Title: Serendipity
Author: Andrea (CarbyLove@aol.com)
Summary: Abby's pregnant. And she just took a tumble on the steps of the El while arguing with Carter. Hmmm … what's gonna happen next?
Author's Note: Thanks to LISA, BETH and COURTNEY. You guys rock my world. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. They really do provide inspiration. I've been in a bit of a funk lately, which unfortunately is causing some writer's block, but the reviews really do make me happy. So thanks for that. And don't worry about them being too long or rambling … that's pretty much impossible. I *like* long and rambling. Which is probably why I listen to the SPA commentary on a daily basis, I suppose. Ah, good times. Anyway, please review and feel free to ramble as much as you like … as long as it's related to the fic in some way. And hopefully there will be eough long reviews to help get me past this latest round of writer's block. Wish me luck. And enjoy the chapter.
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Serendipity
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Chapter 7: Finding Out
"Abby? Abby?" She doesn't respond. She looks like she's sleeping. Sprawled across the El steps. But she's not sleeping. She's unconscious.
I stoop down next to her, quickly appraising the situation. She was standing on the stairs, just turning back toward me when she suddenly fell over. Even standing so close to her with my hand on her arm, I couldn't stop her fall. And the sound of her head smacking against the concrete steps was enough to make me sick. I gingerly examine the back of her head and find no blood, just a big bump already forming.
"It's okay, Abby," I say, as if she can hear me. I slip one arm under her knees and one under her neck and shoulders and lift with my legs. Umph. It's been a while since I've done this. And somehow Abby seems heavier than I remembered. Or maybe I'm just weaker. I stumble across the street toward the hospital and manage to make it through the ambulance bay doors without dropping her or falling over.
"Oh my God!" Susan exclaims as soon as I walk through the door. "What happened?"
The last thing I want to do is explain that now. As if I had enough air in my lungs to speak. Susan seems to understand that.
"C'mon. Trauma One."
I'm just about in the door when Sam appears. "Abby? Is she okay? What happened?"
She follows Susan and I into the trauma room where I gently lay Abby down on the gurney.
"What happened?" Susan demands, as we both immediately start examining Abby, lifting her eyelids and peering at her pupils. Equal, round, and reactive. A good sign.
"She … fell." I gasp out. "Hit … her … head."
"Fell?" Sam asks, sounding skeptical.
"Yeah. She fell on the stairs."
"What?" Susan sounds horrified and a bit panicky. "She fell down the stairs?"
"Oh my God," Sam says. "I'll get the sonosite."
"No. She fell on the stairs," I clarify. "Do you think we should get her to CT?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"But I'm worried about an inter-cranial bleed."
"She bumped her head, Carter. She's got a mild concussion and a nasty bump. But it's not her head I'm worried about."
Sam returns to the room with the sonosite, and I watch in confusion as Susan pushes up Abby's shirt and squirts jelly on her belly. What the hell is she doing? Shouldn't she be worried about the head injury?
"What are you doing? She hit her head. I don't think she has any bleeding in the belly."
"It's not bleeding in the belly that I'm looking for."
"Then what are you looking for?"
"The baby," Sam says, giving me a look that suggests I should have figured that out.
"Baby? What baby?" I ask automatically, but my voice falters as suddenly a few things become clear, and I think I know exactly what she's talking about. The thought crossed my mind standing outside with Abby, but I didn't really believe it. And then in my concern about Abby's injury, I forgot all about it. But now I understand what Susan is so worried about.
"There." Sam says, looking at the monitor. Susan holds the transducer in place while they study the screen. When Sam moves slightly, I get a look at the screen too.
"Oh my God," I say. "It's a baby."
"Wow. Now I see how you became a doctor. You really are a genius, aren't you?" Sam asks. But I pay no attention to that, having learned from Abby the value in ignoring facetious comments.
"Yeah," Susan nods.
"She's pregnant? Abby's pregnant?" Well, of course she is. But even seeing the evidence in front of me, I still can't quite grasp the concept.
"Uh-huh," Susan says, studying me carefully for a moment.
