Title: Beyond The Distant Star
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to and including "Tell Me Where It Hurts."
Archive: Do I even need to say it?
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Feedback: I'll give you a cookie!
Author's Notes: As always, at the bottom. Oh, and this formatting issue I'm having with FFN is killing me...I'm trying to fix it.
No rest for the weary.
Isn't that how the expression goes? Who knows.
At this point, I don't think I could boil water properly, so I shouldn't expect myself to be able to remember old expressions or words of wisdom or whatever.
This is the second or third night in a row that I've gone without sleep. Well, that's not entirely true. I've gotten about three or four hours a night, sometimes it's even consecutive.
I'm way too worried to sleep right now. I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. I'm so worried about Eric that I'm making myself sick. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hang on before I pass out. But I just can't sleep. I'll fall asleep for a few hours every night, but then I snap awake, anxiety gripping my stomach and tying it into knots.
Carter knows. I know he knows that I'm not sleeping, but he hasn't called me on it. He knows that if I need him, I'll tell him. Okay, well, I always need him, but I just need time right now to sort things out in my head. And it's easier to do it alone at the moment.
Yeah, sleep isn't happening right now. I finally give it up and slide out of bed, careful not to wake John. One of us should get some rest.
I grope around in the dark, trying to find my bathrobe. All right, so it's technically Carter's bathrobe, but I use it all the time, and I'm really not in the mood to argue semantics, even if it's only in my mind.
I wander over to the window and look out at the city, fast asleep. I consider going outside to sit on the fire escape to ponder the meaning of life or whatever it is my mind wants to do at...I look at the clock. Almost 2:30 in the morning. But I decide against that. I don't want to wake Carter, and either me opening the window, or the cold November wind will definitely do that. So, I settle for standing there at the window, just watching. Wondering. Thinking.
I can't find Eric. I have no idea where he is, and no one's willing to give me any answers. You would think that since I am an actual family member, they would tell me something. Just so I could know where to find him.
He's sick and he needs my help. And I need to talk to him. I have to let him know that I didn't turn him in, that I would never do that to him. I have to make sure that he's all right, and that he's being given the correct treatment.
I bite my lip. I will not cry. Not again. I can't waste anymore time or energy on tears. They're not getting me anywhere.
Regardless, I'm going to cry. The tears are already stinging my eyes. I clamp a hand over my mouth and look over at Carter's sleeping form, making sure he hasn't woken up.
I turn and hurry into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind me. I don't know what my problem is, but I don't want Carter to know that I'm crying. Just because I cried in front of him the other night doesn't mean I'm going to make a habit out of it.
Old habits die hard, I suppose.
I know he's not going to look at me in disgust and think, "Oh, God, she's crying again." But I just can't handle the thought of breaking down in front of him again. Not to mention the fact that I don't want to wake him up just so I can cry about the same thing once one more time.
I go over to the bathtub and turn on the water, letting it run. Then I sit on the edge of the tub and bury my face in my hands, trying to muffle my sobs further.
I've been here before. Too many times before. I learned this trick while I was married to Richard. He'd get highly pissed off at me when I accidentally woke him up by crying, and even more pissed when he had to check on me to make sure I was all right. It finally occurred to me that he couldn't hear me over running water because I'd cried in the shower and he never asked if I was all right. So, I'd go into the bathroom at night, turn on the water, and cry over my crazy mother. It never bothered him if I was taking a random shower or bath in the middle of the night, and I don't think he ever suspected anything. I carried on the tradition with Luka.
Looks like we're going for lucky number three.
Except this time, I'm crying over my crazy brother.
But I've burdened John enough in the past few days. The last thing he needs to deal with is his hysterical girlfriend.
And I am pretty close to hysterical at the moment. I can't seem to control my crying. Instead of slowing down, it's getting worse. I'm having trouble taking a deep breath, my whole body is shaking, and my lap is actually wet from the tears rolling down my face. But I can't get a grip on myself. This is just too much. I would probably find all of this funny if it wasn't so completely awful. The world just doesn't like the Wyczenski family.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my knee and I gasp, my entire body tensing up as I fling into a more upright sitting position.
"Abby, what're you doing?"
I quickly try to wipe away me tears, even though I know it's pointless. "Nothing. I just needed some time to think."
"Uh huh." Yeah, I didn't think he'd believe me.
He kneels down in front of me, trying to look at my face, but I keep turning away from him, not wanting him to see how bad I really feel. Finally, he takes my face in his hands and gently forces me to look at him.
