Title: A Butterfly In Japan II: Bride of Chaotica
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Just real vague Chaos Theory stuff. It's more Carby fluff.
Archive: Totally dude. Just email me first.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Obviously. If they were, I wouldn't be here.
Author's notes: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter yet. I don't know if it does the first
part justice or not, so don't be surprised if it disappears. Until then, though, enjoy it.
I'm gonna start calling Carter "my little butterfly." If for no other reason, it'll irritate him to no
end. He keeps trying to insist that he's chaos to me, but he really isn't. I suppose, technically, he
is the "unknown," as he puts it, but I just don't feel that it's possible that someone I know so well
could be the unknown to me. It certainly doesn't feel unknown to me. I don't mean that he's
predictable or that we've already become routine, because it's far from that. It's just,
well...Carter feels like home to me. In the best way possible. I feel comfortable and safe and
happy around him, and I don't see that there's anything wrong with that.
I suppose he thinks that it means he's not exciting or something. Just because I tell him that he's
not chaos. Though, I guess if I were him, I wouldn't necessarily enjoy being called a butterfly.
Hmm.
Our week of freedom is almost over. We have about forty-eight hours before we have to be back
at work. I know we really intended to sleep in every morning and just lounge around all day,
everyday, but that hasn't worked out. We found ourselves at the very least awake everyday by
8am, and then we'd be out doing stuff. Not anything special, just stuff–taking walks, getting
coffee, even hanging out at the mall. We'd usually be up past midnight, too. I don't think either
of us wanted to waste a minute of our time together. Every morning, we wake up practically
wrapped around each other–either I'm draped over him, or he's draped over me, or we're
spooning, or we're face to face with all of our limbs tangled together. It feels like we can't get
close enough to each other. Hell, we've been building up to this for two years now, we deserve a
little bit of schmoop.
I don't know if either of us planned on spending every single moment together once we were
released from the hospital. Personally, I knew that I wanted to spend a lot of time with him, and
I'm pretty sure he felt the same way, but we've hardly left each other's sides all week. And the
best part of all is, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I have enjoyed every minute with him.
Even when he's trying to convince me that he's chaos, too. It's mostly just banter, anyway, and
we've really developed a knack for banter over the years.
"Aren't I at least a little chaotic?" Carter asks me suddenly.
I groan and look over at the clock. "John, it's only 7:30 in the morning. Give it a rest, huh?"
"Come on, Abby. You get to be chaos. Why aren't I?"
I sigh. "Why do you insist that you're chaos?"
He shrugs, then positions himself so that he's leaning on one elbow, looking down at me.
"Because I feel that I'm exciting and interesting enough to be chaos."
"You are exciting and interesting!" I exclaim. "You're just not chaos!"
"Yes, I am."
I move so that I am also up on one elbow, facing him. I ignore the sheet that slides down my
body and puddles around my waist. Let him be distracted. It'll make it easier to get his mind off
this whole thing. Sure, it's a cheap shot, but I don't hear him complaining. He's also having a
hard time keeping eye contact.
"How are you chaos, Carter? What have you done to my life to make it chaotic? It's not as if
you bring insanity and confusion into my life. You don't turn things upside down, or make the
world start spinning in another direction–"
He cuts me off. "You make me sound like so much fun."
"You are fun. I love being with you. I always have. But you don't make my life crazy. You do
just the opposite. You make my life good. You bring peace and you make things calm. Who
have I always turned to when things start to go haywire in my life? You. And you know why?
Because you're not chaos. Because you're exactly what I need in my life. You make things right.
Isn't that good enough for you? I know being a butterfly doesn't seem as interesting as being a
tornado or chaos, but I think it's spectacular. And I wouldn't have you any other way. So, yes,
basically, you are the butterfly to my tornado, because I know that I bring a lot of insanity where
ever I go, but isn't that okay? We balance each other out."
Wow. It finally all came out. I didn't mean to blurt all that out like that, but I need him to
understand that he's wonderful the way he is, and why he's wonderful, and that just because I
don't find him chaotic, that doesn't mean anything bad.
