Netherworld
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart CATEGORY: Romance/Drama/AU SPOILERS: Season 9 and first episode of Season 10; the rest is all in my head. I've taken the spoilers that suit my story, and discarded those that do not. Let the buyer beware. DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. I just like moving them around like pieces on a chessboard (Luka is Black King, Carter is White King, Pratt is rook, Gallant is knight.)
SUMMARY: Abby realizes that her relationship with Carter is not working, and decides to call it a day before he does. And then she takes a road trip.
ARCHIVE: Just ask. I dare you.
Chapter 1. And I'm on My Way
If you my love must think that-a-way I'm sure your mind is a-roamin' I'm sure your thoughts are not with me But with the country where you're goin'
"Because I want to marry you!" The words kept echoing in her ears weeks after Carter had left her standing out in the cold. Why did their significant moments always seem to happen outside, Abby wondered whimsically as she headed to work. So many moments outside: their discussion by the river when he let her know he was tired of being just friends, their argument by the river when she approached him about a relationship and he rejected her, their discussion outside the bar the night they heard Mark Green had died, their arguments and reconciliation, and the hundred other petty crises taking place between them. All of these moments had taken place in the great outdoors, and usually when both were freezing to death. Things had not gone as she had expected at the restaurant-and what a strange silence between them, magnified by the fact that they were the only two in the dining room, with waiters and bus boys moving silently around like specters in a haunted house. And things had gotten progressively worse as the weeks wore on.
She had been sure Carter was going to ask her to marry him again that night at the restaurant, had thought long and hard about how to respond, only to have the chance taken away from her. And then, to find the ring in his pocket while he was in the shower confirmed all of her bad feelings about his bright idea of marriage. She had replaced the ring without letting him know that she had found it, had gone to bed with him, made love, fell asleep in his arms. But the next day she could not be in the same room with him any length of time, could not make her gaze meet his. She felt strange in her skin, uncomfortable with herself, and sick to death of the direction her life was taking. So, she switched her shift to mids to make it easier on the both of them, and to concentrate on the changes she felt she had to make if she didn't want to go under.
She forced herself to attend A.A. meetings, make contact with someone, find a sponsor, and share her story. It felt good to pour out her woes to strangers, to get this tangle of guilt and misery and alienation out of her gut. She felt like the Ancient Mariner, snatching at people passing by to tell them her cautionary tale of what happens when you grow up in a family and you are "outside of the disease," yet know it so well, and still you're still blindsided by its occurrence in your brother. So blindsided that getting roaring, blind drunk seems the obvious solution. Once the story came out, she couldn't stop it-it was like a damn bursting and she wanted to tell it over and over again.
And it felt good to slap on a nicotine patch and stop smoking. She felt cleaner inside, scoured of some of the more caustic emotions that coursed through her. Now, if they could only make a patch to stop her from feeling so damned alone.
When all was said and done, Carter had guessed how she was feeling, had figured out that she had found the ring in the inside pocket of his suit coat. And she knew somewhere deep inside that he couldn't figure out how she felt because he wasn't clear on his own feelings. But she knew. He had changed his mind, realized that she and her family were more baggage than he would ever be willing to take on, given his own baggage carried about every day. He might not realize it yet, but his subconscious had made the connection. So, they argued. They parted. They came back together in a bleak, comfortless embrace. And they parted again, to return to their separate dwellings and start their separate lives. So much had happened since then-Eric's return juxtaposed against Mrs. Carter's death-and their journeys in different directions for different purposes, she to a truck stop to sweep up the remnants of her brother, he to a chair placed next to the bed containing his grandmother's body. And with every passing moment, the chasm between them continued to open wider until the fiasco at the funeral made the cut clean. Their separation seemed inevitable, and they couldn't see the person they knew in each other's features, only a stranger, looking coldly and speaking stilted words.
