Author's Notes: At the bottom. Please read and review. Thanks. And the quote at the end of the chapter is not mine. It got it at www.lovingyou.com.

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He had spent the day in a haze, he didn't know what time it was, or what day it was either. Time had simply abandoned him to his own desires. The mansion was silent, only making the realization that he was alone sink in even more. The only sound that he could hear was his feet against the marble and the ticking of the old grandfather clock. Nothing else. He could have heard the beating of his own heart had he strained to listen. He laid on the couch, starring at the cracks on the ceiling. It needed to be repainted desperately. The whole house had fallen into ruin while he had been gone. He would have sold the house, except every corridor held memories for him. Memories from Gamma, from Grampa, from Bobby. Some of them were good memories, the others painful. He couldn't bare to leave them behind; they were a part of him. His pager knocked him out of his thoughts. The shrill buzz echoed through the hallways, it was almost eerie. He walked toward the phone and dialed the familiar number. Frank's deep voice came out of the receiver.

"Carter. I was paged."

He heard the chaos in the background. He didn't even have to wait for someone to tell him to come in. He was searching for a shirt as he waited for the attending.

"Carter?"

He repositioned the phone between his shoulder and his ear, glad to be met by Susan, not Kerry.

"Yeah?"

He wasn't in the mood to go into work, but something pulled him in. At least it would get his mind off everything.

"Can you come in? Abby was supposed to be on today and tonight, but she didn't show. I can't get in touch with her."

He ran his hands through his hair. He had been subconsciously thinking about her the whole time. He didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Yeah. I'll be there in about 20 minutes."

He didn't wait for Susan's response, he just slammed the phone shut and pulled on a pair of shoes. He had been extremely indecorous with her last night. He was angry and frustrated. He had been deprived of the one thing he wanted so much, a child. It might have been half his fault. The anger subsided into regret over the day. He grabbed his keys off the counter and headed toward his jeep. He hadn't driven in a while, and it would be faster anyway. He got in and turned it on. The battery was still okay. The trip along Lake Shore Drive was short, considering it was way past rush hour. He turned onto a different exit, knowing where he was headed. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he knew where he was being pulled toward. He reached the familiar street, the familiar house, the familiar black iron gate. He parked his car in front, quickly jumping out. He looked up at her window, it was pitch black. A sudden feeling of uneasiness passed through him. What if something had happened to her? What if she had decided to do something stupid? What if was the only question that flipped through his mind. It would be his fault. He drove her to do it. He ran up the stairs, his suspense growing deeper and deeper with each step. He got to her door; it was locked. He grabbed his wallet, pulling out a credit card. This little trick came in handy in some situations. This was one of those situations. After a third try, the lock clicked open and he pushed the door open. He reached for the light switch. It bathed the room in a bright yellow glow. It took his eyes a second to adjust. The apartment was in disarray. Organized disarray. Boxes were strewn everywhere, quick packing. Some of the furniture was gone. The rest was soon to be shipped somewhere according to the covers on some of the side tables and couch. He walked through his old home, the cabinets empty, the closets cleaned out, the bedroom clear except for three boxes and a set of mattresses. She was gone.

She was gone. She had run away. The same exact way he had run away from her and their problems. Maybe she did this for the better, they would both be able to move on. He wasn't so sure he would be able to love anyone else as much as he loved her. He still loved her, even after all she did. She was the most amazing person he had ever met. She didn't always make the right decisions, but no one was perfect. She was so perfectly imperfect. He didn't yearn for perfection, he had wanted her for who she really was, everything that was wrong with her had been something he could have dealt with. He realized this all too late. He lost her. He pulled his cell out of his pocket, dialing her cell. Maybe she had kept it. Maybe she would answer it. The number dialed, and rung twice. A feeling of relief began to wash over him. It quickly disappeared when he was met by the high-pitched squeak of the telephone line. The number was no longer in service. She didn't want to be followed. He breathed a long sigh, and walked toward the door, shutting the light off.

Often we say goodbye to the person we love without wanting to. Though that doesn't mean that we've stopped loving them or we've stopped to care. Sometimes goodbye is a painful way to say I love you.

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Okay so that's the end of this one. But there is a sequel. I didn't want to end it then the next chapter skip to a few years later or whatever. I don't know what the name of the sequel will be yet, but Kat read my beginning paragraphs, and she was intrigued, so I hope you guys like it to. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and stuck with me through this whole thing. The more I write, the better I get, and I really appreciate everyone who's read and reviewed and just supported me!! Special thanks have to go to Kat for her constant words of inspiration and encouragement and my editor Susan to whom I will owe millions of dollars to in the future. Thanks!!!