Chapter 2
Two Days Later:
Abby walked through the swinging front doors of County General's emergency department, scanning the lobby for any sign of Carter. Over the last 24 hours she had moved every single personal item of Carter's out into her hallway. She assumed he picked up his belongings, they weren't there when she left this morning.
She didn't see him, so quickly she ducked into the lounge. Susan was sitting at the table, picking her fingernail. When she saw Abby she smiled sympathetically and asked Abby how she was doing. Susan knew about the break-up because Abby had gone over to her apartment in tears the day after the fight. She listened with concern while Abby blurted out the whole story over a plate of brownies and ice cream.
"Abby, Deb and I are going out to the Club on 75th street tonight, you know, The Slammer? Why don't you come along."
Abby shook her head at Susan, "I don't know, I don't really feel like going out in public. I look like crap."
"Oh you do not, just a little tired. Besides, its dark in there, no one will know. You do have an excuse to look a little dragged by the way."
Abby sighed. "Alright, but if some 50 year old trucker asks me if I want to 'shake it' I'm outta there!"
Susan laughed, "Don't worry, if that happens I'll shake it with him."
Abby rolled her eyes, but then smiled. "Fine, I'm off at 9, I'll meet you at Doc Magoos then?"
"You bet!"
Abby opened her locker and pulled out her stethoscope. She had already checked the schedule, Carter got off half an hour before her shift began. She thanked the Gods for small miracles. The lounge door burst open and Malik rushed in. "Abby, MVA rolling up, multiple victims." She slammed her locker shut and rushed out after him. It was going to be a long day.
1:30 am.
Abby stumbled into through her rickety apartment door, closing it a little too loudly with her foot. Her neighbour, Mrs. Galez wouldn't be pleased. "Who gives a shit," she thought as she turned on the lamp in her living room.
Abby hadn't been drinking yet she felt strangely drunk, like she had inhaled the alcohol fumes from the club. She certainly had enough alcohol on her clothes to mistake herself for a brewery. All those dancing drunk people didn't have the best grip on their drinks.
She checked her answering machine, no messages. She was shocked to find herself a little disappointed, she really didn't want him to call did she?"
Abby brushed her teeth and fell into her bed. She was so exhausted she thought sleep would claim her instantaneously, but she lay awake for nearly and hour. Subconsciously, she knew she was listening for his breathing. Ashamed to admit it, Abby had grown accustomed to Carter's gentle snores beside her as she drifted off to sleep.
Finally, she succumbed to the exhaustion taking over her body and fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep.
Two Weeks Later:
"Abby, push ten cc's of ativan stat!" Doctor Weaver commanded. The patient they were working on suddenly went into seizure, knocking the pulse ox cable from their thumb. The cardiac monitors screamed mercilessly.
"Coming up!" Abby pushed through the madness of the trauma room, nearly knocking Lily over. Steadying the older nurse with her hand, she gripped the vial of Ativan, drawing the correct dosage into a syringe. She clamoured with the patients IV, pushing the meds in. Within a few seconds, the woman, a twenty-something year old suffering from an aspirin overdose, stopped seizing. The monitors settled down, and the familiar rhythmic beeps resumed.
"Whew," Doctor Weaver sighed, "I can't image someone swallowing a whole bottle of pain-killers without knowing the consequences would be serious. I'll get someone from the psychology department down here to see her when she wakes up. Meanwhile, Lily set me up for an stomach tube, I need to pump some charcoal in her, soak up those toxins as best we can."
Now not needed, Abby pulled her latex gloves from her hands, tossing them in the bio bin outside the trauma room. She walked into the chaotic reception area observing the wide variety of patients littering the halls and waiting area.
She whisked into the lounge, grateful for a few minutes of peace. Seeing the girl seizing on the trauma table disturbed her more than she liked to admit. She still had the image of her mother's thin body, seizing under the influence of the sleeping pills she swallowed only a year earlier.
She stopped in her tracks however when she entered the secluded doctor's lounge. Sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee balanced between his fingers was John Carter.
"Abby," he said coolly, "I didn't know you were on today. He turned his attention back to the chart he was reading.
"Yeah I have a 9-5 shift today." She watched him nod almost impeccably, his dark eyes still cast downward.
"Hmm bankers hours, how lucky of you." He didn't glance up, rather looked intently at the chart, not really reading it, but pretending he was.
Abby didn't know what to say. "You got your clothes? I left them in the hall."
"So I saw. How nice of you to leave them out there for anyone to take."
"What did you expect? For me to open my door and welcome you in with a smiling face? Do you even know the hurt you have caused?" Abby could feel herself getting emotional. She didn't know if she would let it out as rage or fall into a crying heap.
"Whatever Abby, I have things to do." He got up off the couch and walked back into the busy ER.
