Title: No Room For Goodbye

Disclaimer: I don't own Carter, Abby, or the premise to ER. Those belong to the great Powers That Be and the kind folks over at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended.

Spoilers for "When Night Meets Day"

AN: Why don't we skip the usual babble and talk about what's really important here? I'll be frank. This wasn't an easy chapter to write for many reasons, not the least of which is that I think I'm losing my zeal for this series. I'm running out of steam quickly, and pushing these chapters out in less than a week became an impossibility this time around. Not just for me, but for my ever-so-loyal and uber-talented colleague, Kenzie_Gal. So we beseech you. Please forgive our lateness, and bear with us for a little longer. We really do appreciate your patience and unwavering support through this, and all the installments that preceded this one.

This chapter flows in conjunction with Kenzie_Gal's ('The Long Way') Chapter 14, entitled "Late For the Sky," which should be out before too long. Read them both and enjoy.

We're down to the dying seconds of the season here. But cheer up! The summer brings new endeavors! Stay tuned!

Oh, and if it isn't obvious to you by now, here at chapter 19, I have a really unhealthy obsession with this show.

I know I'm running out of time. Still, I keep going.

I couldn't live with myself if I knew he was waiting for me, and I never came.

It's wishful thinking. But sometimes you have to believe in these things.

Sometimes, a long shot is the only shot you've got.

I curse under my breath as my foot catches on the uneven sidewalk, nearly sending me head over heels onto the pavement. My pace isn't broken, however, and I huff loudly, pushing my bag further up on my shoulder. I glance briefly at the duffel I carry in my right hand, then up the path towards my destination, squinting in the early morning sunlight.

Did the walk always seem this long?

It had been my immediate desire to make this trip as soon as my night shift had ended. The seconds couldn't have ticked past fast enough for me, as I watched the clock on the wall slowly creep up on eight a.m. It was to be a welcome release from a shift outta hell, as well as the chance for me to seek him out and attempt to continue our conversation from the night before.

Nothing's right here.

I shift the duffel to my left hand as I pause for a moment outside the front entrance to open my purse and search for my keys to his building.

I knew he would refuse me, brush me aside, just like he'd done in the ambulance bay last night, just like he'd been doing for the past week. Ever since the night he asked me to leave him in that dark suture room.

I need some time.

Before I can spot my keys hiding in the mess of my purse, the front door opens, forcing me to step aside. I look up and discover an older couple stepping outside, and I reach out by reflex, catching the door and holding it open for them. They smile at me warmly and I issue a mumbled 'Good morning' towards them before quickly slipping inside.

I make my way up the stairs two at a time, surprised at the bounty of energy I seem to carry after working all night. Past mornings, I've come home and simply crashed, content to shut out the world if it meant a few hours respite from my misery. But today is different. Today, I'm on a mission. Adrenaline is working for me, moving me up these stairs. The thought of finding him there motivates me to keep going.

Sleep will have to wait. I have a much more pressing item on my agenda.

I needed to hear him say it.

I stop just outside his apartment door. Raising a hand to knock, I hesitate for a moment before rapping my knuckles on the surface in front of me and step back, waiting for the action that I hope will come next. Several seconds pass, and I frown and glance down at my feet before I knock again. I lean in towards the door, straining to hear for movement coming from within the apartment, reach out and try the knob. It doesn't budge. I close my eyes and hang my head, resigning to my worst case scenario.

I'm too late.

In a last ditch idea, I open my purse and resume my search for keys. I come upon them easily this time, and quickly insert them into the lock. I push the door open and step into the apartment, looking around for any sign of his presence. The drapes on the opposite windows are partly closed, casting a heavy shadow over half the living room. I take a few more tentative steps inside.

"John?"

No answer.

A spark of hope flickers in my chest as I make my way towards the only lit room in the apartment – his bedroom.

Maybe he's still sleeping.

It's empty. I lean on the doorframe and gaze around sadly before turning off the light.

