Memory Lane
-part 2-
John tucked his son beneath the blankets and planted a firm kiss on his forehead.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Tristan."
"Is this where we're going to live from now on?"
John looked into the sad eyes of the boy in the bed and nodded slowly.
"For a while, Trist. I'm going to be at work and Grandma Eleanor and Grandpa Jack can watch you. You heard Grandpa Jack, they have horses here. You can learn how to ride."
He threw in the anticipatory last line out of mere tact. He knew Tristan was disappointed.
"We left Mommy in New York."
Carter contemplated that last line for a few seconds. He took Tristan's hand into his own and looked straight into the boy's eyes.
"We didn't leave Mommy in New York, buddy. Mommy is right here with us," he took Tristan's hand and lay it on his heart, "She's right in there, Tristan, watching us and talking to us from our hearts."
"But that's not good enough," Tristan whispered, tears coming to his eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd cried in the last half a year and Carter knew it wouldn't be the last.
"We have each other," Carter said and he smiled sadly at his son, "and we have Anna. And we're going to make it work, kiddo. We're going to try out best to make it work."
Tristan bolted up in bed and thrust his arms around Carter's torso.
"Dad, don't ever leave us," he begged.
Carter put his arms gently around his son.
"I won't, Tristan, I won't."
---
John lay in bed a few days later. His alarm clock wasn't set to go off for nearly an hour, but he lay there anyway, thinking. He couldn't sleep. He wished it would just be morning already so that he could go to his first day at his job. Nerves were making his shiver despite the heat of the room.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but a small cry from the next room made his stir. He stood and pulled a robe around himself, hurrying into the next room so Anna didn't wake Tristan.
He lifted the girl from her crib and cradled her against his chest.
"Anna, don't cry, baby," he crooned. He wished that Tracy were there – she had such a way with Anna. The girl looked into his eyes and blathered out choppy sentences and inarticulate words. Her sniffling slowed and her crying hushed.
"That's right, Anna, it's okay. You're a big girl now, aren't you?"
Her blue eyes and button nose were exact imitations of her mother's and it broke John's heard to look at them.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, sweetie," he whispered, taking a seat in the rocking chair next to the crib, "I don't know how I'm going to raise you to be a good girl without your Mommy there to help me." Anna's eyes were closing already as John felt a tear trickle down his cheek.
"She was so special, your Mommy. She always knew what to do. What are we going to do without her? I can't live without her. Tristan needs her and you need her and it isn't fair that she's not here anymore." He sobbed into h is daughter's curly brown head, "It's just not fair."
John sat like that for a bit, rocking and humming and letting out an occasional sob until he calmed himself and rested his daughter back in the crib.
"See you later today, Annie. Wish me luck at my new job." He planted a kiss on her forehead and wiped away a stray strand of damp hair, "I love you, baby girl."
---
John stepped into the whirring buzz of County General hospital the next day and looked around his fretfully. Everything was moving so fast. He had thought that ER life in Manhattan was hectic, but it was nothing compared to what seemed to be going on here.
He watched as a woman down the hall spotted him and approached him. Her tag read ABIGAIL LOCKHART M.D. and she looked pleasant enough.
"You look lost," she smiled at him, "but not sick. Are you looking for a patient?"
He grinned at her appreciatively. She was nice and friendly and kind of cute. Her brown highlighted hair was tied back in a high ponytail and beneath her lab coat she was wearing a pair of jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt. She was far from ugly.
"Actually, my name's John Carter, I'm supposed to be starting here today. I'm looking for a," he consulted the paper in his hand, "Kerry Weaver."
"Oh, Dr. Weaver. I'll get her for you if you like. You just wait here," she gestured to a row of chairs a few feet away, "She's on the prowl today, though, so watch out." With a wink, she was gone.
John took a seat and looked around him again. Really, things weren't all that bad. If one watched closely enough, there was a rhythm to the madness. Plus, if all the doctors were as pleasant as Abigail, he didn't think he'd have a problem.
