Title: Living (Inventory Ch. 3)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: (forgot this last time) NOT MINE, except the plot and the baby.
Summary: We heard Abby and Carter working through the Steps, living with their new baby, helping Maggie move in. Now here's the conclusion, from my POV.
Author's Note: This is the final chapter (though I'm contemplating an epilogue). I've appreciated your reviews, and hope to hear that you like this one too.
Outwardly, they are the same as always, but for the increased amounts of smiles and the aroma of baby they wear.
As she lays her head in her arms, leaning against the Admit desk, she sighs. Suddenly, a hand appears on her back, accompanied by a voice.
"Pooped?" he asks.
Abby groans. "Is it so obvious?"
He laughs. "It's 5:30, are you about ready?"
"I wanted to check on the asthma kid one last time," she says, turning to face him. "You could go get Delia, though."
He acts serious. "I didn't say I was free." But at her exhausted glare he smirks. "Sure."
Internally, they are unrecognizable. What's missing is the grime, that which they called their "baggage." Aptly named for its bulk.
John enters the hospital daycare to a happy yell. She'd shout "Daddy!" if she could.
"Delia!" he crouches with outstretched arms. The baby hobbles to him on newly walking legs. "There's my girl!"
He lifts her high into the air and asks the daycare teacher "How was she?"
The woman smiles at the baby before answering, "Not an angel, but certainly great to have around."
Stroking his daughter's sprouting locks, he says thanks, and see you tomorrow. To Delia he whispers, "Let's find your mama," and she wriggles in his arms, impatient.
There is no such thing as an aura cleansing, both have learned. They know after years of searching for quick fixes. Cleanliness is next to godliness, so naturally it takes years worth of hard work.
Upon entering the lounge, Susan greets father and daughter. She rubs Delia's cheek, trying not to wake the sleeping child.
"Waiting for the work-a-holic again, huh?" she says in an over-exaggerated whisper.
He chuckles. "An asthmatic becomes a face lac becomes kidney stones. Pretty soon, we've been waiting an hour."
"She cares too much to leave them," Susan suggests.
"Or she's dreading another dinner with her mother," he chides. She laughs. "Would you mind holding Delia while I go find her?" He passes the baby to his eager friend.
So they have endured years worth of work, and will endure many more. When they met, the two were shrouded in dark. Now they've confronted problems and they've applied solutions.
"Abby," he calls into an exam room.
"I'll be right back," she tells her patient. In the hallway she says she's almost done.
"Just like you were an hour ago."
"Caaarteer," a half-kidding whine. "Hold on." She yawns.
"You were tired an hour ago too."
She smiles. "I was tired six hours ago."
"Okay, good reason to go home then, right?"
Lifting and kissing his hand, her smile widens. "I've already got plenty of reasons for that."
Her tactic works, and he relents. "Finish this patient," he directs, "then we'll go." She agrees, but he follows her back into the exam room anyway, to supervise.
It is not as if they don't get urges: to feed their addictions, to slip back in unwanted ways. Now they know what to do with their urges. They've taught themselves to tackle.
At last the family exits the sliding EMERGENCY doors. They step into the twilight mentally recapping the workday that has passed, hand in hand. Moments later, Abby straps a screaming baby into her car seat. "I know sweetie, you must be hungry."
"Me too," he calls from the front seat.
"I'm starving." She slips into the seat beside him.
"Then why'd you put off dinner with your mother for so long?"
"Not dinner, just my mother." They laugh above Delia's cries as they pull away.
And so they go on, applying the techniques they've learned. They live life as others do, only more beware. And more prepared.
After dinner, which wasn't so bad and was actually quite satisfying, he lounges on Maggie's couch.
"Pah pah pah," the baby on his stomach bounces because of the muscles he uses to create the syllable. Mother and grandmother stand behind the couch and laugh with Delia, coffee cups in hand.
"Look at your family, Abby." The thought escapes Maggie's lips in amazement.
"I'm looking."
They watch the bouncing duo for a while, filled with emotion for different, similar reasons.
Maggie turns to her daughter. "I went on Tuesday." The daughter wants to ask where, but instead asks, "How was it?"
"Good," is the heartfelt response. Abby purses her lips and turns to give her mother a small, proud smile. Then she looks away, back to her newer family.
"If you do it right, it's a miracle."
Together, they are a miracle, albeit a common one. They grow and change and distribute joy to those around them and to each other.
Step Twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.