Title: An Icy Wind
Spoilers: Through 12.10 All About Christmas Eve
Note: This was my entry for the 2005 C&P exchange. I know it's a little late to be posting Christmas stories, but...enjoy anyway!
She likes the way the blistering cold turns her skin raw. It's a cleansing, she thinks, that scrubs off the supposed gaiety associated with warmer times of the year. The wind carries tiny particles of ice that scrape her exposed fingers; this pain seems strangely appropriate. Over the years, she's begun to cherish this season, and its harsh power to strip away happy pretenses.
It has been during winter that most of her major life crises have occurred. The snow always brought Maggie's heaviest depressions, and it was fifteen degrees below zero the last day that Abby saw her father. Besides, winter means Thanksgiving and Christmas and her birthday, and it has always been at these times that Abby most wishes for a normal life, and is most aware that hers isn't.
Earlier today, there was a five car pile-up on the interstate. Now the custodian is busily scrubbing the last few spots of blood from the trauma room tile, and the rest of the staff is exhausted. When Luka approaches, Abby is sitting on a bench in the ambulance bay, picking at a hangnail as she awaits the lab results on her drunken Santa.
She rips a particularly large section of dead skin from her finger as he tells her she did a good job saving a six-year-old who was in the pileup. Abby's not sure he would have commended her if she were anyone else—she misdiagnosed a splenic laceration until too late, and now surgeons are attempting to reverse the affects of sepsis.
Still, she thanks him with a smile, and gives him her hand to clasp. Luka hesitates in taking it as he examines her bloody nail bed.
"Worried about something?" he asks. Abby says no, because suddenly she's not sure if she's worried or not. This realization strikes her as being a thought she might have had a few years ago, before she considered herself "better." She comments on the weather. Luka nods.
It isn't until she stands on her icy stoop, rummaging for her keys, that Abby allows herself to contemplate why she's felt so amiss today. She's been distracted and withdrawn, relishing her discontent, and for once, she's relieved to have reverted to her former ways. Sometimes the strength it takes to make herself genuinely content and self-aware, and willing to announce her emotions, is more strength than she has yet developed.
Inside her apartment, she gathers the books and papers scattered about the room, straightens the cushions, and swipes a sponge across the grimy spots on the kitchen counter, straightening in spite of herself. Impressions are always important, a kindly neighbor once told her, and in thirty years, Abby's been unable to rid herself of the sentiment.
After making a sandwich (and meticulously replacing the ingredients in their proper locations) Abby settles herself on the wooden seat of a kitchen chair, to eat and to wait. The little red light on the phone that blinks to announce a new voicemail message is all she can look at as she chews.
The message this morning had been brief, just long enough to set her askew for the rest of the day. He'd cleared his throat before speaking, obviously nervous, though no trepidation was evident in his tone as he spoke.
"Abby. It's Carter. I—I'm in Chicago this week. And next week. And I was thinking I could come see you, sometime."
She hasn't seen him in months, but when he's standing in her doorway, he looks the same. Abby wonders if she hasn't changed either, but after a moment she remembers that she's cut her hair, and it's brown again, and she has a few added wrinkles beneath her left eye. Maybe he does too.
"Come in," Abby says, pretending she hasn't lost her voice, and her breath, and her mind all at once. Her reaction is overly extreme, she reminds herself.
"Hi." Carter says. He takes off his coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. She smiles—he's never allowed any skin to be exposed to the cold, so he doesn't know how good it feels to be frozen raw.
"Chicago must seem cold after Africa," Abby comments.
Carter nods. "I also only have two weeks to get a year's worth of use out of my winter layers."
She offers him coffee (he doesn't notice that it's decaf), and as they sit in the living room sipping it, he tells her about the hospital development project he's here to oversee. He's surprised to discover he'd rather be telling her about Kem, and how they've ignored each other to the point that he knows she's in bed with Charles at this moment, and he doesn't care. Mostly he'd like to say how much he wants to be back in Chicago for good. Because frozen pollution feels like home.
