Thankyou for all your millions of wonderful reviews! I really am amazed at how many people like my story! Well, I know it's been a few weeks, but I finally decided to get off my lazy butt and write chapter three. I'm not following the actual ER strictly, cos some of the stuff which is happening doesn't fit in with my story, eg. Susan's pregnancy, but I doubt it'll matter much. For those of you who were a bit confused last chapter, don't worry! It was supposed to be a bit vague, all will become clear in time (namely in this chapter!). Thanks to those who said they understood the skipping back and forth in time, it was very encouraging. And to all those Carby fans: I'm not revealing the final pairing yet, but there will be heaps of Carby moments, as well as Luby and various others. Just to apologise if I get any characters last names wrong. I'm not entirely sure about the spelling of Luka or Sam's, so if anyone wants to correct it in a review, feel free! The same kind of thing with the dates, sorry if they don't add up, and I have no idea when the actual date was that Carter and Abby had THAT dinner. I hope you enjoy this chapter, the next one probably won't be out for ages, as I'm coming up to my A2 exams (kind of like finals) so I'm veeery busy. Well, I hope you like it, read and review!
August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.
Abby carefully folded Luka's letter, and slid it into an envelope, before reaching for another piece of paper.
Now she had a second letter to write, and she had a feeling it was going to be even more difficult than the first.
Dear Carter. I have some news, but I doubt you're going to like it…*
February 3rd, 2003. Chicago.
"I don't know," Abby said, as she reached for her water glass. "I'm not sure people can ever really change."
Carter's fist, hidden by the table, closed around the ring box, slipping it back into his pocket.
"Perhaps you're right," he said softly. "Shall we get going?"
She glanced up, surprised. "What's the rush?"
"I just think we should go."
Before Abby had time to argue, he signalled the waiter for the bill.
Outside the restaurant, he walked quickly towards his car, aware that Abby was almost having to run to keep up with him.
"Hey," she cried. "Wait a minute will you?" She caught up to him, grabbing his arm. "What's going on?"
"Do you really think people can't change?"
She blinked slightly, startled by his question.
"I guess so."
"And what about you," he asked. "Do you think you can ever change."
For a moment she was puzzled, then comprehension dawned, closely followed by anger.
"This is about my drinking, isn't it."
For moment he didn't respond, then sighed, looking past her. "I just don't see how it can be fixed, if you don't believe people can change."
"Fixed?" she repeated, voice dangerously low. "You think I'm broken? What, you think you can just try and put the pieces back together again?"
"That's not what I meant-"
"Then what did you mean, Carter?"
There was a brief, strained silence.
Abby shook her head slowly. "I can't believe this, I can't believe you! You just think you can fix me up. Worse than that, you think I'm broken in the first place!"
"Well, you're not willing to change," he yelled back. "How can we move on, if you don't want to?"
"I'm perfectly happy to move on, but obviously you don't want someone who isn't perfect."
Carter threw his hands up in frustration. Why couldn't she just try and see his point of view?
"Forget it," he snapped, turning to cross the street. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."
"Fine. Just walk away."
He immediately veered back to face her. "How can I do anything else?"
"You can at least try to sort this out!"
"No." he shook his head, taking a step away from her. "Not now."
He jogged to the car, refusing to looking back
*
Abby watched as he moved away, lit by the glow of street lights, until he leapt into he car and pulled away, tyres screeching.
"Argh!"
With a frustrated cry, she kicked out a lamppost, immediately regretting it when pain shot up her leg.
"Great," she muttered. "Now I have a bad foot and I have to walk home." She began to walk down the street. "Just perfect. First he wants to marry me, then he doesn't. Now he wants me to change. What am I supposed to Carter? Just what am I supposed to do? Who do you want me to be?"
"Abby?"
She spun, alarmed, even as she recognised who the voice belonged to.
Luka.
"Talking to yourself?" he asked gently.
She shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a regular crackpot."
He laughed. "What are you doing out here this late?"
