POCKET CHANGE 3: Hide and Seek
by Sharon R.

Chapter Twelve

A lone figure under the street light cast a shadow across the hood of the small white car, making Abby leery at first to cross the street in the dark. "I assume you're not here to share that with me," she said as she stepped up on the curb in front of Carter.

He finished his second beer and carefully placed the empty brown bottle next to the other one on top of the roof of the sports car. "Nope. Wouldn't think of jeopardizing your sobriety."

"What about yours?"

"Mine is contingent on the availability and want mostly for a needle and syringe, preferably filled with a narcotic, which I am not currently craving," Carter spit back. "And despite what the doubters around here think, with the exception of prescribed antidepressants that are working oh so well, I haven't taken so much as an aspirin since I puked up that Vicodin three years ago." He took another swig before adding for his own benefit under his breath, "nothing voluntarily at least." He didn't count that entire mess in Pakwach after the tree incident, although it was a bit of a wagon fall."

Abby cringed her brow and sighed trying not to look him in the eye. "Beer's not part of the program."

"Neither is Tequila, but that hasn't stopped you in the past."

"That was a while ago, Carter. Come on, I got the snot kicked out of me by an abuser."

"You ought to see the guy that kicked the snot out of me. Better yet, it's too bad you couldn't have met him. I think you both had childhood attachment issues."

"Did you come here to point out my inadequacies?"

"Haven't even started yet."

Abby stifled a disgusted chuckle and rolled her eyes as she walked away from Carter towards her front stoop. "I'm not - I am not going there."

"You never could." His words hit hard, just like he meant them to. Twisting the cap from his third beer, he successfully tossed it into the metal trash can attached to the light post.

Clink.

"Is this how you grieve? Huh?" she asked whipping around and stepping back into his face.

"I don't know. You tell me. Oh, wait," he declared, his arms outstretched as though making a grand announcement, "never mind. You wouldn't know, because when I needed you most when my grandmother died, my grief took a backseat to your brother's temper tantrum." He didn't even taste the beer anymore as he opened his throat and poured a good third of the bottle down.

"When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself? And why bring up my past?"

Carter threw her a smug smirk as he put the bottle to his lips again. "It's all about poor Abby, isn't it?"

"I don't know what this is all about. You came here, remember?" Finally she saw the look of defeat in Carter's face as he nodded in agreement and let her have the final word. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you learned how to be a mean drunk from Luka."

"I'm not drunk."

"Close enough," she gave back as she took the empty bottles and threw them in the trash can. "How about we get rid of the others as well."

"How about you mind your own business." Tossing the third empty bottle into the trash can, crash, Carter fished around his pocket for his car keys.

"Do not get behind the wheel of that car," Abby ordered putting her hand on his arm.

He liked the feel of her touching him - certainly didn't object - and did nothing to prevent her from gently pulling him away from the car.

"Come on, it's beginning to rain," she said with the caring Abby voice he missed - the one that sucked him in years ago. "Leave the beer. It'll keep."

Carter couldn't help stare at her eyelashes as the repelled mist eventually beaded up into a drop large enough for gravity and a blink to force it to her cheek below. As the mist evolved into a steady rain, Abby tugged on his arm and nodded a note of encouragement his way.

"The bed squeaks," Luka complained as springs under the mattress gave way entirely too much. "It's lumpy." He didn't even need to point out excessive squeaking it made as he moved even the slightest.

"Maybe that was their secret to a long marriage." The mountain air had been refreshing, but Sam had to close the window as the night time temperatures plummeted.

"Can't we push the beds together?" Luka asked motioning helplessly with his hands.

"Luka! The kids… you know, this was my grandparent's house…"

Luka sidled over to Sam's side of the bedroom and playfully kissed her neck before letting his fingers inch up her back inside her shirt. He really only intended to wrap his arms around her, to smell her hair, to be held himself, but…

"Ah, Luka…"

"Mm hmm…"

"No, I mean… ah..."

"Shhh…," he giggled, "this is not about talking…"

Sam cleared her throat to get his attention as she pushed his hands from her. "Hi sweetheart," she said, directing her attention to the doorway, "what can we do for you?"

"Can't sleep," Amanda announced. "I miss my mom and dad... and my grandma."

Sam walked over and put her arm around Amanda's shoulder trying to comfort her. "I know you do, and I know it's hard to be with us in such a strange place." Looking at Luka, fishing for him to help her out, Sam was dismayed by his seeming lack of interest as he backed away.

"Did my mom ever talk about me?" Amanda asked Luka, her eyes unapologetically and innocently focused on his own dark eyes.