She tells him about her residency, and about Dr. Clemente and Eve, and Neela and Gallant, and how Luka's the new chief of staff. She doesn't mention that also, she and Luka are together, and she's pregnant, and maybe she's glad to be. For more than a moment, Abby is taken aback by how much she'd like to tell him.
By the time Carter leaves, his visit has extended to three hours. This is a reasonable amount of time for two friends to spend catching up, but both Abby and Carter are secretly surprised by how reluctant they are to say goodbye. Neither has said what they're actually compelled to say; three hours was only long enough to detail events, without including the emotional side of things.
"Any plans for Christmas?" Abby asks as he dons his coat in preparation to step outside.
"Nope." Carter tells himself he's looking forward to Christmas alone. He tells Abby the same.
"Susan and Chuck are going to come with the baby. You're welcome to join us."
"Maybe I will," Carter says, and she knows this means yes. "I'd love to see them."
On Christmas, Abby's lonely apartment is alive for once. Luka has spent the night, and is in the kitchen in his pajamas, preparing a ham for the oven. The phone rings and it's Maggie, stuck in Minnesota's traditional Christmas blizzard, disappointed that she'll be unable to come. Abby tells Maggie that she's disappointed too, and really, she means it.
Aaron Neville's Christmas album is on the stereo when Susan and Chuck arrive, not because Abby likes it, but because Susan gave it to her two years ago. And maybe Abby sort of likes it now too.
Abby is glad to see Susan (though, curiously, this reunion doesn't take her breath away). Susan drills her on Luka and on Abby's pregnancy, and on Carter's return. Abby finds it refreshing to have a friend who knows everything that's going on in her life. Abby also makes Susan swear to keep the pregnancy from Carter, and she is half convinced that Susan actually will.
By the time Carter arrives, everyone is exhausted from cooking, talking, chasing Cosmo, and from chasing the neighbor's cat who was somehow let in. Carter's presence instantly revives Susan, who is clearly thrilled to see him. Carter notices that Abby also seems refreshed, or at least he hopes so.
Carter catches Luka's eye, and he's surprised to find that Luka is less excited to see him than Susan or Abby; the man's expression is almost a glare. An instant later, Luka's features are forming a grin. During dinner, Carter finds himself enjoying talking about Africa with someone who has been there, and he puts the adverse moment out of his mind for now.
Luka draws closer to Abby throughout the meal and while they open presents. He pats her knees, loops his arm around her shoulders, and caresses her hand with his own. Abby is increasingly aware that she hasn't told Carter anything, really. She fails to overlook Carter's frequent questioning glances. He doesn't miss how awkward she looks as she tries with increasing desperation to pull away from Luka without Luka noticing.
Susan pretends to be unaware, chatting with Cosmo. She sees Abby tell Luka something quietly, and Luka leaves the room.
"Um," Abby tells Carter.
"You didn't say you two were together," Carter smiles, as if it's a joke. He knows this should be lighthearted. For some reason, it's not.
"I didn't say we weren't." Abby is surprised by how defensive she sounds. She is also surprised by her urge to explain everything to Carter, though she knows shouldn't be surprised, since she had the same urge three days ago. New Abby would act on the urge, Abby tells herself. And it's only in the spirit of maintaining a new Abby that she actually decides to say something.
"Look."
Carter looks up from the piece of wrapping paper he's shredding in his lap.
"Can we talk about this tomorrow? Over lunch or something?"
That night Susan decides that the remainder of Christmas afternoon was "somewhat Merry."
When they meet at an Italian place at noon the following day, Abby is startled by how she feels an iminent dramatic atmosphere. She tells Carter so, and he laughs.
"Let's just eat lunch," he says. "I'll tell you about Africa."
Ordering a plate of spaghetti, Abby seems to agree to the conversation he suggests, until she abruptly cuts him off.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about more than Africa."
Carter is silent for a moment, before he nods. "I know."
"Luka and I are together," she says bluntly, and it sounds steady and emotionless to her.