She sighed. "I was at dinner with Carter, but then we had a fight and he drove off. So now I'm stuck walking home."
"Well, come back to my place," Luka offered. "It's not far, then I can drive you."
Abby hesitated. All she really wanted was to have a nice warm bath. But Luka would get her there quicker.
"Come on," he urged. "We can have some coffee. Talk"
She smiled slightly. Somehow it always felt so easy, so right talking to Luka.
"Okay," she agreed. "Coffee would be great."
*
January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.10pm.
Abby tried to take a step back, startled fear coursing through her as memories of being attacked by Brian flitted through her mind, but Carter's grip was like iron, his face twisted beyond recognition.
"Get the hell off me," she hissed.
His hand tightened, and for one terrifying moment she thought he was going to hit her and automatically flinched. He blinked, sudden shock darting across his face, then released her, stepping back quickly, avoiding her gaze.
For a moment neither spoke, the silence thick with tension, conflict.
"My daughter," he said finally, his voice low and quiet. "I would like to see her."
It was only then that it occurred to Abby just how much of a mess she was in. My daughter.
"Who have you been talking to?" she asked.
"Susan told me."
I am going to kill her.
Abby narrowed her eyes. "What, exactly, did she tell you?"
"That you had had a baby. A girl, called Eva."
"And?"
He gave her a slightly blank look. "And I ran over here."
Ah, that explains it.
"She didn't tell you anything else?"
"No, like I said, I came straight over here." His eyes hardened slightly. "Why didn't you tell me Abby? Do you hate me that much."
She sighed, turning away form him. "I don't hate you," she said, quietly.
"Then why?"
Okay, it's now or never. Time to tell the truth.
"Carter, there's something I have to explain."
*
January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 8.45pm.
Susan raised her eyebrows at the intrusion, annoyance flickering across her face.
"I don't have to tell you anything," she replied.
Carter sat down in the booth across from her. "It's about Abby, I have a right to know."
She slammed her spoon down in sudden anger.
"No Carter, you don't. You broke up with her, remember? Then, when she told you what was going on, you refused to speak to her."
"But I don't know what's going on."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. She wrote you a letter."
Carter threw up his hands in exasperation. "I never received any damn letter."
Susan froze, her heartbeat accelerating suddenly. "You didn't?" Her voice was faint.
"No," he snapped. "I didn't. Now will you please tell me what's going on?"
She swallowed. "I um…I really think you should talk to Abby about this."
"No," he repeated. "Tell me."
When she didn't respond, he leant forward, narrowing his eyes. "Now."
Susan stared behind him, trying to summon the words.
"It's difficult," she said.
"I'm waiting."
She sighed. "Carter, it's…well…" She closed her eyes. "Carter, Abby had a baby."
He was shocked, she could tell because he wasn't responding. Cracking open an eye, she saw his blank, uncomprehending expression, and wondered if she'd done the right thing.
"Carter?"
He shook his head, a slow, tiny movement.
"A baby?" he repeated. "A…a baby."
"She's beautiful," Susan said. "Her name's Eva. It's short for-" She was cut off as Carter stood abruptly, scraping his chair back from the table.
"I have to go."
Panic descended upon Susan like a rain cloud.
"You can't," she gasped. "You don't know the full story!"
He ignored her, striding across the diner towards the door.
"Carter!"
She leapt up, sundae forgotten, and followed him, weaving desperately around the booths.
"Carter, wait!"
"Hey!" a voice called. "You there! You haven't paid!"
Susan looked around helplessly, realising the man was talking to her. "I-" she reached into her pocket for a twenty-dollar bill and flung it toward him, then hurtled through the door, out onto the snowy street.
She was too late. Carter was gone.
Abby is going to kill me.
*
February 3rd, 2003. Chicago.
Luka's flat was warm and familiar, and Abby felt contented as she curled up on the well-known couch, a mug of coffee clasped in her hands.
He sat across from her on the floor, sipping from his own mug closing his eyes every now and then from the sheer exhaustion of the day.