"Sure," he almost nervously answered. "She showed me a picture of you that she kept in a book." Luka pushed himself away from the wall he had leaned against and walked towards the doorway. "I'll, ah, leave you two alone. Get a glass of water."

"Is he mad at me?"

"No, no Amanda. Luka doesn't talk much about Africa."

"My dad says it's the most beautiful place on earth."

"I've seen pictures. I'm sure he's right." Sam sat on the bed and gave it a pat inviting Amanda to join her. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"After my mom died. He said that he was going to talk to his bosses about changing jobs and then write a book," the little girl said as she absent mindedly played with her necklace. "And then he said he would let my Grandma retire and we would build a great big house of our own someplace and live together forever."

Sam could tell that Amanda believed what she had been told and hung on to that dream. "That sounds like a good plan."

"Does he know where we are so he can find us? Because we can usually only stay at a safe house for two or three days before we have to move on."

Sam struggled with how she should talk about Amanda's father. "I'm sure if he needed to find us he could."

"He's the best damn RDO in the agency," she exclaimed, obviously repeating what he had said.

Sam was both amused and amazed at the girl's worldly flair.

"That's a Regional Directorate of Operations," Amanda explained without even asking if Sam knew what it was.

"What's that you have there?" Sam asked, pointing to the necklace.

"My friend Sean gave it to me."

"Oh, it's a claddagh."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's Irish."

"How do you know?"

"Because a little part of me is Irish. At least my ancestors came over from Ireland and settled right here in Oswegatchie because it looked so much like their homeland." And that's about all Sam knew about her ancestry. She had heard that same story of the immigration from Ireland a hundred times.

"My Grandpa Reilly is from Ireland. I never knew him. What's Ireland like?"

"I don't know. I've never been there. I only know the story of them coming here about a hundred and fifty years ago," Sam explained. "But I do know the story of the claddagh. Wanna hear it?"

Amanda nodded.

"You see in the sixteen hundreds a man named Richard Joyce from Ireland was kidnapped by pirates while traveling on the high seas and then forced to learn the trade of a goldsmith." Sam added a little flair to the story as though she were reading from a great book. "Many years later when he returned to Ireland, Richard found the woman that he had loved when he was younger. She had waited all those years for him, never forgetting her love for him and had been faithful to him. Richard made a ring for her that looked just like this and named it after the town of Claddagh in County Galway." Sam held the charm in her fingers. "Each of these things means something. See, the two hands represent their friendship, the crown represents their forever loyalty, and of course the heart symbolizes their undying love. So the claddagh means love, friendship and loyalty."

"I'm too young to be in love with Sean," she said with a giddy laugh. "But I can be his forever friend, just like he said. And loyal, of course."

Sam caught sight of Luka standing in the doorway. The size of the house contributed to a lot of unintentional eves dropping over the years. "That was real nice of him to give that to you," she said as she gave Luka an annoyed look. "How about you try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll find something fun to do."

"I don't quite know what to do with that Alex," Amanda explained, her face harboring a typical feminine seriousness. "He's just a boy and he doesn't want to talk about important stuff."

"I know what you mean." Sam gave the girl a hug while keeping her eyes trained on Luka. "Give him a chance. He may just surprise you."

"Okay. I'll try," she sighed with heaviness. "Goodnight."

"Sleep well," Sam called out.

Amanda paused at the doorway and waved a crooked finger at Luka to bend over. Giving him a hug around the neck and then a soft kiss on the cheek, Amanda wished him a goodnight before padding down the short hallway to the room she shared with Alex, an antique dressing partition between the beds.

"I didn't know you had Irish blood." Luka said as he came back in the room.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other, I guess."

Luka shrugged his shoulders and avoided the gist of Sam's fishing expedition.

"Why do you do that?" Sam asked Luka as she turned down the covers of her bed.

"Do what?"

"Distance yourself from her?"

"I wanted a drink of water."

"Oh please." Sam paused until she had closed the bedroom door. "Every time she starts a conversation with you, you conveniently find something else to do."

"I'm not avoiding her -"

"- That's exactly what you're doing."

"She's a girl. You have more in common with her -"

"-She's a child, Luka. And you know her father," Sam said with her voice raised in a whisper, "and slept with her mother."

"Is that what this is about? What I did with Colleen?"

Sam smacked her head with the palm of her hand with frustration. "God, Luka. I am talking about a little girl who desperately wants to get to know you. She's not dumb and certainly not immature. She knows who you were to her mother before she died."