Abby takes a sip of water, to avoid looking at Carter.
He smiles. "So I gathered."
"It started about a month ago," Abby continues, apologetically, though she can't think of a reason why she'd need to be sorry.
"We kissed, and then…Well, it wasn't like we decided to date. We decided not to." She laughs harshly, struggling to gauge him. "But now we are. Dating, I mean."
He seems happy for her. She's struck that this emotion clouding her thoughts right now might be disappointment.
"Are you happy?" Carter finally asks. He hopes he seems eager to know; he tells himself he is eager to know.
"Um." Abby swallows. "Yeah." Then she adds, "How about you? With Kem."
This is his chance, to tell her something real, so she'll tell him something real too. Carter remembers a time when he wouldn't have to debate sharing his thoughts with her, when he didn't have to decide whether or not she should know. And it is only in the spirit of maintaining a bond he is sure he severed a long time ago, that Carter tells Abby that no, he's not happy. In fact Kem is probably not even in Charles's bed right now. She's with Peter.
Only when they have pulled up to her apartment does Abby decide that she'd really like to tell him more than the vital statistics of her relationship with Luka. It's just to keep Carter in her company for longer, she tells herself, but when she realizes that she's no more justified in her need to spend time with Carter than she is in her need to share her emotions with him, she admits to herself that she's crazy.
Carter can't help but sigh as he watches Abby gnaw her lip, waiting for her to ask him to come in to her apartment.
"Okay." Abby says, annoyed at him for sighing. "Want some tea?"
On the couch, half an hour later, she's going to cry, she knows. Maybe she doesn't even want to stop herself. But she does, because he's angry. At her. And that makes her mad back.
"What are you doing with him Abby? Don't you remember?" Carter is asking, as he paces. He's unable to trust himeslf to keep his restraint if he sits down. Not that he's restraining himeslf very much standing up either.
"You said you cried with the water on at night. And you hated yourself and you drank, Abby."
Abby sits very still. "It's not like that now."
Carter groans. "Oh no? Because he can suddenly love you now? And you can suddenly love him back?" He isn't sure why he his words sound so forceful, or whether he's allowed to be frustrated with her. Afterall, before this week, they hadn't seen each other in months, and for two years before that, they'd hardly spoken.
"I've changed." Abby says, loudly enough to convince herself. "Maybe I'm easier to love now."
Carter scoffs. "You know that wasn't the problem before."
But he does see a change, he's been witnessing it for two years, and he's been meaning to congratulate her, at least he was before he left. She's confident as she always was. But now she seems assured of something. Maybe it's that now she accepts the valitidy of her confidence.
"I feel myself being tugged back to how I was," Abby is saying, and Carter stops contemplating long enough to listen. "And so I try harder to be who I am now. I make myself tell him when I'm happy, and what I like about him."
"That's great," he says. And he can't help but be reminded of the jealousy that plagued him for a year and a half, the last time she dated Luka.
The sarcasm in his tone is infuriating. Abby wants to scream or shake him, or hurt him, and she doesn't know why. Because really, it sounds as though he's jealous. And he shouldn't be, because a long time ago, when she had the choice, she picked Carter, not Luka.
Abby wants to remind him of this. That he has no right to hate Luka, or protect her. She wants to exploit his jealously to show him what he gave up, and somewhere in her head, the thought passes that maybe she's mad at him for more than his reaction to Luka. She breathes heavily, to stop herself. So much is about to boil out if she erupts. Abby clutches the cushions of the couch, and for a brief second she is calm.
Then she retches, and at once her pasta is on the carpet, and not in her stomach where it belongs.
Abby spends a long time assuring Carter that she's not sick. She's overwhelmed, she tells him, and privately, she thinks its ironic that this time she displays her emotions in order to cover up something worse.
"I can go," Carter finally says, and with a tentative smile, he adds "I don't want to make you puke again."
Abby grimaces. "Nice." But she truly can't have him leave. Because despite how much she's told him, there's so much more. About him. And how it's always him, it always has been. And not Luka.
