TITLE: Things Behind the Sun (6/12)
AUTHOR: C. Midori
EMAIL: socksless@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: Drama (JC/AL/SL/LK)
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Seasons 6, 7, 8 (except "Lockdown"), and for the prequel Through the Door
ARCHIVE: Do not archive without permission.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations owned by Not Me, etc. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter is dedicated to Christe and Lisa for feeding this ER junkie's addiction even from across the Atlantic. Muah. Super-sized thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter Four: charlotte, flutiedutiedute, Jane McCartney, jakeschick, cake, elisa, carb, Carolyn, KenzieGal, Kate, noa4jc, ceri, sunshine, Rebecca Gower, and christe. All I need is love. Read? Review!
SUMMARY: Love triangles, old flames and new, missinginaction!Susan, Abby builds bridges, and the shoe is most definitely on the other foot.
* * *
CHAPTER FIVE
The Door
We were, the two of us, still fragmentary beings, just beginning to sense the presence of an unexpected, to-be-acquired reality that would fill us and make us whole. We stood before a door we'd never seen before. The two of us alone, beneath a faintly flickering light, our hands tightly clasped together for a fleeting ten seconds of time.
* * *
It took a minute for Carter's eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness of the restaurant and a minute longer for him to catch sight of his grandmother occupying a far booth in the corner. In the time it took for him to sidle past the bar and navigate his way through a maze of tables and chairs, he heard the sound of ice clinking against the side of glass and the scrape of silverware against china and the tinkling of the pianist near the bar, but above all he noted the quiet, the kind of quiet only money could buy, such a marked difference from the place he had just been with its constant activity and unending cacophony of noise.
Unconsciously, Carter straightened his tie as he approached the table. His grandmother caught sight of him and smiled. Her hair swept up in an elegant coiffure and a wine goblet delicately balanced between two fingers, she looked, as always, immaculate.
"Hello, John."
"Hi, Gamma." Carter leaned over to give her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry I'm late. Something came up at work."
"Something always does," agreed Millicent Carter, not unkindly, as she watched Carter balance his crutches against the side of a wall and take his seat across from her in the booth. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," said Carter, who once couldn't hide a feeling if someone paid him to, but was fast learning the art of Faking It thanks to Abby's largely unintentional teaching.
"Your back isn't bothering you, is it?"
"No," said Carter, and to emphasize his point he smiled. "I'm fine."
Critically, Millicent eyed her grandson. "You really are looking a bit run down, John. Have you been getting much sleep lately?"
"Plenty," Carter assured her, although he couldn't remember the last time he had a night of uninterrupted sleep. "Have you ordered yet?"
"No. We thought it best if we waited for you."
Carter, who had been scanning the wine list, paused. "We?"
"I invited Phyllis to join us."
At the sound of Phil's name, Carter looked up. He caught the curve of her figure like a cut of light across the dimly lit room. From the way she was dressed, she looked as if she too had come from work. For once, though, her hair was not back in a clip but down around her shoulders and it made her look younger. Dazedly, Carter saw not the woman but the girl; the girl on the tire swing, the girl who loved to drink her milk through straws, the girl who couldn't pass a picket fence without running her fingers along the tops of it; and he was reminded very suddenly and very strongly just how much he used to love her.
Halfway across the room, Phil caught sight of him. Carter watched as the expression on her face flickered before she drew her mouth into a determined line.
"Hello, John." Phil smiled at him, brisk and business-like, and took a seat next to him. From the way she was smiling he knew that she had not forgotten about their fight but was determined to act as if nothing had happened so long as they were with his grandmother.
In response, Carter leaned over and planted what he hoped was an affectionate kiss on the side of her face. As his lips brushed against her skin, he felt the muscle in her jaw contract. When they broke apart, he reached up and gently, very gently, tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, in a manner not unlike the way he had done so for Abby, earlier that same day.
"How was your day?" said Carter.
"Oh, you know," said Phil, her voice light, "Busy." She left out the part about her inability to eat anything all day, so tight with knots her stomach was, and returned Carter's smile.
Carter turned to his grandmother, who was casting approving looks at them both. "Shall we order?"
* * *
Apart from the fact that he looked distinctly out of place in the middle of a busy ER, Abby thought her ex-husband looked more or less the same as the last time she had seen him. Which was, if she remembered correctly, nearly a year ago on her birthday, also the same day she fell off the wagon, so come to think of it she could blame him for one more thing in her life gone wrong, and this was a fruitless line of reasoning so Abby told herself to shut up and pasted a smile on her face.
"Richard," said Abby. "What are you doing here?"
Looking as if he was searching for a place to hide but could find none, Richard walked towards her with as much reluctance as she felt. "Hi, Abby."
"Hi," returned Abby, still with that smile on her face. "What are you doing here?"
"Look, I'm really sorry to bother you--"
"Well, it's a little too late for that, don't you think?"
Richard pressed his lips together tightly. Abby knew what this meant. It meant she was working on his last nerve.
She felt oddly triumphant.