Great; now he's being silent. It worries me when he doesn't speak. He looks highly
contemplative. I sigh, once again, in frustration and flop back down in bed, waiting for him to
speak.
Finally, he says, "You really feel that way about me?"
I look at him in amazement. "Why would I make that up? Of course that's how I feel about
you."
I'm not entirely sure, but he looks floored. "I didn't know that."
And now I feel bad–how could I have not let him know somehow that this is how I feel about
him? I'm head over heals for this man and he didn't know.
"What's wrong?" he asks me.
I shake my head. "I just can't believe that I didn't let you know how much I care about you, and
how you make me feel. I guess I thought you knew."
He lays down once more. He puts his head next to mine on the pillow, wraps an arm around my
waist and pulls me close to him. "I think I knew. At least deep down. You just don't talk a
whole lot about your feelings, though, so I guess it's hard to tell at times."
"Well, then, I should have made it clear to you."
"I know now."
"Yeah, I guess. But we've been together almost non-stop for nearly three weeks and I didn't let
you know..."
"It doesn't matter. Now I know how you feel about me. And let me tell you something, Miss
Lockhart...you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say things like that. All this time
I've been waiting for you, wanting you, wishing I was with you, and now we're finally together,
and I think part of me is still afraid to hope that it's true. It just seems like this is a really good
dream, and at any moment, I'm going to wake up alone, in my bed at Gamma's house. I was
afraid you wouldn't really feel the same way about me that I do about you and this would be just
kind of a fling, and that's the last thing in the world I want to have with you."
I turn my head to the side a little and kiss his nose. "What do you want to have with me?"
"The real deal. I've told you, I want us to work. I want us to be together for a long time, and I
really don't think I could handle it if you didn't want the same thing."
Oh, God. I'm actually crying now. I don't cry. Not a lot, anyway. I'm not technically crying,
though–one tear trickled out of my eye. I rub my face against the pillow, hoping he won't notice.
In all the time I've known Carter, I don't think he's ever seen me cry. I don't know what I'm so
worried about or whatever. I guess it's a control thing for me, and I just don't enjoy crying in
front of anyone.
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "I saw that," he whispers. Damn. I was caught.
"Abby..." he says softly, trying to gather his thoughts. "Do you have any idea how much you
mean to me? I mean, any idea at all? Because you're really damn important in my life. I've never
been this crazy about woman for this long without doing something about it. Before, if I've liked
a girl, I'll either tell her about it or get over it. But I couldn't get over you, Abby. No matter
how hard I tried. And I didn't really want to get over you. I just wanted to be with you. You're
so special."
Son of a bitch. Another tear. How can he do this to me? Not that these are sad tears or
anything. I think they're the happiest tears I've ever cried in my life. But it just astounds me that
he can move me to tears with just a few simple words. Though, these words carry a lot of
meaning. They're big words for us to be saying.
I sniffle a little, trying to suck it up. There's no need for tears right now.
"You know, it's okay to cry. Everybody does it once in a while. Even big tough guys like me."
I let out a watery laugh at that. "I don't do a lot of crying."
"I know," he says, kissing my forehead. "But it's still okay to cry. Especially in front of me.
That's what I'm hear for."
"I'm not upset or anything," I say, trying to reassure him. "It's just hearing you say the words.
And the words are beautifully put together, Carter. I don't think I realized you felt like this about
me, either. I really should have known, and I had a pretty good idea, but..."
"I know. Neither one of us are very good at expressing our emotions. At least not when it
counts."
"Well, then, let's make a promise to each other. Not that we'll always tell each other every single
feeling that we have, but that we'll tell each other how we feel more often. It'll leave less room
for guess work and anxiety. And not talking about things is one of the big reasons relationships
end, and I definitely don't want this to end with you."
"You've got yourself a deal," he answers, pressing his lips against mine. I must care about him a
lot because I never even consider if he has morning breath or not. I love how it's the little things
that don't matter when you're with someone. Even if it's something simple as that. It's
wonderful.
We're silent for several minutes before I finally speak up again. "So, are you really all right with
not being chaos now?"
He lets out a big belly laugh. "I am most definitely all right with not being chaos to you. If being
a butterfly to you means making you feel this way, then I'm the happiest man in the world. Who
needs chaos, anyway?"
