I'm generally not a Carby but this story doesn't really focus around it at
all so there you go.
Once again, I do not own any of the characters but damn it I wish I did.
Read, enjoy, and, if you're feeling really really nice, review.
GAINING CLOSURE
Abby sighed loudly and put down the magazine she was reading. She hadn't really paid any attention to the articles she had read. Butterflies were having some kind of rave in her stomach. It was her wedding tomorrow. Her beautiful, white wedding to the beautiful man of her dreams. She looked at the photo on the table next to her and smiled. After the dreaded relationships that were Richard, Mark and, of course, Luka, she couldn't believe she'd found someone she was so much in love with and, even more surprisingly, someone who loved her back just as hard.
Luka. They hadn't really spoken since she and John had announced they were engaged. That was eight months ago. They'd said fleeting words at work, mostly during traumas, but otherwise he avoided her. Got other nurses to help him on cases, other med-students. She was both now, yet he came to her as neither.
In a split second, Abby had made a decision. Abruptly, she stood up, threw on her coat and grabbed her keys. She scribbled a quick note to John, in case this was going to take longer than she expected. "Gone to visit a friend, back later. Love you xxx."
Abby pounded on the door to Luka's apartment. She'd been at it for five minutes, and he was either ignoring her, not in, asleep, or in a drunken stupor, which seemed to be happening more and more often.
Suddenly, the door was pulled open harshly, almost wrenched off its hinges. Abby bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. It was all she could do not to gasp. Luka looked horrible. His eyes were blood shot with huge bags underneath them, as if he had not slept in weeks. His face was sallow and thin, his cheekbones painfully visible. He had lost a lot of weight and his clothes hung off him. His hair was sticking up everywhere.
"Abby," he said softly, his voice hoarse, sounding like he hadn't used it much for a while.
"Hi."
"What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you."
"Why?"
"Can I come in?"
Luka just shrugged, turning back into his apartment, leaving the door open. Abby stepped inside and her stomach convulsed at the stench of alcohol coming both from the apartment and Luka, as she now realised. She watched as Luka flopped on to the sofa she had once slept on and picked up the half empty bottle of Smirnoff on the table.
Abby perched on the edge of his huge armchair they had once shared and looked at him.
"You didn't RSVP for the wedding," she stated, not able to think of anything else to say.
Luka shrugged again, taking a deep swig from the bottle. "I'm not going."
"But I'd really like it if-"
"I'm not going," he replied, more forcefully this time.
"Please, just talk to me."
"Why?"
"I miss you Luka."
"Fuck that."
"We used to be so close, and now you've just stopped talking to me. You won't even look at me. Why not? What have I done?" She tried to look into his eyes, once deep and brown and filled with life, but now empty, as if he had already given up. "What did I do to you?"
"You didn't do anything."
"Then why this?"
Luka said nothing, just made his best attempts to drain the bottle and look at the hole in the knee of his jeans.
"Fine, I'm going then."
Abby meant it. She'd come here to try and make peace, but not if he was going to just sit there silently and drink.
"Don't marry him."
His voice, so lonely and sad, stopped Abby as her hand reached for the door. "What?"
"Don't marry him."
"Why not? You expect me to do what you're doing and not get on with my life?"
Luka shook his head melancholically. "I didn't say that. Be happy, move on, get married, have thousands of children and move to the suburbs. Just, not with him."
"You can say his name Luka."
"Not with Carter."
Abby sighed, it was close enough for now. She moved back to her seat in the armchair and rested her head on her hands and her elbows on her knees. "Why not?"
"I just...I don't know." He scratched his leg through the growing hole. "I love you."
"Don't start this again."
"I'm not trying to start anything. It's just...I never got over you. I'm still in love with you."
"What about Nicole? Gillian? Sam?"
"Nicole was just to make you jealous. Gillian went back to her boyfriend in Montreal and Sam's gone."
"Oh." She took Luka's hand, the one that wasn't holding the bottle. His knuckles were ripped and caked with dry blood. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Had an argument with a wall."
"Okay."
"Did you ever love me?"
"Huh?"
"When we were going out? Did you love me?"
"Of course I did. Part of me still does."
"Then why marry Carter?"
"Because part of me loves you, but the rest loves him. And you and me weren't good for each other, you know that. We only made each other more and more miserable."
"You never made me miserable."
"Luka, you know it's true. And I loved you and it hurt but it was for the best."
"Does he make you happy?"
"Yes."
"And I didn't?"
"With you...all we did was hurt each other, but it was like I was addicted to the hurt. Know what I mean?"
"I suppose."
"Please, Luka. I want you and I to be friends. Not just friends like you were with Dave. Real friends. And I want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy too. And I'd like to be friends."
"Thank you."
Luka ran his thumb slowly over her hand. "You should probably go now."
"Probably."
They both stood up, hands still clasped together.
"Will you come tomorrow Luka?"
"I'll think about it."
"Please."
Luka nodded slowly and looked at their hands. "Maybe."
Abby stood on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. "Goodbye Luka."
Then she was gone, closing the door behind her, her vanilla scent still wafting around Luka, intoxicating him.
He walked back over to the table and picked up the bottle, draining the last few dregs from the bottom. Anger, sadness, confusion, all the emotions suddenly filled him and he threw the bottle with a shout, just staring as it smashed into the wall, glass shattering everywhere, a few droplets dripping down the wall.
A lump grew in his throat and he found it hard to swallow, to breathe. A huge, heart-wrenching sob racked his tired body and he fell to the floor, his face in his hands. And for the first time in almost fifteen years, he let himself cry.