"I didn't want to bother you," Richard was saying again, "But I'm having some trouble with the doctor--I think he's your boyfriend--and I thought you might be able--"
Abby folded her arms across her chest. "Dr. Carter is not my boyfriend."
Richard gave her a funny look. "I think he said his name was Dr. Kovac."
"Well, he isn't either," said Abby, equably. "And whatever he's doing, I'm sure, is in your best interests as his patient."
"Abby"--and here, Richard hedged, looking increasingly uncomfortable--"I'm not his patient."
Blinking, Abby looked at him. "You're not?"
Before he could elaborate further, Abby watched, flabbergasted, as a small boy with a head full of curly hair ran up to her ex-husband and tugged on his sleeve.
"Dad," the boy cried, pulling earnestly on Richard's cuff, "Where were you?"
Incredulously, Abby stared at Richard. "Dad?"
* * *
"How are things going at Northwestern, Phyllis?"
"They're going wonderfully," said Phil, warmly, and Carter was reminded of how much she honestly liked and respected his grandmother. "The charity ball was a big success and we've almost reached our targeted goal."
"That sounds wonderful," said Millicent. "Do let me know if I can be of any more help."
"You've already been very helpful," said Phil, her voice sincere.
Carter turned to Phil. "How far is the department off the mark?"
She frowned in thought, her fork positioned in midair. "Several million, I think."
Millicent pshawed. "Surely we can help with that; isn't that right, John?"
"Sure," agreed Carter, equably, "What's a couple of million between friends?"
Phil laughed uncomfortably and gave Carter a look that he clearly interpreted as don't be difficult.
Repentantly, Carter amended his comment. "I'm sure the money will go to good use."
"How is County?" said Millicent, turning the spotlight on Carter. "If I'm not mistaken, isn't your Chief Residency coming to an end?"
"It is," confirmed Carter, and he wiped his mouth on a napkin. "This salmon is really delicious."
Next to him, he thought he saw Phil stifle a smile at his transparent attempt to change the subject.
"Don't change the subject, John," said Millicent, promptly. "Have you made plans for after your residency?"
Clearing his throat, Carter glanced sideways at Phil, who was making no attempt to side with either person on this topic of conversation. "I was thinking about applying to be an Attending, actually."
"Oh?" Millicent raised an eyebrow at him. "Is County looking for another Attending?"
Carter speared a large piece of fish with his fork. "Not at the moment," he said, before stuffing the entire piece in his mouth, discouraging any further questions on the matter.
Phil nearly choked on her laughter as Carter methodically chewed on his food.
Millicent looked concerned. "My dear, are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, Millicent," Phil said with confidence, and she took a sip of her wine.
"What about Northwestern?" Millicent pursued the topic further. "Phyllis, I remember hearing something about a vacancy at Northwestern."
Carter glanced sideways at Phil.
"Yes," she said finally, "Oncology. Not exactly John's area of expertise."
Carter exhaled. "Hey, we get plenty of cancer patients in the ER," he kidded, and he gave Phil a silent thank you with his eyes.
Phil glanced back. You're welcome.
"Such a shame," lamented Millicent, "It would have been a wonderful opportunity for you two to work together."
"It is a shame," Phil concurred, before changing the subject. "By the way, my mother wanted to thank you for the lovely gifts you sent from your stay in Japan last month…"
* * *
Richard looked like he couldn't decide between looking uncomfortable and looking oddly proud. So, he settled for both. "Abby, this is Adam. Adam, this is Abby. Abby is a nurse here."
The boy, Adam, let go of Richard's cuff and trotted up to Abby. Under a mop of brown curls, he looked at her with a pair of bright bottle green eyes. "Hello!" he said cheerfully, in a voice that could only belong to a seven year old, and he stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Abby."
Abby couldn't help it; in spite of the fact that this child was somehow connected to her ex-husband, she felt herself relax into a real smile, her grin mirroring the grin that lit up Adam's entire face. "Nice to meet you too, Adam," she said, and she shook his hand.
Adam, who was still holding onto Abby's hand, dragged her towards Richard. "Have you met my dad?"
Staring at her ex-husband, who was actually looking sheepish (arrogant always, condescending sometimes, sheepish never, so this was a first), Abby fought a strange desire to burst out laughing. "Actually," she choked. "Your dad introduced us, remember?"
"Oh yeah," said Adam, looking unaffected.
Richard smiled, now less nervously, at Abby. "His mother--the patient--is this way."
This can't be real, Abby decided, as she followed Richard--who was holding Adam's hand--down the hallway. She fought down an insane desire to giggle as she watched Adam, with the innate curiosity of a seven year old, poke at crash carts and Richard, who she always thought had the innate maturity of a seven year old, gently reprimand his son.
His son.
Richard turned the corner and opened the door to an exam room. Adam trotted into the room first. Looking slightly apprehensive, Richard stepped back to let Abby through next.
Feeling as if she were wearing shoes made out of cement, Abby stepped into the room whose one bed held a woman with the same dark curly hair and green eyes as Adam. The woman wore a pained expression on her face that vanished as soon as she saw her son and her oddly lit eyes brightened when she saw Richard.