And now Carter was about to leave for Africa, to do this thing he had to do, to find out the person he was without the familiar confines of his grandmother's house or the strictures of his grandmother's life. And, if she hadn't taken the phone message for him from Luka, he would not have even told her that he was going. How had it happened that they could not even talk to each other anymore? That neither one understood, or even wanted to understand, the other?
Jamming her hands into her jacket pockets, Abby strolled slowly along. She was a bit early for the midnight shift, and had decided to get off the El several stations before her usual stop. She craved some time to walk along and sort through her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She noticed that each streetlight threw out a dim nimbus of light in the cold, damp air-weak halos surrounded each bulb, like the heads of fallen saints. Once upon a time, Carter had offered her a happy ending, like the prince in a fairy tale, and then had thought the better of it and snatched it back. Just as well. She wasn't made for happy endings. The only happy ending she wanted right now was for Eric. She wanted to put Eric back together, just like all of the king's horses and men. Only, Eric wasn't an egg, he was a man on the edge of a ledge, contemplating a leap. After the scene at the funeral, he had disappeared to parts unknown. God only knew when he would show up again, and in what shape. She didn't know how much longer she could just wait.
Pulling a cigarette from her pocket, she fingered it, deciding whether or not to light it. Whatever shattered remnants of her brother were left behind, she needed to reach her hands into the shards and make it right, no matter how it might cut or scar her. The hell with Carter-her focus had to be on Eric. If Carter wanted to end their relationship, fine, it was probably the right decision. But she couldn't let Eric push her away.
With all of her heart, she longed to wind time back, so that there was no disappearance and reappearance, no plane, no military arrest, no desertion, no disease, no separation, and, ultimately, no need for reconciliation with every word or action. But that wasn't possible, either. Time to grow up, Abby, she thought wryly. Time to stop being the scared child who cleans things up one mess at a time, but doesn't fix the root cause of the problem. Time to be decisive with your life. And that meant making things right for Eric first. Only then could she determine what to do with her life. Until then, her life was on hold.
Tossing the unlit cigarette away, she turned and headed toward the hospital. She had made her decision. Time to move, time to act. She had to find him.
Gone away Who knows where you been You take all your lies And wish them all away
I somehow doubt We'll ever be the same There's too much poison And confusion on your face
Would you come back to me Yeah I can't do another day I'm not certain of it anyway I'm not messin' with another life Can I get on without you Tell me lies That you Know I need
Sunday afternoons were usually crazy in the ER, but today was different. It had been slow all day, and extremely quiet for a weekend. John Carter was using the lull to catch up on his paperwork and clear the board. It had been over a week since he had seen Abby-he wasn't actively trying to avoid her, but she had made it easy by scheduling graveyard shifts. He had appreciated having the time away from her, given the upheaval in their relationship, and felt almost guilty at the relief he experienced when he had overheard Weaver tell Susan that Abby had signed up for a stint on mids. He was leaving for Africa on Monday, and wanted desperately to get away without having another confrontation with her.
She had looked stunned when she asked him about his departure, and whether he would have told her. He was irritated by her reaction, and ashamed. Maybe he hadn't thought of how she would feel, but he couldn't let that get in the way of what he had to do. And she had chosen Eric over him every step of the way. Eric would always be there, demanding her attention, for the rest of her life. He just couldn't handle it.
And yet he missed her. Abby was chaos, true, but she was also unrelentingly honest about herself. If he was truthful with himself, he had to admit that he had wanted to change her, to fix her and make her right. But, what was right? The pallid, rigidly correct women he had dated through college and medical school? The society women that attended foundation luncheons and charity functions with his grandmother? Or someone damaged, like himself?
He pushed the thought abruptly away-he didn't want to be dark, but there it was. The stabbing, the painful recovery, the addiction, the plane trip to rehab, the slow journey back from rehab-he would never be the same again. A portion of himself was damaged, and wouldn't be made right no matter what he did. The addiction always lay just on the edge of consciousness, tempting him at times when he felt like life was sweeping him along. Abby was kin in this battle, someone with pretty potent demons of her own to fight and strategies to keep the darkness at bay. But she also was dragging him down in an undertow she couldn't escape. He didn't want his life to be dark, and she seemed to tolerate the darkness a little too much.