The tears find their way to the surface as I leave the apartment, closing the door softly behind me. I'll blindly wipe them away for now, resisting this intense urge to cry.

Like sleep, this too will have to wait.

It's not Rio, but it's not here.

I know I should, but I'm not ready to give up, yet.

I don't realize that my purse is ringing until I'm standing outside again. Hopefully, the sun will stun some sense into me. I shift the duffel from one hand to the other once more and fumble with my shoulder bag, looking inside as I descend the steps outside his building. The incessant noise continues, and I roll my eyes as they fall upon my cell phone. I pull it out and open it, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Hello?"

"Hey!"

I frown. "Susan?"

"Don't tell me you were sleeping."

I glance up and down the street. "What do you want?"

"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."

I shake my head. "Sorry. It's just…"

"… He's leaving."

I sigh. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Abby."

I nod to no one. "Yeah."

"That would explain your mood last night."

I roll my eyes in exasperation, my patience wearing thinner by the minute. "Well, how would you feel?"

There's a pause. I can hear her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Abby?"

"What?"

"Are you on your way to the airport?"

I throw my arm up in the air, letting it hover before dropping back to my side. "No. I'm standing outside his apartment. He's not –"

"Abby!"

"What?!"

"Are you on your way to the airport?" She repeats, making sure I catch the emphasis on 'you', 'way' and 'airport'.

I open my mouth to continue my response but shut it again as the puzzle pieces fall into position. I'm frozen in place as it all begins to make sense.

I've been saying all the wrong things. I've been looking in all the wrong places.

I've been thinking I'm too late.

"Abby?" Her voice pulls me back to the present.

I shake my head and begin to walk down the sidewalk towards the El. "Midway?"

"O'Hare."

I stop in my tracks and look out into the street. "He called you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Just now. He's on the ten-thirty American Airlines flight to London."

"Ten Thirty?" I look at my watch and my heart falls. "It's almost nine…"

"You just missed him, Abby. It's not too late."

I close my eyes for a moment and inhale a deep breath in some attempt to slow down my racing heart.

"Abby?"

I open my eyes and glance up the street again, just in time to notice a taxi approaching a half-block away.

Susan's voice rings through my head again. "Abby?"

I step off the curb. "Yeah, I'm here." I juggle the phone and the duffel bag in one hand and stick my arm out to signal the driver.

"Did you get that?"

The cab pulls up in front of me, and I open the door and get in. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks."

"So, what are you going to say to him?"

I declare my destination to the cabbie and settle back in the seat, biting my lower lip. "I don't know, Susan. I really don't." I sigh. "I just… I have to see him."

"Well… Okay." She pauses for a second. I can tell she's trying to muster up support. "Good luck, Abby."

"Thanks."

"Call me later."

"I will." I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up. I glance out the side window and then over to the duffel bag sitting beside me.

It's not too late.

There's still room for goodbye.

***

"This is the final boarding call for all passengers on Delta Airlines flight 1131 to Atlanta, Georgia departing from gate G3."

I blink a few times and shake my head, rotate on my heel and push my way through the crowd of anxious travelers as they continue to congregate in front of the bank of screens dedicated to flight departures.

11:05.

Delayed.

There's still time.

I check my watch as I head towards the security checkpoint located just before the gates. The place was surprisingly active for 9:45 on a Friday morning. All around me, people are milling about, carrying bags and wheeling suitcases. Small clumps of colleagues brush past me in a rush as I stand in the way of their intended destination. Another announcement comes over the loudspeaker, asking a delinquent passenger to please return to his gate. I turn around and look further into the terminal, past the metal detectors and security personnel who were working hard to screen every passenger thoroughly and quickly, and try and make out what's going on over on the other side. I crane my neck and bob it around, searching for a particular figure amidst the crowd.

"Excuse me, m'am?"

I whip around towards the sound of the voice, coming face to face with one of the airport officials.

"Are you waiting in line?"

