Title: I'm Walking Away
Rating: PG, at best
Spoilers: Up to and including the season 10 premiere.
Archive: Oh, how I'd enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Oh, how I'd enjoy it even more.
Feedback: This one's different for me, so I would love it if you could give me something.
Author's Notes: As always, at the end.
____________________________________________________________
Walking away from Abby was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.
The fact that I've done it twice now is killing me.
But what was I supposed to do? Hang around in the hopes that one day she'll be ready to have a real relationship with me? I can't hang in the balance forever. I had to wait long enough to be with the woman in the first place. I can't put my life on hold.
The only problem with this logic is that Abby is my life. She's everything to me. But I can't be with someone who just makes me hurt.
She's been treating me like a yo-yo since I got back last night; she pushes me away, and then she pulls me back, only to push me away again. She asked for her key back, then she wanted to talk to me, and then, in the same conversation, she did everything in her power to send me packing, and when I tried to leave, she begged me to stay. How am I supposed to know what to give her if she doesn't know what she wants?
She can't keep doing this? Well, take a number. You're not the only one singing that song, Abby. I can't keep doing this, either. It's killing me, one day at a time.
Despite outward appearances, though, it did tear me apart to hear her pleading with me to not go. Part of me wanted nothing more than to just take her in my arms and hold on to her for the rest of my life. But what would that solve? It wouldn't fix anything. I had to leave.
You know, for two weeks, all I could think about was Abby. If she was all right, if she hated me, how I couldn't wait to see her again, how I was going to try harder to make us work. The first thing I did was go to see her. I would think that says something. My only thought was to get to Abby and just see her. I needed to see her, to be sure that she was real.
I think seeing her, asleep, in bed, was the most beautiful sight in the world. I wanted to collapse on the floor with tears of relief and gratitude for this woman. And then she verbally slapped me in the face. No emotion in her voice at all. She just wanted her key back. I was so pissed, I came this close to punching through one of her windows. I had this unbelievable, primal urge to break something. Though, I quickly realized it would do no good because I don't think anything could be more broken than my heart right now.
As cliche as that sounds.
I have put everything I had into this relationship. I've had enough time to think about her, dream about her, fantasize about her, to know that I wanted this to work. For so long, I wanted nothing more than Abby, and I really thought that if I just had her, then life would be perfect.
Somehow, despite everything that's happened to me in the past few years, I'm still incredibly naive.
I realize that I'm not perfect. I know I've done a few things wrong in regards to Abby, but I'd have to say that it's nothing compared to what she's thrown at me lately.
I guess the end of the rope for me was when she ran off to find her brother the one day I needed her the most. I've asked for very little from her in the past year, and all I wanted was for her to be with me while I tried to come to terms with my grandmother dying.
In my head, I know she had to go. I know it. There's no telling what someone who's bipolar and off their meds will do to themself, especially not with the track record her family has. I mean, Maggie tried to kill herself in front of us, and it tore Abby apart. If anything had happened to Eric because she stayed with me instead of going to get him, I don't know what would have happened to her. To say the very least, it wouldn't have been pretty.
Like I said, I know all of this in my head.
My heart, however, is a different story.
Just once, I want to feel like I come first in her life. I want to be her top priority. I want to know that I mean more to her than anything else in this world. I needed Abby with me, to help me, and she couldn't even do that for me. I can only play second fiddle for so long before I become tired of playing in the band.
My head and my emotions never seem to see eye to eye.
The only thing my mind and my heart have ever agreed on is Abby. Every part of me knew that she was it. The big It. The One. And she blew it. If she had tried a little harder, if she had tried to be there for me as much as I was there for her, if she had tried to give a little instead only take...
I shouldn't put all the blame on her. It's not fair. She's not the only one who's at fault. She did try, just not when I wanted her to. And I guess it doesn't count in my mind if she doesn't try when I need her to.
I never expected to feel this way about Abby. I thought the only thing I would ever feel for her again is love. Right now, what I'm feeling is bordering on hate.
As mad as I am, I don't ever want to hate Abby. This is the woman that, not so long ago, I wanted to marry. Hell, who am I kidding. The woman I still want to marry. I may be mad, but I'm not so mad that I can kid myself into thinking that I don't still love her. Or that I can't still picture spending my life with her. I don't know what to do with that, though. I really don't think us being bound together for eternity is ever going to happen. Happily ever after is not in store for us.
That thought crushes my soul just a little more.
