Well hello again!! I know you all probably hate me because the last time I updated was so so long ago, but I am back with a new chapter and I want to thank everybody that kept reviewing and asking where I have been! It took me forever to write this because I just felt that every draft I wrote was not good enough. So here it is . . . the next chapter of After the Rain. Because it has been so long, I do recomend that you read the last chapter again before you start this one. This chapter takes place a week after the last and this one is Carters POV. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

(And also, I am working on the next chapter of The Lonely Hearts Club, but that might take a while. Let me know if you are still interested in my continueing that story)


Last night it rained for the first time this season after the weather has been especially warm coming off of the summer months. The temperatures have been staying pretty high as we move into the fall season but today's weather was the first indication for the wet and icy season we can look forward to. After the first rain the street is slick with oils that have been waiting to surface and wash away, the pavement shining like silver dust has fallen from the heavens. I walk across the street and jump over a few puddles, reminding myself that I love this time of year, when it has just gotten hot enough to make me miss the cold that we usually dread, when we can finally see our breaths again in the chilly night air. I'm sure that in a couple weeks I'll regret wishing for the rain, but for now anyway I think the darker climate would better suit my moods.

It's been almost a week since I left Abbys house after she threw me out. I'm not sure what I was thinking or what came over me in that instant when I found myself holding onto her too tight. What I do know is that she let herself respond to me, just for a moment, we both let ourselves travel back to a time to when our love making was passionate and intimate, gentle and full of emotion. It was the best thing that I have felt in a long time, of course until she threw me out.

I knew that that would happen. I knew that if I tried to get too close to her she would push me away and she did exactly that, she pushed me out of her bed and out of her life. Now it feels like that night was months ago. I feel like it's been forever, although it has only been a week, I feel like I haven't touched her, I haven't felt her close to me in ages. Everyday that I go without being close to her I begin to crave her more. I begin to think about what could have been and why things went so sour. I never knew that being without her would make me want her more. I thought that if we ended our cycle I could just move on and my need for her would dissipate, but everyday that goes by it hurts even more to not feel her.

Heading towards the hospital, I spot her figure in the distance. She's standing in the ambulance bay smoking a cigarette and letting the wind blow through her hair, looking the other way out towards the river, no clue that I am watching her as I approach the entrance. Brushing past her, I do everything I can to get her to look my way, anything I can to just get her to lift a brow at me. But I can't catch her attention; she's transfixed in one of those Abby stares, that intense state when you can tell that she's working something out in her head. She looks beautiful, her long blond locks flowing in the wind, her ruby red lips exhaling long icy lines of smoke into the crisp air. I stop and turn around at the other side of the doors to look out at her, and I wonder if there is any chance that she's thinking about me. Could she be thinking about the same things that I am; how it felt good to fell the passion that we once had; how for one instant she felt safe in my embrace again? Is it possible that she is mulling over the steps that we could possibly take to get this relationship back?

She throws her cigarette to the ground and steps over it lightly before she turns around quickly and catches me watching her. I stand there for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move as her gaze burns into mine. She digs her hands back into her pockets and lowers her head a little, looking up at me as she walks back toward the hospital. She pushes the door open and steps by me, smiling shyly at me as if I am someone that she has never met.

"Hi" I blurt it out like it is the first word I have ever spoken to her and somehow I feel like it is. Probably because I haven't talked to her this whole week, but have longed to hear her voice since she kicked me out of her bedroom that night.

"Hey" She replies calmly, slipping her arms out of her jacket and throwing it over her shoulder. I don't know what to say to her and suddenly I find myself shy. I've been wanting to talk to her so badly but I haven't thought of anything significant to say. There isn't really anything to say to her - hmm . .. Sorry for trying to make love to you when we were only supposed to be using each other for sweaty sex? Sorry for feeling emotions when I wasn't allowed to?

She walks past me and I turn on her heel, searching for words, anything at all to get her to acknowledge me again. "Abby?"

She turns around swiftly, her blond locks fanning out in the air; I think she's surprised that I am calling her back to me.

"Are you going to the meeting at seven?"