A part of him still loved her-at the end of the day, it was there, irrefutable, unmovable, unchanged by argument or deception or estrangement- at the same time that part of him was repelled by her. He just didn't know which part would win.
"Hey, John, do you know where Abby is," Kerry broke into his thoughts, calling out across the corridor. "I called her home phone and her cell phone to see if she would switch shifts today, and she didn't answer."
Carter looked up from the chart he held. "No, I don't know where she is."
"I could really use her," Weaver added as she headed down the hall. "Let me try calling upstairs to see if she's there."
Funny, Abby usually stayed pretty close to home on Sundays. Maybe she was sleeping and ignoring the phones-she had a bad habit of doing that. He looked up as the ambulance bay doors opened and Susan strolled in. "Hey, where have you been--you were supposed to relieve me an hour ago. I've got a million things to do before I leave tomorrow."
Susan replied ruefully, "Sorry, traffic was just awful at O'Hare."
Carter joked, "Chuck headed back to Vegas?"
Susan stopped unwinding the scarf from around her neck and took a deep breath. "No, I dropped Abby off at the airport."
He stared at her. "Abby?"
"Yes, she had a 12:00 flight." Susan fiddled with her gloves, stuffing them into the pockets of her jacket.
Carter lowered the clipboard to the desk. "Flight to where?"
Susan heaved a sigh. "Minnesota. She's gone to find Eric."
"Gone for how long?" Funny, he thought, his mouth was shaping the words but he had no idea what he was saying.
Susan looked at him soberly. "She didn't say."
"John," Weaver came walking quickly down the hall, "Do you know why Abby resigned?"
"She resigned?" Carter's mouth hung open.
Susan cleared her throat and turned to Kerry. "She left to look for her brother, and she's not sure if she's coming back. She didn't want to leave us hanging, Kerry, so she made a clean break, thinking we could hire another nurse."
Kerry looked genuinely distressed. "She was one of the best nurses we ever had. It's going to be hard to replace her." Sensing the tension between Carter and Susan, she announced, "Guess I better see if Haleh or Yosh can fill in today," and quietly withdrew.
Before he could open his mouth, Susan held up her hand and remarked sharply, "Don't you dare act outraged that she didn't tell you, not after the way she found out you were going to Africa. You two have been acting like total strangers lately." After a moment's silence, she continued in a softer tone, "Abby blames herself for the problems in your relationship, John. She has taken Eric's behavior upon herself, and believes that you'll never be able to come to grips with her having to take care of him. She wanted to be the first to leave, and she wanted you to be able to go to Africa free of entanglements or regrets."
He ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I know things have been pretty bad between us, but I didn't think she'd take such drastic measures-I didn't think she'd leave without saying goodbye."
Susan laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Just like you were going to leave without saying goodbye? Look, John, I made her promise to check in with me every once in awhile. When she calls me, I'll tell her to contact you."
Strange, he thought, to feel disappointed and relieved at the same time. "No, don't bother. Leave it alone." He sighed, "Maybe things are better this way."
"Carter," Susan protested, but he cut her off.
"No, Susan, if this is the way she wants it to end, then leave it be." It's like she's a complete stranger, he thought numbly as he headed toward the lounge, like I never knew her at all. And the hell of it is, I didn't-I saw her the way I wanted her to be.
The title is courtesy of George Gissing. First set of song lyrics is Boots of Spanish Leather; imagine it sung by the incomparable Bob Dylan. Second set (do I even have to tell you?) is the Goo-Goo Dolls' Hate This Place, written by John Rzenik (nothing better for sheer misery and isolation than listening to the GGD's). Let's see where this goes-reviews will help shape the direction (hint hint).