Abby pregnant? My mind begins to whirl. It's funny how a bunch of separate pieces of information can come together and start to make sense -- sort of. Suddenly a conversation that I had with Luka the other day comes to mind, but I see it in a whole different light. Just a few days ago, Luka joined me for lunch at Ike's. About halfway through the meal, he told me that he wanted my opinion about something. And then he said his "friend" had a problem. I grinned at him, amused at his use of the oldest trick in the book. Somehow, the conversation comes back to me in great detail now.
"So your 'friend' has a problem?"
"Yeah, she does."
"She? Oh, that's good. I like that."
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind. So what's her problem?"
"Well … she's pregnant."
"Oh. And … she doesn't want to be?"
"No, it's not that."
"Then …"
"It's the father."
"He doesn't want her to be pregnant?"
"She hasn't told him she's pregnant."
"Oh. Why not?"
"She thinks it's better if he doesn't know."
"About his own child?"
"Well … he's her ex-boyfriend. And now there's a new woman in his life. And a child. She doesn't want to mess that up."
"Is Gillian pregnant?"
"Gillian? No. Gillian's not pregnant. This isn't about me. It's about my friend."
"Right. You're friend. Sorry. So she thinks she's doing the ex-boyfriend a favor?"
"Yeah, she thinks it would be better if he didn't know. And she doesn't want to be a burden. She doesn't want him to feel obligated."
"But he is obligated. It's his child. No matter what else is going on in his life, that's his child."
"She seems to think that since she made the decision on her own, she should be responsible on her own."
"That's crazy. It's still his baby. I can't imagine anything that would make me not want to know about a child of mine."
"So you think she should tell him? Even if it makes things really complicated for him?"
"Yeah. She ought to at least give him a chance. And if his new girlfriend really loves him, they'll find a way to make it work."
"Well, I'm not sure exactly what's going on with the new girlfriend. It seems to me things aren't exactly … over between him and the old girlfriend. So I'm not sure that he's gonna know what to do. And I think that's what she's afraid of, too."
"I guess he just has to follow his heart. Even if there's another child out there depending on him, too. He has to do what's right for him. What makes him happy. And take care of the kids that need him, no matter what, whichever woman he ends up with. But there's lots of ways to take care of your responsibilities."
"Yeah. I guess you're right."
We'd gone back to eating our lunch then, and I hadn't pressed Luka for details. At the time, I was pretty sure that we were talking about a problem in Luka's life, and he was trying to seek my advice anonymously. I was a bit confused as to how he knew about this secret pregnancy, if his "friend" never told him, but I assumed he just managed to figure it out some other way. Of course, when he insisted that Gillian wasn't pregnant … I wasn't sure what to think. Maybe he really was talking about some friend of his, although I had my doubts. And if he was talking about himself, of course he would deny that Gillian was pregnant. And the facts seemed to fit so nicely … I knew she'd come back to town a few months earlier, spent a few days. Then next thing you know, it became obvious that he and Sam had something going. Then again, maybe it wasn't Gillian; maybe there was someone else in his life. How would I know? I figured if Luka wanted me to know more, he would tell me. So I didn't think anything more about it, really.
And then I saw Abby's reaction to Sam and Luka at the baby shower, and remembered the rumors that had been floating around about Luka and Abby. Even having heard all those rumors, I never really considered that Abby could be the pregnant "friend" that Luka was telling me about. Not until a few minutes ago, anyway. Outside with Abby, when she threw her arms up in the air in order to make a point, I'd caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a rather round and full belly under her baggy shirt. Nothing like the flat belly she used to have. I realized then that maybe Luka was talking about himself … only the ex-girlfriend in question wasn't Gillian, but Abby. But then Abby denied any involvement with him. And I believed her. So I figured I was just seeing things. Imagining things. Or maybe she'd just put on a few pounds. I totally dismissed the idea. That is, until Sam mentioned the baby and then that image came up on the monitor. I'm not imagining that. But if it wasn't Luka, then …
As if on cue, Luka walks in the room at that moment.
"I heard something's wrong with Abby." He doesn't seem unduly concerned. Concerned? Yes. But it seems more like friendly concern rather than fatherly concern.