GAINING CLOSURE
Abby sighed loudly and put down the magazine she was reading. She hadn't really paid any attention to the articles she had read. Butterflies were having some kind of rave in her stomach. It was her wedding tomorrow. Her beautiful, white wedding to the beautiful man of her dreams. She looked at the photo on the table next to her and smiled. After the dreaded relationships that were Richard, Mark and, of course, Luka, she couldn't believe she'd found someone she was so much in love with and, even more surprisingly, someone who loved her back just as hard.
Luka. They hadn't really spoken since she and John had announced they were engaged. That was eight months ago. They'd said fleeting words at work, mostly during traumas, but otherwise he avoided her. Got other nurses to help him on cases, other med-students. She was both now, yet he came to her as neither.
In a split second, Abby had made a decision. Abruptly, she stood up, threw on her coat and grabbed her keys. She scribbled a quick note to John, in case this was going to take longer than she expected. "Gone to visit a friend, back later. Love you xxx."
Abby pounded on the door to Luka's apartment. She'd been at it for five minutes, and he was either ignoring her, not in, asleep, or in a drunken stupor, which seemed to be happening more and more often.
Suddenly, the door was pulled open harshly, almost wrenched off its hinges. Abby bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. It was all she could do not to gasp. Luka looked horrible. His eyes were blood shot with huge bags underneath them, as if he had not slept in weeks. His face was sallow and thin, his cheekbones painfully visible. He had lost a lot of weight and his clothes hung off him. His hair was sticking up everywhere.
"Abby," he said softly, his voice hoarse, sounding like he hadn't used it much for a while.
"Hi."
"What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you."
"Why?"
"Can I come in?"
Luka just shrugged, turning back into his apartment, leaving the door open. Abby stepped inside and her stomach convulsed at the stench of alcohol coming both from the apartment and Luka, as she now realised. She watched as Luka flopped on to the sofa she had once slept on and picked up the half empty bottle of Smirnoff on the table.
Abby perched on the edge of his huge armchair they had once shared and looked at him.
"You didn't RSVP for the wedding," she stated, not able to think of anything else to say.
Luka shrugged again, taking a deep swig from the bottle. "I'm not going."
"But I'd really like it if-"
"I'm not going," he replied, more forcefully this time.
"Please, just talk to me."
"Why?"
"I miss you Luka."
"Fuck that."
"We used to be so close, and now you've just stopped talking to me. You won't even look at me. Why not? What have I done?" She tried to look into his eyes, once deep and brown and filled with life, but now empty, as if he had already given up. "What did I do to you?"
"You didn't do anything."
"Then why this?"
Luka said nothing, just made his best attempts to drain the bottle and look at the hole in the knee of his jeans.
"Fine, I'm going then."
Abby meant it. She'd come here to try and make peace, but not if he was going to just sit there silently and drink.
"Don't marry him."
His voice, so lonely and sad, stopped Abby as her hand reached for the door. "What?"
"Don't marry him."
"Why not? You expect me to do what you're doing and not get on with my life?"
Luka shook his head melancholically. "I didn't say that. Be happy, move on, get married, have thousands of children and move to the suburbs. Just, not with him."
"You can say his name Luka."
"Not with Carter."
Abby sighed, it was close enough for now. She moved back to her seat in the armchair and rested her head on her hands and her elbows on her knees. "Why not?"
"I just...I don't know." He scratched his leg through the growing hole. "I love you."
"Don't start this again."
"I'm not trying to start anything. It's just...I never got over you. I'm still in love with you."
"What about Nicole? Gillian? Sam?"
"Nicole was just to make you jealous. Gillian went back to her boyfriend in Montreal and Sam's gone."
"Oh." She took Luka's hand, the one that wasn't holding the bottle. His knuckles were ripped and caked with dry blood. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Had an argument with a wall."
"Okay."
"Did you ever love me?"
"Huh?"
"When we were going out? Did you love me?"
"Of course I did. Part of me still does."
"Then why marry Carter?"
"Because part of me loves you, but the rest loves him. And you and me weren't good for each other, you know that. We only made each other more and more miserable."
"You never made me miserable."
"Luka, you know it's true. And I loved you and it hurt but it was for the best."
"Does he make you happy?"
"Yes."
"And I didn't?"
"With you...all we did was hurt each other, but it was like I was addicted to the hurt. Know what I mean?"
"I suppose."
"Please, Luka. I want you and I to be friends. Not just friends like you were with Dave. Real friends. And I want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy too. And I'd like to be friends."
"Thank you."
Luka ran his thumb slowly over her hand. "You should probably go now."
"Probably."
They both stood up, hands still clasped together.
"Will you come tomorrow Luka?"
"I'll think about it."
"Please."
Luka nodded slowly and looked at their hands. "Maybe."
Abby stood on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. "Goodbye Luka."
Then she was gone, closing the door behind her, her vanilla scent still wafting around Luka, intoxicating him.
He walked back over to the table and picked up the bottle, draining the last few dregs from the bottom. Anger, sadness, confusion, all the emotions suddenly filled him and he threw the bottle with a shout, just staring as it smashed into the wall, glass shattering everywhere, a few droplets dripping down the wall.
A lump grew in his throat and he found it hard to swallow, to breathe. A huge, heart-wrenching sob racked his tired body and he fell to the floor, his face in his hands. And for the first time in almost fifteen years, he let himself cry.