onto my other side. He responds to my movements, scooting closer to me, so his back chest rests against my back. I tuck his arm under mine and lace my fingers through his, settling into the pillow.

The last thing I feel is a light kiss on the back of my neck, as we both slip into a quiet, peaceful slumber.

I know there'll be time enough to dwell on the details in the morning.

But at least, for now, it's a step forward.

***