Luka dipped his head in defeat, his hands on his hips. "That's where it gets complicated," he said under his breath. "I'm going to try and get some sleep."

Sam sat on her own bed several feet from Luka. "I'm sorry about Sean. And I didn't mean to start a fight." Luka didn't answer her, just reached over and turned the switch on the antique glass hurricane lamp darkening the room. "Luka, what happened to Sean?"

He didn't answer right away, turning on his side away from Sam. "Multiple GSW," he explained clinically out of habit, "in his hotel room."

"He was robbed?"

"No. We think it was the people looking for Amanda."

"Luka, are we safe?"

"As far as I know. Yes. Don't worry. Nobody knows where we are."

(Brief song lyrics previously attributed deleted as per site administrators. For complete story go to LUKAFIC)

"I don't need sobering up," Carter snipped as he came out of the bathroom zipping up his pants. Abby put the pot of coffee on the kitchen table with two mugs. "Why is it that addicts can't have a beer, but they're encouraged to pump stimulants into their system as an alternative?"

"Maybe it's a form of denial, or lesser of evils, I don't know." Abby put the sugar bowl back on the counter when Carter sat down on the sofa avoiding the kitchen altogether. "No coffee?"

"Kind of works against the need for sleep issue."

Abby parked herself next to Carter, letting him direct the conversation, if there was going to be one.

"I don't know why I'm here," he sighed as he let his head fall onto the back of the sofa. "I've gotta get back to Bridget."

"Oh," Abby managed, not sure she wanted to be the third wheel to a relationship she didn't even know existed. "Um… she's expecting you?"

"Unfortunately. She's really sweet, but she just doesn't leave me alone. She was all over me this morning." He had stared at that ceiling before and realized the cracks hadn't moved. "I suppose the security guards at the house can deal with her."

"Ah… you have security now?"

"Long story, the short ending being that Dumb and Dumber get paid huge money to take care of Bridget's needs while I wallow in self pity."

"Excuse me?" Abby raised her eyebrows, her brain bordering on speechless.

"Giving her a bath is not my strong suit. She loves playing around but I can't stand being in there with her."

"Okay, I'm not sure I should be hearing this."

"I just can't get past the smell." Carter rubbed his eyes and sat up, giving his attention back to Abby whose mouth remained open, her sense of uncomfortable confusion ill contained. "What?"

"I… Okay, I know we shared something at one time, but I don't know any women who let their ex-boyfriends share intimate details of their, um… current love life."

"My current…?" Carter flung his head onto the back of the sofa again and vigorously rubbed his eyes, all the while his gut shaking with silent laughter. "You never met Bridget?"

"John, this isn't funny," she complained. "I hope that when we were together you had enough decency to keep the private things, well, private."

Carter stamped his foot on the floor as the laughter finally couldn't be contained any more. "Bridget's…" He tried to hold in his roaring by crossing his arms over his middle, but failed miserably. "Bridget's… a dog. A real… dog."

Abby whacked him good on his side quite intent on teaching him a lesson. "That's uncalled for, don't you think?"

"Ahhh!" Carter yelped. The slap felt more like a blow as she made contact with the side which had lumbered to the ground the night before at the taser party. "No. And stop hitting me. She is a dog. D-O-G. You know, four legs, attracts fleas?"

Abby's hands flew to her mouth not sure if she should laugh out loud at Carter, at herself or at all. In the end it didn't matter as they both nearly fell on the floor with gut wrenching howls.

"Oh my God," Abby managed, "I 'bout peed my pants."

Carter's eyes were red from now dealing with a wide range of emotions in such a short period of time with little or no sleep. "You really thought…?" As he turned sideways on the sofa to face her, Abby reached up and gently wiped away the tear that had escaped from the uncontrollable laughter.

"Uh-huh. You're quite convincing." Her hand remained as she cupped his tired cheek, but only long enough for Carter to reach up and place his hand on top of hers before regaining his composure and gently placing both of their hands on his knee.

I hate to see you fall back," Abby finally said. "I know you're hurting, but there are other ways."

"I don't expect you to understand. I'm not sure if I do."

"Do you want to talk about what's been haunting you? 'Cause I know you, John Carter, and you're suppressing an awful lot of hurt."

"Don't…," he started, "… just don't be clinical. Please."

"Is this about us? We never really resolved -"

"- No." Maybe he did go there to unload but Carter felt locked up. Thoughts disorganized yet neatly arranged into piles of sadness, grief, anger and fear. "I can't."