No other woman has ever had this effect on me. I never really wanted to marry someone until I met Abby. That's not saying that moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the woman I wanted to marry, but it didn't take me more than a year to know I wanted her in my life in a permanent capacity.
I really must be delusional to think that I'll ever get over her. Or to think that I'll find this with someone else. This kind of feeling doesn't come along more than once in a lifetime. I'm lucky that I even found it this one time.
I used to think she felt the same way about me. Judging from the bag of my stuff she left on my locker this morning, I'm beginning to doubt it. If she did, it wouldn't have been so easy for her to just kick me out of her life. She somehow managed to put our year together into a grocery bag.
That hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially seeing the pictures of us mixed in there. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. I think it hurt worse than being stabbed, and that's saying a lot.
Some twisted part of my mind, though, that refuses to give up hope keeps pointing out that she didn't return all of my stuff. I know that I left more than a couple of t-shirts and random toiletries in her apartment in the past year. I don't know if she held onto the other stuff for a reason, or if she just grabbed the first things she found so she could make a point to me.
I would like to know why she picked those particular pictures to give to me. We have an enormous supply of "us" pictures; why not just throw the whole thing at me? What kills me is how happy we look in those pictures. It honestly pains me to look at them and to know that I may never have that again. It hurts even more to know that beautiful, happy look on Abby's face may never again be directed at me. I love being the one who put a smile on her face.
I don't know, maybe we were on the same page at one point. Maybe she really did have the forever feeling about me, too. The trouble is that while I'm always ready to flip to the next page, Abby has a tendency to go back to the previous chapter.
Somehow, I thought taking a page out of Abby's book-running away-would give me some sort of satisfaction, or make me feel triumphant that I had managed to cause her the kind of pain she causes me when she does this. Instead, I just feel...empty. Hollow. I can't get a cheap thrill from hurting her. I made me hurt more to know that she was in pain, and it gave me a new insight into how much she hurts herself when she pushes me away. Or, at least how much I assume she hurts herself.
I've managed to get myself back to the airport without even realizing it. I don't remember going home and getting my bag. I don't remember getting into a cab. I don't even know if I've blinked since I left Abby at the hospital.
I'm really beginning to hate the airport.
Part of me wants to turn around and find Abby and stay with her until we work things out, one way or another. Part of me is hoping that she'll show up at the airport and beg me not to go, give me some reason to stay. But I know that won't happen. Not this time. I gave her no reason to think she should follow me here.
Even so, I walk slowly to the counter to pick up my ticket, and even slower to the terminal, constantly looking over my shoulder, hoping against hope that she'll come after me. I should have hugged her or something before I left. All I could think about for two weeks was just holding her in my arms again, and here I am, leaving less than twenty-four hours after returning, and I still haven't held her. I need to feel her against me. I want to smell her hair and feel the way she fits so perfectly under my chin. I need to hold her so badly that my arms ache. I need it so badly I almost stop right then and there and go back to her.
Despite all that, I don't know if I can keep my promise to her, that I'd be back in a few days. Even if I can find Luka in just a day or so, I think we'll both need more time than that. I may need to hold her, but I know that won't change that we're not working right now.
It takes all the willpower I have to stop myself from crying right now. I don't care about the whole crying not being manly thing. I just know that if I start crying for her now, I may never stop.
I get myself on the plane, having accepted that she's not going to show up and I can't delay any longer. I don't even notice take off. All I can do is look at the night sky, so full of stars. I can't help but remember how much Abby likes to sit outside and just stare at the sky, pretending she knows about astronomy and randomly naming constellations, and laughing about her insistence that we were looking up at a group of stars called "Mama Mia" one night. And I remember staring at the night sky in Africa, not really noticing if the star placement looked different, just that it looked empty without Abby beside me. On nights when I was feeling particularly romantic, and when she was happy and smiling at me, I could talk myself into believing that I could see the stars in her eyes, and that if I looked hard enough, I could find new worlds in their depths.
Now, all I can see is her eyes among the stars.
_____________________________________________________________
Author's Notes: Wow...I can't believe I actually tried this. I figured I'd just stick to writing Abby, since we seem to be on such good terms with each other, at least from my POV. I don't know if my venture into Carter's psyche has been very successful, but...well, holla back and tell me. As always, shout outs must be given to the Shakespearean Whore and her loyal Brothel (C-Dawg and Alley-Cat-for that's the name I've given you, my friend), for their love and unending support (of me and each other). This fic was pretty much completely inspired by a song, "Walking Away" by Craig David. I've been trying to work out something for it for a while now, but it was at C-dawg's encouragement that I tried writing it from Carter's POV.