Abby stared as her ex-husband walked over, took the woman's hand, and gave her what looked like a very tender and very affectionate kiss on her cheek.
When he was finished, he looked up and smiled, still awkwardly, at Abby.
"Corinne," he said, "This is Abby. She's a nurse here. Abby, I'd like you to meet Corinne, my wife."
His wife.
Oddly shaken, Abby composed herself. "Hi, Corinne. What can I do for you?"
Corinne sat up straighter and smiled. The first thing Abby noticed was that when she smiled, she smiled with her whole face, just like her son.
The second thing Abby noticed was that she was pregnant.
Very pregnant.
"Corinne's pregnant," explained Richard, somewhat unnecessarily.
"Yes," said Abby, raising an eyebrow, "I see."
"Eight and half months," spoke up Corinne, looking proud. "We were on our way to dinner when I started having contractions and Richard took us here."
"It was the nearest hospital," said Richard, almost as an apology.
"Dr. Kovac admitted you?" said Abby, checking the woman's chart.
"Yes." Corinne shifted somewhat uncomfortably in bed. "He says he's going to move us up to OB as soon as he can, but they're full."
"They always seem to be," said Abby, professionalism winning out over any sense of personal discomfort, and she smiled at the woman. "Don't worry. I'll give them a call. I'm sure we'll be able to get you there in time."
Corinne looked anxious. "The baby's not due for another couple of weeks. Is this going to be a problem?"
"Not necessary," Abby assured her, and she looked at Richard as well as she spoke. "We'll do everything we can to help you go full term but if that's not possible there shouldn't be any problems with having the baby now."
Nodding, Corinne looked a little more relieved. Fiddling with the chart, Abby stared at the three-soon to be four--of them. Suddenly, she felt as if all the air had vacated the room, taking her power of speech with it. She looked at Richard and she saw her ex-husband. She saw the first man she ever tried to love; she saw the same man who took that love and twisted into something hideous. She saw the husband who cheated on her and the husband who cheated her of her self-respect and her career. She saw the father of her unborn child. She saw him the way she last remembered him as her husband…
You're not as strong as you think, he raged.
No, agreed Abby, without bothering to turn around as she walked out the door, I'm stronger.
And then she saw him through a different set of eyes, through two people who saw her ex-husband but saw someone entirely different. Friend. Lover. Husband. Father.
Her own words came back to her in a rush.
Instant family, huh?
Feeling as if she was going to vomit, Abby started to backtrack out of the room. "Let me call OB," she said, faintly, hoping that she didn't begin to visibly green. As she turned to leave, the three of them remained with her like an afterimage printed upon the insides of her eyelids, and she blinked away the hotness pricking the backs of her eyes as she fled the room.
* * *
"Thanks," said Carter, as soon as he got the first chance to speak to Phil in private as his grandmother had excused herself.
Politely, Phil regarded him, her grey eyes cool and steady. "For what?"
"For not saying anything about Northwestern."
Wordless, Phil drained her wine glass of its contents and reached for the bottle. Carter beat her to it and poured her a glass. "You don't deserve it," she said, after he had finished pouring, and she took another sip of her wine.
Setting the bottle back down, Carter suppressed the instinct to snap back and regarded her cautiously. Now that Gamma was gone, he could see the anger shimmering off of her in waves.
"You're still upset," said Carter, quietly.
Phil let out a laugh that was short and sharp. He had not heard her laugh like that since the last time they had fought, which was almost a decade ago, after she had turned down his proposal, and it reminded him, rather wildly, of Abby.
"Where did you go?"
Carter looked blank. "What?"
"Last night," enunciating Phil, clearly. "After you left, I waited for you but you never came back. Where did you go?"
Restless, Carter sat back in his seat, and reached for his wine glass. "I went to Abby's," he said, seeing no reason to lie.
Ever so slightly, Phil bristled, but her voice remained calm. "Abby?"
"She's a friend," said Carter, truthfully. "From work."
"You spent the night."
Carter sighed, his finger tracing the rim of his glass, etching a slow halo. "I didn't sleep with her, if that's what you're asking. We just talked."
Phil, who had been looking perfectly calm throughout this entire conversation, suddenly winced. It took a moment for Carter to realize that it wasn't his first comment which made her wince but his second.
"I'm not asking," said Phil. "I trust you."
"I know you do," said Carter. "I appreciate it. I really do."
"Do you?" interrupted Phil, smoothly. "So tell me, John. Why don't you trust me?"
Gaping, Carter just looked at her for a moment, watched as her face, which was so much like his in the sense that it never hid anything, began to crumble, when they were saved by the reappearance of his grandmother.
* * *
Ignoring calls from patients and doctors alike, Abby made her way blindly through the ER and towards the sanctuary of the lounge. She could feel an ache at the back of her throat, a darkness blackening the edges of her vision, her heart beat loudly in her ears. Stumbling, she banged the lounge door open--
But she wasn't the only one there. A pregnant woman with a waterfall of ash blonde hair was peering at the lockers.
"What are you doing in here?" said Abby, sharper than she meant. "Patients aren't allowed in here."
