This is my take on the spoilers for 10.3, 'Dear Abby'. A response letter, if you like. I wrote it a while back, when the spoilers were first out, and never got round to posting it. I wanted to post before we got to the episode though, so I thought I ought to get it out! I have another spoiler-y fic too, but I'll wait a few days to post that, until people have read this. ;) That one's for a bit later on than Dear Abby anyway.
Please R&R!
Jo xx

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Dear John,

I've been sat here for the last twenty minutes just staring at two pieces of paper. One with your letter on, and the other was this one, with just "Dear John" written at the top. It's taken me so long just to pick up a pen, after that single "Dear John" because I simply don't know what to say. Should I be angry at you for what's happened? Should I tell you it's okay, I understand, and this is probably best anyway? Should I just sink into self-destruction? Should I break down in a corner and cry? Or is there some other way I should 'cope' with this?

About an hour ago I was insanely angry. I just wanted to hurt someone or something, to get my own back for the way the world treats me. I was mad at you, yes, but that wasn't the half of it. If someone had given me a gun I would have gladly shot Frank and Jerry. Along with all the other people who have made my life a misery. As the afternoon went on I got more and more angry with you, less and less angry with them. I realise now, after an hour of thought and reflection, that all the events of today weren't your fault. You couldn't help the way they behaved. But that doesn't change the fact that you broke up with me in a fax, sent to the ER. It doesn't change the fact that I was humiliated and distraught in front of the whole department. So yeah, I'm angry at you.

I understand. I get it. Isn't that how all this trouble started out? Well, it probably started way before then...but "I get it". I'm sorry, I don't know what I thought I was doing then. But I wonder: do you get it? Do you know why this didn't work out? Because I don't get it. I want to get it, but I don't. We had some really rough times, and I think we both did some pretty stupid and hurtful things. But I always thought we were stronger than that. I guess I was wrong, and that hurts.

On the way home I briefly considered a trip to the convenience store for a bottle of something. Preferably something strong. But what would that achieve? I'd just become a wreck, and there would be no purpose in my life. And without you there, there would be no one to save me. Because, as cheesy as it sounds, you manage to save me from alcohol every time. It would be ironic, wouldn't it, if the man who stopped me drinking was the reason I started again. But I don't want to try it out. I don't know if you care about that, whether it matters to you anymore. I hope that it does, but I guess it's none of my business. You probably just want to be free of me completely.

I can feel the tears welling up every now and then, you know. I'm not sure if you actually realise the magnitude of this. Or maybe you do. Maybe you're feeling the same, but felt that I wanted to end it and so gave me an easy way out. If that's true then please hear me: I didn't want out, I could never want out. Every time I think of the reasons there could be for you ending it, I want to burst into tears. When I found Frank and Jerry with the fax all I wanted to do was sit there and cry like a baby. I know, I'm pathetic. But I just want you to be able to understand how much all this means.

I'm so confused right now, about how to react. I know that in a way this is my fault, because of everything that happened with Eric. I should have been there for you. But I also know, and this may be the first time I've truly realised it, that nothing is entirely my fault. We have a lot to work through. I don't know if we can do that, or if you want to do that. I know I want to. But I also don't want to sit on my hands forever, on the brink of drinking myself to death or curling up in a ball and crying until I die of starvation.

I've decided to go back to med school. I don't know if it's what I want. I thought I was happy as a nurse, and I was until you left. Being a doctor was something I always wanted to do. Nursing is amazing, and I love it. But maybe I'm supposed to be a doctor. I don't know. I don't know much right now. The one thing I do know is that I'm hopelessly in love with a man called John Carter, and that focusing on med school may be the only thing that prevents me from self-destructing because I lost him.

I love you John, now and forever. There's no one else I can love, there's nothing I can do about it. I will just simply and purely love you forever. I don't ask you to return the feelings, just to accept them.

All my love,

Abby


Abby sat and stared at the piece of paper in front of her. Just minutes before it had been empty, except for the "Dear John" at the top. Now, in such a short space of time, she'd poured out her heart to him. Looking back over it she realised she'd opened up more than she ever had before. She suddenly felt vulnerable, unsure of what his reaction would be. Would he be mad that she felt like this?

Carefully she picked up the letter, staring at it once more, as if making her decision. She couldn't put herself in a position to be hurt even more. Slowly and deliberately, she screwed it up into a tight ball, before dropping it into the trashcan next to her.

Picking up her pen once again, she turned to a new sheet.

Dear John...

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