Abby stood there for nearly a minute, her hands clench in angry fists, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Dejectedly, she turned to the coffee machine for some caffinated comfort.
The door of the lounge swung open and Abby quickly wiped at her eyes. She was embarrassed bringing her personal problems to work.
Facing the wall behind the coffee machine, she hoped the person entering would leave quickly and not say anything to her. She just wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, she didn't get her wish.
"Abby?" a thickly accented voice asked, "What are you doing?"
Abby turned around slowly, plastering a slight smile on her face. "Hey Luka." He was the last person she wanted to see. She knew he still harboured some feelings for her and would want to know what was wrong.
His smiled faded as he studied her pale face and bloodshot eyes. "Hey, are you ok? I heard about you and Carter." He seemed uncomfortable, scuffing his toe on the floor and observing it intently, "I'm sorry, really I am." He looked up then, his deep eyes searching her face. She knew he was sincere.
"I'm okay Luka, thanks. How are you doing? I haven't seen you since you came back from your trip to Croatia."
He smiled. "I'm fine. It was really nice to go home and see my parents, even if it was only for a little while."
"Sounds nice. Well, welcome home." Abby was uncomfortable, she didn't know what to say to Luka. It was weird talking to her ex-boyfriend about the painful break-up she had just suffered from her 'current' boyfriend.
"Thanks. Listen, if you ever want to talk, you still have my number and know where I live. Don't worry, I won't jump you." He chuckled at his own joke and moved toward her. Hesitantly, he gave her hand a squeeze. "Call me anytime Abby, whenever you need to talk."
Abby's eyes misted yet again. She was grateful for Luka's friendship, even if she was a little uncomfortable talking with him about Carter. She smiled. "Thanks Luka, but I think I'm going to be okay."
He smiled at her, understanding her unease. "Well," he said, "we can get a cup of coffee sometime, catch up. We haven't talked in a while."
"I'd like that," Abby replied, realizing she would like to have coffee with Luka sometime. They had still remained friends after the end of their relationship. "Thanks again Luka."
The P.A. system in the ER crackled, "Dr. Kovac, report to trauma 2 immediately." The code light began flashing on Luka's pager, signalling his patient in trauma 2 was crashing.
"Damn," he muttered, "this boy is only 14 years old. How the hell can he be shot on his way to school?" He said a quick goodbye to Abby and sprinted into the hallway, on the way to the trauma room.
Two Days Later:
Abby walked through the swinging front doors of County General's emergency department, scanning the lobby for any sign of Carter. Over the last 24 hours she had moved every single personal item of Carter's out into her hallway. She assumed he picked up his belongings, they weren't there when she left this morning.
She didn't see him, so quickly she ducked into the lounge. Susan was sitting at the table, picking her fingernail. When she saw Abby she smiled sympathetically and asked Abby how she was doing. Susan knew about the break-up because Abby had gone over to her apartment in tears the day after the fight. She listened with concern while Abby blurted out the whole story over a plate of brownies and ice cream.
"Abby, Deb and I are going out to the Club on 75th street tonight, you know, The Slammer? Why don't you come along."
Abby shook her head at Susan, "I don't know, I don't really feel like going out in public. I look like crap."
"Oh you do not, just a little tired. Besides, its dark in there, no one will know. You do have an excuse to look a little dragged by the way."
Abby sighed. "Alright, but if some 50 year old trucker asks me if I want to 'shake it' I'm outta there!"
Susan laughed, "Don't worry, if that happens I'll shake it with him."
Abby rolled her eyes, but then smiled. "Fine, I'm off at 9, I'll meet you at Doc Magoos then?"
"You bet!"
Abby opened her locker and pulled out her stethoscope. She had already checked the schedule, Carter got off half an hour before her shift began. She thanked the Gods for small miracles. The lounge door burst open and Malik rushed in. "Abby, MVA rolling up, multiple victims." She slammed her locker shut and rushed out after him. It was going to be a long day.
1:30 am.
Abby stumbled into through her rickety apartment door, closing it a little too loudly with her foot. Her neighbour, Mrs. Galez wouldn't be pleased. "Who gives a shit," she thought as she turned on the lamp in her living room.
Abby hadn't been drinking yet she felt strangely drunk, like she had inhaled the alcohol fumes from the club. She certainly had enough alcohol on her clothes to mistake herself for a brewery. All those dancing drunk people didn't have the best grip on their drinks.
She checked her answering machine, no messages. She was shocked to find herself a little disappointed, she really didn't want him to call did she?"
Abby brushed her teeth and fell into her bed. She was so exhausted she thought sleep would claim her instantaneously, but she lay awake for nearly and hour. Subconsciously, she knew she was listening for his breathing. Ashamed to admit it, Abby had grown accustomed to Carter's gentle snores beside her as she drifted off to sleep.
