Title: Finding A Way Home

Author: Andrea (CarbyLove@aol.com)

Rating: PG-13, but it could change to R at any given time …

Summary: Breaking up is hard to do. Especially when there's a little something keeping you connected.

Author's Note: I can't stop. I really can't. So anyway, same old story, slightly different twist. Thanks to Catherine and Kelly. PANTYHOSE! to you both.

*~*~*~*

Finding A Way Home

Chapter 1: Aftermath

It's the aftermath of a break-up that hurts the most. At the time, you're too angry, or shocked, or numb to really feel the pain. Later on, without the buffer of overwhelming emotion, it's all there. But maybe it's not so much the aftermath of the break up itself, as of the relationship. The aftermath of loving someone and losing them. When only the memories are left behind. Or, in my case, when the memories are almost the only thing that's been left behind.

I open my eyes, and find myself in an otherwise unoccupied bed. An empty bed. The same empty bed I've had to face for weeks now.

The apartment seems barren and bereft without his belongings. Everywhere I look, I see a place that should hold something of his. His clothes should be draped over the chair in the corner. His comb and wallet should have taken up residence on the top of the dresser when he got undressed for bed. His toothbrush should hang next to mine in the bathroom. His razor should clatter out of the medicine cabinet because he'd shoved it in quick before slamming the door. It used to happen every morning. And every morning I'd curse him for being too lazy to put the damn thing away properly. It's a silly thing to miss. Yet I do miss it. One more reminder that he's gone, gone, gone.

Looking back on it now, I'm still not sure how it happened. Or why. Maybe we grew apart. Maybe our baggage weighed us down. But whatever the reason, things became strained. And we eventually broke under that strain. The accusations and recriminations flew until all that was left was a stony silence. And then it just seemed like too much to overcome.

"Maybe we just need some time apart." He'd said. "Some time to think. To figure out where we are."

I'd nodded silently, miserably, unable to say what I was feeling. He was leaving me. Again. He'd once promised he wasn't going anywhere. And for the first time in my life I actually believed those words. Stupid, really. I should have known better. As I watched him walk out the door, his personal belongings hastily shoved into a bag, I'd known that no matter how gently he'd tried to break it to me, this was it. No matter what possibility of a future he spoke of, I knew. His actions belied his words. He collected his stuff and moved out of my apartment. And out of my life.

Probably it was my fault. It usually is. Maybe if I'd opened up to him sooner, maybe if I'd made him open up to me. But I didn't. And now it's too late. All I'm left with is a bunch of maybes and what ifs. Well, maybe that's not exactly all I'm left with.

But I can't think about that now. I won't think about it now. Who am I kidding? It's all I think about. All I have thought about for weeks. It tortures me relentlessly. Murders sleep. Butchers whatever peace of mind I have left. But I try my best to bury it. Not to think about it. Not today, anyway. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. I think I hate that word -- 'maybe.' Maybe, maybe, maybe … I swear it follows me into my dreams. Maybe it would be better if I just knew. At least that would stop one 'maybe.'

Ugh, I can't deal with this now. Get a grip, Abby. You're already late for work. And sitting around ruminating about the sad state of your life won't get you there any faster.

I bypass the kitchen on my way out the door. After a brief survey that has become part of my daily routine -- the nausea meter, I like to call it -- I decide I'm better off navigating the El on an empty stomach this morning. I can get something at work. Maybe.

I get to work late, of course. But to be honest, I think I prefer that. It gives me an excuse to avoid everyone while I rush around trying to get ready to start the day.

"I'm late. I'm late." I say every time someone approaches me. Choice words. They remind me of that which I'm trying so desperately t ignore. Not now, Abby. Just work. Don't think.

The 'just work' philosophy gets me through the morning. Must be my lucky day -- Carter seems to be off. One less thing to worry about. Susan, however, is very much at work. And call me crazy, but I think she's trying to corner me. I manage to slip away from her until lunch rolls around.

She plops down at the table where I'm sitting nibbling at my dry toast and sipping at my milk. Another gourmet meal.

"Okay, Abby," she says. "Spill it."

"What?" She gives me a look.

"What's going on with you?" No, no. Not now. Wait, she can't mean that. Of course she doesn't mean that.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me." Damn, that was my plan. "Look, Abby, I know you're upset about the break-up, but it'll be okay. I know things don't look good now, but you two … you'll work it out. You always do."

"I don't think so, Susan. Not this time. It's different this time."

"What's so different?"