Rating: PG, at best
Spoilers: Up to and including the season 10 premiere.
Archive: Oh, how I'd enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Oh, how I'd enjoy it even more.
Feedback: This one's different for me, so I would love it if you could give me something.
Author's Notes: As always, at the end.
____________________________________________________________
Walking away from Abby was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.
The fact that I've done it twice now is killing me.
But what was I supposed to do? Hang around in the hopes that one day she'll be ready to have a real relationship with me? I can't hang in the balance forever. I had to wait long enough to be with the woman in the first place. I can't put my life on hold.
The only problem with this logic is that Abby is my life. She's everything to me. But I can't be with someone who just makes me hurt.
She's been treating me like a yo-yo since I got back last night; she pushes me away, and then she pulls me back, only to push me away again. She asked for her key back, then she wanted to talk to me, and then, in the same conversation, she did everything in her power to send me packing, and when I tried to leave, she begged me to stay. How am I supposed to know what to give her if she doesn't know what she wants?
She can't keep doing this? Well, take a number. You're not the only one singing that song, Abby. I can't keep doing this, either. It's killing me, one day at a time.
Despite outward appearances, though, it did tear me apart to hear her pleading with me to not go. Part of me wanted nothing more than to just take her in my arms and hold on to her for the rest of my life. But what would that solve? It wouldn't fix anything. I had to leave.
You know, for two weeks, all I could think about was Abby. If she was all right, if she hated me, how I couldn't wait to see her again, how I was going to try harder to make us work. The first thing I did was go to see her. I would think that says something. My only thought was to get to Abby and just see her. I needed to see her, to be sure that she was real.
I think seeing her, asleep, in bed, was the most beautiful sight in the world. I wanted to collapse on the floor with tears of relief and gratitude for this woman. And then she verbally slapped me in the face. No emotion in her voice at all. She just wanted her key back. I was so pissed, I came this close to punching through one of her windows. I had this unbelievable, primal urge to break something. Though, I quickly realized it would do no good because I don't think anything could be more broken than my heart right now.
As cliche as that sounds.
I have put everything I had into this relationship. I've had enough time to think about her, dream about her, fantasize about her, to know that I wanted this to work. For so long, I wanted nothing more than Abby, and I really thought that if I just had her, then life would be perfect.
Somehow, despite everything that's happened to me in the past few years, I'm still incredibly naive.
I realize that I'm not perfect. I know I've done a few things wrong in regards to Abby, but I'd have to say that it's nothing compared to what she's thrown at me lately.
I guess the end of the rope for me was when she ran off to find her brother the one day I needed her the most. I've asked for very little from her in the past year, and all I wanted was for her to be with me while I tried to come to terms with my grandmother dying.
In my head, I know she had to go. I know it. There's no telling what someone who's bipolar and off their meds will do to themself, especially not with the track record her family has. I mean, Maggie tried to kill herself in front of us, and it tore Abby apart. If anything had happened to Eric because she stayed with me instead of going to get him, I don't know what would have happened to her. To say the very least, it wouldn't have been pretty.
Like I said, I know all of this in my head.
My heart, however, is a different story.
Just once, I want to feel like I come first in her life. I want to be her top priority. I want to know that I mean more to her than anything else in this world. I needed Abby with me, to help me, and she couldn't even do that for me. I can only play second fiddle for so long before I become tired of playing in the band.
My head and my emotions never seem to see eye to eye.
The only thing my mind and my heart have ever agreed on is Abby. Every part of me knew that she was it. The big It. The One. And she blew it. If she had tried a little harder, if she had tried to be there for me as much as I was there for her, if she had tried to give a little instead only take...
I shouldn't put all the blame on her. It's not fair. She's not the only one who's at fault. She did try, just not when I wanted her to. And I guess it doesn't count in my mind if she doesn't try when I need her to.
I never expected to feel this way about Abby. I thought the only thing I would ever feel for her again is love. Right now, what I'm feeling is bordering on hate.
As mad as I am, I don't ever want to hate Abby. This is the woman that, not so long ago, I wanted to marry. Hell, who am I kidding. The woman I still want to marry. I may be mad, but I'm not so mad that I can kid myself into thinking that I don't still love her. Or that I can't still picture spending my life with her. I don't know what to do with that, though. I really don't think us being bound together for eternity is ever going to happen. Happily ever after is not in store for us.
That thought crushes my soul just a little more.
No other woman has ever had this effect on me. I never really wanted to marry someone until I met Abby. That's not saying that moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the woman I wanted to marry, but it didn't take me more than a year to know I wanted her in my life in a permanent capacity.