"I'm sorry," the woman said, in a voice so soft Abby had to strain to hear her. "I was just looking for the bathroom."
"Out the door, down the corridor, and to the left," said Abby, shortly, and too upset to say anything further as she watched the woman walk out of the room.
As soon as the lounge door swung shut behind her, Abby scrambled at the door to her locker. She was shaking so hard she could hardly stand it. Prying the door open, she clawed at the pack of cigarettes she kept in the bottom of her bag for bad days. Her hands trembled as she managed to force one from its pack. She didn't even wait to run outside. She didn't think she could wait that long. Jamming the cigarette between her parched lips, she fumbled with a lighter and--
"Abby?"
Abby looked up and the cigarette nearly dropped from her lips. Luka was standing in front of the door to the lounge, which had shut behind him, and looking at her with concern.
"I thought you were trying to quit," he teased.
Wrenching the cigarette out of her mouth, Abby threw it, with the lighter, back in the locker.
Alarmed, Luka took a step towards her. "What's wrong?"
"You knew my ex-husband was here and you didn't tell me?" Abby didn't mean for it to come out sounding like an accusation, but maybe she did, and it had its desired effect: Luka looked as if she had driven a very large and very sharp pike into his chest. She watched him flinch and some small part of her felt vindicated by it.
But a larger part of her felt terrible.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, taking tentative steps towards her, "But we got backed up."
"Never mind," she said, slamming her locker shut. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Wait," said Luka, and he grabbed her arm as she tried to brush by him, "Abby, wait."
Firmly holding onto her arm, Luka almost let go when he looked into Abby's face. She was glaring at him, her eyes dark and glittering like small black suns, and her nose was still a little red from the lingering effects of the flu. But that wasn't what almost made him let go. He could see something else shimmering behind the very obvious anger, something darker and much more dangerous, something that threatened to spill out with a force both violent and unpredictable if she let the cracks in her anger show.
Grief.
Luka knew what it was like to experience loss and to grieve for it. So the expression on his face softened as did his grip on her wrist. But she made no motion to escape.
"You saw his family," he said.
Slowly, Abby nodded, some--but not all--of the anger ebbing from her eyes.
"Do you want me to get someone else?"
Abby shook her head. "No," she said, "I used to work in OB. I should handle it."
"I'm sorry," said Luka, and he was still holding onto her, "I should have got you as soon as I saw his wife."
Here, Abby bit at her lip, and she hesitated before saying, "It's not your fault."
For a moment, Abby closed her eyes, feeling small and lonely and lost, feeling as if she did when Maggie used to leave her as a child and as she did when Maggie left her as an adult, feeling the loss of a husband and an unborn child, feeling as if she was being overwhelmed by a wave of grief so vast and so dark that she could let it sweep her away if she wanted it to--
And then she felt the steady beating of Luka's heart as he took her in his arms and he held her.
And she let him.
* * *
After what seemed like a long time but was actually only a couple of minutes, Luka let her go. He gave her one final smile before heading back into the ER. Abby knew what that smile meant: take as much time as you need.
Closing her eyes, she couldn't help but feel inexplicably confused in light of her ex-husband's sudden reappearance, family in tow, and Luka's unexpected show of--what? She was not completely unused to his touch. When they dated, he touched her; not often, but in small ways that she noticed, small ways that mattered. A hand on her back, a light touch of her cheek, a wrapping of his fingers with hers. In many ways, it was natural for him. He had grown up surrounded by family who loved him and who he, in turn, loved back, and it was not until the war that life began to treat him so cruelly. She, on the other hand, had not grown up surrounded by anyone and had learned how to take care of herself. Strange, though, that Carter, who she suspected grew up more like her than she let on, ended up more like Luka in this respect, with the straightforward and transparent way he cared about people.
All this flashed in her mind like lightning. So when she heard the distinctive ring of her cell phone inside the locker, she jumped. Opening her locker, she flipped the phone open. "Hello?"
"Hey," said a voice on the other end of the line.
Abby cradled the phone against her ear. "Carter?"
"Should we be picking out china patterns together or what?"
"Caller ID." She smiled. In the background she heard the rush of cars driving by. "Where are you?"
"Dinner with Gamma," said Carter, feeling that it was unnecessary to dispel any more information than that.
"Oh yeah?"
Balancing precariously on his crutches without the use of his hands, Carter pulled out a cigarette. "What are you doing three Thursdays from now?"
Abby leaned rather dispiritedly against her locker. "Probably killing myself."
"Great," said Carter. "What time does that finish?"
To Abby's relief, he sounded almost normal; the Carter she knew, rather than the Carter whose face had been completely unknown to her last night. "Why?"
"Thanksgiving," said Carter, promptly. "You've got to get me out of Thanksgiving."
She laughed. "Get yourself out."
Lighting his cigarette, Carter shouldered the cell phone to his ear. "You don't understand. Gamma's got it in her head that it'd be nice to invite the entire Carter family to the mansion."
At least you have a family, thought Abby, somewhat unfairly, but wisely she decided to keep her mouth shut. "It can't be any worse than what I'm dealing with here," said Abby, one hand absently playing with the door to her locker.
