Susan walked out of the dressing room frustrated. The dress didn't fit. Chuck was across the street getting a bagel and carrying Amelia to the park. She needed assistance. She tried calling out to the sales clerk, but no answer. Susan pulled out her cell phone and found Abby's number on speed dial.

"Hi!"
"Susan?" Abby answered, exhausted. She rolled over in her bed rubbing her eyes. She rolled over and looked at the clock. It was her first Saturday off and it was ten in the morning.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Nope, not at all." Yes! She rolled her eyes.

"Can you help me with something?"
"Sure." Abby laid her head back into her pillows.

"Meet me at Lucy's Bridal in thirty minutes."

"Ok." She closed her eyes for five more seconds.

Abby hung up the phone and threw off her covers. "Fifteen more minutes please." She whispered. She pulled on her sweater (really it was Carter's, the one item she didn't give back because of it's comfort level) and set out to make a fresh pot of coffee. Twenty minutes later she found herself walking along Lakeshore Ave with two cups of coffee in her hand. Abby spotted Susan reading a magazine through the window.

Susan turned at the sound of the bell jingling on the door and at the smell of fresh coffee.

"Here." Abby said, handing Susan a cup of coffee and taking off her bag.

"I hate you." Susan smiled. "You wake up thirty minutes ago and you still look amazing."

"I feel like crap, thanks."
"Up late?" Susan asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yeah. I was over at Carter's. When I got home there was a message on my answering machine saying that my Saturday morning rotation was canceled so I decided to go see a movie."

"Oh…sorry." Susan winced.

"So, need help picking out your wedding dress?"

The alarm went off at eleven. His shift started at twelve. He slowly crawled out of bed wondering why his apartment looked a little bit cleaner. Abby was there; he remembered that much. Heading towards his bathroom, Carter noticed that his medicine cabinet was ajar. Frantically, he immediately rummaged towards the back, only to find that his bottle was missing. "Abby!"

Crossing the apartment, he threw on some sweats over his pajamas. He found a payphone on the corner of the street.

"Thank you for calling your local pharmacy. How may I help you?"
"I need a prescription refilled." He said annoyed.

"Name?" the perky voice asked on the other side.

"John T. Carter the third."

"One moment please." He was put on hold. Abbey Road played in the background.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"It was filled two days ago."

He paused, "What?"

"300 mgs filled two days ago sir…"

"Well, is that a problem?" Carter asked running his fingers through his dismantled hair.

"If you took that many, you should be dead right now."

"No…someone stole them from me." He gritted through his teeth.

"Well then…I'm just a tech and I…hold on, I'll get my boss…"

"Now lady, I-" there was a click on the other end.

Carter smashed his fist into the metal booth. His knuckles started to bleed as he plunked down against the pole, hitting the back of his head against it.

Susan and Abby walked out of the bridal shop across the street. While Susan was trying to hide her dress in the trunk of her silver car and Chuck trying not to peek but help at the same time, Abby held Amelia for a moment. After saying goodbye and planning to meet up for dinner, Abby crossed the street to use the payphone. She was worried about Carter and deserved a call. Dialing his number she waited a while ring after ring. Deciding to give up and head into work early, she almost hung up when Carter knocked violently knocked on the glass violently causing her to drop the receiver.

"You…you…why!" he yelled pulling on his jacket zipper.

"Excuse me?" Abby said taking a step back.

"Maybe you remember stealing a bottle out of my medicine cabinet, hmm?"

"You're over medicating yourself. You need help." She replied saying the last line in a whisper.

"Well you're the drunk and the alcoholic!" he shot back with an evil smile creeping onto his face.

"Bye Carter." She turned to leave but Carter grabbed her wrist and lurched her towards him.

"Give them back…." He gritted between his teeth.

"Let go." She said calmly, laughing a little thinking his force was a joke.

"Give…them…back" he replied staring down in her sad brown eyes, tightening his grip.

"You're hurting me, John."

"Give the fucking pills back or-"

Abby slapped him and gasped at what she had just done. He stood there for a second, recovering from the shock and the pain. He looked at her brown eyes one last time and walked away quickly.

Abby took her wrist into her hand to examine the damage. It hurt like hell. A single tear raced down her cheek. She took the EL to County. Walking through the ambulance bay doors, She spotted Dr. Weaver coming out of Trauma One.

"Oh my God, Abby."

"We need to talk."

They sat in the lounge in silence; Weaver waiting patiently for Abby to speak.

"So, that happened to your wrist?"

"That's not important." She quickly stated placing her hands underneath the table.

"Abby-"

"Carter needs help." Rummaging through her purse, she found the bottle she had taken from his bathroom and placed it on the table. "He's 'escaping' on these."

"What?" Weaver pulled her glasses out of her lab coat.

"I went to his apartment the other night, just to check up on him, then found the bottle in the bathroom."

"Does he know they're missing?"

"Yes." Abby said looking at her now swollen wrist.

"Did he do this to you?" Weaver asked with some remorse.

"He didn't mean to."

"Abby-"

"I just need to get him admitted somehow or just…I don't want him to go back to Atlanta."

They sat in awkward silence both remembering that fatal day so many years ago when Abby told Dr. Green about this same thing. Weaver interrupted.

"Why don't you go with him?"
"And do what, hang out at the center all day?"
"We'll sign him up for an outpatient program…rent an apartment."

"I can't afford-" Abby started with an uncomfortable laugh.

"Paid vacation."

"Maybe," Abby sighed, "Can I get some Advil for this?"

"What you need is an x-ray."

"Advil will do."

"Might be broken." Weaver stated, readjusting her glasses and pushing in her chair.

"He wouldn't break my-"

"But he did."

A week had passed and Abby walked to Susan's apartment for lunch. She was still on leave and had asked Abby to stop by. After an hour of just random talking, Susan brought up the subject Abby was trying to avoid.

"What happened?"

"To who?" Abby said, caught off guard and wincing at the stupidity of her answer.

"Your wrist is in a brace and you haven't mentioned what happened."

"Oh, fell down the stairs."

"I've never known you to be a klutz."

"Crushed by an oncoming gurney?" Abby tried.

"Abby-"

"Don't tell anyone." Abby said, a little uneasy about what she was about to say.

"Cross my heart, hope to die…stick a needle in my eye."

"Not even Chuck."

"Deal. What happened?"

Abby stared at her friend, trying to think of a reason not to tell her. Everyone at County bought the idea of her falling down the rickety stairs. But not Susan.

"Carter." Abby mumbled, trying to hide her face into her turtleneck.

"What?" Susan asked, trying to make sure what came out of Abby's mouth was indeed true.

"I was at his apartment, the night before you called me about your dress, and I found this bottle of…I forget what is was now but," Abby paused, recollecting her thoughts she continued, "he's over medicating himself." She the last bit with a hurtful realization. "And so I took it."

"The bottle?"

"Yes. And then when I was walking across the street, after meeting with you that day at the shop, we ran into each other on the street and he was really mad…not right…not-"

"Carter."

"I know."

"Is it broken?"

"Just a hairline fracture." Abby barely spit out, fighting desperately to push her tears away. Susan gave Abby a hug and jumped up from the couch. She went to the fridge and brought two pint sized cartons of ice cream.

"Rocky Road." Susan beamed, handing a spoon and carton to Abby.

"Rocky Road does the heart good!" Abby laughed. "Thanks Susan." She said in between mouthfuls.

"What am I hear for?"