I look over my shoulder towards the row of passengers filed in front of me. "Umm…"

"Do you have a ticket?"

"Uh, no." I smile weakly. "No I don't."

"Then I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move. Only passengers with boarding passes are permitted in the screening area."

I nod, my cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. "I'm sorry." I hang my head and cross quickly over to the other wall, out of the way of the activity. Closing my eyes and leaning against it, I heave a heavy sigh.

What am I doing here?

I bite my lip and steal another peek as another group of hurried passengers pass in front of me, and I look towards the direction from which they came.

It's impossible. He's probably already at the gate.

Face it. I'm too late.

It's not going to happen.

I should give up now.

But… I can't.

I know I won't move until 11:05.

I made a decision, and I have to follow through with it.

Screw bad timing.

The minutes pass as I lie in wait for whatever is about to come next. I watch a father give away parting hugs and kisses to his family. I watch as a young couple embrace, bowing their heads together, whispering their goodbyes before separating slowly.

It's almost agonizing to watch, because I can remember a time, not so long ago, when I knew what it felt like.

"I took a split shift so I could see you off."


"My flight's not for hours."

"I know."

This time, I'm not so sure I can relate.

I've never liked airports.

I'm still caught up in the bittersweet memory when I spot him out of the corner of my eye, and nearly do a double take.

It's him.

My needle in a haystack.

I push back my immediate instinct to run up to him and wrap my arms around him. As much as I want to be close to him right now, there's something I want… Need to do first.

He looks exhausted, sad, scared and more. Heartbroken. Lost.

Hello, John.

Don't go.

Go, if you have to.

Stay safe.

I'll miss you.

I love you.

Goodbye, John.

Is there time to say it all?

Will he hear any of it?

I'm about to find out.

I push myself away from the wall and walk towards him, smiling nervously as the distance closes between us. "Hey."

My expression falls when his pace remains steady. I try again.

"John?"

I watch as he passes me a few feet away, his attention obviously focused on the checkpoint ahead of him. I glance upwards for a moment and take a deep breath, turning around.

Third time's a charm.

"Carter!"

He stops in mid-stride, pausing momentarily before turning around slowly. I sigh with relief, straighten my back and wait for his reaction. His face transitions from resolved determination to annoyance, then confusion and finally… Surprise?

He shakes his head and blinks rapidly several times. "Abby?"

I laugh a little and roll my eyes, taking a few steps towards him. "Forget what I look like already?" I chide with a smirk.

He frowns, meeting me halfway. "What are you doing here?"

My smile fades. I glance around the crowded terminal and back up at him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Carter sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Abby…" He throws me a pleading look.

"I actually went to your apartment, you know. I wanted to give you this." I hold out the duffel bag between us. "It's, um… It's got t-shirts and socks and stuff. Things you had at my place. I thought you might need them."

He stares at me for a moment before reaching out and taking the bag. "Thanks." He smiles and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

We stand in silence for what seems like an eternity, each of us watching the other, waiting for the next move. Another flight announcement blares through the terminal, and Carter glances over his shoulder towards the security checkpoint.

"I should, uh…"

"It's been delayed a half-hour." I spit out hastily, desperate for a few more minutes with him.

He turns back towards me. "I know."

"So…"

He raises his eyebrows. "So?"

I bite my lip. "So, can we talk?"

He pauses for affect a moment longer before responding. "I don't think there's much for us to say."

Ouch.

"Oh." I swallow slowly as tears begin to well in my eyes. "Well, um… Then, I guess I should just…" I turn around and start to walk in the other direction. One foot in front of the other. Away from him.

"Wait, Abby!"

Against my better judgement, my heart forces me to a halt. His hand is on my shoulder a moment later.

"I can't take this."

I draw in a shaky breath and nod. "Neither can I." I turn around and look up at him. "I get it."

His expression changes when he sees the look in my eyes and he shakes his head. "No, um… This." He holds up the bag. "It doesn't have a tag. I can't take it on the plane."

