A/N: Hmm. No interest, apparently. Not surprising. I'll probably discontinue this if I still get squat reaction, but, since this was already all written, I figured I'd throw it out there. [shrug]

WHAT CAME BEFORE

Carter: Tinged With Black

Midday. The sun is high in the sky, and I watch it, as it vanishes for a moment behind a sparse cloud, then emerges, rays erupting from it like a volcano exploding. It's as bright as larva, too. Orange. Tinged with black, black from the ground. Black from pollution.

I look at her, gazing at her blonde hair resting gently over her shoulders. It frames her face perfectly, touching her cheek softly as she gazed out at the sky, as I did.

I let my arm take control of it's self, and it propels my hand forward, softly grazing her cheek, hair tickling the back of it. She looks at me, a slight smile on her face, which she cocks as she looks around.

"What are you doing?" she whispers, but I don't answer. I just stare at her, bewitched by her deep, glorious eyes. Being bewitched isn't something you can understand properly until you have been, and even after you have, you can't describe the intense feeling of it. You just know what it is, when it is.

She's still smiling at me, a slightly bemused smile that makes her face even more adorable. I'd use the word infatuation, but it's more than that. It's love. I have no fear in admitting that. Susan knows. Maybe Abby knows. But does it matter?

Well, yes. It does. Because I love Abby, and I want her to love me. Love me like I love her. Love me like 'think about her twenty-three hours a day and spend the other hour thinking about how insane I am for thinking about her for that long' love.

I haven't told her this. For one, I know if I do, she might run, because she's not ready. She has one of the most difficult families I've ever heard of, and she has to cope with them; and me saying something like that before she's even ready might scare her.

So I keep quiet. Close my lip. Close my lips and press them against hers, hoping that pressing them together will bring me everything I want.

Maybe it will. One day, maybe it will.

I break away again and watch her face, seeing her mouth gulp, almost like a goldfish, as her lips taste oxygen again, and I smile. She slowly opens her eyes again, and looks up at me.

"Oh," she says, and I laugh. It's a shaky laugh, because I still wonder if her reaction is good. Abby is unpredictable. Something you think is easy to know can be so confusing when it's not, and sometimes, the other way around. But my heart calms when she smiles, giggling herself. "John, you know you should really save that stuff for when there isn't a toothless guy staring at us from inside," she says, laughing as she points behind her through a window into the hospital.

I roll my eyes and kiss her again, breaking away again as the ambulance arrives, and we walk over to it, letting our hands come apart as the doors open and the gurney comes out.

"What've we got?" I ask, and the paramedics look up at me, hurriedly wheeling the patient through the doors.

"45 year old male, GSW to the right chest, BP 60 over 100, resps 20, stats 80%," one reels off, and Luka had joined us, briefly glancing at Abby, who doesn't look back. "A friend found him lying in the alley outside of his house, but we don't know what happened," supplements the guy, as we enter trauma two.

I sigh, and take hold of the edge of the gurney, gesturing to Abby, Luka and Haleh to do the same. "Okay, on my count. 1, 2, 3!" We heave it onto the bed, quickly releasing the edges as the paramedics rush out again. Luka already has his stethoscope at the guy's chest, carefully listening.

"Decreased breath sounds," he says, as I look down at the wound, obvious in the guy's side. "We need to intubate," he adds, grabbing the tube Haleh hands him.

"Need any help?" says a voice, and we look around, seeing Deb's head at the door.

I consider, then nod. "Yeah, you can take my place," I say, and she moves in, frowning. "I have about ten patients waiting for me," I explain, and leave, glancing at Abby before I'm out of sight of the door. I point at my watch, and she nods, smiling, confirming she can still make our dinner.

I slow down as I make my way down the corridors, almost forgetting where I'm going as I fall into thought. Thoughts about Abby; about Abby and me; about me and Abby, and everything.

There's a lot of everything when it comes to Abby.

My finger spins around the edge of the glass, making that strange echo sound that amuses most people I know, except maybe my family and their higher echelons of friends. Abby smiles at me, her blonde hair resting over exposed shoulders, her black dress hugging her hips below the table. My other hand strokes hers over the table as we wait for the waiter to return with the desserts we ordered about ten minutes ago.

She giggles, watching my hand rotate. "You know," she says, cocking her head again, "that's kind of annoying after a while."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling back. "Yeah?" I say, and move my finger faster, making the sound more high pitched, and she winces.

"Okay, I get it!" she says, louder, but still not loud enough to disturb any of the other tables nearby. "I wish those desserts would hurry up, so you can use your hands to eat that and choke yourself," she says, laughing.

"Thanks," I say with heavy sarcasm, but grinning back. It's almost impossible to believe that this is the same Abby that fights with her mother, or cries for her brother. That this, funny, witty, beautiful woman sitting opposite me is the same as the one that cried in my arms just a few days, weeks, months ago.

People are like that. They can have two totally different sides to them; seeming like the other self doesn't even exist. Kind of like how serial killers aren't always caught. They can hide the evil personality, put up the good, sweet, convincing one, and no one will ever know.

But eventually, always, the overwhelming bad side becomes too much to handle, and the good side breaks, letting the bad side flow freely, for everyone to see and know.

Abby's not a serial killer. That's just an analogy. But she has two sides, too, and I can't help thinking that the sad one will eventually ruin the happy one I see in front of me.

But it's hard. She never seems to want to talk. When you want to, she doesn't; and when she wants to, you can't.

"Abby," I say, and she looks up, putting down her almost empty glass of water. "Are you okay?"