I really must be delusional to think that I'll ever get over her. Or to think that I'll find this with someone else. This kind of feeling doesn't come along more than once in a lifetime. I'm lucky that I even found it this one time.
I used to think she felt the same way about me. Judging from the bag of my stuff she left on my locker this morning, I'm beginning to doubt it. If she did, it wouldn't have been so easy for her to just kick me out of her life. She somehow managed to put our year together into a grocery bag.
That hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially seeing the pictures of us mixed in there. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. I think it hurt worse than being stabbed, and that's saying a lot.
Some twisted part of my mind, though, that refuses to give up hope keeps pointing out that she didn't return all of my stuff. I know that I left more than a couple of t-shirts and random toiletries in her apartment in the past year. I don't know if she held onto the other stuff for a reason, or if she just grabbed the first things she found so she could make a point to me.
I would like to know why she picked those particular pictures to give to me. We have an enormous supply of "us" pictures; why not just throw the whole thing at me? What kills me is how happy we look in those pictures. It honestly pains me to look at them and to know that I may never have that again. It hurts even more to know that beautiful, happy look on Abby's face may never again be directed at me. I love being the one who put a smile on her face.
I don't know, maybe we were on the same page at one point. Maybe she really did have the forever feeling about me, too. The trouble is that while I'm always ready to flip to the next page, Abby has a tendency to go back to the previous chapter.
Somehow, I thought taking a page out of Abby's book-running away-would give me some sort of satisfaction, or make me feel triumphant that I had managed to cause her the kind of pain she causes me when she does this. Instead, I just feel...empty. Hollow. I can't get a cheap thrill from hurting her. I made me hurt more to know that she was in pain, and it gave me a new insight into how much she hurts herself when she pushes me away. Or, at least how much I assume she hurts herself.
I've managed to get myself back to the airport without even realizing it. I don't remember going home and getting my bag. I don't remember getting into a cab. I don't even know if I've blinked since I left Abby at the hospital.
I'm really beginning to hate the airport.
Part of me wants to turn around and find Abby and stay with her until we work things out, one way or another. Part of me is hoping that she'll show up at the airport and beg me not to go, give me some reason to stay. But I know that won't happen. Not this time. I gave her no reason to think she should follow me here.
Even so, I walk slowly to the counter to pick up my ticket, and even slower to the terminal, constantly looking over my shoulder, hoping against hope that she'll come after me. I should have hugged her or something before I left. All I could think about for two weeks was just holding her in my arms again, and here I am, leaving less than twenty-four hours after returning, and I still haven't held her. I need to feel her against me. I want to smell her hair and feel the way she fits so perfectly under my chin. I need to hold her so badly that my arms ache. I need it so badly I almost stop right then and there and go back to her.
Despite all that, I don't know if I can keep my promise to her, that I'd be back in a few days. Even if I can find Luka in just a day or so, I think we'll both need more time than that. I may need to hold her, but I know that won't change that we're not working right now.
It takes all the willpower I have to stop myself from crying right now. I don't care about the whole crying not being manly thing. I just know that if I start crying for her now, I may never stop.
I get myself on the plane, having accepted that she's not going to show up and I can't delay any longer. I don't even notice take off. All I can do is look at the night sky, so full of stars. I can't help but remember how much Abby likes to sit outside and just stare at the sky, pretending she knows about astronomy and randomly naming constellations, and laughing about her insistence that we were looking up at a group of stars called "Mama Mia" one night. And I remember staring at the night sky in Africa, not really noticing if the star placement looked different, just that it looked empty without Abby beside me. On nights when I was feeling particularly romantic, and when she was happy and smiling at me, I could talk myself into believing that I could see the stars in her eyes, and that if I looked hard enough, I could find new worlds in their depths.
Now, all I can see is her eyes among the stars.
_____________________________________________________________
Author's Notes: Wow...I can't believe I actually tried this. I figured I'd just stick to writing Abby, since we seem to be on such good terms with each other, at least from my POV. I don't know if my venture into Carter's psyche has been very successful, but...well, holla back and tell me. As always, shout outs must be given to the Shakespearean Whore and her loyal Brothel (C-Dawg and Alley-Cat-for that's the name I've given you, my friend), for their love and unending support (of me and each other). This fic was pretty much completely inspired by a song, "Walking Away" by Craig David. I've been trying to work out something for it for a while now, but it was at C-dawg's encouragement that I tried writing it from Carter's POV.