"Why're you crying in the bathroom with the water running?"
I shrug. He doesn't need to know that this is an old habit of mine.
He doesn't say anything. He just turns off the faucet and waits for me to say something.
What am I supposed to say? That I'm so used to crying alone, to not letting anyone in, that I don't know if I can break the cycle at this point?
Actually, that's probably not the worst idea. I mean, he's here, isn't he? Sitting with me in the bathroom.
Instead, I settle for another part of the truth. "I didn't want to wake you."
He just raises his eyebrows at me. "Abby, you have to realize that by this point, I wake up every time you leave the bed. Even if fall right back to sleep, I still know when you're not there. And I did go back to sleep for a little while, but you didn't come back to bed, so I woke up again. And I worried. Especially with the water running like that."
I have no response for that. How could I say anything to that? I'm even having trouble processing it in my mind. How could I have not known that he was so acutely attuned to me that he knows when I randomly get out of bed at night? And I thought I was pretty good at doing that sort of thing, but I doubt I become aware of it every time.
He strokes my hair back from my face and tries to wipe away the never ending stream of tears off one of my cheeks. "You don't have to cry alone anymore, you know. I'm here for you."
I tear my eyes away from his and look down at my hands in my lap. "I didn't want to bother you," I whisper.
There's no response from him. I finally chance looking at him again, and he looks stunned.
"You can't find your brother, you haven't been sleeping, you're sitting in the bathroom at night, crying, and you're worried about bothering me? You never bother me, Abby. I don't think it's possible for you to bother me."
I feel a fresh wave of tears overcome me. "You've had to deal with me enough lately. I didn't think you needed to lose sleep just because I've been an emotional train wreck the past few days."
"This is what being a couple is all about. If something's bothering you, I want to be able to try and help. You have every reason in the world to be upset at the moment. I don't want you to ever feel that you can't talk to me about something."
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm just scared. That's why I'm crying."
"That's okay, too. I don't mind being a shoulder for you to lean on when you want to cry."
I remain silent. I don't know how to deal with this. I can handle it when my boyfriend is either completely ignorant or pretending to be ignorant to my crying, but I have no idea what to do in this kind of situation. It's not something I ever prepared myself for.
Before I even realize what he's doing, Carter pulls me down onto his lap, cradling me as if I'm a child. It feels nice. And I'm really in no place to argue with him.
"So, you wanna tell me what all this is about?"
I look at him, confused. I would think he'd know exactly why I'm crying right now. "You mean, you want to know why I'm crying?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I have that part figured out. What I don't understand is why I found you in here with the water running."
Looks like I'm going to have to tell him after all. I didn't really think he'd forget about it, though.
"I didn't want you to hear me crying," I mumble into his shoulder.
"Yeah, but..." I sigh a little. "Richard didn't like dealing with me when I cried, so I started running water when I needed to cry so he wouldn't hear me. And I guess I just never got out of the habit."
"Your own husband didn't want to take care of you when you were upset?" He sounds completely appalled. "I don't even know the man and I can't stand him."
"Like I've said, it wasn't the best marriage."
"Even so, if you were upset, it shouldn't be a burden to take care of you."
"He thought I was overreacting most of the time. Maggie was more of an inconvenience to him, and he was worried that someone important would find out about her, and he'd have no chance of rising in society. "
Carter kisses my forehead. "And you married him why?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?"
He chuckles softly at that. "Abby...I love you so much. I never want you to think you have to suffer alone. No more of this crying in the bathroom with the water running thing, okay? I don't mind if you wake me up because you need to cry or talk or whatever. I'm here for you."
You know, I'm not a religious woman. I'm about as far from religious as a person can get. But I think I'm becoming a believer, because the only explanation for this man's presence in my life is divine intervention. Maybe I should take him to Vegas, find an Elvis wedding chapel, and take care of business. I sure as hell know that I'm never letting this man go.
"I can't promise anything," I tell him.
"I know you can't. But at least promise me you'll try. I know this kind of thing doesn't just go away over night, but it's something we can work on together. Just try to remember that I want to be here for you."
"I'll try."
He wraps his arms around me tighter and lets it go. He knows that's all I can offer at the moment, even if I want to give him more. It's got to be one step at a time.
But, for the first time in a while, I feel like I'm taking a step in the right direction.
Some time later, I feel him smoothing my hair back from my face, and he asks, "You feeling any better?"