"Well, for one thing, there's the whore. I hardly think Carter is pining away for me, when he's got some new hot little number."

"Abby …"

"Don't tell me you're gonna defend her."

"Of course not. I barely know her. And you hate her, so I have to hate her too."

"Okay, good. Just so we're clear."

"But Carter, on the other hand -"

"Don't you dare defend him either. My God, my side of the bed was barely cold before he took up with that slut. I thought Luka was bad, but I think Carter beat him on the whole 'who can replace Abby fastest' thing."

"Oh, Abby, it's not like that. "

"It isn't."

"Well I don't think anything's going on. Not really. I mean, I think they're friends, that's about it."

I laugh a bitter little laugh. "Yeah, Carter and I were 'friends' once too."

"Yeah, and Carter and I are friends. That's never bothered you. Hell, Carter and I dated. And as you well know, nothing happened between us … so why couldn't it be the same way with her?" I give her a look that I hope denotes the depth of skepticism. "Look, Ab, I think he's just lonely. I think he misses you more than he's willing to admit. Or maybe even more than he realizes."

"Fine, he wants a friend. But why her? Why some trashy newbie nursey? Why not you or Chen or even Luka? I swear he's doing it to try and get to me."

"Well, maybe he is. Maybe he wants you back, and he doesn't know how to say it."

"Ha. He was the one who thought we needed 'some time apart.' He's the one who kept walking away and coming back, just to walk away again. And he's the one who decided to leave this time."

"All the more reason not want to come crawling back. Maybe he's waiting for a sign from you."

"Maybe he can kiss my ass."

"Well, as long as you're not angry and bitter."

I laugh in spite of myself. Yeah, I guess I am angry. And bitter. On top of sad and depressed. Throw in a handful of scared shitless and freaked out and it perfectly describes my state of mind.

"Look, Abby, I know it's hard. But I can't stand seeing what this is doing to you. Look at you. Dark circles under your eyes, you look exhausted. You're cranky and irritable all the time. And look at what you're eating for lunch -- toast. You can't eat, you can't sleep. This whole break-up isn't just making you heartsick, it seems to be making you physically sick. It's been what? A month? You can't go on like this. I know what you need." Yeah, I need a lot of things. I wonder which one Susan has in mind. "You need a girls' night out."

"A girls' night out is the last thing I need. Thanks for the thought, but really, I -"

"Then a girls' night in. I'll rent some trashy movies, pick up a pizza … we can sit around all night trading horror stories about the rotten jerks we've had the 'pleasure' to call our boyfriends. It'll be great. What do you say?"

What do I say? Well, what I really want is to crawl into a hole and die, but since that's not likely to happen, I figure I may as well take Susan up on her offer. After all, if I don't, she'll just keep bugging me until I do.

"Okay." I say finally.

"Great. Then I'll see you at your place around 7." She grabs her cup of coffee and heads back to work, leaving me to ponder the wisdom of letting her rope me into this. It's getting so I can't even enjoy a good depression around this place anymore.

And when Susan appears that evening, it seems that, yes indeed, she is intent on breaking me out of my funk. She brings with her a huge stack of tasteless, offensive, stupid comedies and what is perhaps the biggest pizza in Chicago.

"Okay," she announces with way too much jubilation in her voice, "Time to get this girls night in underway."

I grab the roll of paper towels that will serve as our plates and napkins and plop down on the couch next to Susan. She opens the lid on the pizza box. And I promptly bounce back up off the couch and bolt toward the bathroom. The mixture of strong smells from the loaded pizza was enough to make me lose the never-ending battle with the nausea. Somewhere in the middle of tossing my cookies, Susan slips into the bathroom with me and kneels next to me holding my hair back. Once my stomach is empty I flush the toilet and slump back against the tub. Susan hands me a damp washcloth and a glass of water.

"Slow sips." She instructs, studying me.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She gives me a reassuring smile before her look turns to one of concern. She knows. Knows what I've been trying so hard not to let myself believe, even though I know it's true. And have known it's true for awhile now. Ah, the power of denial. But I'll have to face it now, Susan's not pulling any punches. "How far along are you?"

I take a deep breath. I could give her an exact count, practically down to the minute. But I settle for saying "Seven weeks."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know for sure."

"But you just said -"

"Because if I am … pregnant, I know when it happened."

"How did it happen?"

"The usual way." I tell her with a little chuckle. "We just … got careless. Carried away. What can I say, it was the middle of the night. I was half asleep, he was desperately horny, and before I knew it -- oops. I was going to ask him for a script for the morning after pill, but …"

"What?"