So she says the one thing that will guarantee him to stay.
"I'm pregnant."
Abby hates how the announcement is always so bold, a stopper in any conversation.
Carter hates how it makes his heart skip more than a few beats. And how he can't seem to close his mouth, let alone speak.
"Oh yeah?" Carter finally says, challenging Luka, not Abby.
Abby nods.
Carter's voice cracks as he asks, "It's Luka's?" though he knows before Abby comfirms, that of course it's Luka's.
Carter feels his ribcage heaving, even though he's not breathing, and his heart's not beating. The muscles at the sides of his forehead clench, and his back seizes, and he doesn't have time to consider the root of such a physical reaction because he has to concentrate all his efforts on concealing it. He turns away, to look out the window to the snowy street, rather than at her.
Abby lies on the sofa, deflated, feeling tiny beneath the afghan he'd draped over her when he thought she was ill.
"John," she pleads. For an instant, she tries to tell herself that his reaction means nothing to her; she has to admit it means everything.
"I'm sorry," Abby whispers.
"Sorry?" he whips around. " You're a changed woman, and you're with Luka, who makes you happy, and now you get the baby you've been secretly coveting for years. Why should you be sorry?"
Disgusted that he's too distressed to disguise any of the bitter emotions coursing through him, Carter turns back to the window. But he faces Abby long enough for her to catch a glint in the corner of his eye, and the sight of Carter's tears destroys her.
Carter is startled to hear a sob behind him.
"What?" he asks bitterly.
"Could you just," Abby struggles, defeated "…come here."
Somewhere in him, Carter knows, just as he always has, that he has Luka's cookies.
He settles himself on the couch, picks up her feet and lays them across his lap. Time is gone, and pain is both heightened and dulled, and soon, Abby's feet in his lap are replaced by Abby. Neither is sure who is shaking, or whose heart is beating and whose heart has stopped. It is impossible to discern whether the salty drop-marks adorning their shirts are hers or his, or from where the whispered "it'll be okay" comes.
In this moment, when all she knows is the feel of his biceps across her back, she can forgive him for leaving her, three times now at her count. And since her hair is pressed against his neck, her hand grasping his own, he can absolve her for letting Luka be the one to whom she gives the new version of herself. He can even imagine that the fetus within her is his own.
This much he says aloud, without thinking. And before he can hate himself for saying it, he's astonished to hear her laugh.
"Yeah, well, I always thought my firstborn would be yours."
Abby is in the ambulance bay when she sees him. Carter's head is bent against the wind, and he's carrying a briefcase, presumably on his way to some meeting with the hospital's board.
"Hi!" she shouts, above the whistle of the breeze that is apparently created by the windtunnel effect of the amulance bay.
He lifts his head, grinning. "Hey."
Abby doesn't know what to do with all the happiness that emerges. So she looks at her gloveless hands. The dried scab of a hangnail catches her attention.
"Can you believe it?" she asks him, and he decides that it would be alright to arrive at his meeting late for once.
"Believe what?"
"A week," she marvels (and then marvels at the fact that she, Abby Lockhart, is marveling). "A week ago I was standing here, thinking about winter."
He laughs. "It's hard to think of anything else, if you're standing out here."
"I like it," Abby smiles. And he knows it's true. "Think of how strong the cold is."
"Strong enough to kill you, that's for sure."
"Or just strong enough to hurt," she decides. "It peels off all the deceit we pile on ourselves."
"That's not just the spirit of Christmas?"
Abby scoffs, as he knew she would. "Christmas is deceit itself." He laughs. Even this new Abby has retained some cynicism.
"People just think Christmas is powerful because it happens in winter. Would we all be together in our homes to celebrate if it weren't so cold outside?" She grins at him, happy to be making him happy. "And I'd say a biting wind brings as much clarity as Jesus does."
Carter stifles a chuckle beneath his scarf.
"So?" he asks.
"So I'd like to toast the winter."
"Okay," Carter says. And they both know it's her way of thanking him for coming home.
Because so much has changed in a week.