"She fell. And hit her head," I explain, sounding somewhat dazed, even to my own ears.
"She fell?"
"She's gonna be okay," I say.
Luka looks at Susan running the transducer over Abby's abdomen and glances at the screen behind her. He looks over at me briefly before asking, "And the baby?"
Susan looks up at him, then turns to look at me.
"Does everything look okay?" I ask. From my vantage point, I can't really tell what she's seeing. Sam pushes the monitor closer to the gurney and turns it so that I can see it better. From this angle it's much easier to see the details.
And there it is. A baby with a strong heartbeat. All seems to be well. A perfect little baby that appears to be completely unaffected by its mother's fall. It moves each of its beautiful, long limbs in turn as if it knows we are watching. Its lips pucker up and then relax as if its blowing us a kiss. I stare transfixed at the image as if I'd never seen a sonogram before, let alone hundreds. But this is different. I can't stop watching the screen. The little fingers of one hand splay apart, just to be clenched together again. I feel an almost overwhelming urge to wave back. Without ever really looking away from the monitor, I pull a stool over next to the gurney and sit down, taking Abby's hand in mine. I study the image of the baby -- Abby's baby. There's a little person growing inside her. About 18 weeks old, four months. Four months … the implications of that don't sink in right away. For the moment, I just know that the baby seems fine. And I'm happy … for Abby. Abby … who is 18 weeks pregnant. Four months. That's all I can think as I'm watching the baby on the screen and start to realize what this means. Abby's gonna be a mother. At 18 weeks along, and considering Susan's dismay earlier, I can only imagine that Abby's decided to keep this baby. A baby that was conceived four months ago …
"Mmm…" Abby starts stirring on the gurney, moving slightly and moaning. I squeeze her hand in mine to let her know she's okay and not alone.
"Abby?" Susan asks, peering down at the patient. Susan looks over at me. "Here, hold this." She shoves the transducer toward my free hand, and I take it, holding it steady, knowing that Abby's gonna want to see this right away.
"Mmm …" Abby's moaning and mumbling incoherently. "Mmm … baby. Oww … ahh … mmm ... the baby." I could distinctly make out that word. Even in a barely conscious state, it seems to be on her mind. Yeah, she must be keeping this child. Abby's gonna have a baby. I'm still stunned.
"Abby?" Susan asks again. Abby's eyes open slowly and attempt to focus on Susan. "Do you know where you are?"
"Trauma One," she says, looking around the room, her gaze still somewhat unfocused.
"Do you remember what happened?" Susan asks her.
"I … fell." Suddenly her eyes open all the way … wide and fearful. Tears seem to spring into her eyes, and when she speaks, I realize I've never heard her sound so … terrified before. "The baby? Is the baby okay?" She's crying and panicky, her eyes wildly roaming around the room as if desperately looking for something to hold on to.
"Abby?" She turns and looks at me. I've never seen her look so vulnerable before. I smile reassuringly, trying to keep my own emotions from showing so as not to worry her. Her eyes are searching my face frantically. "The baby's fine."
"It's okay?" she asks, her voice heavy with tears, sounding like she's scared to believe me.
"Yeah. It's fine. It looks great, in fact. Beautiful. Just beautiful." I'm surprised to discover that I'm tearing up myself. "Look." I point in the direction of the screen, and Abby's gaze follows.
"Oh. My baby. That's my baby." A tear slides down her cheek. "And it's perfect." She starts crying in earnest then. Sobbing really. At least we know she's fully oriented now. And I know her tears are tears of joy and relief. Her happiness makes me happy. I think I may be grinning like an idiot.
"Uh …" Susan starts, clearing her throat. "Maybe we should go and check on that trauma that's coming in."
"What trauma?" Luka asks.
"There's no trauma coming in," Sam says with disdain.
"There's going to be if you two don't come with me … now." I look up at Susan, who gives me a smile and a nod. "I think you'll be okay on your own."
"Yeah, I got it."
