A/N: Here's chapter six… finally. Sorry guys, I've been ill and have exams coming up. Love and hugs to the usual crew. The song is "If You Could Only See" by a band named Tonic who Noods put me onto. The quote Abby doesn't know the source of is from Joseph Roux. Hope you enjoy. Extra brownie points for anyone who can catch the Maura quote.

"You're stretching out your arms
To something just not there"

My eyes are dry by the time I step a foot inside County's doors; the comfortable façade back in place.
With eagle-eyes Kerry spots me before I make it to the lounge.
"Abby, triage please."
Fantastic. Just what I wanted today.
How I feel about working triage is clearly written all over my face as Malucci walks by and asks if I'd rather give him a hand in exam three.
Weaver hears his request and collars Haleh to work triage instead.
Sometimes I really like Dave.

On entering the room I'm met by a distressed college student. She's laid on the bed with her arm at an awkward angle and she gazes at me piteously.
"Radio-ulnar fracture after a fall," Dave informs me. He proceeds to give me the details but I'm not really listening. I'm more interested in the glazed stare of the girl in front of me, her movements so frenetic that they're making me nervous.
"Are you okay?" I ask her, cutting Dave off mid-sentence.
She looks up at me with doleful eyes, "Did they find him?" she asks shakily.
"Find who?" I inquire gently.
"Will," she replies breathily, "we were… we were swimming in the lake. He went under and he didn't come back up."
The girl's voice breaks a little, she sniffs hard and bites down upon her lip. More composed, she continues, "I tried searching for him but I couldn't find him. I ran for help and that's when I fell and hit my arm."
"Is Will your boyfriend?" Dave asks.
She shakes her head, "No, he's… he's my friend."
The girl's accent is a little unusual and I'm trying to place it. As if reading my thoughts she goes on, "I'm British, my… my family moved to Chicago when I was thirteen. I went through high school with Will, we grew up together… he's my best friend, he's… he's everything… you have to find him." She looks at me resolutely, searching my face with her eyes. Pleading me wordlessly to help her. And my heart goes out to her, this petite brunette sitting cross-legged before me. Little girl lost. And for a fleeting second I see myself reflected in her expression.
"I'll try the lifeguard," I assure her with a sympathetic smile. "What's his last name?"
"Kirton," she tells me before spelling it.
I write it down faithfully. "And your name?"
"Sarah Hunt."
"Okay, I'll go call," I tell her, "Dr. Dave here is gonna start fixing your arm up whilst I'm gone."
She smiles appreciatively at me.
"Uh, actually," Dave begins, "I'm off and there's a cute blonde outside that I don't wanna keep…" he trails off as he spies my glare.
It's one patient, not even a difficult case. She's upset and he wants to bail. Sometimes I really hate Dave.

I reach the front desk and pick up the phone. I'm about to dial when a gurney crashes through the double doors. Weaver hobbles over to meet it and calls me to help. I spy the young guy on the trolley and a sinking feeling makes friends with my stomach.
"Do you have an ID?" I ask the paramedic.
He shakes his head, "Lifeguard pulled him out of the lake thirty minutes ago. There was a pulse when we arrived on scene but we lost it pretty quickly. There were some clothes on the beach but no driver's licence or ATM card."
I gaze at the ashen face before me before stating slowly, "his name is Will, Will Kirton."

In the split second it takes for Weaver to look up at me in puzzlement, Sarah bursts out of the exam room.
"Will?" she cries, "Will?"
I touch her good arm gently, "Sarah, let them work."
She shrugs me off and runs up to the gurney, her hand clasping his tightly.
"Abby," Weaver says pointedly.
I pull Sarah away lightly, being careful not to touch her injured forearm. She resists strongly and I have to loop my arms around her waist to prevent her following her friend into the trauma room.
"I want to see him," she chokes through the sobs rising up in her throat.
"Let the doctors try to help him first," I tell her.
She nods in acceptance as tears spill over onto her cheeks to be brushed away with the flick of a hand. Clawing at the glass of the door she watches every movement occuring in the room, ignoring my gentle persuasion to move her away.

