March 2006

There was a hard knock on the door jolting him from his focus of pulling something to drink out of the fridge, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he looked poignantly at the door. He reluctantly shut the refrigerator door when another hard knock came, and made his way up the steps to the loft area of the front door. He wondered who it could be, because he certainly hadn't been expecting anyone.

He pulled the door open and sighed with his lips parted slightly, the sight of a very hormonal and crying Abby before him and sending him into the distant realms of confusion. He didn't bother saying anything; he just let his tongue smooth across his lips to wet them in place of words as he showed her his concern.

"Abby," he finally formed words as his hand clenched tighter around the doorknob, "come on in."

He gestured to the apartment as his hand waved around to indicate what he was saying, and he let his lips fall apart again. He was still very confused by her appearance because when he'd spoken to her earlier they'd decided…Oh, shit.

"No need," she shook her head ferociously as she objected as obviously as anyone ever could. She didn't want to bother with it all, and, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to bother with it either.

"Please come in, Abby."

She reluctantly agreed and entered the apartment, making her way towards the island in the kitchen with him on her heels.

"Luka," she said his name deep in the back of her throat through the lump resting heavily on her vocal box, and she turned on her heel to see him lean on the counter with his hip and his arms crossed in front of his chest. She shook her head, dragged her fingertips across her forehead, and sat down on the barstool to free her tired legs from the weight that had been resting on them all day. "You never showed up."

"I'm sorry," he bit his bottom lip for a moment, "I got tied up."

She sat silent for a moment, looking down to the hardwood floor. She suddenly realized that things between them weren't the same for him as they were for her, and things for him were so much different and meant a lot different than they did to her. She remembered that when they'd dated years ago he'd barely told her that he loved her.

She began to compare it to the relationship that he'd had with Sam – a place that she'd never wanted it to go.

With Sam he'd told her he loved her and they'd been together just a portion of time that she and Luka had been together when they'd dated before. With Sam he'd asked her to move in, and she was having his baby and he hadn't bothered to ask her. She realized that she was in love with a man that wasn't in love with her.

"What are we doing, Luka?"

"I was getting ready to have a beer and then head to bed," he shrugged, obvious confusion in his eyes, although, he could almost guess what she was talking about. He watched her with narrowed eyes as she held back a chuckle in her throat, her purse a black boulder in the middle of the counter between them. "Okay, that's not what you meant."

"No, that's not what I meant," she shook her head.

"Then what did you mean?" He pursed his lips together, turning as he reached out to press his palms into the edge of the counter. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to force her appearance of red and crying eyes from his head. He opened them again to see Abby looking away form her, her eyes tracing the room. "Why were you crying?"

"We shouldn't be together," she shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"What? What about the baby, Abby?"

He reached out and left a huge distance between his fingertips and the small swell of her belly. She was four months pregnant, and that meant for at least four months that shouldn't have been together – and he refused to believe he'd wasted away four months of his life. Just because he refused to believe it didn't mean that it wasn't true.

"That isn't enough for us to be together, Luka. You know that," she shook her head as she finally stood from the chair and put a distance between them. She loved him, and her heart was breaking to tell him that they couldn't be together. "We can't stay together for the baby."

"Why not? We're good together," he watched her walk towards the back of the couch, knowing that she didn't believe what he was saying because he didn't believe them either.

"No. we're not. We've never been good together," she laughed quietly in the back of her throat, shaking her head as she turned around and leaned back against the couch. He didn't know where she was getting this idea; he'd always thought that it would be easier the second time around – he'd always trusted that there'd be a second time with her – but he'd also never anticipated falling in love with someone else, ever. "I wish it were different."

"This is different, Abby."

"Don't say that, Luka," she shook her head, finally containing her mixture of laughter and tears, "we can't put our baby through this, and you know it."

"Abby, what are you talking about?" His eyebrows furrowed deep and hard as he pressed his hands into his hips, confusion his focal point for the moment. He took a hesitant step forward, but stopped when he saw the tears glazing over her eyes. He pursed his lips together, biting down lightly on his tongue behind his tight lips. "I though that you loved me."

"I do love you, Luka," her voice was gentle but her eyes couldn't even slightly drift in his direction as she was speaking to him, and it silently ripped him about. She'd been his friend, to say the least, but she'd also been his lover and she couldn't even stand to look at him. It made him wonder what kind of life he was running. "But you don't love me. I can see it in your eyes, Luka…You're in love with somebody else."

"I'm not…"

He lightly shook his head as his voice trailed off, unsure if he could even finish the sentence. He knew it was a lie; he could lie to himself but he had no right to stand there and lie to her.

"No one needs to say who because we both know," she shrugged haphazardly, stepping towards the island in the kitchen to grab her purse. She had plans to bolt for the door, but she knew that she'd never make it. He wouldn't just let her leave without him having something to say. "It was too soon."

"Abby…" He breathed out gently, his breath warm across his lips. He reached out and touched her elbow, grabbing her attention. He looked down at her, his height towering hers as always. "I do love you."

She looked up at him, her eyes glazing over furthermore. She was silent for just long enough to see his love in his eyes, knowing that it wasn't the kind of love she wanted from him.

"You just aren't in love with me," she said gently, stepping away from his touch. She reached into the center of the counter and grabbed her back purse. Slinging it over her shoulder and heading to the door, she stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Where were you tonight?"

She turned to him, kept her eyes locked on the floor, and played nervously with her fingers.

He inhaled a deep breath and looked directly at her, leaning against the counter again as he narrowed his eyes at her with intensity.

"Someone needed me," his voice was barely above a whisper, barely audible to her ears across the room.

"I needed you," she countered, her voice surprisingly calm and collected all the while slightly shaky from the entire situation. She looked at him hard, her eyebrows rising on her forehead as she realized who he'd been with. "But someone else needed you more."

"It isn't like that, Abby," he shook his head, disagreeing.

"I know, Luka," her voice was soft as she turned back to the stairs. She stepped up onto the bottom step, and paused. She didn't bother to turn to him, just kept her eyes focused on the ground below her feet as she gently shook her head. "Thanks for the baby."

He nodded as she disappeared out of the apartment, leaving him alone with his own worse enemy.

Himself.

He rubbed his face as he sighed through his rough fingertips, turning towards the phone face down on the counter.

He'd called John when he'd gotten in earlier, and spent almost an hour talking to him on the phone. John had needed him, had needed his help dealing with his pain. He'd told Luka that Kem was dying, and that he was going to Paris with her to watch her go peacefully. John had needed him more.

He reached out and picked up the phone, dialing the numbers that he'd memorized on the many late nights that he'd dialed them and simply hung up without waiting for the answer. He waited on the other end, cringing when he remembered seeing her face – eyes red and cheeks tear-stained.

The other end of the phone line picked up, and he sighed shakily as he heard the soft and gentle voice.

"Sam," his voice came out more broken than he intended, "I need you. I've needed you all along."

He closed his eyes briefly, realizing that he was the scum of the earth.