Abby leaned forward and gave him a hug - held onto him softly as he let himself barely open up - not enough to talk - but just enough for his chest to tighten, his eyes well and, with a sigh, tears of frustration and confusion to silently streak down his face. Pulling back, Abby held his face with both hands, letting the tears trickle over her thumbs as she leaned in and placed her mouth on his.

It's not like he didn't want to reciprocate. It had been so long since Carter had been held like that, since he had been kissed, and Abby's - for a moment - gave him a 'coming home' feeling. So he did. He leaned into her, his hands acting as though they were on automatic pilot working on virtual memory first on her waist, then further north to her breasts which he deduced were not confined to a bra. They must have taken a breath some time, maybe discovered circular breathing, but their lips remained on each other's while their tongues explored the not so new places. The problem, Carter figured out, was that he wasn't even hard. Back when this was almost a daily or nightly activity with them, he wouldn't have gotten past the first kiss without raising the school colors. Now his mind wandered, and blood flow was obviously not interested in that 'vital' organ.

"I can't," he nervously got out as he pulled away. "I'm sorry, it's not the same." Carter abruptly stood up to put distance between him and Abby. "Just like with Colleen," he murmured as he paced, "after Todd…"

"What? Who?"

"I'm not the same. Abby, we can't fix what isn't meant to be."

"Why did you come here then?-"

" - I don't know, but I have to go -"

" - John please. You shouldn't drive. You shouldn't be alone." Grabbing his elbow when he got close enough, she pleaded with him. "You can sleep here - on the sofa."

"No." Roughly pulling his arm from her, Carter grabbed his coat he had put on the back of a kitchen chair. "No… it's no picnic being around me while I'm sleeping… or attempting to sleep."

"So, you going to go finish those beers?"

"Maybe."

"Your friend would say 'circling the river?"

"It's 'circling the Shannon', and it's really…" Carter waved his hand to stop the conversation and walked to the door, standing with the door held open hesitating to say anything further. "I'm sorry about this. I just can't talk to you about Sean and Joseph… Todd." Briskly charging out the door, Carter threw his arms in the air for effect. "What the hell, Colleen too."

He was quick to go down the steps, but Abby followed. "John, please don't drive all the way home."

"I'm not drunk Abby.

"Yet, you mean."

"If it will make you feel better, I'll sack out in the on-call room at the hospital."

Carter circled the hospital four times before a parking spot opened up on the street around the corner. The last thing he needed was to have the Jag towed by security or worse, an ambulance plow into it. The fact that a good Irish pub happened to be just a few steps away certainly didn't hurt - and those few numbing shots of his long lost friend, Johnny Walker, would hurt - sooner rather than later. But he didn't care. He eventually hoofed it to the ER and parked himself on the bench with his remaining three beers. Far enough from the doors and lights to be left alone, close enough that he could steal a few hours sleep inside before his shift started in the morning. Best of all, it was eerily quiet. Calm before the storm, he surmised as he looked at his watch. Not quite eleven o'clock. Bars were just getting warmed up. Stupid people not quite drunk enough to get in trouble.

"You're wet." Susan stood by him in the shadows, her lab coat pulled tight by her arms crossed in front of her to keep out the chill.

"It rained." Carter quickly replaced the empty Killians with a new one, chucking the cap in the distance, his body and being now numb.

"You sure you should be out here doing this?"

"You telling me I should drive home? 'Cause the cops out that way aren't too fond of me right now."

"Why don't I call Chuck and have him come take you home?"

"You are interrupting a perfectly good Irish Wake. Either join me or find some students to harass."

"Hmm. It's just not the same without you and your practical jokes. Besides I'm off in an hour. Don't want to start something I can't finish." Susan's small talk didn't do much for the atmosphere.

"Abby called you, didn't she."

"Yeah, she's worried."

"There's a first."

Susan found a dry spot on the bench and sat next to Carter. "She really cares. I think you know that."

"After tonight I just hope she doesn't think that I have intentions of…, you know…"

"Yeah, she told me about that too. I don't think you have to worry."

"You girls share everything, don't you."

"You ought to try it sometime."

"I can't even talk to Luka about it," he mumbled into his bottle.

"About what?"

"Nothing."

"Are you taking your meds, Carter?" The glassy eyes and sour look he gave her between swallows, gave her second thoughts about prying. "Seeing DeRaad? Meetings?" Still, he didn't answer her. "Look, it's not like I'm putting a gun to your head…"

Carter shot her a definite disgusted look. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

A beeping from Carter's watch broke the tension and prompted him to pull his two vials of meds from his pocket. "Just in time, Susan." He took one pill from each vial, then stopped and took just one more of the smaller ones. "See? One for depression. Gee what a miracle drug - not…"

"It takes time, a couple weeks, to build up a steady state in your blood stream, you know that."

