Title: Voices
Disclaimer: Not sure I'd know what to do with them even if they were mine, which is probably why they belong to Warner Brothers, instead. No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers for "Things Change"
Notes: This is the latest installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a Its_Always_Something) Carter-derived "The Long Way" series, which will continue through the remaining final episodes of Season 9. Look for her newest, "Last Call" (Chapter 12), post-ep to "Things Change", which should be out before too long. As mentioned in prior chapters, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem with a common thread interwoven through the respective pieces, our work remains faithful to Carter's (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa.
We're heading into the home stretch…
Pivotal Moment #5: Our Conversations by the Riverside
If I close my eyes, I can picture it all. I can still see the soft rolls of water as they move down stream with the current. I can still envision the sun shining high in the sky, casting its warmth on the earth below.
The image of you sitting beside me. Locks stirring around on top of your head as the wind had its way with them. The faint smile cast upon your lips as you looked out across the flowing vista.
The way our hands rested on the seat of the bench, mere inches apart.
The urge I got to take yours in mine… or even lay my head on your shoulder.
They way we waxed on about how life forced its unruly happenstance upon us, whether we were prepared for it or not. Whether it be unexpected visits from mothers or conflicts with those we called our significant others, to trying days in the ER…
… To us, and our indeterminable connection to each other.
I gaze down at the open notebook sitting in front of me, its lined pages glowing in the dim light of the room. The topic - his latest in a stream of thought-provoking prompts – stares back up at me in its singular, simplified statement. To the point, yet invariably complex at the same time.
Just like all the others.
A canvas on which I pour my soul.
Tonight, unlike the other times, however, I know the words won't come as easily.
There something about that place… that bench… that familiar skyline. There's something about the memory of that scene that makes me…
I don't know.
I don't know. I wish I could define it all for you, John… I wish I could explain what was going through my mind back then… Or even what is going through my mind right now.
I sigh and draw my head upwards, transfixing my eyes on the wall opposite me. A simple distraction is what I had intended when I pulled the journal out from its permanent residence inside my bag. Something to get my mind off where I was, why I was there, and where I really wanted to be.
The truth is, there are a hundred thoughts flowing through my head right now. About our past and our present… About our future.
About you.
I'm not sure I'd be able to sum them all up in the space you've left me on these pages.
Some would say my choice of activity is more detrimental than soothing… But I beg to differ.
I need this.
But I will try.
I put my pen down, bringing both hands to my face and rub it in exhaustion. I take a deep breath and manage to push myself away from the desk, securing my feet underneath me, pulling my body upwards into a standing position. I'm fully aware of the movements that play out on my extremities, but I'm no longer certain I'd be able to stop them now. In a final blip of concentration, I reach back behind me and pick the notebook off the desktop, catching the pen with my other hand as it falls.
My reflexes are quick tonight, though I'm not entirely convinced why.
I inch around the empty bed and sit down on the edge. Reaching over, I pull the chain on the lamp sitting on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a dull glow. I stare at the light for several moments, unblinking, before I shake my head and glance down at the object in my hands, and then the figure in the next bed.
He's still lying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow his head rests on. Not even his brute beard can mask the peace that glints across his face right now, and I wonder about the last time he'd slept at all.
It's so unfair.
John, if ever I live to be a very old woman, I will always and forever think of our relationship as my single most greatest achievement.
Kind of ironic, considering that it had… has the potential to destroy us both.
I must have done something right, to deserve your love. Even if it was only for a little while.
What was it?
I set the book behind me and pull myself up on to my bed quietly. The caution isn't so much for him… I know he's dead to the world. And yet, I move slowly and deliberately, dragging my feet onto the mattress, drawing my knees up to my chest and crossing my arms over them. I lean forward and close my eyes for a moment, resting my chin atop my wrists. Just sitting. Listening. Waiting.
How did I get here?
I'm faintly aware of a soft melody wafting through my ears as I lull myself into some semi-conscious state of mind…
Looking back on my life, I realize there were very few times when I felt at peace with where I was and who I was with at any particular moment. Maggie. Richard. Luka. The here and now rarely did it for me. I was always looking for something… Else.
Then one day, I met you. I fell in love. And I stopped looking.
John, I can honestly say that there is nowhere else I want to be when I'm with you.
We were sitting by the river on the afternoon you told me you wanted to be more than just my friend. I denied it - your true intentions - back then. Chalked it up to jealousy. Yours and mine.