Abby doesn't seem to notice their departures, nor does she seem to really notice my presence. She's staring at the screen, watching as the baby moves gracefully in its fluid world. There are still tears on her cheeks, but she's smiling. She sniffles and wipes at the tears with heal of her hand. Then she reaches out toward the monitor, tracing her fingers along the outline of the baby's head. She lets her hand drop away from the monitor and onto her stomach.
"I'm sorry," she says, quietly, the tears springing to her eyes once again. Sorry? Is she talking to me? I wonder what exactly she's apologizing for. And then she speaks again, her voice just above a whisper. "But you're okay. You're gonna be okay." Oh, she's talking to the baby, I realize belatedly.
"Abby?"
She reluctantly pulls her eyes away from the monitor and turns to look at me. But just briefly before she turns back to the image on the screen.
"How's your head?" Not the question I really want to ask her, but I figure I should start slowly.
She looks at me with what is almost a look of confusion. She narrows her eyes and seems to be assessing her injuries. "It hurts," she finally says, simply. But the tone of her voice and the look on her face suggest that she's not worried about it. "It doesn't really matter. I'm fine."
"As long as the baby's okay, you're okay?"
"Yeah." She smiles slightly and then looks over at me. "The baby looks good, huh?"
"The baby looks great. Aside from your head, are you in any pain?"
"My butt's a little sore."
"I'll bet. But no cramping or anything?"
"No. I feel fine … pregnancy-wise."
"Good."
"I got lucky."
"It wasn't that bad of a fall."
"Tell that to my head." She manages a bit of a chuckle. "Thank God I was only on the first step."
"Second. But who's counting?" Her hand is still resting in mine, and I give it a little squeeze. The fact that she has yet to rip it away from me says a lot about how scared and in need of comfort she must be right now. "Everything turned out fine in the end. No harm done."
"I guess so." She doesn't really sound convinced.
"You're gonna be fine, Abby. The baby's fine." I stop and study her for a minute. "You're gonna have a baby."
"Yeah," she confirms, looking at me once again. Our eyes meet, and I hold her gaze.
"In about … five months?"
Her eyes slide from mine. "Yeah." Her voice is quiet and cautious.
"Abby." I wait for her to look back at me. When she finally does, it's a direct stare. She's holding my eyes pinned to hers. And I know she knows what's coming.
"Is it …" Suddenly I can't finish the question. More than anything, I want to know. But at the same time, I don't want to know. I can't make myself choke out the words.
Abby's gaze slips from mine once again. She turns her head back toward the monitor. But then, after a moment, she looks back at me, heaving a big sigh.
"Yours?" she asks, finishing that question for me. I nod. Because it's all I can do. So much rests on her answer. My whole life. My whole future. Everything can change in an instant. At first I don't think she's gonna answer me, but finally she does.
"Three years, John. Three years … and there hasn't been anyone but you. Yeah, of course it's yours."
I'm speechless. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I just can't believe it. Mine. My baby. Up on that screen. That perfectly formed body, the graceful limbs. I had a part in making that miracle. Abby's having my baby. Our baby. I'm stunned. I knew, of course, when I saw how far along she was that there was a chance. And knowing Abby the way I do, I figured it was a pretty good chance. Still … it was just one night. There was only one opportunity. And somehow it all just seems so unbelievable. How could I have not known or at least suspected? And why didn't she tell me? And then that conversation with Luka comes back to me again. She didn't tell me because she didn't want me to feel trapped. She was doing it for me. Oh, Abby …
"I don't know what to say," I finally tell her.
"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything. I don't expect that." Her voice is emotionless, stoic. I know she means it, but I don't think she's necessarily happy about it.
"But it's my baby."
"No. It's my baby. I can take care of it on my own. I'm going to do it on my own. You don't need to be involved." She sounds a little more firm and sure of herself now.
"What if I want to be involved?"
"You don't." I start to say something, but she interrupts before I can even get out a word. "Look, right now you might think you want to be involved. But … time will go on, and things will change. And you'll realize what it's going to cost you. And then you won't want anything to do with us. And I … I can live with doing this my own. I can't live with getting used to you being a part of it, just to have you disappear." Her voice falters toward the end of her speech, and I realize how big of a toll this must be taking on her.