My gaze drops to the duffel. "Oh. Okay." I reach up and take it from him, my hand lingering on top of his for a few sad seconds.

"Did you come to convince me to stay?"

I take a step back and raise my eyes to meet his. "And if I did? Would it have mattered?"

"Abby…"

"That's what I thought. You've made up your mind, Carter, and there's not much I can do now. I get it. So go. Run away."

His expression hardens. "I'm not running away."

"Really? Because it sure looks like you are."

"Well, if that's what it looks like to you… Maybe I'm taking a chapter from the Book of Abby."

I feel my eyes grow wide. "Oh that's rich, Carter." I laugh bitterly. "Real rich."

He looks at me in disbelief, his head swaying from side to side slowly.

I roll my eyes towards the ceiling and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I set my jaw and lower my gaze, half expecting to see him walking away.

He hasn't, yet.

"I came looking for you this morning. When I went to your apartment and found out you'd left, I thought I'd lost my chance. But something compelled me to keep trying." I shake my head. "I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to have the last word. Maybe I wanted to apologize. Maybe I just wanted to say good luck. But right now… All I want to do is walk away."

"So why haven't you?"

"Truthfully?" I tip my head. "I don't know."

He purses his lips together, nodding silently.

I glance at the carryon slung over his shoulder. "Why haven't you?"

He shakes his head sadly and shrugs. "I guess we're at an impasse."

I close my eyes. "I guess we are."

"Abby."

I open my eyes.

He steps closer, hovering just above me and lowers his voice. "I'm not going to lie and tell you that you haven't hurt me. And I'm not going to stand here and say that everything is going to be all right. I can't do that anymore."

I dip my head and nod slowly, feeling the tears stir just below the surface.

"It's just… I don't want to be here right now."

I swallow and try to speak around the lump in my throat. "I know." I lean forward on my toes and rest my forehead lightly against his chest, inhaling his scent one last time.

He sighs and pulls away.

"Abby look at me."

I lick my lips and oblige, lifting my gaze to meet his.

"I have to go."

I spread my arms wide at my sides, surrendering in defeat. "Then go."

He stares at me for a few moments longer before turning on his heel and walking towards security. My immediate response is to turn and run in the other direction, away from his retreating figure, away from the torture and pain of this moment, away from my life and my love.

But my feet don't move, no matter how hard I will them.

I gasp as I watch him stop in the line and glance over his shoulder back in my direction. I cover my mouth to muffle a sob as the floodgates slowly begin to open. Managing to turn around, I try to concentrate on the corridor ahead of me, gradually making my way towards it. It isn't long before I'm in full weep, and I struggle to keep my focus and my eyes dry. It's an impossible task.

How will I survive without him?

The only thing I can hear is the sound of my sobs as they come one after another, and I resist the urge to crumple to the floor in a grieving mess.

I was too late.

I'm almost at the escalators when I feel someone pulling on my shoulder, calling my name. I move sharply away from the grasp and continue ahead. The next thrust comes more forcefully, spinning me around. I look up at him and begin to open my mouth, but my protests are silenced with a finger to my lips. He shakes his head and takes my tear-streaked face in his hands, kissing me softly. The sensation of his lips on mine is enough to make my already fragile state shatter, and it takes every ounce of energy I have left to keep my knees from giving way. I close my eyes and bring my arms up around his shoulders, dropping the bag behind him. My hands find their way to the back of his head and I inch up on my toes, drawing us further into the kiss. His thumbs massage gentle circles on my cheeks, his touch mingling with my tears. I whimper when he pulls back a moment later, his hands moving down to my shoulders. He leans forward once more, resting his lips against my forehead.

"Wait for me."

And then he's gone.

***

The realization comes in the middle of the night.

It comes as I lie here, shattered and grieving.

I've never been so inconsolable.

It comes as the television flickers mutely in front of me, its dull picture the only source of light in this darkened, shadow-ridden apartment. The candles I lit hours ago have almost squandered themselves out.

