Rating: PG – 13
Spoilers: No spoilers.
Summary: Carter and Abby meet for the first time – under different circumstances.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything … ; )
Feedback: Sure, I'd love to know what you think! nette_mails@yahoo.de or use the review button. ; )
Author's notes: This fic is AU – but give it a chance. ; ) It takes place around S6. It's about Carter and Abby meeting for the first time. But most things are different from real S6 – which I didn't see yet anyway. ; )
I'm not sure about this – I think I'm in need of protective Carter or something. ; ) Please let me know what you think. : ) There's two parts more to this.
And thank you Jo for beta reading! ::hugs:: "Safe Hands""Are you okay, Abby?" she asks me like she already did several times since she called me about fifteen minutes ago.
"Yes Mom, everything is okay," I lie like I already did several times, biting my bottom lip.
It sounds like she's on her meds, though and I'm actually glad she called. I was worried about her but now I know at least that she's fine. But I really don't want to talk about the subject she'll surely come up with soon. And I am right.
"Is he home yet? How is he doing?"
"He's fine and no, he's not home yet. But I'm sure he'll be here soon. He has to work late," I lie again and I'm really surprised about how good I've become at that telling lies thing. I almost believe them myself.
Though it's hard to lie to my mother. But I don't want anyone to know.
"You don't sound happy, Abby. Are you sure that you're fine?"
"I have no idea why I sound unhappy," I say and roll my eyes even though I know she can't see it. And she doesn't really deserve it since she's right with her guess. "Maybe I'm tired. But everything is okay, really."
"Okay," she finally says reluctantly. "Maybe you work too much. But if anything is wrong – call me, okay? And promise me to take care of yourself."
I stifle the sarcastic laugh that escapes my lips. Work would be the only thing that could keep me alive now. But I don't want to tell her that they fired me. "I will, Mom. I love you. Bye."
"I love you, too. Bye."
I sigh deeply as I hang up the phone and walk over to the couch to sit down.
Of course he doesn't have to work late and nothing is okay. I think he's cheating on me and the thought is killing me. It's not that I'm jealous – at least not anymore. Or maybe I never was. I think our love died a long time ago – if it was ever there. But it still hurts.
It hurts that there's someone out there who's worth more than I am. Who is worth risking a marriage, maybe a future together. A potential family.
And it hurts even more that it's not one other woman. I might be able to live with the fact that he just met someone new. Someone he fell in love with. Though it would still hurt. But no – it's not just one person. I'm sure he's cheating on me with several women.
The sound of his key in the door brings me out of my thoughts.
"Abby?" he yells my name. "Abby!"
He's drunk – again. And I'm scared. I never know what to expect when he's drunk. Sometimes it makes him nicer – sometimes it makes him angry. And tonight he sounds angry.
I don't have to say a thing as he's already stumbling into the living room, letting himself fall down on the couch next to me. I spot the lipstick on his shirt immediately. And – no matter how drunk he is – he notices my eyes on him.
"What?" he asks me harshly.
Tears are gathering in my eyes. I'm not sure whether this is the right moment or not – but I decide to finally ask him what's going on.
"Are you … are you cheating on me?" I ask carefully, trying not to upset him too much.
But it doesn't help. "What?" he yells. And he's not even planning to lie to me. "I don't know how this could be any of your business!"
I'm taken aback by his harsh words. I always wondered how he'd try to explain the lipstick on his clothes, how he'd explain that he's always coming home late. But I never thought that he wouldn't even try to deny it. But even though I have no idea what he'll do if I don't shut up now – I decide to face him tonight.
"We're married. I think it's my business when you're cheating on me. I want to know if you're cheating on me," I bring out, moving away from him carefully, bringing some more space between him and me. But again – it's not helping much.
"Don't you dare," he shouts as he gets up and grabs my wrist, twisting my arm, throwing me against the kitchen table.
I want to scream. I want to cry for help. I want to defend myself. But I know he's stronger than I am and that I have no chance.
"Please Richard, don't …"
"Shut up you whiny bitch," he yells twisting my arm even more, pushing me further against the table with his weight while I'm bend over it and he's standing behind me. "Now you're silent, huh?" he says triumphantly.
I am. I don't want to upset him even more. I'm used to him yelling. I'm used to him being angry. But I never saw him like that and I refused to sleep with him for a while now. He never minded it since he got what he wanted in all his affairs. But I'm scared now that he'll take from me what he wants – just to hurt me.
So I don't say anything – praying that he'll let go of me.