"You do. Because that's what I am to you. Remember?"
"I never said I needed chaos. I just enjoy it. As long as that chaos comes in the form of Abby
Lockhart."
"So, that means you just enjoy me, but don't need me?" I ask, teasing him, still trying to get us
down from the emotional high we're on.
"You have no idea how much I need you. If you did, you'd run away screaming," he tells me.
Not hardly. Considering I need him like I need oxygen, I don't think he could really scare me off
at this point. "I don't think I'd run away screaming."
"That's good to know."
"I'd probably back away slowly, then skitter off when you weren't looking."
"Oh, ha ha. That's funny. Unfortunately for you, I'm always looking. So you have no chance of
escape."
"And this is why I haven't and won't ever run away," I reassure him.
We lay in silence for quite awhile. It's a very comfortable silence, too. Wrapped up in each
other's arms, heads pressed together. We're even inhaling and exhaling at the same time. We're
so in tune with each other sometimes, it's almost scary.
"All right, enough with the heavy conversations," Carter declares. "We only have a couple of days
left. Let's get out there and do something."
"Such as?"
"What, you want me to come up with everything? I came up with the whole getting out of bed
plan. Now it's your turn."
"Hey, my big plan is to lounge around in bed for a few more hours. If you've got a better
suggestion, I'm all ears."
He remains silent for a while, and I think I've won. But then he speaks again. "Let's go to Doc
Magoo's and gorge ourselves on hot fudge sundaes."
"And why should we do that?"
"So that we can work off the calories together later tonight."
Sounds like a plan to me. I'm out of bed and in the shower in a matter of minutes. As soon as
I'm done in the shower, he hops right in. I don't even bother turning off the water. I stand in
front of the mirror, blow drying my hair, and a few minutes later, Carter is standing next to me,
playfully pushing me out of the way so he can shave.
We're in the process of getting dressed when I pause. "You know, it's eight-thirty in the
morning. I think it might be a little too early to pig out on hot fudge."
"Well, then, we'll find some way to amuse ourselves until the time is right. We always do."
Yes, we do.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Just real vague Chaos Theory stuff. It's more Carby fluff.
Archive: Totally dude. Just email me first.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Obviously. If they were, I wouldn't be here.
Author's notes: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter yet. I don't know if it does the first
part justice or not, so don't be surprised if it disappears. Until then, though, enjoy it.
I'm gonna start calling Carter "my little butterfly." If for no other reason, it'll irritate him to no
end. He keeps trying to insist that he's chaos to me, but he really isn't. I suppose, technically, he
is the "unknown," as he puts it, but I just don't feel that it's possible that someone I know so well
could be the unknown to me. It certainly doesn't feel unknown to me. I don't mean that he's
predictable or that we've already become routine, because it's far from that. It's just,
well...Carter feels like home to me. In the best way possible. I feel comfortable and safe and
happy around him, and I don't see that there's anything wrong with that.
I suppose he thinks that it means he's not exciting or something. Just because I tell him that he's
not chaos. Though, I guess if I were him, I wouldn't necessarily enjoy being called a butterfly.
Hmm.
Our week of freedom is almost over. We have about forty-eight hours before we have to be back
at work. I know we really intended to sleep in every morning and just lounge around all day,
everyday, but that hasn't worked out. We found ourselves at the very least awake everyday by
8am, and then we'd be out doing stuff. Not anything special, just stuff–taking walks, getting
coffee, even hanging out at the mall. We'd usually be up past midnight, too. I don't think either
of us wanted to waste a minute of our time together. Every morning, we wake up practically
wrapped around each other–either I'm draped over him, or he's draped over me, or we're
spooning, or we're face to face with all of our limbs tangled together. It feels like we can't get
close enough to each other. Hell, we've been building up to this for two years now, we deserve a
little bit of schmoop.
I don't know if either of us planned on spending every single moment together once we were
released from the hospital. Personally, I knew that I wanted to spend a lot of time with him, and
I'm pretty sure he felt the same way, but we've hardly left each other's sides all week. And the
best part of all is, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I have enjoyed every minute with him.