A newspaper lies on the floor, the front page picture showing a diner on fire as patients and other medical personnel look on.

A sanctuary from the chaos of everyday life. No longer.

A common ground on which we gather to gripe, celebrate and reminisce. No longer.

Our place, no longer.

No more riverside conversations, no more hot fudge sundaes. No more coffee dates on the rooftop of County General.

All good things must come to an end. Right?

What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. Really?

Have we lost the good fight?

Maybe.

Will we lose the battle?

I don't know.

My notebook sits open. I reach down and graze my fingers across the familiar handwriting and bite my lip, before brushing away the few remaining tears that stream down my face.

I don't think I can cry anymore.

I barely recognize the words that stare back up at me, despite the fact that they flowed from my mind mere moments ago.

A tribute. To a moment shared. To words spoken. To feelings, hidden and exposed.

What makes who we are now different from what we were back then?

Time. Insight. Acceptance.

The realization comes as I my eyelids begin to droop and the pull of slumber lures me forward.

It shouldn't have happened. Not at all.

Not like this.

I lost him today, but he'd left long before he boarded that plane.

… it's not here.

And I never did say goodbye.

***

Pivotal Moment #7: Sitting on the loading dock outside the Lava Lounge

I'll always remember it as the night everything fell apart, then came together. The night I knew you were in this for the long haul. The night I realized I couldn't overcome my addiction on my own. The night I knew I would never win. The night I admitted to myself that I didn't want to win if I couldn't do it holding your hand.

The night we lost a friend, but found each other. Again.

A lot happened between the day I showed up at your Grandfather's funeral, and the day Mark died. And I wonder for a minute why you didn't include any of those moments here in this journal.

Like the night we strolled along the river and I admitted that I wanted more from us.

The day I tried to protect you when Sobricki turned up in the ER, and again that night, when I turned a blind eye and threw six years of sobriety out the window.

The night Brian attacked me.

The day you realized I was drinking again.

But slowly it dawns that you have, in some way, managed to capture all these moments in a single snapshot. On the outside, it's just a single instant frozen in time. But if you look closely, then the image truly begins to take shape.

I needed you even before the night I watched from my perch as you circled the block looking for a parking spot, counting the minutes until I felt your presence behind me.

I still need you… I still want more. I want to protect you and be protected by you.

I still want to win, John. But only when I'm with you.

. . . . .

Half the time, I still expect him to come walking right around the corner. Sometimes I catch myself, his name on the tip of my tongue. Sure, it's getting easier, but it's never going to completely fade. His impression. It fills that place. It surrounds us all.

He was a good man. A good husband… Father. A good doctor. A good mentor and teacher.

A good friend.

I see a lot of him in you, John.

. . . . .

We comforted each other that night, and in a way I think Mark's death brought us closer together. If anything, it helped us realize that life is not as fragile as we think. We tread lightly, because we're afraid of the fallout of our actions. We don't want to hurt each other, so we dance around the real issues, refusing to broach what's really on our minds.

That changed, just a little, as we sat in Doc MacGoo's, waiting for the sun to rise.

It's getting harder to stay sober these days, John.

Especially after last night. Especially after today.

When I saw Doc's in flames, I something came over me. I stopped in my tracks and watched for a moment. Awestruck. Saddened. Confused.

Then I turned around and saw you. And my immediate reaction was to run to you. To pull you close and make sure you were okay.

I never really took a moment to think about the significance of this event on our lives.

It was a part of our history, and now it's gone.

It was where our partnership began. And perhaps, last night, while it burned in the background, we turned another corner.

Things won't be the same, now.

It had to happen sometime, and yet, I can't keep myself from grieving for the way we were.

I know you're grieving for us, too.

I could see it in your eyes as you walked away.

I saw it again this morning, when you kissed me.

Kiss me again, John. Tell me it isn't over.

Or just come back to me. Safely.

I'll be waiting.

***