As I feared, Weaver slows down. Her hands drop to her sides and her eyes dart to the clock. The code is over.
Sarah knows it as soon as I do and she finally allows the sobs to engulf her body and she slumps to her knees. I crouch down to her level and rub her shoulder affectionately. However, this empathetic gesture only provokes more tears and she falls into my embrace.

Moments later, Kerry reappears to break the news.
I glance upwards and mouth, "she knows."
Nodding in acceptance, Weaver shuffles away.
Bending closer to whisper, I ask, "would you still like to see him?"
Sarah lifts her tear-stained face to mine before nodding.
"Okay," I reply.
I hold open the door and she steps through it before padding across the floor to where her friend's body lays.
Delicately, she lifts his limp hand with her own and interlaces their fingers together. Tenderly she sweeps a blonde tendril away from his face.
And in a low voice she recites, "We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."
I don't know the source, but it's beautiful.
Leaning forward slowly, she plants a light kiss on the boy's lips.
Turning back to me she explains, "I never had the courage to do that before now."
Understanding washes over me and I smile sorrowfully at the figure in front of me. "Take all the time you need."

***********************************************************

The rest of my shift passes by in a blur and before I know it I'm trudging up the stairs of my apartment building. After the day I've had the urge to drink is almost overwhelming. On entering the apartment the first thing I do is make for the bottle of vodka sitting on the table. And summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I unscrew the cap and empty the contents down the drain, temptation flowing away as swiftly as it appeared.
After Sarah left the hospital I took a break and visited Maggie in the ICU. Her status hadn't changed, but in that moment I was comforted by the mere fact that she was still with me. I glance across at the picture of her on the coffee table. Her expression is light and carefree. I wish the same could be said of mine.

I fix up some dinner and settle down to watch TV before turning in for the night. The couch is cool and soft and my aching back relishes its feel. Today has been the longest day. It seems an eternity since I was bearing my soul to John beside the river. I close my eyes, picturing Carter's face as I opened up to him; kindness etched into every pore. My head begins to feel hazy and I can feel sleep descending, its presence more than welcome. But the universe doesn't want to let me rest yet, as into my somnolent state bursts a harsh knocking sound. I prise my eyes open and walk across to the door. This had better be important.

"Luka!" I exclaim in surprise as I throw open the door.
"Hey Abby," he says walking into my apartment and dumping down a paper bag on the kitchen table. "I brought chinese food," he explains.
I force a smile; so much for sleep.
"I haven't seen you much lately," he adds whilst shrugging off his coat.
I rub at the creak in my neck. "I've been really busy," I reply.
"I know." He walks over to the kitchen and takes out two plates. "I bought dragonfly tofu," he informs me.
I'd rather not eat than eat tofu, surely he knows that? "I'm really not hungry," I tell him.
He frowns a little and serves up onto one plate only, before walking back towards me.
"How was your day?" he asks as he shovels forkfuls of the firey food towards his mouth.
"Long," I reply noncommittally.
"You look tired," he comments.
I smile, "thanks."
He puts the meal to one side and tilts my chin up towards his face before leaning forward and kissing me.
I don't even pretend to respond; I'm too tired and my heart really isn't in it. And then I realize that it's not merely the vile tofu concoction he devoured that's deterring me. It's not just about being preoccupied with what's happening with my mother. I simply don't want this. Luka is a good man but I don't want this relationship that we've cultivated for ourselves. A relationship in which we never talk; not about the important things. We're both lost souls who are looking for something, but this isn't it. And not only do I not want this, but I don't need it, not anymore.

He pulls away from my lips and I look up into his eyes.
"Luka, I don't think this is working."
He looks at me quizzically, "What isn't?"
I bite my lip. "You and me… us," I add awkwardly.
"Oh," he drops his hands to his side.
"It's not you… it's… me." I wince at the cliché.
His face wears a pained expression. "I should go," he tells me.
"You can stay," I voice lamely, "finish your food."
He shoots a pointed look in my direction. "It's turned cold."
Ouch.
Grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch he turns for the door.
"I'm sorry Luka."
He glances back over his shoulder and replies softly, "goodbye Abby."
The door clicks shut and he's gone.