"I don't know . . . If I get off in time," She shakes her head "Maybe"

I shake my head too. "Well, um . . . maybe I'll uh . . ." I stop mid sentence, motioning my hands to finish it for me. She lifts her brow and smiles politely before moving past me a little uncomfortably. Why is it that I never know what to say?! Why couldn't I just have thought of something witty, or something funny to make her laugh? I'm such an idiot!


I walk into the meeting and immediately I am scanning the crowd, desperate to find Abby among the sea of addicts. After searching the room for her the speaker walks up to the podium and I take a seat in the back next to an empty chair, hoping that if Abby comes late, she'll sit in the space that I have saved. The speaker starts going over the 12 steps, the same ones that I know by heart after four years of hearing them way too often. On step nine I start to zone out, my thoughts turning to the exact things that you aren't supposed to think about during these meetings, work and the foundation, Kem and my son, my grandparents, Abby.

I wish that these meetings made it all go away, everything that drives us all to these addictions, and not just the addictions themselves. You can take away the substance at any time and curb a craving to get near it, surely I have proven that. But you can never get rid of the reason you that you seek it out. They will always be there, those little pin points in the back of your head that push you to give in to your temptation. Lately they are everywhere I look and down every pathway that I take, a different day and a different excuse waiting to push me into using again.

The door creaks open and I turn around quickly in my chair to watch as a few stragglers walk into the meeting on step 11. Turning back around, I sigh heavily, let down that she hasn't made it and I wouldn't expect her now because she usually wouldn't come late. Abby would just catch the next meeting, and I can't help but feel guilty that the real reason I am here tonight was to see her and not to work on my sobriety. The door creaks open again and I tell myself that I will only look over my shoulder this one last time, after this I will forget about the fact that every time I hear the door open it could be her. . . but there she is. . .arriving on step 12, her cheeks flushed with hurry as she scans the room for a seat. I smile shyly at her as she catches my eye, noticing the empty seat next to me. She makes her way over to me and for a moment I am glad that she is late. There is no pressure to start a conversation; all this hello requires is a smile and a nod.

An hour later the meeting is halfway through and the second speaker has just started telling us his story. I look up from my day dreaming when his story starts to interest me; it's almost like mine. His pregnant wife delivered a still born baby and left him shortly after, unable to deal with the grief of loosing a child. I sit in my chair and listen intently at what this man is saying, the heartbreak in his voice palpating the thickness in the air that somehow only I can sense. I look down at my hands and squeeze them closed, an itch in the back of my throat starting to bring a little moisture to my eyes. Opening my eyes, I notice that my hands have started to quiver in my lap and I simply can't control them until I feel a hand over mine, steadying the vibrating. I look over to Abby and she gives me a sympathetic and shy half smile, squeezing my hand in hers as I silently thank her for the contact. And just like that, with the simple touch of her hand, she has taken away the shakes and left me with a warm and comforting feeling to replace them. I squeeze her hand back and look up at her, watching her listen to the speaker until she notices my gaze burning into her. She then turns her attention towards me and quickly looks down at our intertwined hands and then back up into my eyes with an uncomfortable stare. It's almost as if she forgot for a moment that she was upset with me and I can tell that there is a war going on in her head. She wants to comfort me because she feels my sadness, but she's afraid that any closeness will lead us back to one of our bedrooms. And I know her too well; she's still upset with me about our last encounter and I'm pretty sure that she doesn't want to have another one.

"I'm sorry" I whisper it into the air between us, the words coming out of my mouth before I can think about what I am saying. This isn't exactly the right time to apologize for my behavior but I can't stand the look I see in her face, the doubt that I know she is feeling for holding my hand in hers. I can't stand being close to her and knowing that she's selflessly suffering through it for my benefit. She runs her thumb over my finger and nods her head lightly with a sad smile playing on her lips, a sweet expression that lets me know that somehow everything will be okay; maybe not today, but someday. Moments later, her eyes return to the speaker to listen to the end of his story, but she leaves her hand in mine, squeezing it every so often until the meeting is over an hour later.

"Do you uh, want to get a cup of coffee or something?"