Taking a long drag off his smoke, Carter exhaled into the phone. "Why?"
Suspiciously, Abby stared at the receiver. "Are you--smoking?"
A pause.
"No."
"Okay," Abby rolled her eyes, "Once more, with less feeling."
"You smoke," pointed out Carter, quite reasonably.
"You don't," said Abby, quietly.
"All the cool kids do it," he joked, flipping the phone to his other ear. "How's the shift?"
Abby sighed. "Guess who showed up."
"How many guesses do I get?"
"Three," she said, decisively, "And the first two don't count."
Impatiently, Carter sucked on his cigarette. "The Patient Fairy?"
"Richard."
"Your ex?" Carter sounded incredulous, and then alarmed, remembering the last time he had seen Richard in the ER, which had prompted their road trip to Oklahoma. Not that this time had anything to do with Maggie, but…"Is everything okay?"
"Oh, yeah," Abby laughed. "He's here with his wife, who is eight and a half months pregnant, OB is full, and I'm going to assist down here in the ER. Everything is great."
"His wife?"
"He got remarried," said Abby, tonelessly.
"At least one of you learned your lesson," kidded Carter, weakly.
"That's what I said."
Having finished his first cigarette, Carter lit a second. "Are you okay?"
A long time ago Abby learned that you couldn't change the world; you could only live in it and that was hard enough. So she learned how to get along without relying on anyone besides herself. It was, she thought, a bit like moving around in a dark room: at first she felt her way by instinct, but then her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she learned how to trust her own senses, limited as they were. Carter--meeting him, befriending him, trusting him--changed that. It was as if he cut a door into this dark room, and for the first time she could venture outside and see the stars.
So when he asked her this question, she answered it truthfully. "No."
On the other end, Carter flicked his cigarette, watching as a sharp gust of wind took the ashes and sent them into the darkness like embers flying from camp fire.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not now." Abby checked her watch. Incredibly, it had only been about ten minutes since she left the room with Richard and his family in it. "I'm on."
"I'll let you get back, then," said Carter.
Leaning her head against the metal of a locker door, Abby stared into space. "Carter?"
"Yeah?"
"What was last night all about?"
Speechless, Carter stared into the phone, the cigarette in his hand forgotten. He heard the distinctive clack of heels against the cold cement and looked up to find Phil crossing her arms and shivering.
"Dessert's here," she said.
Carter covered the mouthpiece with his free hand. "I'll be there in a minute."
Curiously, Phil tilted her head. "Who's that?"
On the other end of the line, Abby closed her eyes. "Is that Phil?"
Dispassionately, Carter looked over at his girlfriend. "It's Abby."
It's Phil, Abby thought.
"I gotta go," he said into the phone.
Abby sighed. "Listen, Carter--"
Phil raised her eyebrow. "Abby?" she said, crisply.
"What?" Carter snapped.
"You don't have to snap at me," Abby snapped right back. She was already feeling on edge thanks to Richard's appearance and Carter's deliberate omission of Phil's presence.
"I wasn't snapping at you," said Carter, feeling trapped.
"Great, so you were snapping at me," snapped Phil, who looked none too pleased about the fact that her boyfriend was talking to the same woman whose place he slept over last night.
Carter closed his eyes. "Phil."
"Look," said Abby, fed up, "I gotta get back to work."
"Abby," he said.
She hung up.
Carter stared into the phone. He looked up. "Phil--"
But Phil had gone back inside.
"Fuck," said Carter, dropping his cigarette, and he ground it out with his shoe.
* * *
"So it looks like we'll be able to move Corinne up to OB within the next half hour or so," said Abby, who, after hanging up with Carter, spent five minutes on hold with obstetrics before she managed to get a room.
"Great," said Richard, looking relieved, and he glanced into the exam room where Luka was talking to Corinne. "Thanks."
"No problem," said Abby, smiling tightly, and she followed his eyes. "Do you want some coffee or something?"
Absently, he watched as Luka showed Adam how to use a stethoscope to hear his mother's heart beat. "No," he said, "But I'd like to get Adam some dinner."
"No problem," said Abby. "I can show Adam to the cafeteria if you'd like to stay with"--and she almost choked on this part--"your wife."
Richard nodded. Abby made a move to reach for the door knob when he grabbed her hand first. Surprised, her first feeling was an urge to wrench her hand away. But a second feeling overcame the first and she was nearly bowled over by an odder feeling of rightness. Suddenly, she remembered: in the first few months of their marriage, Richard liked to hold her hand regardless of whether they were at home or out.
Because you're mine, he had explained to her. And I want everyone to know it.
Abby drew in a sharp breath. She wasn't his, anymore; she wasn't anyone's. "What?"
"Thank you," he said.
"No problem," she said tightly, and then he let her go.
* * *
Phyllis begged off dessert, explaining that she had an early shift tomorrow, and bid a polite but warm farewell to Millicent before giving Carter a perfunctory kiss on the cheek goodbye.
"Have you given any thought to marrying that girl?" said Millicent, as soon as Phil had left.
