Author: damnyankee
Rating: PG-13, for some strong language
Summary: Continuing our saga of "what if?" Abby never woke up with Carter sitting on her bed, never asked for her key back, and thus all of the nightmare that has been season 10 didn't actually happen. It was all a very bad dream…so, what happens instead? Find out…
Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind reviews! It's nice to hear that you like what I have to say; I haven't written anything in a long time, and I'm so glad to be doing it again!! Oh, and bear with me on this chapter…this is where my perception of what's going on in their heads becomes choppy, and I want to stay as true to them as I can.
Disclaimer: Yeah, I didn't know that I should do this, so I'm doing it now: I don't own ER, or the characters. I just love their wacky complications and want to play!
Chapter 5 of The Dream: Reconciliation
Minutes passed, and finally the intensity of the two gazing at each other became too much for Abby, and she turned her eyes away. It was then that Carter noticed the cigarette in her hand, which she drew to her mouth, taking a long, slow drag. He looked down, disappointed. She looked back up at him, pointedly, returning the hand her cigarette was in to her side.
"I know," she answered to his unasked question. "I thought…I am done with this, this smoking, I just…" she tried to explain, but couldn't. "Whatever, it doesn't matter," she continued, looking down and laughing sadly. She brought her hand back up to her face, absent-mindedly scratching at her forehead with her pinky, careful not to burn herself. She moved forward into the living room, stopping at the side of the couch. Carter still stood at the door, waiting, watching, wondering what would happen next, whether he should speak. Sometimes, with Abby, it was better just to wait. She looked back up at him, meeting his eyes. "I called Weaver." This time, it was she who waited for his response. He shifted in the doorway.
"So…so, we can talk?" He conjectured, a small hint of hope returning.
"Yeah, Carter, we can talk." She took another drag of her cigarette, then put it out in a nearby empty can of Diet Coke. She crossed her arms in front of her as Carter took a couple of steps into the room. "I guess it's my turn, huh?" He nodded slowly.
"If you want…I mean, Abby, if you don't want to talk, you don't have to. If you're not ready, if you're too angry--I just…" He trailed off, sensing that maybe he should have just stayed quiet. She smiled slightly at him, letting him know that it was okay. He smiled back, pleased at the encouragement.
"It's okay, John," she replied, still not quite comfortable with the name, but knowing he needed to hear her say it. To know that things were okay. But, were they? She settled onto the couch, looking down at the floor in front of her, hands between her knees, trying to think of what to say first. She took a deep breath, and said the first thing she could think. "What time did you get in?" She looked up at him, cautiously.
"Um…5, 5:30, I guess," he answered, scratching his head. He moved even further into the room, slowly, stopping just before the couch. He thought to himself that sometimes, dealing with Abby was like trying to wrangle a wild animal. You had to make slow, small movements so as not to startle her. "I came straight here. I didn't even th—I didn't want to be anywhere else." He moved a step closer, now standing directly in front of the couch, on the opposite side of the one she was sitting on. When he did this, she returned her gaze to the floor, as if in submission to what he meant to do. At this, he sat carefully, quietly on the sofa. "I sat by you; you looked so peaceful sleeping there, I didn't want to wake you." He reached his hand out, grazing her leg with his fingers, settling them there briefly. "I couldn't help but notice that you were sleeping on my side of the bed…"
"Yeah, well, I was tired, I didn't notice where I was sleeping," she said, cutting him off, standing up quickly. She was uncomfortable with his presumption that she missed him, that in his absence she yearned for him, so much that she actually slept where he normally lay.
Carter, startled by her action, stood too, his hand tingling where it had touched her leg a few seconds before. It had been so long since they had been that way. Not sexual, not passionate; just affectionate, kind, gentle. Her abrupt and angry reaction to his small act of tenderness hurt him, but somehow he knew that he deserved it. He had known deep inside she wouldn't let him get off that easily, but he had hoped too much too soon. Now he hoped to make reparations for his premature affections.
Abby ran her fingers through her hair, noticing that he, too, had stood. Feeling awkward, she walked toward the kitchen, putting distance between them, hoping to clear her head. Not for the first time that morning, she felt overwhelmed. She stopped at the counter, putting her hands down on it to obtain balance. She felt drunk, unsteady, and she just wanted it to stop. She just wanted to know what to say or do to make this stop. She wanted to just know who was right and who was wrong and how much and how to forgive. How both of them could forgive the other for what had happened in the past few months.