I lightly tap Abby on the arm as she gets up to leave and she turns around, looking at me in speculation, I think wondering what my motives are for the evening. It's weird though because I'm not seeking sex from her tonight, tonight I want her company and her friendship more than anything physical. I raise my brow at her and grab her hand in mine, caulking my head, asking her to answer me but pulling her towards the door. She rolls her eyes and lets me take her hand to lead her through the parking lot out to the coffee cart on the corner.

As we walk down the street, coffee cups in hand, I notice that it has rained again while we were in our meeting. The streets are slick with water and they are bare, the pouring rain having scared everyone back into their safe homes. It's a quiet and peaceful night and all I can seem to hear is the sound of our feet hitting the floor as we walk down the moonlight pavement.

"Where are we going?" Her voice breaks me out of my trance like state, it's the first thing that she has said to me since this morning, and even though the question wasn't a great starter for conversation, I am glad that her silence has been broken.

"My new place is on the next street" I motion in the direction that we are heading and she stops in the middle of our path and looks down at the street, suddenly uncomfortable and looking like she is about to start running in the other direction.

"Its late . . . I should probably head home" She motions her head in the other direction and I walk back to her and grab her hand gently.

"We're not going there for that. I have something else in mind."

She gives me a skeptical look and I just smile at her, yanking her hand to get her to continue following me down the street. "Come on, trust me"


We enter the newly furnished home and Abbys eyes dart around the living room, taking in the new place. I sense that she's a bit uncomfortable and for a moment I almost feel bad about bringing her here. This is a place that I shared with another woman, a woman that as far as she knows, I still haven't gotten over and I know that it'll be a long while until she believes otherwise. I shrug it off for now and walk into the house, motioning for her to follow me through the entrance. She takes her time and slips her jacket off before sticking her hands in her pockets and walking into the den behind me. Looking back at her, I notice that she's paying close attention to her surroundings and I can't help but wonder if she is looking for signs of the old John Cater. I wish he was here.

She follows me around the coffee table and takes a seat on the other side of the couch as she looks around the living room and runs her hand over the new sofa cushions. She looks confused for a moment and then looks over to me with a shrug of her shoulders and a questioning stare.

"So why did you bring me here."

"I just wanted to show you the place . . . and talk to you"

"What do you want to talk about?" She's calm and quiet, almost dazed, but so sweet and innocent looking and I am doing everything I can to resist reaching out and touching her.

"I don't know . . . anything . . . I just want to be your friend again. . . I feel like we don't remember how to do this anymore." I motion my hand between her and me and she nods her head because she probably knows that I'm right. We have forgotten how to be friends. I need her to know that I still want that and I miss it terribly. I miss it more than anything else that has been taken away from me. I move down the couch to close the large distance between us, and for the first time this evening there is no doubt in her expression. I look up at her and hesitate for a moment, thinking about the way things used to be. "Remember when it was so easy . . . sitting at docs after a shift, or drinking coffee by the river" She looks up at me and smiles sadly before covering her hand with mine and hesitating a moment before she speaks.

"Well I think I remember how to do this" I glance down at her hand and I flip it over to fold it into mine and run my fingers over her knuckles. She smiles beautifully, and right in this very moment I know that she is sincere; I know that she has forgiven me for my stupid actions. I smile back at her and look around the room feeling that I need to lighten the mood a little bit. I motion my hands out to the living room before getting up from the couch and turning around to face her.

"So what do you think?"

She looks around the den and then back at me with a smile. "I think the walls would look better if they were all one color"

I lean down to the floor to pick up a paint brush and toss it her way. "Well good thing you're still in your scrubs"

She catches it in her hands and looks from me to the wall with wide eyes. I think I see relief in her face though, she really knows now that I didn't bring her here to get her into my bed. I brought her here because I want to be her friend. It's hard to resist the romantic feelings I have for her, but if I ever want to be close to her again, I know that we have to start with friendship. That's where our intimacy always came from, the years of being there for each other as friends, the years of bonding over coffee and pie at Mcgoos and walking down the river after our shifts.

I open a jug of fresh ivory paint and throw her a mischievous grin. Abby looks at me and laughs, kneeling down to the ground to dip her brush into the tin and I know that this is how we will start over, by painting the walls.