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart CATEGORY: Romance/Drama/AU SPOILERS: Season 9 and first episode of Season 10; the rest is all in my head. I've taken the spoilers that suit my story, and discarded those that do not. Let the buyer beware. DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. I just like moving them around like pieces on a chessboard (Luka is Black King, Carter is White King, Pratt is rook, Gallant is knight.)
SUMMARY: Abby realizes that her relationship with Carter is not working, and decides to call it a day before he does. And then she takes a road trip.
ARCHIVE: Just ask. I dare you.
Chapter 1. And I'm on My Way
If you my love must think that-a-way I'm sure your mind is a-roamin' I'm sure your thoughts are not with me But with the country where you're goin'
"Because I want to marry you!" The words kept echoing in her ears weeks after Carter had left her standing out in the cold. Why did their significant moments always seem to happen outside, Abby wondered whimsically as she headed to work. So many moments outside: their discussion by the river when he let her know he was tired of being just friends, their argument by the river when she approached him about a relationship and he rejected her, their discussion outside the bar the night they heard Mark Green had died, their arguments and reconciliation, and the hundred other petty crises taking place between them. All of these moments had taken place in the great outdoors, and usually when both were freezing to death. Things had not gone as she had expected at the restaurant-and what a strange silence between them, magnified by the fact that they were the only two in the dining room, with waiters and bus boys moving silently around like specters in a haunted house. And things had gotten progressively worse as the weeks wore on.
She had been sure Carter was going to ask her to marry him again that night at the restaurant, had thought long and hard about how to respond, only to have the chance taken away from her. And then, to find the ring in his pocket while he was in the shower confirmed all of her bad feelings about his bright idea of marriage. She had replaced the ring without letting him know that she had found it, had gone to bed with him, made love, fell asleep in his arms. But the next day she could not be in the same room with him any length of time, could not make her gaze meet his. She felt strange in her skin, uncomfortable with herself, and sick to death of the direction her life was taking. So, she switched her shift to mids to make it easier on the both of them, and to concentrate on the changes she felt she had to make if she didn't want to go under.
She forced herself to attend A.A. meetings, make contact with someone, find a sponsor, and share her story. It felt good to pour out her woes to strangers, to get this tangle of guilt and misery and alienation out of her gut. She felt like the Ancient Mariner, snatching at people passing by to tell them her cautionary tale of what happens when you grow up in a family and you are "outside of the disease," yet know it so well, and still you're still blindsided by its occurrence in your brother. So blindsided that getting roaring, blind drunk seems the obvious solution. Once the story came out, she couldn't stop it-it was like a damn bursting and she wanted to tell it over and over again.
And it felt good to slap on a nicotine patch and stop smoking. She felt cleaner inside, scoured of some of the more caustic emotions that coursed through her. Now, if they could only make a patch to stop her from feeling so damned alone.
When all was said and done, Carter had guessed how she was feeling, had figured out that she had found the ring in the inside pocket of his suit coat. And she knew somewhere deep inside that he couldn't figure out how she felt because he wasn't clear on his own feelings. But she knew. He had changed his mind, realized that she and her family were more baggage than he would ever be willing to take on, given his own baggage carried about every day. He might not realize it yet, but his subconscious had made the connection. So, they argued. They parted. They came back together in a bleak, comfortless embrace. And they parted again, to return to their separate dwellings and start their separate lives. So much had happened since then-Eric's return juxtaposed against Mrs. Carter's death-and their journeys in different directions for different purposes, she to a truck stop to sweep up the remnants of her brother, he to a chair placed next to the bed containing his grandmother's body. And with every passing moment, the chasm between them continued to open wider until the fiasco at the funeral made the cut clean. Their separation seemed inevitable, and they couldn't see the person they knew in each other's features, only a stranger, looking coldly and speaking stilted words.