She felt a presence behind her, and remained still, not knowing what to expect. Then, suddenly, she felt his arms around her, encircling her waist, his face in her neck. Not kissing, not arousing, just…there. Comforting. Finally, at long last, exactly what she wanted at exactly the right time. She fought it, though, in typical Abby fashion, trying hard not to give in to loving him. She was still angry and unbelievably hurt by the way he had left, and didn't know what could be done to fix that.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her neck. He lifted his head, and turned her around to face him. He tilted her chin up so that she had to look in his eyes, lowering his face to hers when she tried to avoid them. He kept his hand there, on the side of her face, cupping her jaw. His other hand was placed behind her back, gently holding her there. Again, like a wild animal, Abby needed to be reassured of security and gently held in place once reigned in. "Please just listen to me for a minute." She nodded her head, hesitatingly. She had no real choice, did she? Her hands remained planted on the counter, now behind her, but she couldn't go anywhere. "I know that you're not perfect. Hell, I know I'm not perfect. Together, we don't make perfect. And I also know that lately, I've been even less perfect than usual. I've been distant, moody—an asshole." She blinked at him, glanced down, and he waited until she looked back up at him to continue. "I don't know what to say about it, Abby. We've got work to do. We've got things to work out. And I don't know…maybe we're not supposed to be together. Maybe we've done this all wrong, and ruined it. I don't have answers for anything." He stopped again, pausing, not knowing how to carry on. Abby brought her hand up to the one that was on her face, and slowly brought it down to his waist. She held them together there. Carter cocked an eyebrow, confused by her actions.
"I don't have any answers either," she said finally, quietly. She looked down at their hands, fingers interlocked. "I was hurt by what you did, Carter. I felt—feel like you did it to hurt me. Because of what happened with Eric, because of something else I've done that pissed you off--made you decide not to ask me to marry you." She looked back up at him then. He squeezed her hand, to let her know that he was listening, that he was okay with whatever she had to say. But she waited, enjoying the closeness of their bodies, the comfort in their hands entwined, their bellies touching, their breath intermingling in the space between them. She wanted to stay there like that forever, never have to discuss anything more, just put all that had happened behind them and start fresh, new. To forget their families and imperfections, and just be. But she knew that, true to form, this would not last; this, too, would pass, and they would be left broken again, by each other.
Because of this reflection, she dropped his hand and moved to the side, away from him. She wanted to continue her part of the conversation, but she knew what her next words would be ("because I'm not good enough") and what it would do, she knew how he would react, and she didn't want to start that all again. So she felt better just walking away, and leaving the thought hanging there in the air, for him to pick up or leave, whichever he wanted.
"I don't know what to say…I…I thought that we'd talked about this…" He was grasping for words, trying to appease whatever had caused her to turn away. At his words, she turned back to face him, from a few steps away.
"No, Carter, we didn't talk about this," she replied, not with anger, but quietly, sadly. "In fact, I don't think we've really talked about anything since that night. We've talked, words have passed between us, we've given the impression of having a real conversation, but when you're finished, I have no idea what you're thinking." She looked down again then, exhausted by her own words, her own thoughts, by the process of this. She had pondered this conversation for weeks, and had thought it would go better. Instead, they weren't getting anywhere, and she was so tired of it. Not angry tired, just tired, worn out. "Sometimes I think it isn't me you want, but some idea of me, some person who's like me, but without the complications, the negativity, the crazy."
"Sure, I'd love it if this weren't complicated, if everything went smoothly. And I do wonder, at times, if it's all too much, that nothing can be worth all this work." He stepped towards her then, something it seemed sometimes he was always doing, not the other way around. She picked her eyes off the floor to look at him, to see his eyes searching her face. What did he hope to find there? When he continued, his words were barely a whisper, and there were tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "But it's always you I want, Abby. It's always been you." Her face softened at these words, and his next phrase was even softer than the last. "I love you, Abby." With these words, the tension settled like dust around the room. He came to her, put his arms around her, and kissed her. Kissed her with the longing of months of missing her, since before the Congo, back to…whenever it was they stopped being this way with each other. And in that kiss, he said all the 'sorrys' and 'please forgive mes' that no actual words could communicate. And she did, too, as well as all the 'I forgive yous' that she wanted to speak but couldn't. When their lips finally parted, there was a peace palpable in the air, as if something had been finished, and something newly begun. And it was this peace that provoked Abby's next words, words she was so scared to utter, but so scared not to that she couldn't help it.
"I love you too, Carter," she whispered, laughing and crying at the same time as she said it. He grinned as he heard this declaration, something he'd been waiting to hear for…too long. "I'm so glad you came back, and to me. I was so scared, of so many things, when you left." The smile fell from her face. "I'm still so scared, Carter. I don't want to believe too much in this, whatever 'this' is. There's still so much—"
"Ssh," he said, putting a finger to her lips. He kissed her again, lightly. "Let's just be here, right now, please…" And he kissed her again. "I just missed you so much, Abby, and I don't want to talk anymore, no more of this back and forth, this complicated stuff…" And now her neck, making a trail from her jaw to that spot where her shoulder met her neck. She brought her hands up to his shoulders, then one into his hair, realizing how much she'd missed this, too.
And they went to the bedroom, whispering to each other all the things they'd been wanting to say for so long, telling each other how much they felt, how much they loved, how much they cared. Neither tried to presume that things were fixed between them. They just loved each other, in the deepest and most intimate way they knew how, knowing that after, they would talk more, talk forever, until things were better.
Until finally, after all this time, they could be the couple they had always wanted to be, always meant to be.
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Author's Note: I thought that this would be the end of the chapters, and that I would end it with an epilogue, but it turns out there's a lot left to say, so I'm continuing with more chapters for now.