"Gamma," said Carter, tiredly, as he sipped his coffee black. Another habit he had picked up from Abby. "We've only been dating for a couple of months."
"You're not getting any younger," said Millicent, severely. "She's a good girl. You'd be lucky to have her."
Irritated, Carter decided that he couldn't take the brackish taste of black coffee in his mouth. He took another gulp anyway. "I don't think she's the type to be had. She's her own person."
"You don't know the first thing about women," sniffed Millicent. "No wonder you're still single."
Despite himself, Carter smiled. "Enlighten me, Gamma."
"Every woman wants to be had, John," she said. "Your job is to make her feel as if she's worth having."
He rolled his eyes. "Gamma, things have changed since you've dated."
"Times change but people don't," Millicent retorted, still sounding severe.
"I proposed to her," said Carter, tiredly, and he rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. "When we were in med school. She said no."
"I remember," recalled Millicent. "If I remember correctly, you locked yourself in your room and sulked for days."
"I did not sulk," said Carter, looking sulky.
"You were a lot younger then, and so was she," Millicent reminded him, stirring milk into her tea.
Carter stared. "So?"
Millicent put down her cup of tea. "So if you asked her again, I don't think she would say no."
Inwardly, Carter groaned. I cannot believe I'm discussing my love life with my grandmother, he thought glumly.
"I've seen the way she looks at you," said Millicent. "You don't let go of a girl like that."
He said nothing.
"John, I know we've had our differences when it comes to your life…"
"Because it's my life," said Carter, tightly.
"Yes," Millicent gave her grandson a hard look, "It is, isn't it."
* * *
"Hamburgers, hot dogs, or French fries?" asked Abby, turning to Adam, who was clinging to her hand.
"French fries," said Adam, promptly. "I don't eat beef."
Abby hid a smile. "I'm pretty sure our hot dogs are one hundred percent beef free."
"That's okay," said Adam. "French fries are good."
Abby grabbed a dish of French fries and paid for them at the counter. Adam, who had impeccable manners, thanked her profusely. She led them to an empty table where he clamored into a seat and began to tear enthusiastically, if neatly, at his fries.
This, Abby had to admit, was a charming kid. It was hard to believe that her ex-husband hadn't already thoroughly corrupted him. Give him time, she thought.
"How do you know my dad?" inquired Adam, once he finished swallowing his first mouthful.
"Uh…" Abby trailed off. "We used to be friends." That was sort of true.
Adam dunked a fry into a glob of ketchup. "You're not friends anymore?" he queried, his eyes inquisitive.
"Well, we don't see each other very much," explained Abby lamely.
"Oh. I feel sorry for you," declared Adam. "My dad's the greatest."
"I'm glad you think so," said Abby, although 'greatest' wasn't a word she'd use to describe Richard, even if he was being surprisingly human.
"My mom," said Adam, and he leaned forward conspiratorially, "Says that Dad's the greatest thing since bread came sliced."
Abby felt a sharp pain gnaw at her insides. "Sliced bread is pretty great," she agreed.
Adam nodded, and his face grew serious. "Can I tell you something?"
Folding her hands in front of her, Abby rested her chin atop them so that she was eye level with Adam. "What?"
"I'm kind of worried," he confessed.
"Worried about what?"
Swallowing, Adam tilted his head. "Do you think--after the baby is born--do you think Dad will forget about me?"
"Ah." Abby felt a pang of sadness for the boy, whose green eyes were large and troubled.
"Because"--Adam dropped his voice to a sad whisper--"Dad's not my real dad. But he'll be the baby's real dad. Maybe he'll like the baby better."
"What do you mean?"
"He's my step-dad," said Adam, sounding wistful. "I wish he were my real dad, though."
Despite the fact that Richard was still a sore point with her and despite the fact that she was looking at his son, Abby found herself overwhelmed by a sudden and strong impulse to make Adam feel better, and so she said, "Do you love your dad?"
Adam nodded. "Yes."
"Does your dad love you?"
Adam nodded more vigorously. "Yes."
"Then he's your real dad," said Abby firmly, and she reached out to brush aside a messy curl that fell across his eyes when he had shook his head.
To Abby's surprise, Adam broke out in a big grin. "That's what Mom said when I talked to her."
* * *
By the time Abby led Adam, hand-in-hand of course, back down to the ER, she saw that it had been vacated. Abby checked the chart and saw that they had been moved up to OB, which is where they went next.
When she led Adam to the new room, she didn't expect to see what she saw: Luka standing next a nurse, both of whom were wearing big grins on their faces; Corinne, who was tired but beaming…
And Richard. Holding a small bundle in his hands.
Abby looked ashen as Adam slipped his hand from hers and ran over to his mom. "I'm sorry. Adam was having French fries and I thought--"
Luka waved her off. "Don't worry about it. We got her up to the OB in time."
"Luckily," said Corinne, who looked exhausted.
"When did this happen?" asked Adam, whose eyes were as big as saucers.
"Right after you left, honey," and Corinne reached down to squeeze her son's hand.
"Can I hold her, Dad?" Adam piped up.