"A little." My voice is hoarse and scratchy from all the tears.
"You wanna go back to bed?"
I shrug. I don't think I'll get any sleep, so it doesn't matter where I am while I'm awake.
"You don't have to sleep."
I try not to react to his ability to read my mind. Or at least his ability to read me.
"I'll be able to hold you better if we're in bed, though."
"Carter, you don't have to stay awake just because I can't sleep."
"I know I don't have to. But making sure you're all right is more important to me than sleep. I can worry about sleep later. You're my top priority."
Wow. I don't think I've ever been anyone's top priority before. Once again, it's something I don't know how to deal with.
I move my legs so my feet are on the ground, and try to stand up. It's not easy because my legs have been curled up in a fetal position for so long, but I manage. Carter's only an instant behind me, keeping an arm around my waist as we go back to bed. He brings me over to my side and tucks me in.
"Do you need anything?" he asks softly.
I shake my head. "Only you."
He leans down and gives me a gentle, lingering kiss on my forehead before returning to bed. He immediately pulls me into his arms, forming a protective cocoon around me. We remain silent for a while, and I'm pretty sure he's either asleep, or about to drift off.
"We'll find him, Abby," he whispers. I smile a little, despite the circumstances. He didn't go to sleep. "We'll get him all the help he needs. I promise."
It's not an empty, placating promise just to make me feel better. He means it. I know he-we-will do everything in our power to help Eric.
I bring one of his hands up to my lips and kiss the palm. "I love you."
And for the first time in days, I sleep soundly.
Author's Notes: I started writing this one...probably almost a year ago, not long after I finished the first part of this. I wrote a couple of paragraphs and let it go because I didn't know what to do with it. Then C- dawg wanted to read my unfinished works, and she gave me some ideas about what to do. This chick rocks, it must be said. The title's from a Josh Groban song, "To Where You Are." I came across it while looking for the title of a different fic, and C-dawg (once again) asked if I was going to use it for this fic (which I wasn't-I hadn't even thought it about this one), and I liked the idea, so there you go. I definitely need to give a shout out to the Shakespearean Brothel (you know who you are), and of course, the Shakespearean Whore, because without the Whore, the Brothel would be nothing.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to and including "Tell Me Where It Hurts."
Archive: Do I even need to say it?
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Feedback: I'll give you a cookie!
Author's Notes: As always, at the bottom. Oh, and this formatting issue I'm having with FFN is killing me...I'm trying to fix it.
No rest for the weary.
Isn't that how the expression goes? Who knows.
At this point, I don't think I could boil water properly, so I shouldn't expect myself to be able to remember old expressions or words of wisdom or whatever.
This is the second or third night in a row that I've gone without sleep. Well, that's not entirely true. I've gotten about three or four hours a night, sometimes it's even consecutive.
I'm way too worried to sleep right now. I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. I'm so worried about Eric that I'm making myself sick. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hang on before I pass out. But I just can't sleep. I'll fall asleep for a few hours every night, but then I snap awake, anxiety gripping my stomach and tying it into knots.
Carter knows. I know he knows that I'm not sleeping, but he hasn't called me on it. He knows that if I need him, I'll tell him. Okay, well, I always need him, but I just need time right now to sort things out in my head. And it's easier to do it alone at the moment.
Yeah, sleep isn't happening right now. I finally give it up and slide out of bed, careful not to wake John. One of us should get some rest.
I grope around in the dark, trying to find my bathrobe. All right, so it's technically Carter's bathrobe, but I use it all the time, and I'm really not in the mood to argue semantics, even if it's only in my mind.
I wander over to the window and look out at the city, fast asleep. I consider going outside to sit on the fire escape to ponder the meaning of life or whatever it is my mind wants to do at...I look at the clock. Almost 2:30 in the morning. But I decide against that. I don't want to wake Carter, and either me opening the window, or the cold November wind will definitely do that. So, I settle for standing there at the window, just watching. Wondering. Thinking.
I can't find Eric. I have no idea where he is, and no one's willing to give me any answers. You would think that since I am an actual family member, they would tell me something. Just so I could know where to find him.
He's sick and he needs my help. And I need to talk to him. I have to let him know that I didn't turn him in, that I would never do that to him. I have to make sure that he's all right, and that he's being given the correct treatment.
I bite my lip. I will not cry. Not again. I can't waste anymore time or energy on tears. They're not getting me anywhere.
