As ever many thanks to the reviewers:
Rae10 – I've already plugged your fictionpress page but I'll PLUG IT AGAIN!!!: ) its very good
Starbright and carby6 – just thanks for reviews, always happy to get 'em
Britgirl – yes only 12 chapters I'm afraid, but this way it isn't so long that everyone gets bored…hopefully. And luka is just a nice guy, he's cool, I like him.
Dynamitedawn/miss dynamite – yes it will probably be what you said. I'm just that kinda person…
So anyways, here is chapter 9/12 and r&r if ya feel like it (am open to constructive critism or anything really…) Enjoy Love LJ xXx
All day Boxing Day, John Carter sat; head in hands and deep in thought. There were indeed, like Susan had said, things that needed sorting out. He just couldn't bring himself to go in and see her. Not right away, not yet. He wandered around his flat – dusty from months being abandoned. He never should have left, he knew it now. It was so stupid. He ran away from confrontation and problems he didn't understand. He deserved this. He deserved losing her – he didn't deserve her. It was late evening before he found the courage to leave his flat and head to his old workplace. It was already dark outside and he trudged along the snow-covered ground, feeling more apprehensive with every step. He had to face this now, he had to explain, say sorry and leave.
As he walked reluctantly into the ER, he found himself face-to-face with Luka collecting charts at the front desk. It wasn't a great start.
"Carter?" Luka stared with raised eyebrows.
"Hi Luka," he greeted. "Do you know where Abby is?" There was a kind of resignation in his voice.
"In the Lounge," Luka answered and watched him make his way to the Lounge.
Carter pushed open the door, blinking a few times to get his eyes adjusted to the dim light. She was asleep at the table, her head resting on a heavy textbook. He stood for a while before taking the seat opposite her. It was silent inside the room and he could hear her soft breathing as she slept. He just sat and gazed at her.
How could he begin to wake her up and tell her all these things? She was working herself too hard but she was finally happy. She looked peaceful. What was he thinking? That he could just awaken her and confront her with all the things they needed to sort out? What was there to sort out, anyway? She had Luka. They were going to have a baby together and they were going to be happy. Happy – that was something he never made her. All he ever did was hurt her and leave her, just when they needed to stay together. And they had needed to stay together when he left to go back to the Congo. He didn't belong here.
He pulled a scrap piece of paper from her notebook and wondered how he could put all that into words. He couldn't stay here – he would only make everything worse. With heavy regret sinking in his stomach, he scribbled a message and put it beside her head. Then he leant forwards and kissed her hair.
"Goodbye Abby," he whispered. She stirred but didn't wake up. He left her to sleep on in the darkened, empty room.
Abby Lockhart sat at her table; her head cushioned on a particularly boring textbook and dreamt of coffee and cigarettes. Was it wrong that these things haunted her in her sleep? She didn't really care, she was so tired. The dream began to echo her past. She sat on the bench outside the hospital and stared around her at snow-covered Chicago. She dragged on a cigarette and smiled at him as he strolled up to her with a take-out coffee.
"Thanks," she took it from him, cradling the warm paper cup in her cold hands. "Your shift over then?" He nodded. "I'll see you later then." He smiled and kissed her hair.
"Goodbye Abby," he whispered. She remembered that, that whisper and that kiss, so vividly it could have been real and not just a memory. She watched him leave. See, that was the difference. When she watched him walk away that day – a whole year ago from now – she knew she'd see him again. But she wasn't sure of anything now.
She slept on.
Somewhere outside her dream, in the real world, an ambulance siren wailed and she reached up her hand to rub her tired eyes open. She sat up, blearily, massaging her neck. She'd never fall asleep like that again – it really hurt. And then she saw it. The little note scrawled on the paper beside her. She rubbed her eyes again, disbelieving. It was still there. Was he here? Where was he? He had come back – he was home. She felt the thrill surge in her and then she read the note.
I didn't want to wake you
She read it and re-read it. Was that all? She turned the paper over – nothing.
"Oh god," she muttered. She ran out of the Lounge, searching wildly for him – nothing.
She raced outside into the bitter cold and stared, frantically around her – nothing.
"Abby?" Susan called running along the sidewalk towards her. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing." Abby just looked at her, blankly. Then she walked towards her, into her open arms and sobbed. Susan led her gently back inside and Abby carried on crying, tears running down onto the note clamped in her hand making the ink run. Still, she held onto the damp, illegible note – held on like it was all she'd ever have.