John Carter walked the halls of County General hospital with an air of farmiliarty. This place was practically his home afterall. It was a funny thought that most of the major events of his recent past occured in this very hospital. He met her here. He said goodbye to her here. His son was born and died here. He came here to hide when no place else felt right. It was probably the only thing that remained the same in his life, well that and her.
Her, Abigail Lockhart- Abby to most. Great nurse, even better doctor. Kind, sweet, gentle and damn stubborn. She just wouldn't give up anything. Even when they wern't togther she was always there, steadfast by his side. Never flinching at the chaos of their relationship. Sometimes it made him wonder, what did he ever do to deserve her? Deserve her friendship, her kindness, her companionship... her love. She loved him, or at least had. Until he went and blew any chance he had at a future with her.
He gave it all up. Stole away from Chicago and the life he knew to Africa where he spent god-knows how long working back-breaking shifts trying to forget her. And do you want to know why? Because he thought he didn't deserve her. She was too good. An angel. The closest thing he'd ever seen to perfection. And he'd had her, but he let her slip away...
(-----)
The alarm clock blared at a bizar hour that night. Screaming some country-western station that always made her get up in time for her shift. But tonight for some reason the damn clock was sending up a fuss for no appearent reason. She could have hurt someone but instead she hit the alarm clock with a well-aimed blow, sending the defence-less object on a disastrous trip into the floor. Upon making impact the clock shattered into about 62 pieces. And it being 1:34am Abby had no incentive to get up and restore order to the room. Instead she rolled over, pulling the covers over her head, and went back to sleep with one person on her mind- him.
"Lockhart, your late!"
What
a f fantastic day already! She had woken up late thanks to her
late night encounter with her alarm clock. To add to that her coffe
maker was dying a very slow, very painful death. Leaving her with
some indescernable brown-ish sludge instead of her coffee. So now-
without coffee, a proper breakfast, enough sleep or a very good mood-
Abigail Lockhart flew into the ER with about as much forgivness as an
errant missile.
"Morning Abby!" Well wasn't he cheerful
this morning? But Abby had no time to contemplate this, she was a
woman on a mission.
"Good f morning, Carter!" she said as flew past him. Sailing into the doctor's lounge she converged on the coffee maker like a starved buzzard, she finaly emited a contented sigh.