"And for good measure, not just one, but two sleeping pills. Maybe if I take enough, Jules and Colleen can get it on in my shitty dreams. Now that would be something." His sarcasm was on a high.

"Who are these people…? Carter, please. You can't be drinking a six-pack and taking these meds."

"I still have one to go. And Dr. Shrink-O-Matic only gave me a five day supply, remember? I'd have to take a handful to do myself in. See, that's a perk of being both a doctor and an addict. I know just how far I can go before I bottom out with a GCS of 3." He finally pulled himself away from self absorption long enough to look at Susan's blank face. "Don't worry. I have no desire to self destruct."

"I'd say you're on the right path."

Taking Susan's hand in his, Carter finally backed down. "I just have to get through this my own way. And I will."

"You don't have to do it alone."

Carter was relaxed just enough to let the evil secrets make a suggestive appearance. "See, that's where you're wrong. Susan, what Luka and I saw… got involved in… were a part of… changed our lives. And even if we were at liberty to talk about it to anyone but each other, it wouldn't fix what happened."

"I thought this last trip to Uganda was a positive thing. You set up that camp, got lots of recognition, even a big magazine layout by someone famous."

"Yeah. Well," Carter cocked his head and stretched his neck muscles, "that someone famous just wasn't all that special. Caused more pain and death than…" His voice trailed off.

"John?"

Carter cleared his voice and took a deep breath as he refocused. "The people there… I wish you could meet them. Toomay and her kids, Mbuto, Othiamba, Sera - all the Congolese refugees and Ugandans that we worked with - they are amazing. You know when I first got to the Congo, the poverty and primitive living conditions in many of the areas shocked me. I was a deer in headlights. Then with all the different factions of rebels - the Mai-Mais, Rwandans leftover from their own failed coup, down to the government soldiers - I was crawling out of my skin. But the Congolese who were living this terror found time to laugh and play, to bring joy to others at their own expense. They fed us when food was scarce. They risked their lives for strangers because it was the right thing to do."

"See, it sounds like a great experience until, you know…"

"Yeah. It's amazing how the snakes that don't belong in that part of the world are the ones who show up and cause so many problems." Carter put his empty fifth bottle down and reached for the last one, not quick enough for Susan who whipped it away.

"Nope, that's enough. You are going to pull yourself together and walk a straight line through the ER to Exam-2. It's superbly quiet tonight."

He wasn't going to argue and tucked his shirt back in trying to make some semblance of his appearance as they walked into the ER.

"Frank, Dr. Carter is having car trouble and will be spending the night in our guest room."

"Uh-huh. Looks like his car's not the only one having trouble."

As Carter trudged on quickly towards the exam room, Susan veered off with great swiftness and got in the unit clerk's face. "Frank, you know that prostate exam our HMO is requiring of all male subscribers? Well let's just say that should you become rather liberal in your discussions with Dr. Weaver I can easily arrange for Morris to use you as a teaching case with the med students."

Carter made a pit stop in the bathroom and chuckled at Susan as he got to hear her rankle Frank's feathers. As he peed, he started to lose his balance and wavered, the effects of the alcohol and sleep aid kicking in. He put his arm out against the stall wall to steady himself, barely hitting his target. On his way out, he avoided the mirror altogether. The exam room was dark, blinds drawn and it was quiet, just as Susan had said.

"I brought you a couple blankets," Susan said, dropping them at the end of a bed.

"I'm on at eight, have someone get me around seven?"

"I will," Susan said with an outstretched hand, "now hand them over."

He knew exactly what she wanted and hesitated as he put his hand in his pocket and held the vials. "Come on, there are only a few left."

"Humor me."

Carter surrendered his meds and sat on the side of the bed, his back to Susan. "You know what I did tonight?" Her silence was answer enough. "I took my friend's body to the airport where they loaded him like cargo next to crates of candles. I said good-bye to him standing with a bunch of strangers wearing overalls and ear protectors."

Susan took a few steps forward and gently put her hand on his back, her voice gentle. "I'm so sorry, John."

He knew she couldn't see his face still standing in back of him. Thank God, he thought as he wiped the tears and let his head remain resting on his hand as though it would keep the emotions in. "I'm going to have to pay for this night with a month of two-a-day meetings, aren't I?" he said as though the lame attempt of humor would cancel out the sorrow.

"Try and get some sleep."

Lyrics: Half a World Away
Music by Rolf Lovland; lyrics by Brendan Graham
Secret Garden, CD "Earth Songs"