"Do you think," he asked, "that he's afraid?"
Abby sighed. "I don't know," she replied. "Perhaps he's afraid of me." She shook her head in frustration. "I hate the way he treats me. He acts as if I've got a disease or something. I just…I hate it."
"Have you told him?"
"I've tried, but he never listens." She smiled wryly. "He always thinks he knows best."
It was getting late, and they were both on their second mug, but Abby had no desire to return to her cold, empty flat. She liked it here, she liked it with Luka. She liked feeling safe.
Luka yawned and she felt a frisson of guilt. He was obviously tired, and she was keeping him up.
"I'd better get going," she said, though it was the last thing she felt like doing.
Was it her imagination, or did she see a flicker of disappointment cross his face?
"I suppose so," he agreed, standing, then reaching over to help her up.
He was holding her arm, their faces close, too close, and everything felt so right, and she was warm and safe, and though she knew she would regret it, she kissed him.
It was a soft, gentle kiss, a brief press of her lips against his, sweet and chaste.
For a moment they looked at each other, then they were kissing again, but this time it was desperate and passionate and full of fire and she knew it was wrong, but she just couldn't stop.
*
January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.10pm.
"Eva isn't yours."
Carter felt as if his world was collapsing. There was a funny rushing in his ears, and he had to reach behind him, steadying himself against the wall.
"Isn't mine?" he repeated dumbly.
"Are you alright?" Abby took a step toward him, concern on her face, though her features seemed blurred to him. "John?"
It was the use of his first name that brought him back to reality.
Abby had had a baby. That baby wasn't his.
"Whose?" he croaked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
She closed her eyes briefly before answering. "Luka's."
It felt, strangely, like a jagged pain in his heart. Luka's. Of course.
"When?"
She sighed. "Do we really have to-"
"When?" he hissed.
She avoided his gaze. "That night we had a fight outside the restaurant. About my drinking. It was February."
He felt a humourless laugh work its way up his throat. "Well that's alright then, if it was February."
"Carter…" she trailed off into silence, unsure of what to say.
Bitterness tasted like lemons on his tongue. He remembered that night. How could he forget? That was the night he had been going to propose. He had been about to ask her to marry him and she…
"You went to him," he whispered.
"Not exactly," she replied. "We met in the street, and I was upset. He offered to give me a coffee and a ride home."
"But one thing led to another?" he asked dryly.
"Do you think I like this?" she yelled suddenly. "Do you think all of this makes me happy?"
He looked at her, amazed that she could be angry with him, that she was hurt when she was the one who…
"I expect you were ecstatic," he yelled back. "Child on the way, rich boyfriend to pay for everything, no one would ever need to know."
She stared at him, speechless, and he could see he had hurt her, but felt a need, a compulsion to go on.
"If I hadn't gone to Africa would I have ever known the truth? Would you have just pretended she was mine? Would you have even cared that Luka would never know his daughter?"
Her hand across his face stung, and he froze, head turned slightly to one side by the impact of her slap.
What the fuck was he doing?
"How dare you?" she whispered, voice tight with anger. "How dare you even suggest that I would do a thing like that?"
"Well you slept with another man," he pointed out, equally angry. "How do I know what you're capable of?"
"And I told you! I told you everything in the fucking letter and you didn't want to know. You didn't want to know!"
"That's because I didn't know!"
She blinked. "What?"
"I never got your letter," he said, voice suddenly quiet, anger drained in an instant. "I didn't know you were pregnant, didn't know you had a child until about half an hour ago. I didn't know."
She closed here eyes and leaned back against the wall, seemingly bereft of the angry energy that had filled her only a moment ago.
"And I though you just hated me."
"I could never hate you."
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
She opened her eyes, and he could see confusion written in her gaze. He had a sudden urge to touch her, to stroke her cheek the way he used to.
"She should have been ours."
He nodded, saddened by the knowledge.
"I know."
*
January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11.35am.
"Luka, can I have a word? It's important."
Luka nodded, noticing the worry etched into Abby's face.