Abby shifted her gaze to Richard and finally found her voice. "Her?"
Looking rapturous, Richard finally tore his eyes away from the small person in his arms and looked at Abby. "Daughter," he managed.
Luka, who had been watching Abby carefully as soon as she entered the room, watched as, in that moment, some part of her crumbled. Then a bigger part of her smiled, the most sincere smile he had seen on her face in a long time.
"What's her name?" said Abby, and she walked over to peak into Richard's arms.
Corinne looked up. "Margaret. Meg, for short," she laughed. "A Wrinkle In Time. It was my favorite book as a child."
Richard looked up at his ex-wife. "Do you want to hold her?"
"Hold her?" Abby's voice came out in a squeak and her eyes darted back and forth between Richard and Corinne, both of whom were looking expectantly at her. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I'd love to."
There was a sour-sweet ache at the back of Luka's throat as he watched Abby, looking as fragile as the baby in her arms, hold the bundle with a wistful sort of expression on her face. Then, carefully, she walked over to Corinne, where she settled Meg into her mother's arms. "Congratulations."
Abby backed away. Corinne, looking faintly rumpled, held her new daughter Meg in her arms. Adam sat on the bed next to his mother, peering at his baby sister with the most delighted expression on his face. Richard hovered over all three of them.
Father, mother, son, daughter. Briefly, Luka was reminded of his own lost family, and his heart constricted. Shaking his head, he looked for Abby, but she had slipped away.
* * *
Midnight. Abby couldn't believe that she was only halfway through with her shift. Groaning, she stretched her limbs for a moment before picking up a new needle and looking expectedly at the door. "Next?" she called.
Richard poked his head in. "Hi."
"Hi." Abby returned his tentative smile. She couldn't believe she was smiling at her ex-husband but then again, it had been a weird night. "Need a flu shot?"
"No," he said, and he glanced behind him. "Do you think we could talk for a couple of minutes?"
"Sure." Abby put down the needle. "By the way, congratulations."
"Thanks." Richard hovered in the doorway. "I just wanted to thank you for all your help."
Uncomfortably, Abby laughed. "I didn't do anything."
"Adam and I just had a talk. He told me what you said."
"Oh," said Abby, and suddenly she felt embarrassed. "It was nothing."
"I know," said Richard, impulsively, and she could tell that he was struggling to find the right words, "That I wasn't the best husband."
Abby was silent for a moment as the words hung between them, suspended in air, the closest to an apology she had ever received from Richard, perhaps the closest she would ever get. Richard gave her the same smile, the same awkward smile that meant this wasn't easy for him either, and Abby wondered if things between them would ever not be awkward, and then she decided that it didn't really matter.
"Thanks," said Abby. "I'm glad things are working out for you."
"They seem to be working out for you, too," said Richard.
Blankly, Abby stared at him. "What?"
"You and Dr. Kovac," explained Richard.
Rolling her eyes, Abby rubbed at her temples. "We are not dating," she said, aggrieved.
"You should tell him that," said Richard ---and he winked at her.
Suddenly, Abby remembered the thing about Richard that attracted her to him in the first place: his sense of humor. Funny, what managed to endure, even after all this time.
"Richard, stay out of my love life," said Abby, but without rancor.
"Duly noted," he said, gravely. "I hope things work out for you."
"I'm sure they will," said Abby, with more confidence than she felt.
* * *
The sun was peaking over the horizon by the time Luka dropped Abby off at her apartment. Pulling up to her curb, he killed the engine and stared at the tired expression on her face.
"You don't seem to be sick anymore," he noticed.
Briefly, Abby brought her fingertips to the window, which was ice cold to the touch. "Yeah."
Slowly, thoughtfully, Luka nodded. "Okay."
She opened the door and got out of the car. Briefly, she ducked her head back in. "Thanks."
Puzzled, Luka looked back at her. "For what?"
Abby gave him a weary sort of smile. "You could've paged me. She was my responsibility. But you covered for me. Thank you."
Luka looked up at Abby, her face tired but radiant in the early morning light, and a million things he wanted to say ran through his head, most of which ran along the lines of I would do anything for you.
Aloud, he only said, "Don't worry about it."
And she disappeared from his view.
* * *
Feeling as if every bone in her body was about to break, Abby trudged up the icy steps of her apartment building, her cheeks stinging with cold. When she reached the front door, she slipped her key into the lock, turned around, and waved at Luka. She watched his car until it disappeared at the end of the block. Fatigued, she turned back around and was about to open the door when a voice spoke up behind her.
"So you two going steady?"
Abby whirled around. Carter was at the bottom of her stairs, supported by crutches and leaning against her stoop, a cigarette caught between his lips as he gazed up at her. He looked, if possible, even more exhausted than she felt. There were dark shadows under his eyes and a translucent quality to his skin that even the sunlight grazing his face couldn't dispel.
"Carter," said Abby, and her shoulders sagged under the weight of her fatigue. "Not that it's any of your business, but no."
Mutely, Carter looked up at her, his eyes dark and unreadable as he fumbled with a lighter in his hands. "And here I thought you learned your lesson the first time around."