I still catch myself today, denying it. Only this time, it's out of fear, more than anything…
I'm pulled out of my self-induced hypnotic trance by the sound of a plane flying directly overhead, and I open my eyes to greet the darkness once more. The music stops, and he stirs beside me, rolling over onto his back before drifting off again. I'm mildly aware of the small smile that plays across my lips as I look over in his direction, and my eyes close once more in a brief prayer of thanks.
I know this isn't over. I know it's just the beginning. But thank you… Thank you for keeping him safe.
I look down at the journal lying next to me, the same pages staring back up at me… Taunting me in their own ordinary way. I bite my lip as I drop a hand to the paper, dragging a finger across his handwritten words…
I hate thinking about us in the past tense. As if we're already over.
But it's hard for me to be optimistic, when I'm here and you're there. When that connection has faded…
When we're to caught up in our own personal conflicts to give much thought to the one lying next to us…
A single tear slips down my cheek. I know I've failed him. Just like I'd done countless times before. Only tonight I hurt him in a way that cut deeper than any words could ever try.
At least, more than any words I'd ever be able to say to him…
… Or write to him.
I told him I'd make it up to him. I owed him that much. The man who'd dropped everything to be with me. The one who was there. In Oklahoma. In Nebraska. And in all the places in between.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Still, when the day came to reciprocate and rise to the same standards he'd set in the footsteps we'd taken before these…I couldn't do it.
I've never felt so conflicted. So… wanted… and yet, so utterly useless at the same time.
One voice pulls me here. Another pulls me there.
Who's more important? My manic brother or my grieving boyfriend?
My inner minions wage a debate about obligation versus loyalty. About birthright versus privilege. About love versus…
He'd pushed me away before. Told me he didn't need me. Walked out of my life.
I turned, and he was there. My comfort. My solace.
I would have given up on this a long time ago, had it not been for him.
He's a big reason I came here. And the only reason I wish I wasn't.
What I wouldn't give to be next to you right now, instead of in this hotel room hundreds of miles away, writing to you in this notebook.
I hope that, by the time you've read this, you'll understand why I had to go tonight, and that, if I could have… I would have been with you. Because it's what I wanted to do.
I don't regret my choice. I hope you can forgive me.
My reflection stares back at me from my spot in front of the mirror. I run cold water and splash it across my cheeks, hoping to stun out the guilt. I close my eyes and wipe myself dry with the courtesy towel, and I imagine him miles away, going through similar motions for an entirely different reason.
Two tormented souls destined apart by bad timing, yet unmistakably drawn to one another when the dust settles.
Maybe we just weren't ready, for better or for worse.
I don't know what it's like. To lose a loved one. My mother, my brother… The speculation and close calls don't matter when the real thing comes knocking at your door.
She was his everything. His grandmother, his mother, his friend, his confidant. His one constant thing. And now she's gone. Left him behind.
He's grieving the loss of the most important person in his life, and I… I can't.
Death. I see it every day.
The bad news is, you never get used to it. The good news is… You never get used to it.
In retrospect, those times we spent gazing out across the river were my favorite times with you. My best friend. And I wonder why we don't go there any more.
I realize we don't do a lot of things we used to. Before we became a "we." But I miss those conversations the most.
I suppose these entries are a continuation of those moments we've shared, giving us both a chance to muse the true meaning behind our commitment to each other and help us see that even though they may have passed, they are more than just simple memories.
They make up our history.
My fingers drum the window pane as I gaze over the airport terminal, looking for signs of life.
I find myself counting the number of rings before the phone picks up.
"Hi, you've reached John Carter. I can't take your call right now, but if you leave me a message and a number where I can reach you, I'll get back to you. Thanks."
"Hey, um… It's me again." I purse my lips together, suddenly at a loss for what comes next. Damn it, Abby, just get to the point. "I know you're probably sleeping right now… Or not, but um… I wanted to apologize…"
I shake my head and silently curse myself for my awkwardness. "What I mean to say was…" I sigh. "I'm sorry. God, I can't even begin to think about how hard this must be on you. I really do… I really do wish I were there. And if I could do it all over, I would…"
I close my eyes and blink away the tears.
"I'll be on the first flight back in the morning." I pause. "Call me if you need anything."
"Bye."
I hang up the phone and put it on the desk behind me. My eyes wander over to my sleeping brother and travel over my unused bed before finally landing on the open book that lies right where I left it. I take a deep breath and gaze out the window again.
These voices will keep me up tonight.
As I flip through the pages of this notebook and read the carefully selected snapshots that you have asked me to think about… I can't help but wonder how you did it. How you managed to landmark the first steps of our relationship using these pivotal moments, doing so with such remarkable insight on the journey ahead of us.
If you're privy to the future, John, promise me you won't let me know what comes next.
Just take me there.
Please.
***