Even when he's trying to convince me that he's chaos, too. It's mostly just banter, anyway, and
we've really developed a knack for banter over the years.
"Aren't I at least a little chaotic?" Carter asks me suddenly.
I groan and look over at the clock. "John, it's only 7:30 in the morning. Give it a rest, huh?"
"Come on, Abby. You get to be chaos. Why aren't I?"
I sigh. "Why do you insist that you're chaos?"
He shrugs, then positions himself so that he's leaning on one elbow, looking down at me.
"Because I feel that I'm exciting and interesting enough to be chaos."
"You are exciting and interesting!" I exclaim. "You're just not chaos!"
"Yes, I am."
I move so that I am also up on one elbow, facing him. I ignore the sheet that slides down my
body and puddles around my waist. Let him be distracted. It'll make it easier to get his mind off
this whole thing. Sure, it's a cheap shot, but I don't hear him complaining. He's also having a
hard time keeping eye contact.
"How are you chaos, Carter? What have you done to my life to make it chaotic? It's not as if
you bring insanity and confusion into my life. You don't turn things upside down, or make the
world start spinning in another direction–"
He cuts me off. "You make me sound like so much fun."
"You are fun. I love being with you. I always have. But you don't make my life crazy. You do
just the opposite. You make my life good. You bring peace and you make things calm. Who
have I always turned to when things start to go haywire in my life? You. And you know why?
Because you're not chaos. Because you're exactly what I need in my life. You make things right.
Isn't that good enough for you? I know being a butterfly doesn't seem as interesting as being a
tornado or chaos, but I think it's spectacular. And I wouldn't have you any other way. So, yes,
basically, you are the butterfly to my tornado, because I know that I bring a lot of insanity where
ever I go, but isn't that okay? We balance each other out."
Wow. It finally all came out. I didn't mean to blurt all that out like that, but I need him to
understand that he's wonderful the way he is, and why he's wonderful, and that just because I
don't find him chaotic, that doesn't mean anything bad.
Great; now he's being silent. It worries me when he doesn't speak. He looks highly
contemplative. I sigh, once again, in frustration and flop back down in bed, waiting for him to
speak.
Finally, he says, "You really feel that way about me?"
I look at him in amazement. "Why would I make that up? Of course that's how I feel about
you."
I'm not entirely sure, but he looks floored. "I didn't know that."
And now I feel bad–how could I have not let him know somehow that this is how I feel about
him? I'm head over heals for this man and he didn't know.
"What's wrong?" he asks me.
I shake my head. "I just can't believe that I didn't let you know how much I care about you, and
how you make me feel. I guess I thought you knew."
He lays down once more. He puts his head next to mine on the pillow, wraps an arm around my
waist and pulls me close to him. "I think I knew. At least deep down. You just don't talk a
whole lot about your feelings, though, so I guess it's hard to tell at times."
"Well, then, I should have made it clear to you."
"I know now."
"Yeah, I guess. But we've been together almost non-stop for nearly three weeks and I didn't let
you know..."
"It doesn't matter. Now I know how you feel about me. And let me tell you something, Miss
Lockhart...you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say things like that. All this time
I've been waiting for you, wanting you, wishing I was with you, and now we're finally together,
and I think part of me is still afraid to hope that it's true. It just seems like this is a really good
dream, and at any moment, I'm going to wake up alone, in my bed at Gamma's house. I was
afraid you wouldn't really feel the same way about me that I do about you and this would be just
kind of a fling, and that's the last thing in the world I want to have with you."
I turn my head to the side a little and kiss his nose. "What do you want to have with me?"
"The real deal. I've told you, I want us to work. I want us to be together for a long time, and I
really don't think I could handle it if you didn't want the same thing."
Oh, God. I'm actually crying now. I don't cry. Not a lot, anyway. I'm not technically crying,
though–one tear trickled out of my eye. I rub my face against the pillow, hoping he won't notice.
In all the time I've known Carter, I don't think he's ever seen me cry. I don't know what I'm so
worried about or whatever. I guess it's a control thing for me, and I just don't enjoy crying in
front of anyone.
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "I saw that," he whispers. Damn. I was caught.