And now Carter was about to leave for Africa, to do this thing he had to do, to find out the person he was without the familiar confines of his grandmother's house or the strictures of his grandmother's life. And, if she hadn't taken the phone message for him from Luka, he would not have even told her that he was going. How had it happened that they could not even talk to each other anymore? That neither one understood, or even wanted to understand, the other?
Jamming her hands into her jacket pockets, Abby strolled slowly along. She was a bit early for the midnight shift, and had decided to get off the El several stations before her usual stop. She craved some time to walk along and sort through her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She noticed that each streetlight threw out a dim nimbus of light in the cold, damp air-weak halos surrounded each bulb, like the heads of fallen saints. Once upon a time, Carter had offered her a happy ending, like the prince in a fairy tale, and then had thought the better of it and snatched it back. Just as well. She wasn't made for happy endings. The only happy ending she wanted right now was for Eric. She wanted to put Eric back together, just like all of the king's horses and men. Only, Eric wasn't an egg, he was a man on the edge of a ledge, contemplating a leap. After the scene at the funeral, he had disappeared to parts unknown. God only knew when he would show up again, and in what shape. She didn't know how much longer she could just wait.
Pulling a cigarette from her pocket, she fingered it, deciding whether or not to light it. Whatever shattered remnants of her brother were left behind, she needed to reach her hands into the shards and make it right, no matter how it might cut or scar her. The hell with Carter-her focus had to be on Eric. If Carter wanted to end their relationship, fine, it was probably the right decision. But she couldn't let Eric push her away.
With all of her heart, she longed to wind time back, so that there was no disappearance and reappearance, no plane, no military arrest, no desertion, no disease, no separation, and, ultimately, no need for reconciliation with every word or action. But that wasn't possible, either. Time to grow up, Abby, she thought wryly. Time to stop being the scared child who cleans things up one mess at a time, but doesn't fix the root cause of the problem. Time to be decisive with your life. And that meant making things right for Eric first. Only then could she determine what to do with her life. Until then, her life was on hold.
Tossing the unlit cigarette away, she turned and headed toward the hospital. She had made her decision. Time to move, time to act. She had to find him.
Gone away Who knows where you been You take all your lies And wish them all away
I somehow doubt We'll ever be the same There's too much poison And confusion on your face
Would you come back to me Yeah I can't do another day I'm not certain of it anyway I'm not messin' with another life Can I get on without you Tell me lies That you Know I need
Sunday afternoons were usually crazy in the ER, but today was different. It had been slow all day, and extremely quiet for a weekend. John Carter was using the lull to catch up on his paperwork and clear the board. It had been over a week since he had seen Abby-he wasn't actively trying to avoid her, but she had made it easy by scheduling graveyard shifts. He had appreciated having the time away from her, given the upheaval in their relationship, and felt almost guilty at the relief he experienced when he had overheard Weaver tell Susan that Abby had signed up for a stint on mids. He was leaving for Africa on Monday, and wanted desperately to get away without having another confrontation with her.
She had looked stunned when she asked him about his departure, and whether he would have told her. He was irritated by her reaction, and ashamed. Maybe he hadn't thought of how she would feel, but he couldn't let that get in the way of what he had to do. And she had chosen Eric over him every step of the way. Eric would always be there, demanding her attention, for the rest of her life. He just couldn't handle it.
And yet he missed her. Abby was chaos, true, but she was also unrelentingly honest about herself. If he was truthful with himself, he had to admit that he had wanted to change her, to fix her and make her right. But, what was right? The pallid, rigidly correct women he had dated through college and medical school? The society women that attended foundation luncheons and charity functions with his grandmother? Or someone damaged, like himself?
He pushed the thought abruptly away-he didn't want to be dark, but there it was. The stabbing, the painful recovery, the addiction, the plane trip to rehab, the slow journey back from rehab-he would never be the same again. A portion of himself was damaged, and wouldn't be made right no matter what he did. The addiction always lay just on the edge of consciousness, tempting him at times when he felt like life was sweeping him along. Abby was kin in this battle, someone with pretty potent demons of her own to fight and strategies to keep the darkness at bay. But she also was dragging him down in an undertow she couldn't escape. He didn't want his life to be dark, and she seemed to tolerate the darkness a little too much.