Regardless, I'm going to cry. The tears are already stinging my eyes. I clamp a hand over my mouth and look over at Carter's sleeping form, making sure he hasn't woken up.
I turn and hurry into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind me. I don't know what my problem is, but I don't want Carter to know that I'm crying. Just because I cried in front of him the other night doesn't mean I'm going to make a habit out of it.
Old habits die hard, I suppose.
I know he's not going to look at me in disgust and think, "Oh, God, she's crying again." But I just can't handle the thought of breaking down in front of him again. Not to mention the fact that I don't want to wake him up just so I can cry about the same thing once one more time.
I go over to the bathtub and turn on the water, letting it run. Then I sit on the edge of the tub and bury my face in my hands, trying to muffle my sobs further.
I've been here before. Too many times before. I learned this trick while I was married to Richard. He'd get highly pissed off at me when I accidentally woke him up by crying, and even more pissed when he had to check on me to make sure I was all right. It finally occurred to me that he couldn't hear me over running water because I'd cried in the shower and he never asked if I was all right. So, I'd go into the bathroom at night, turn on the water, and cry over my crazy mother. It never bothered him if I was taking a random shower or bath in the middle of the night, and I don't think he ever suspected anything. I carried on the tradition with Luka.
Looks like we're going for lucky number three.
Except this time, I'm crying over my crazy brother.
But I've burdened John enough in the past few days. The last thing he needs to deal with is his hysterical girlfriend.
And I am pretty close to hysterical at the moment. I can't seem to control my crying. Instead of slowing down, it's getting worse. I'm having trouble taking a deep breath, my whole body is shaking, and my lap is actually wet from the tears rolling down my face. But I can't get a grip on myself. This is just too much. I would probably find all of this funny if it wasn't so completely awful. The world just doesn't like the Wyczenski family.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my knee and I gasp, my entire body tensing up as I fling into a more upright sitting position.
"Abby, what're you doing?"
I quickly try to wipe away me tears, even though I know it's pointless. "Nothing. I just needed some time to think."
"Uh huh." Yeah, I didn't think he'd believe me.
He kneels down in front of me, trying to look at my face, but I keep turning away from him, not wanting him to see how bad I really feel. Finally, he takes my face in his hands and gently forces me to look at him.
"Why're you crying in the bathroom with the water running?"
I shrug. He doesn't need to know that this is an old habit of mine.
He doesn't say anything. He just turns off the faucet and waits for me to say something.
What am I supposed to say? That I'm so used to crying alone, to not letting anyone in, that I don't know if I can break the cycle at this point?
Actually, that's probably not the worst idea. I mean, he's here, isn't he? Sitting with me in the bathroom.
Instead, I settle for another part of the truth. "I didn't want to wake you."
He just raises his eyebrows at me. "Abby, you have to realize that by this point, I wake up every time you leave the bed. Even if fall right back to sleep, I still know when you're not there. And I did go back to sleep for a little while, but you didn't come back to bed, so I woke up again. And I worried. Especially with the water running like that."
I have no response for that. How could I say anything to that? I'm even having trouble processing it in my mind. How could I have not known that he was so acutely attuned to me that he knows when I randomly get out of bed at night? And I thought I was pretty good at doing that sort of thing, but I doubt I become aware of it every time.
He strokes my hair back from my face and tries to wipe away the never ending stream of tears off one of my cheeks. "You don't have to cry alone anymore, you know. I'm here for you."
I tear my eyes away from his and look down at my hands in my lap. "I didn't want to bother you," I whisper.
There's no response from him. I finally chance looking at him again, and he looks stunned.
"You can't find your brother, you haven't been sleeping, you're sitting in the bathroom at night, crying, and you're worried about bothering me? You never bother me, Abby. I don't think it's possible for you to bother me."
I feel a fresh wave of tears overcome me. "You've had to deal with me enough lately. I didn't think you needed to lose sleep just because I've been an emotional train wreck the past few days."
"This is what being a couple is all about. If something's bothering you, I want to be able to try and help. You have every reason in the world to be upset at the moment. I don't want you to ever feel that you can't talk to me about something."
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm just scared. That's why I'm crying."
"That's okay, too. I don't mind being a shoulder for you to lean on when you want to cry."
I remain silent. I don't know how to deal with this. I can handle it when my boyfriend is either completely ignorant or pretending to be ignorant to my crying, but I have no idea what to do in this kind of situation. It's not something I ever prepared myself for.