"I'm not gonna disappear, Abby." I hope she can hear the sincerity in my voice. I mean it. I mean it with all my heart.
"You've done it before. Why should this be any different?"
"It's our baby." I understand why she's worried. And she has a very valid point. But this is my child. "I know you've got every reason not to believe me … but I'm not gonna disappear. Not this time."
"You better think long and hard before you make promises like that."
"I don't need to think about it."
"Yes, you do. Because there's no doing it halfway. And there's no going back. And I won't let you do anything to hurt this baby."
"Is that why you didn't tell me?" She shrugs, which I take as confirmation. "You didn't think you could hide it forever, did you? Did you think I wouldn't suspect it might be mine? What did you think would happen when I figured out you were pregnant? Or when the baby was born and all I had to do was subtract nine months?"
She looks at me with a somewhat bemused smile and gives a half shrug. "I don't know. Hope your math skills failed you?"
I can't help but chuckle. "Nobody's that bad at math."
"You'd be surprised," she says, her eyes being pulled back to the monitor.
"I can't stop staring at it," I tell her. "The minute that I saw the baby on the screen … I don't know, I was just so … drawn to it. I should have known right then … because I've never felt anything like that before. Now I know why. But I never would have expected it."
"Expected … what?"
"To feel that way. It was like there was this instant … connection. It's amazing."
She looks over at me then. "Are you crying?" she asks, sounding shocked.
I shrug. "It's our baby." I say by way of explanation. I'm a little surprised when she doesn't protest my terminology. "If you can't cry over that …" I say with sniffle.
"You're not at all upset about this?"
"No." I clear my throat, trying to get back in control. "I think I'm still in shock, but I'm not upset. Why? Were you expecting me to have some sort of tantrum?"
"I don't know. I didn't think you'd be so accepting of it. I thought you'd be … freaked out."
"I'm not gonna freak out. Why would I?" It's a miracle. Abby's having my baby. It's more than I could have ever hoped for.
"You … well, you've already got a lot on your plate. You don't need this."
"But I want it. I don't care what else is going on in my life. I want this." She gives me another one of those searching looks, staring into my eyes, trying to see into my soul. "Give me your hand."
"You already have my hand." She glances down at our still-clenched-together hands.
"Your other hand. Put it on the transducer," I instruct. She looks at me for a long moment, but then wraps her hand around mine. I move our hands so that we are getting the best look at the side view of the baby's head. "Look. Look at that face. That profile."
"You don't have to convince me how beautiful this baby is."
"I was watching before when Susan was checking the baby. It really is perfect. I think I have every inch of it memorized. I saw every little part."
"Every little part?"
"Yeah."
"Is it a boy or a girl?" She asks, one part curiosity, one part amusement.
"I don't know. I didn't look."
"So not every little part."
"We can look now. If you want to know."
"Do … you wanna know?" she asks cautiously, as if she's not sure she really wants to ask.
"It's up to you. It's your decision."
"Maybe … maybe I cut you out of enough decisions already. So this time …" she trails off. But it means a lot to me that she's willing to consider letting me have any say in anything. Vaguely, I wonder if it's some kind of test. It makes me ponder my answer.
"It might be nice to be surprised," I finally say.
She nods. "Okay. We'll wait." We? Did she just say we?
"But if you want to know …"
"No. A surprise it is."
"If you're sure."
"I am," she says, giving me a small, tentative smile. I smile back.
There's a tap on the door, and then it opens up and Susan sticks her head in.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say. She regards me carefully for a moment, taking in the whole situation. She looks from me to Abby.
"Abby?" she asks.
"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Everything's fine."
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Abby says as she stares at the monitor.
"Fine?" Susan asks. "You just fell on your head, but you feel fine?"
Abby finally tears herself away from the image of the baby and looks at Susan. "Well, my head kinda hurts."
"Yeah, I'll bet. I hate to do it, but I'm gonna have to steal this," Susan says, gesturing to the sonosite. "I need it down in Curtain 3."
"Okay," Abby says grudgingly, watching as Susan turns off the monitor and the screen goes blank. We reluctantly hand over the transducer, both of us sad to see the image of the baby disappear. Susan hands Abby a bunch of paper towels to wipe the slime off her belly.