And it seems like I'm lucky. He doesn't say anything for a while. All I can hear is his still angry breathing. But finally he loosens his grip around my wrist after what felt like forever. He probably doesn't want to risk to get sued for abuse or even … rape.
I hear him stumble through the apartment and sigh with relief when I hear him throw the door shut behind himself.
I slide down to my knees and hold my arm. I can tell from my experience that there's probably nothing broken. But it feels like my shoulder is dislocated and it hurts. But I know how to numb the pain.
I get up slowly and try to get to the bedroom as quickly as possible and lock the door behind myself. He probably won't come home any time soon. But I want to make sure that I'm safe until he's sober again.
I rest my weight against the door and my eyes fall onto my dresser immediately. The bottom drawer in particular. The thought of what's in there calms me down, even though I know that it's bad for me and that it won't change anything.
My good hand wanders down to my stomach immediately. Now that there's nothing to stop me anymore I may as well take all the comfort I can get – even if it's just from a stupid bottle.
I wince from the pain when I walk over to the bottom drawer and search through my underwear for the almost forgotten bottle of Vodka. I knew I should have thrown it away a long time ago. I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. But I kept it. Because I knew I'd need it sooner or later. And I was right.
I still didn't allow myself to cry when I crawl up in a corner and open the bottle slowly – knowing the release is only a sip away. And I wish myself far away, wish I was someone else when I feel the taste of salty tears mixed with Vodka on my lips.
***
"A wonderful good morning, Haleh!" I say to her as I enter the ER. "How are we today?"
She smiles at me. "Just great Carter. Just a bit busy since Randi left. And yourself?"
"Great! Can't you tell?" I ask her with a wink.
"Oh, I do. What's making you so exuberant this morning?"
"I don't know. I got up this morning and just felt great. Maybe something really good will happen to me today."
"I'm sure it will, Carter," she says, rolling her eyes at me playfully.
I know she must think I've gone completely crazy now. But I really feel happy today and nobody's bad mood can change that.
"So, what have we got?"
"Don't you want to change into your lab coat first?"
"I just want to be prepared."
"Talking of being prepared," she says reluctantly, the expression on her face suddenly changing. "Alison is waiting for you in the lounge."
"Oh." Maybe there is something that could ruin my mood today.
"I just thought you might want to know."
"Yeah, thank you. Did she say what she wants?" She knows I don't want her to come here.
"No. She just said she'd wait in the lounge."
"Okay, thank you Haleh."
"Any time," she calls after me as I turn around to enter the lounge.
Sometimes I feel bad for my thoughts. She's a nice girl. But we're just not on the same wavelength. Back then it felt right. She was cute and nice. But now I wonder how we ever got together. We have hardly anything in common. But somehow I don't have the guts to just end it. Sometimes it feels like we still have a chance. But these moments become more and more rare lately.
Her squeal brings me out of my thoughts as I open the door to the lounge.
"John!"
"Alison, hello," I answer politely as I join her. "What are you doing here?" I ask her, faking a smile as she throws her arms around my neck.
"Nothing really," she answers smiling as she pulls back from me. "There's no special reason why I'm here. Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend?"
"You know I have to work here … "
"I know," she says, but I know she's ignoring my words. "But I wanted to say hello. You didn't call me for days."
"I know, I'm sorry. I was busy," I lie as I take her hands off my shoulders and walk towards my locker to change my clothes. "And right now I have to work, too. I'll call you during my break, okay?" I offer, hoping she'll leave.
"Okay," she says, her smile back on her face as she follows me to my locker and leans in to kiss my cheek. "Talk to you later."
"Yes, bye," I call after her as she leaves the lounge.
I jump slightly as the door opens again and I fear she might have come back.
But luckily it's just Haleh.
"Carter, dislocated shoulder in curtain three. Sometimes I really wonder why women let men do something like that to them," she says as she's waiting for me to get dressed.
"It was her boyfriend? Or her husband? Did she say that?" I ask her as I try to get my lab coat on to follow her right away.
She shakes her head. "No, she says she fell … in the kitchen."
"Maybe that's really what happened."
"No Carter, believe me. She's not telling the truth. And she's scared."
"Sadly, there's nothing we can do if they don't want help," I say as we finally leave the lounge together and go to curtain three.
"We can try, Carter," she says before she gives me the chart and leaves.
I've seen many patients in the ER and a lot of them were victims of abuse. But I still feel my stomach twist when I push the curtain aside and see the woman sitting on the gurney.
Haleh was right, she looks scared and so fragile.