She frowns at me, but her smile stays in place. Almost as though she's fixed it in place, just for tonight. Just for me. "I'm fine," she says, smiling, but looking concerned. "Are you?" she asks, taking another sip.

I feel like replying immediately, but I consider the question, wondering if I'd actually describe my mood as fine.

I was with Abby, the woman I'd loved from afar for about a year, maybe even two; then finally been with, finally. And despite all that was happening with her family, we were moving forward. So yes, in short, I suppose I was fine.

I nod at her. "Yep," I say simply, smiling at her. "You know why?" I ask her.

She snorts. "Let me guess," she says, still with a slightly cocked head, and a knowing smile on her face. "You're happy because… you're with me!" she says, and I laugh.

"Damn, I forgot how intuitive woman always are," I joke, and she laughs more, smiling as she finishes the water in her glass, and puts it softly down on the table.

"So, where are we headed after this?" she asks, still smiling.

I shrug. "Wherever you wanna go, babe," I say huskily, making her giggle again.

"That voice doesn't really work for you, Carter," she says, through a fit of giggles.

"Should I try another one?" I ask, grinning.

"Definitely not," she says, still laughing. When she finally stopped, her smile remained, and she leant forward. "I meant, are we going to yours, or to mine?" she asks, quietly.

"Yours," I reply immediately.

"Are you sure?" she asks, frowning slightly. "I mean, yours is bigger…"

"And yours is smaller."

"So…"

"So, I'd rather go there. And you asked me. So, ergo… I get to choose."

"Hey, that's not quite what I meant-"

"Well, sorry, too late now!" I exclaim, grinning at her.

She hits me lightly on the arm, but is still smiling. "Fine. Your stuff's still there from last night," she says coyly

I smile, laughing internally at her. "Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?"

She starts to nod, but then her smile finally fades as she comes to an apparent realization. "Oh, John, I can't," she says, looking at me apologetically. "I promised a friend I'd have dinner with them," she said, absently playing with the fork that lay waiting for her dessert.

"Who?" I ask, not caring all that much, but asking out of plain curiosity. Her answer, however, surprises me.

"Luka," she says, not looking at me.

"Luka," I echo.

"John, you must have noticed him recently," she says, rather hurriedly. "I'm just going to talk to him, see if I can make him feel any better. He's still my friend, you know," she says, still not looking up.

"It's fine," I lie, and she looks up sharply.

"Really?"

"Really," I say, taking my turn to play with the cutlery.

She frowns at me. "So… you don't have a problem with me going out to dinner with my ex-boyfriend who crashed a car just a few weeks ago, and has taken to seeing various women without caring?"

I grit my teeth, inhaling. "No."

She looks surprised, and sighs. "Well, great," she says, rather flatly.

"Look, he's a good guy, Abby. So no, I have no problem," I say, not wanting her to think I'm jealous. Which I'm not.

She smiles, apparently happy with what I've said. "So it's okay?"

"It's okay," I echo. "I'm sure he could use someone like you to talk to right now."

"Have you got anything else to do?" she asks.

"No, but that's okay… I'll just watch a movie or something," I shrug.

She sighs. "Carter… I'd stay with you, but he really needs me to talk to him right now. I owe it to him," she says.

"You owe it to him?" I repeat, frowning. She doesn't owe him a dime.

She stares at me. "I know it's not my fault, Carter, but that doesn't stop me thinking that it was me that made him go like this," she says, running her finger over the tablecloth.

"Abby, you didn't do anything wrong, and you certainly don't owe him anything," I say. I can hear something rising in my words, making them sound more powerful, more distressed, but I don't really care. I don't hate Luka, but he shouldn't be making her feel like it's her fault. If anyone crapped up Luka's life, it's Luka.

"I owe him my friendship," she says. "Carter, what's wrong?" she asks, obviously seeing something in my face, in my eyes.

"Nothing," I say, holding my breath for a moment. "I hope you enjoy tomorrow," I say, looking away.

"Carter, I-"

"Abby, nothing's wrong, for god's sake!" I shout, and a few people look around.

"Yeah, I believe that," she says scornfully. "You have a problem with me going out with Luka. Well, Carter, you know what? I don't care. He's my friend. And I'm not going to abandon him, when he needs me, just because of your stupid jealousy," she snaps, glaring at me.

I feel regretful now, looking at her angry eyes, but I can't think of anything to say.

"I'm-"

"Sorry," she interjects, her tone still scornful. "I know."

At that moment, the desserts finally arrive, and with a mumbled apology, the waiter puts the bill and standard mints down before me and hurries off. Abby glares at me again before sticking her fork into her piece of chocolate cake, stuffing in her mouth while avoiding my gaze.

"Abby, please," I say, and she looks up at me.

"What? What, Carter? Are you going to tell me that you're not jealous? That you're not upset? That you're not at all bothered by me going out with Luka? Because that's crap, and I don't want to hear it. He's just a friend, John! A friend that happens to be male, and that my relationship with wasn't totally destroyed after we broke up. I'm with you, John. Not him. But if you don't trust me…"

"No, I trust you. But I waited for so long to be with you, and I don't want you taken away," I admit, finally finding a voice to say what I feel. I sense, I know, that she's fed up of concealing things, and I realize I am too. Honesty isn't always the best policy, but it seems to be a damn good one here.

Her look softens, and she smiles again, more gently, more genuine that her earlier smile. "John… I'm not going to be taken away. You think Luka would do that? He's not like that, John. He doesn't want to take me away from you."

"After all the time I waited for you, it's hard not to think you'll just be gone again, before I even have a chance to blink."

She rubs my hand, smiling. "You don't have to worry about that, John. You and me… well, it's working right now, isn't it?" she says, her eyes sparkling.