"Sorry," Susan says, referring to taking away our window to the baby.
"That's okay. Can I sit up?" Abby asks as she slips her hand out of mine and readjusts her shirt, covering up the little bulge.
"Sure," I say, as Susan and I move the gurney into a more upright position.
"How's that?" Susan asks.
"Better." Abby lifts a hand to the back of her head, feeling the bump gingerly.
"How do you feel?" I ask. "Any dizziness? Is the pain worse?"
"No, it's okay. I'm just a little dizzy, maybe."
"Hmm … I'll come back when I'm done and give you a more thorough work up," Susan offers.
"You don't have to. I'm fine."
"I know you seem fine, Abby … but I just want to make sure everything's really okay."
"I can do it," I say. It's not like I was planning on leaving or anything.
Susan looks over at Abby, giving her a little shrug, apparently asking her what she prefers.
"It's okay. Carter can do it."
"If you're sure," Susan says hesitantly. What? Does she think I'm incompetent? Or that Abby would be that uncomfortable? She hasn't kicked me out of the room yet.
"I'm sure," Abby starts to nod, but cuts the action short with a wince.
"Careful," I say. Abby sticks her tongue out at me before reaching out and grabbing a departing Susan's hand.
"Susan? Thanks."
Susan nods. "I'm so glad everything turned out fine."
"Me too," Abby agrees.
"But don't thank me," Susan tells her. "Thank Carter. He's the one who carried you in here."
"Better me than you," I say.
"There's no way. I would have had to roll her across the street. Which would have been great for the baby and the concussion. So it's a good thing you were there," she says as she walks toward the door. "Abby? I'll see you later, okay?"
"Okay," Abby says, raising a hand in farewell.
"Does she know?" I ask curiously.
"Know?"
"About the baby. That I'm … the father." It still seems so unbelievable to me. I don't doubt it for a minute, but I'm having a hard time getting used to the idea.
"Well, I think she does now. I didn't tell her. I refused to tell her. And it was driving her crazy. She kept trying to get it out of me. So I'm guessing she put it all together."
"You think she figured it out?"
"Between the way you had a death grip on my hand, and how you were getting all teary staring at the sonogram … yeah, I think she probably figured it out."
"Does she know that we … I mean, you and I … that we … well, about that night?"
"Not until now. But I'm guessing she figured that part out, too."
"Oh, yeah. I guess so," I say with a chuckle.
"John?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For … carrying me in here … even though you have a bad back. For staying here with me."
"I'm not going anywhere, Abby. And really, it's the least I could do. I feel so bad."
"About what? Getting me pregnant?" she asks sarcastically.
"No. About making you fall."
"You didn't make me fall."
"But I was chasing you. Grabbing at your arm. I feel like it's all my fault."
"Well, not all your fault." But she's joking. I can tell by the smile she gives me. She seems oddly friendly toward me now. Maybe it's because she's no longer trying to hide anything from me. Maybe it's just because she's not thinking clearly due to the head injury. Whatever the reason, I don't want to question it. I'm just glad she's no longer giving me the evil eye that I've become accustomed to the past few weeks.
"It was so scary, Abby. Seeing you laying there like that, not responding. And I didn't even know about … the baby then. Which is probably a good thing, or I would have been a complete basket case. But now that I know … I can't tell you how guilty I feel."
"You feel guilty? How do you think I feel?"
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then how come it feels like I did?" Her voice is soft and quiet, and she's near tears again.
"Because you're being too hard on yourself. Accidents happen. And if anyone was to blame, it's me. If I'd have known …" I really do feel horrible about stressing her out, making her run from me. If I'd just let her go. Well, if I'd just let her go, I would still have no idea that she's having my baby. My baby. Abby's having my baby … I still find the concept mind-boggling.
"But you didn't. Because I didn't tell you."
"It's not your fault. And everything's fine."
"You're not mad?"
"About … your fall? I told you, it was an accident."
"No."
"About the baby?"
"Well, about me keeping it from you."
"I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a little upset that you didn't tell me sooner. But I understand why you didn't. And I know now."