An angry looking woman limped toward him, leaning against her crutch. He stood as she came within a few feet of him and thrust out a hand.
"I'm John Carter," he said with a forced smile. His nerves were returning.
"Kerry Weaver. I'm Chief of Staff and co-Chief of Emergency Medicine here. I've only got fifteen minutes, so some of the nurses will have to cover whatever ground we miss on the tour. I'll show you to the lounge and we can talk there."
John nodded and picked up his bag. He followed her to the 'lounge' – which ended up being a locker room with a kitchenette, table and couch, not like his Manhattan hospital at all – and he listened as she drawled on about hospital policies and rules. He wasn't catching most of what she was saying and his mind drifted off occasionally. He kept having memories of the good-natured camaraderie of New York and his friends there. This woman, this Kerry Weaver, was nothing like any of his old acquaintances and he could tell nothing got past her.
He followed her on the tour and though wistfully of the Abigail Lockhart who had greeted him. His only hope was that the rest of the staff was more like her, or he was in trouble.
"I've got to run," Dr. Weaver said with a glance at her watch. John knew he shouldn't grin, despite the pun. "Doctor Lewis," she called to a blonde doctor who was sitting at the information desk, "This is Dr. Carter. Show him around, will you?" And she was off.
John stood wondering if all the doctors here called each other by their formal titles.
"I'm Susan," a bubbly voice called him from his reverie, "And don't mind Weaver. She gets that way."
John smiled.
"They didn't tell me the new attending was so cute," Susan said with a grin and John smiled back.
---
It was noon and John had just punched out for a twenty minute lunch break. He glanced around wondering what to do with himself. Feeling lost again, he headed toward the lounge.
His first morning hadn't been bad. County was a lot busier than New York had ever been, but aside from that it had been okay. The people were friendly enough and Susan had been kind enough to take him through the morning under her wing. She was pleasant and bubbly and talked constantly about her husband and small son.
John hadn't mentioned his children. He didn't want the awkward questions that came with explaining how he had lost his wife.
He pulled open the lounge door to the sound of someone speaking harshly.
"Maggie, no. I don't care what he said, don't come down here. No. No, I'll be back later tonight. If you come down here, I'll…" He watched curiously as Abby flung the phone down on the cradle again and slumped into the couch.
He considered re-exiting the room, but, as he knew of nowhere else to go, decided to stay. He tried to act as though he hadn't witnessed the telephone brawl, but it was obvious that Abby was embarrassed.
"Sorry about that," she muttered, "Family stuff, you know."
He nodded sympathetically, awkwardly. He felt dumb just standing there.
"Yeah," he said, slapping his hands on the thighs of his slacks. "Stuff happens."
She nodded into her hands and brushed her fingers through her hair. The room was silent for a few awkward seconds.
"Well, that was embarrassing," she said finally. "Sorry you had to see the darker side of Abby on your first day here." She tried to lighten the situation with a grin, but it looked more like a grimace.
"Kids?" he asked finally, pulling up a chair. Why not? He decided.
"Worse," she sighed, "Mothers."
"Ah," he nodded wisely, "I know what you mean. I've been staying at my parents' house for the past few days. For a while I considered starting work early just to be rid of her."
Abby smiled and then eyed him strangely.
"Bit old to be living back at home, John," she said with a wink.
"Yeah, well," he grinned back. Surprisingly, he was actually enjoying her light taunting. "Just moved back from New York. Trying to get myself back on my feet, you know."
She nodded.
"So, how was your first morning at glorious County?"
He chuckled, "Busier than I anticipated," he admitted, "And I don't know where the cafeteria is."
Abby threw her head back and laughed at loud. He had to grin at her laugh. It was bubbly and fun and just… funny.
"Cafeteria food here sucks. I'm off for another fifteen minutes; I'll take to the god-awful-but-much-better-than-the-cafeteria place across the street. You'll thank me for it." She pulled herself off the couch and headed toward the door of the lounge. John followed suit.