Finally, she succumbed to the exhaustion taking over her body and fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep.
Two Weeks Later:
"Abby, push ten cc's of ativan stat!" Doctor Weaver commanded. The patient they were working on suddenly went into seizure, knocking the pulse ox cable from their thumb. The cardiac monitors screamed mercilessly.
"Coming up!" Abby pushed through the madness of the trauma room, nearly knocking Lily over. Steadying the older nurse with her hand, she gripped the vial of Ativan, drawing the correct dosage into a syringe. She clamoured with the patients IV, pushing the meds in. Within a few seconds, the woman, a twenty-something year old suffering from an aspirin overdose, stopped seizing. The monitors settled down, and the familiar rhythmic beeps resumed.
"Whew," Doctor Weaver sighed, "I can't image someone swallowing a whole bottle of pain-killers without knowing the consequences would be serious. I'll get someone from the psychology department down here to see her when she wakes up. Meanwhile, Lily set me up for an stomach tube, I need to pump some charcoal in her, soak up those toxins as best we can."
Now not needed, Abby pulled her latex gloves from her hands, tossing them in the bio bin outside the trauma room. She walked into the chaotic reception area observing the wide variety of patients littering the halls and waiting area.
She whisked into the lounge, grateful for a few minutes of peace. Seeing the girl seizing on the trauma table disturbed her more than she liked to admit. She still had the image of her mother's thin body, seizing under the influence of the sleeping pills she swallowed only a year earlier.
She stopped in her tracks however when she entered the secluded doctor's lounge. Sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee balanced between his fingers was John Carter.
"Abby," he said coolly, "I didn't know you were on today. He turned his attention back to the chart he was reading.
"Yeah I have a 9-5 shift today." She watched him nod almost impeccably, his dark eyes still cast downward.
"Hmm bankers hours, how lucky of you." He didn't glance up, rather looked intently at the chart, not really reading it, but pretending he was.
Abby didn't know what to say. "You got your clothes? I left them in the hall."
"So I saw. How nice of you to leave them out there for anyone to take."
"What did you expect? For me to open my door and welcome you in with a smiling face? Do you even know the hurt you have caused?" Abby could feel herself getting emotional. She didn't know if she would let it out as rage or fall into a crying heap.
"Whatever Abby, I have things to do." He got up off the couch and walked back into the busy ER.
Abby stood there for nearly a minute, her hands clench in angry fists, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Dejectedly, she turned to the coffee machine for some caffinated comfort.
The door of the lounge swung open and Abby quickly wiped at her eyes. She was embarrassed bringing her personal problems to work.
Facing the wall behind the coffee machine, she hoped the person entering would leave quickly and not say anything to her. She just wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, she didn't get her wish.
"Abby?" a thickly accented voice asked, "What are you doing?"
Abby turned around slowly, plastering a slight smile on her face. "Hey Luka." He was the last person she wanted to see. She knew he still harboured some feelings for her and would want to know what was wrong.
His smiled faded as he studied her pale face and bloodshot eyes. "Hey, are you ok? I heard about you and Carter." He seemed uncomfortable, scuffing his toe on the floor and observing it intently, "I'm sorry, really I am." He looked up then, his deep eyes searching her face. She knew he was sincere.
"I'm okay Luka, thanks. How are you doing? I haven't seen you since you came back from your trip to Croatia."
He smiled. "I'm fine. It was really nice to go home and see my parents, even if it was only for a little while."
"Sounds nice. Well, welcome home." Abby was uncomfortable, she didn't know what to say to Luka. It was weird talking to her ex-boyfriend about the painful break-up she had just suffered from her 'current' boyfriend.
"Thanks. Listen, if you ever want to talk, you still have my number and know where I live. Don't worry, I won't jump you." He chuckled at his own joke and moved toward her. Hesitantly, he gave her hand a squeeze. "Call me anytime Abby, whenever you need to talk."
Abby's eyes misted yet again. She was grateful for Luka's friendship, even if she was a little uncomfortable talking with him about Carter. She smiled. "Thanks Luka, but I think I'm going to be okay."
He smiled at her, understanding her unease. "Well," he said, "we can get a cup of coffee sometime, catch up. We haven't talked in a while."
"I'd like that," Abby replied, realizing she would like to have coffee with Luka sometime. They had still remained friends after the end of their relationship. "Thanks again Luka."
The P.A. system in the ER crackled, "Dr. Kovac, report to trauma 2 immediately." The code light began flashing on Luka's pager, signalling his patient in trauma 2 was crashing.
"Damn," he muttered, "this boy is only 14 years old. How the hell can he be shot on his way to school?" He said a quick goodbye to Abby and sprinted into the hallway, on the way to the trauma room.