"Abby..." he says softly, trying to gather his thoughts. "Do you have any idea how much you
mean to me? I mean, any idea at all? Because you're really damn important in my life. I've never
been this crazy about woman for this long without doing something about it. Before, if I've liked
a girl, I'll either tell her about it or get over it. But I couldn't get over you, Abby. No matter
how hard I tried. And I didn't really want to get over you. I just wanted to be with you. You're
so special."
Son of a bitch. Another tear. How can he do this to me? Not that these are sad tears or
anything. I think they're the happiest tears I've ever cried in my life. But it just astounds me that
he can move me to tears with just a few simple words. Though, these words carry a lot of
meaning. They're big words for us to be saying.
I sniffle a little, trying to suck it up. There's no need for tears right now.
"You know, it's okay to cry. Everybody does it once in a while. Even big tough guys like me."
I let out a watery laugh at that. "I don't do a lot of crying."
"I know," he says, kissing my forehead. "But it's still okay to cry. Especially in front of me.
That's what I'm hear for."
"I'm not upset or anything," I say, trying to reassure him. "It's just hearing you say the words.
And the words are beautifully put together, Carter. I don't think I realized you felt like this about
me, either. I really should have known, and I had a pretty good idea, but..."
"I know. Neither one of us are very good at expressing our emotions. At least not when it
counts."
"Well, then, let's make a promise to each other. Not that we'll always tell each other every single
feeling that we have, but that we'll tell each other how we feel more often. It'll leave less room
for guess work and anxiety. And not talking about things is one of the big reasons relationships
end, and I definitely don't want this to end with you."
"You've got yourself a deal," he answers, pressing his lips against mine. I must care about him a
lot because I never even consider if he has morning breath or not. I love how it's the little things
that don't matter when you're with someone. Even if it's something simple as that. It's
wonderful.
We're silent for several minutes before I finally speak up again. "So, are you really all right with
not being chaos now?"
He lets out a big belly laugh. "I am most definitely all right with not being chaos to you. If being
a butterfly to you means making you feel this way, then I'm the happiest man in the world. Who
needs chaos, anyway?"
"You do. Because that's what I am to you. Remember?"
"I never said I needed chaos. I just enjoy it. As long as that chaos comes in the form of Abby
Lockhart."
"So, that means you just enjoy me, but don't need me?" I ask, teasing him, still trying to get us
down from the emotional high we're on.
"You have no idea how much I need you. If you did, you'd run away screaming," he tells me.
Not hardly. Considering I need him like I need oxygen, I don't think he could really scare me off
at this point. "I don't think I'd run away screaming."
"That's good to know."
"I'd probably back away slowly, then skitter off when you weren't looking."
"Oh, ha ha. That's funny. Unfortunately for you, I'm always looking. So you have no chance of
escape."
"And this is why I haven't and won't ever run away," I reassure him.
We lay in silence for quite awhile. It's a very comfortable silence, too. Wrapped up in each
other's arms, heads pressed together. We're even inhaling and exhaling at the same time. We're
so in tune with each other sometimes, it's almost scary.
"All right, enough with the heavy conversations," Carter declares. "We only have a couple of days
left. Let's get out there and do something."
"Such as?"
"What, you want me to come up with everything? I came up with the whole getting out of bed
plan. Now it's your turn."
"Hey, my big plan is to lounge around in bed for a few more hours. If you've got a better
suggestion, I'm all ears."
He remains silent for a while, and I think I've won. But then he speaks again. "Let's go to Doc
Magoo's and gorge ourselves on hot fudge sundaes."
"And why should we do that?"
"So that we can work off the calories together later tonight."
Sounds like a plan to me. I'm out of bed and in the shower in a matter of minutes. As soon as
I'm done in the shower, he hops right in. I don't even bother turning off the water. I stand in
front of the mirror, blow drying my hair, and a few minutes later, Carter is standing next to me,
playfully pushing me out of the way so he can shave.
We're in the process of getting dressed when I pause. "You know, it's eight-thirty in the
morning. I think it might be a little too early to pig out on hot fudge."
"Well, then, we'll find some way to amuse ourselves until the time is right. We always do."
Yes, we do.