A part of him still loved her-at the end of the day, it was there, irrefutable, unmovable, unchanged by argument or deception or estrangement- at the same time that part of him was repelled by her. He just didn't know which part would win.
"Hey, John, do you know where Abby is," Kerry broke into his thoughts, calling out across the corridor. "I called her home phone and her cell phone to see if she would switch shifts today, and she didn't answer."
Carter looked up from the chart he held. "No, I don't know where she is."
"I could really use her," Weaver added as she headed down the hall. "Let me try calling upstairs to see if she's there."
Funny, Abby usually stayed pretty close to home on Sundays. Maybe she was sleeping and ignoring the phones-she had a bad habit of doing that. He looked up as the ambulance bay doors opened and Susan strolled in. "Hey, where have you been--you were supposed to relieve me an hour ago. I've got a million things to do before I leave tomorrow."
Susan replied ruefully, "Sorry, traffic was just awful at O'Hare."
Carter joked, "Chuck headed back to Vegas?"
Susan stopped unwinding the scarf from around her neck and took a deep breath. "No, I dropped Abby off at the airport."
He stared at her. "Abby?"
"Yes, she had a 12:00 flight." Susan fiddled with her gloves, stuffing them into the pockets of her jacket.
Carter lowered the clipboard to the desk. "Flight to where?"
Susan heaved a sigh. "Minnesota. She's gone to find Eric."
"Gone for how long?" Funny, he thought, his mouth was shaping the words but he had no idea what he was saying.
Susan looked at him soberly. "She didn't say."
"John," Weaver came walking quickly down the hall, "Do you know why Abby resigned?"
"She resigned?" Carter's mouth hung open.
Susan cleared her throat and turned to Kerry. "She left to look for her brother, and she's not sure if she's coming back. She didn't want to leave us hanging, Kerry, so she made a clean break, thinking we could hire another nurse."
Kerry looked genuinely distressed. "She was one of the best nurses we ever had. It's going to be hard to replace her." Sensing the tension between Carter and Susan, she announced, "Guess I better see if Haleh or Yosh can fill in today," and quietly withdrew.
Before he could open his mouth, Susan held up her hand and remarked sharply, "Don't you dare act outraged that she didn't tell you, not after the way she found out you were going to Africa. You two have been acting like total strangers lately." After a moment's silence, she continued in a softer tone, "Abby blames herself for the problems in your relationship, John. She has taken Eric's behavior upon herself, and believes that you'll never be able to come to grips with her having to take care of him. She wanted to be the first to leave, and she wanted you to be able to go to Africa free of entanglements or regrets."
He ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I know things have been pretty bad between us, but I didn't think she'd take such drastic measures-I didn't think she'd leave without saying goodbye."
Susan laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Just like you were going to leave without saying goodbye? Look, John, I made her promise to check in with me every once in awhile. When she calls me, I'll tell her to contact you."
Strange, he thought, to feel disappointed and relieved at the same time. "No, don't bother. Leave it alone." He sighed, "Maybe things are better this way."
"Carter," Susan protested, but he cut her off.
"No, Susan, if this is the way she wants it to end, then leave it be." It's like she's a complete stranger, he thought numbly as he headed toward the lounge, like I never knew her at all. And the hell of it is, I didn't-I saw her the way I wanted her to be.
The title is courtesy of George Gissing. First set of song lyrics is Boots of Spanish Leather; imagine it sung by the incomparable Bob Dylan. Second set (do I even have to tell you?) is the Goo-Goo Dolls' Hate This Place, written by John Rzenik (nothing better for sheer misery and isolation than listening to the GGD's). Let's see where this goes-reviews will help shape the direction (hint hint).