"I just … I thought it would be better for everyone if I didn't tell you."
"I know. Did you really think you could keep it from me forever?"
"I don't know. I kept trying to come up with some story I could tell you … something that would seem plausible. I wasn't having much luck."
"You were gonna lie to me? About my child? You didn't want me to know … ever?"
"I thought I was doing the right thing. But then … then I saw you face as you were looking at that sonogram. I couldn't lie to you after that." She pauses for a moment, and then looks up at me with sheepish little grin. " And, of course, I knew that by then you'd probably figured it out."
"Still, you could have refused to admit it. You could have made us do things the hard way."
"And this is the easy way?"
"It's not necessarily going to be easy, but … thank you for being honest with me."
"After weeks of lying by omission."
"That's in the past. Forget it. I know now. And we'll just move on from here."
She nods slightly, carefully. "Okay."
"Okay." I give her a smile.
"Speaking of moving on … can I get out of here?"
I hesitate for a moment, figuring she's not gonna like what I'm about to say. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"What?"
"I don't wanna take any chances. You have a concussion. And you're pregnant. It might not be such a bad idea to stay overnight for observation. Just to make sure."
"I wanna go home," she says, her mouth setting in a stubborn line.
"Alone? Abby, that's not a good idea. What if you fall asleep? You need to wake up every couple hours."
"I'll set my alarm. Not that I'll need it -- my bladder gets me up every couple of hours anyway."
"I don't think you should be alone."
"I'm not gonna stay here. I'm not." God, she's so stubborn.
"Fine. On two conditions. One, everything is normal when I examine you. And two, you have someone to stay with you."
"Fine," she concedes with an eye roll.
She doesn't protest to the exam, and once I pronounce her to be neurologically and physically intact, it's just a matter of figuring out who can watch over her for the night.
"Want me to ask Susan?"
"She's working," Abby tells me.
"How about Sam? You two seem pretty chummy these days."
"No, I wouldn't want to impose. She's got Alex to worry about."
"Luka?" I ask, with just a bit of reluctance.
"And risk starting up the rumor mill again? No, thanks."
"Neela?"
"London."
"Morris?"
"Please tell me you're kidding."
"Well, I guess that just leaves one person."
"Let me guess: you."
"Well, my shift ended somewhere in between cake in the lounge and getting the shock of my life. So I'm not working. There's nowhere I need to be. It's perfect."
"A perfectly bad idea."
"Well who else is there? Besides, I'd just be there in a purely medical capacity. To make sure you … and the baby are okay. You don't want to take any risks do you? Not with the baby …"
"Oh," she sighs in frustration. "That wasn't right. Bringing the baby into it."
"What can I say? I'm not gonna play fair when the well-being of you and my baby are involved."
She looks at me for a minute that feels more like an hour. She finally heaves a big sigh. "Fine."
"Okay, good."
"I better not end up regretting this."
"You won't. I swear. I'll be good."
"That's what you said last time … and look what happened." She glances down pointedly.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Can we please go?"
"Absolutely. Let me just get my stuff. And yours?"
"Please."
"I'll bring my car around. And you can meet me in the ambulance bay."
"Okay."
"Do you think you can make it on your own?"
"All the way to the ambulance bay? Gee, I don't know."
"Sarcasm really is your middle name, isn't it?"
"Would you just go get the car?"
"You promise not to try and escape while I'm gone?" This gets me an eye roll in response. "Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes."
When I get outside the door, I turn back for moment, watching through the glass as Abby slowly and carefully gets up. I'm glad to see she doesn't stumble or collapse, but seems steady on her feet, just leaving one hand resting on the gurney, perhaps as a precaution. She glances down as her free hand strays to her belly. I can see the tears on her cheeks and the hint of a smile on her lips as she says something to the baby, rubbing the little bump under her shirt fondly. I can't hear the words she's saying, but I don't need to. Her every expression, every gesture speaks of the love that she feels for this baby … my baby. I reluctantly turn away from the scene in front of me, hating to leave even for a moment. But I smile to myself as I realize that it's time for me to take them home. To take Abby and our baby home.