Before I even realize what he's doing, Carter pulls me down onto his lap, cradling me as if I'm a child. It feels nice. And I'm really in no place to argue with him.
"So, you wanna tell me what all this is about?"
I look at him, confused. I would think he'd know exactly why I'm crying right now. "You mean, you want to know why I'm crying?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I have that part figured out. What I don't understand is why I found you in here with the water running."
Looks like I'm going to have to tell him after all. I didn't really think he'd forget about it, though.
"I didn't want you to hear me crying," I mumble into his shoulder.
"Yeah, but..." I sigh a little. "Richard didn't like dealing with me when I cried, so I started running water when I needed to cry so he wouldn't hear me. And I guess I just never got out of the habit."
"Your own husband didn't want to take care of you when you were upset?" He sounds completely appalled. "I don't even know the man and I can't stand him."
"Like I've said, it wasn't the best marriage."
"Even so, if you were upset, it shouldn't be a burden to take care of you."
"He thought I was overreacting most of the time. Maggie was more of an inconvenience to him, and he was worried that someone important would find out about her, and he'd have no chance of rising in society. "
Carter kisses my forehead. "And you married him why?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?"
He chuckles softly at that. "Abby...I love you so much. I never want you to think you have to suffer alone. No more of this crying in the bathroom with the water running thing, okay? I don't mind if you wake me up because you need to cry or talk or whatever. I'm here for you."
You know, I'm not a religious woman. I'm about as far from religious as a person can get. But I think I'm becoming a believer, because the only explanation for this man's presence in my life is divine intervention. Maybe I should take him to Vegas, find an Elvis wedding chapel, and take care of business. I sure as hell know that I'm never letting this man go.
"I can't promise anything," I tell him.
"I know you can't. But at least promise me you'll try. I know this kind of thing doesn't just go away over night, but it's something we can work on together. Just try to remember that I want to be here for you."
"I'll try."
He wraps his arms around me tighter and lets it go. He knows that's all I can offer at the moment, even if I want to give him more. It's got to be one step at a time.
But, for the first time in a while, I feel like I'm taking a step in the right direction.
Some time later, I feel him smoothing my hair back from my face, and he asks, "You feeling any better?"
"A little." My voice is hoarse and scratchy from all the tears.
"You wanna go back to bed?"
I shrug. I don't think I'll get any sleep, so it doesn't matter where I am while I'm awake.
"You don't have to sleep."
I try not to react to his ability to read my mind. Or at least his ability to read me.
"I'll be able to hold you better if we're in bed, though."
"Carter, you don't have to stay awake just because I can't sleep."
"I know I don't have to. But making sure you're all right is more important to me than sleep. I can worry about sleep later. You're my top priority."
Wow. I don't think I've ever been anyone's top priority before. Once again, it's something I don't know how to deal with.
I move my legs so my feet are on the ground, and try to stand up. It's not easy because my legs have been curled up in a fetal position for so long, but I manage. Carter's only an instant behind me, keeping an arm around my waist as we go back to bed. He brings me over to my side and tucks me in.
"Do you need anything?" he asks softly.
I shake my head. "Only you."
He leans down and gives me a gentle, lingering kiss on my forehead before returning to bed. He immediately pulls me into his arms, forming a protective cocoon around me. We remain silent for a while, and I'm pretty sure he's either asleep, or about to drift off.
"We'll find him, Abby," he whispers. I smile a little, despite the circumstances. He didn't go to sleep. "We'll get him all the help he needs. I promise."
It's not an empty, placating promise just to make me feel better. He means it. I know he-we-will do everything in our power to help Eric.
I bring one of his hands up to my lips and kiss the palm. "I love you."
And for the first time in days, I sleep soundly.
Author's Notes: I started writing this one...probably almost a year ago, not long after I finished the first part of this. I wrote a couple of paragraphs and let it go because I didn't know what to do with it. Then C- dawg wanted to read my unfinished works, and she gave me some ideas about what to do. This chick rocks, it must be said. The title's from a Josh Groban song, "To Where You Are." I came across it while looking for the title of a different fic, and C-dawg (once again) asked if I was going to use it for this fic (which I wasn't-I hadn't even thought it about this one), and I liked the idea, so there you go. I definitely need to give a shout out to the Shakespearean Brothel (you know who you are), and of course, the Shakespearean Whore, because without the Whore, the Brothel would be nothing.