Abby blinked. She slipped her key back out of the lock and descended her steps slowly. The morning was bright, ice and frost on every surface, and the world sparkled like a cut diamond. "Why are you here?"
Glancing at her thoughtfully, Carter lit the cigarette, his eyes narrowing as they concentrated on the flame, and then he reached into his pocket. Wordless, he handed her a crumpled slip of paper.
Looking uncertainly at his impassive face, Abby reached out and took it. "Alicia Holbrooke. 782-2388," she read, and then she looked back at him. "And here I thought you were a one woman person."
Carter smiled as he did only for her. "I am."
Abby heard ice breaking, like shards of broken glass, beneath her heel as she climbed down one more step, drawing near enough to catch a distinct scent caught in the folds of his clothes. "Have you been drinking?" she asked, incredulous.
Suspicion crystallized into certainty as Carter took the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled, the smoke and his breath bursting into clouds the color of his face. "Maybe," he shrugged, and when he smiled it had a bit of an edge to it, like the curve of a blade. "Do I seem drunk to you?"
"No," admitted Abby as a cold fear clawed its way into the pit of her stomach. "Have you been up all night?"
"No," he said, calmly, and he flicked his wrist. "All morning."
Uncertainly, Abby stared at him, the wan morning light throwing his face into sharp relief: cheeks flushed with cold, bruise-colored shadows ringing his eyes, the sharp articulation of bones. "Does Phil know where you are?"
"She's asleep," shrugged Carter. "I think she's still mad at me."
"If you keep showing up here, I'm sure she'll stay mad," said Abby, and she paused for a moment before continuing. "What are you doing here, Carter?"
Taking a long drag off his cigarette, Carter took his time in answering. "Couldn't sleep," he admitted finally, a disquieting look in his eyes.
Abby folded her arms across her chest. "When's the last time you got a good night of sleep?"
Absently, he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I don't know."
"I'm sure you do."
Head bent, Carter used one crutch to chip away at the ice-slicked cement. "Last night."
"Before that."
"I don't know," said Carter, annoyance creeping into his voice. "A week?"
Abby nearly fell off the stoop. "Since the accident."
Carter threw his cigarette on the ground and ground it out under his toe. "I guess."
The light in the east grew stronger and Abby had to squint to look at him between the bright cuts of light that struck, knife-like, at his slight figure. She stepped down so that she was now within arm's reach of him, their gazes on eye level.
"Gamma thinks I should propose," said Carter, out of the blue.
Sucking in a breath of cold air, Abby felt as if someone punched her in the stomach. "Oh," she managed to say, very faintly, and she heard herself shift her weight from side to side, ice breaking beneath her feet. Then--before she could stop herself--"Are you going to?"
He looked at her intently, their dark eyes locking across the small space between them, their breaths like apparitions in the cold air. "I don't know."
"Well," said Abby, and suddenly the light and the cold were too much to bear, and her head throbbed with the effort, "You better figure it out."
"I loved her once," said Carter, his voice soft, and he kept his eyes on her.
Abby sucked in a breath. "What happened?"
"She didn't feel the same way back."
Abby stared at him, at Carter, at her best friend. She though, rather dizzily, that maybe they weren't talking about Phil anymore. Maybe they never were.
"Who knows," said Abby, and she didn't know what she was saying anymore, "Maybe she's changed her mind."
"You think so?" said Carter, his gaze pinning her in place.
"Do you still love her?" Abby burst out, impulsively.
Carter looked at her steadily. "I don't think I ever stopped."
And then she was falling. Only, she was not falling at all, but slipping, and as she stumbled and pitched forward she was only aware of the fact that she was reaching out for him and he was catching her, as it had always been, their hands clasping together for a fleeting ten seconds of time. But this time something was different. Something inside of her, some place secret and some place dark, told her that something was changing, a balance between them shifting, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Whether it was for the better or for the worse, she could not honestly say, and by the time she opened her mouth to say something, he had let go.
* * *
All right. Before anyone from Camp Carby decides to roast me for laying on the Abby/Luka subtext, I just want to remind everyone that we are only halfway through the story so anything is fair game, including Abby/Yosh. Neener. ;) Next chapter: Thanksgiving Day, Clan Carter pow-wows at the mansion, Abby and Susan shake and bake, Luka pays a house call, and Carter receives an unexpected bombshell. As if his life didn't suck blow pops already.
CREDITS: The opening passage is from South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami. (Favorite. Author. Ever.) Kudos to you if you caught the door imagery (*coughs* TTD *haaack*). :D "Instant family, huh?" is a reference to Abby and Richard's conversation in "Beyond Repair." "Should we be picking out china patterns together or what?" is from The X-Files and is a shoutout to everyone who sees a little Mulder/Scully in our Carter/Abby. The "Probably killing myself/Excellent, what time does that finish?" exchange is from Sliding Doors. A part of the Carter/Abby/Phil phone conversation is definitely inspired by the Carter/Abby/Luka phone conversation in "The Longer You Stay." There are a couple of Buffy quotes sprinkled in there. Spot it, spill it (in your review), win a cameo. No kidding.