"Well, the morning after, things got kinda nuts. Everything just boiled to the surface. And I guess with all that was going on, I kinda forgot. And as crazy as it sounds, I forgot all about it. For weeks, in fact."

"Wait … seven weeks ago? That's when it happened? But I thought you guys broke up before that?"

"I thought we did too. Things had been kinda tense for awhile. And I really thought it was over. But then one night, there he was. We had that one night together, and I thought everything was going to be okay. I should have kicked him out. But I didn't. I thought it was a new beginning for us. But it's more like it was the beginning of the end. Things were already strained. And they just went from bad to worse. And then he couldn't take it anymore, and he left. Can't say as I blame him."

"Have you told him?"

"Susan … I couldn't even admit it to myself until now. First I told myself I was just upset over the break-up. One day I was particularly sick, and I convinced myself it must have been something I ate. And now I've had a touch of the flu for the past couple weeks. Denial is a wonderful thing." I say ruefully.

"So you haven't taken a test?"

"So it can tell me what I already know?"

"Abby. You need to know for sure."

"I know. Denial may have kept me from taking the test, but it didn't stop me from buying one. It's in the cabinet."

She retrieves it and studies the directions. "Okay, looks pretty simple. You wanna take it now?"

"No time like the present, I guess." Susan leaves me to do my thing, and in a few minutes I've joined her on the couch, leaving the test stick on the bathroom counter. "I set the kitchen timer." I tell her.

She nods. "So what do you want to do now?"

"Eat. I'm starving." She gives me a look as a reach for the cold pizza and start chomping away.

"Good thing I didn't throw that away, after all. I thought I would get rid of the offending object, but I guess you're glad that I didn't."

"Well, I told you, I'm starving. I just puked up the contents of my stomach."

"Yeah, I remember. But how can you eat now what made you sick half an hour ago?"

I shrug. "Morning sickness works in mysterious ways, I guess."

"You really think you're pregnant?"

I nod. Now that I can't deny it any longer, there's really no doubt in my mind. I've known all along, I just didn't want to know. "I skipped my period last month and I'm already late for this month, so …"

"But Abby…"

She doesn't have to finish the thought. If I was aware of it, why didn't do anything about it? "Like I said, denial. You'd be surprised at how deep you can bury something you don't want to know. Even when you already know." Another shrug. "Maybe I was just hoping that by the time I found out for sure -"

I stop abruptly, not wanting to finish the rest of the thought out loud. What was I hoping? That it would be so late that an abortion would be out of the question? That the decision would already be made for me by then? That I'd be teetering on the brink of the second trimester and could tell myself that I had no choice but to have the baby because I wouldn't be comfortable with an abortion at that point? But that never would have happened. Somewhere, deep down, I knew what was going on and would have had to face it before it got to that point.

"Hoping what?" Susan asks.

"I don't know. That it would all just go away, I guess."

"It doesn't work that way. You … aren't exactly hoping it's positive, I take it."

I'm about to answer her when the timer sounds in the kitchen. I take a deep breath before heading to the kitchen to turn off the timer and then to the bathroom to face my fate. I return to the living room with the test in my hand.

"Well?" Susan looks at me expectantly.

I nod. "I'm pregnant." What a shock.

"Oh, Abby. You're gonna have a baby." She smiles happily, her face showing her excitement.

A baby? I can't believe it. Just like I suspected. He walked out of my life, but he left something behind. A baby. Our baby. For a moment, I let myself get lost in the dream. The dream where I have our baby. And even though Carter and I are over, some piece of us would always live on. I would have a part of him with me all the time. A baby that was his and mine. If I can't have him, at least something good -- no something wonderful -- would grow from what we had. I'd have something to show for having loved him. The thought warms my heart, but the happiness is short lived. It's a nice dream, but that's all it is.

I can't have a baby. I just can't. No matter how much I may wish I could, it's not meant to be.

"Actually …" I tell Susan, "No, I'm not."

*~*~*~*

Author's Note: Yeah, I know … I told you, same old story. I know everyone writes stories about Abby being pregnant. But I can't help what everyone else does. Okay, I have two other stories going where Abby's pregnant. What can I say, I feel the need to explore all the different possibilities, and I wanted to try my hand at a slightly more angsty version. For some reason, it's an issue that just begs to be written about. I wonder why? It couldn't the 400 random baby anvils we've seen on the actual show, could it?