"Of course," he said quickly. "Carter, great to see you again. Kem, nice to meet you."
He turned and walked beside her a little way down the hall.
"Is everything alright?"
"Did you change Eva's diaper this morning before we left?"
He nodded, suddenly sensing he had done something wrong.
She let out an irritated sigh. "Did you use the right powder? Because Amelia just rang, and she says Eva's got diaper rash. Diaper rash!"
Diaper rash. He laughed, probably not the best thing to do under the circumstances.
"Abby, it's okay. It's just a bit of diaper rash, it will go away in a day. There's nothing to worry about."
To his surprise, she began to cry. Abby, who never cried, or at least never let anyone see her cry.
Except that night in his apartment.
"Hey." He reached for her, pulling her into his arms, and she sobbed against his chest for a few moments.
"What's wrong with me?" she muttered, her voice muffled by his shirt.
"You're probably in shock," he replied. He stroked her back gently. "It's okay. You don't have to be superwoman all the time."
She laughed, which was a small victory to him, then pulled away. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just with Cater coming back, and their big news and everything I-"
"It's okay," he repeated gently.
She blew out a breath, cheeks now dry.
"I'll come over this evening, okay? Check on you and Eva."
She nodded. "Thanks."
He leant forward and kissed her briefly on the forehead. "Stay strong."
She nodded again, then walked away down the hall. He watched her go, thinking how extraordinary she really was.
It's a pity I'm not in love with her.
As he turned in the other direction, he saw a flash of curly, dark blonde hair and blue scrubs turning a quick corner.
Sam.
He had a sinking feeling she had witnessed the whole thing.
*
Sam leant against the wall, trying not to think of what she had just seen.
Luka. Kissing Abby.
Just friends, she thought bitterly. Just fucking friends.
She fought the unexpected wave of misery. She had work to do.
*
February 3rd, 2003. Chicago.
She was crying.
Abby never cried, at least not infront of people.
But she was crying now.
Soft, heartbreaking sobs that made Luka want to gather her into his arms and kiss the pain away.
But that was what had made her cry in the first place, wasn't it?
The sheet was slightly damp against his bare skin, he could feel Abby's body beside him, hear the late night traffic in the street outside.
Hear the quiet weeping.
He reached out a cautious hand, brushing the naked skin of her shoulder, and for a moment she stiffened, then he felt her shoulder shake with more tears and she rolled towards him, letting him hold her close.
"I love him," she whispered softly.
He tried not to feel the heaviness in his heart.
"I know."
*
January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.20pm.
They were startled out of their sorrowful silence by a brief knock on the door.
Luka's knock, Abby realised, and the dread in the pit of her stomach grew considerably.
The knock came again, followed by Luka's concerned voice, drifting through the wood of the door.
"Abby? Is everything alright?"
She saw every bone in Carter's body stiffen at the sound of Luka's voice, a stormy anger mixed with hatred plaguing his features.
"Carter-" she began, but he ignored her, yanking the door open to glare directly into Luka's face.
"Carter," Luka said in surprise.
"You bastard," Carter hissed. "You fucking bastard."
His fist flew into the other man's jaw, Luka's head snapping back against the doorframe, a thin line of blood trickling from his lower lip as he fell into the corridor.
"Luka!"
Abby ran to his side, bending over him, shaking his shoulders to make sure he was conscious. He blinked up at her blearily.
She stood, hands clenched in fists at her sides, anger barely contained.
"Get out," she snapped, voice deadly.
Carter, for his part, was beginning to look slightly contrite, but Abby couldn't have cared less. When he took a step towards her, she took one back. She didn't want to be anywhere near him right now.
He held up his hands in silent defeat. She noticed his knuckles were already beginning to bruise. He edged passed her and walked towards the stairs, pausing only briefly to look back at her. Their eyes locked.
It was all so wrong, she realised. When had it become so twisted?
She dragged her gaze away, back to Luka, still lying at her feet.
Each one of his footsteps on the stairs were like a failing in her heart.
*
