'It will only be 2 chapters long, well as long as I can get the situation resolved in 2 chapters!' Okay, so I tried, and I couldn't just have 2 chapters, and really it is the mean side of me that felt this, as it was after Ella read up to this bit and cried that I decided to leave it hanging a bit...sorry folks!
This is set in season 8 after Abby has moved back to her own place, after the Brian situation, but before the Carby thing happend. I hope you enjoy this...let me know what you think.
My other story Just How Long, is still in progress, I'm just hoping that a nice healthy break whilst writing this will inspire something in me to have an epiphany of what Luka is going through...but I promise I HAVEN'T given up!
DISCLAIMERS: I do not own any of the characters in ER, or the the song Foolish Games, I just borrowed a handful from both and created something of my own.
All my stories are dedicated to Ella as she is wonderful at encouraging me to keep going. This chapter however has a special dedication, to Lucy 'Ruby' Henderson, my best friend. She provided me with a valid criticism of the first draft that I edited, I tell you it would have been appaling. And in general I just wanted to mention her devotion, and how amazingly encouraging she is of me.
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2) You Were Always Brilliant In Morning
I open my eyes and close them again…adjusting to my surroundings and the light. One by one my muscles and senses are awakening and memories are coming flooding back…Abby and I slept together…Abby…and I…made love…all night…govno!
I feel her stir in my arms but she doesn't wake…some things never change it seems! I am extracting my arms and slowly sliding out of bed. I am putting on sweat pants and a shirt as quietly as possible. I don't want to wake her; I will feel better equipped to deal with her once I'm dressed and have coffee in me.
I am in the kitchen and I have the worst headache. I feel hung-over, but I didn't drink anything…didn't have the chance to. I'm rummaging for Tylenol, find some under the sink, and swallow two quickly chased by a swig of orange juice from the carton.
God Luka what have you done? Making the coffee now I am regretting not listening to the little voice last night. When though, in the great scheme of things, do we ever listen to the little voice? Never when it's for our own benefit, it's like as soon as we hear the little voice we automatically go into self-destruct mode. Maybe that's a product of the fact that we spend almost our entire existence trying to do the complete opposite of what our parents tell us. Maybe I'm just feeling guilty and trying to hoist the blame onto anything…even the plea of temporary insanity…'I was hearing voices!'
Am I really sorry for last night though? Yes. Yes I am. I have loved Abby since the fist time I saw her soul. Even through the mess that was Nicole – but I should have talked things through first. How do I manage to fuck things up so royally every time?
"Can I get one of those?" My head shoots up and I turn to the doorway.
She's stood there wrapped in the bed sheet, arms folded protectively across her chest. I can only bring myself to nod, yes, to her request, because I am lost for words.
Last night I was compelled to her, this morning I am frightened of her, I think for the rest of my life I will be in love with her.
She needs to get dressed, because right now I am feeling ashamed and guilty and I want to sit down and talk to her, and having her standing there in nothing but my bed sheet is somewhat…distracting.
The coffee maker finishes so I set to making two cups of coffee. I turn back around and she is gone. I set the cups down on the table and sit down.
Was she drunk? Is that it, was she drunk? No! Luka how can you even think that about her!
She is dressed now in her jeans and one of my t-shirts. She is picking up our discarded clothing from the night before, putting them on the arm of the sofa.
I can see her looking at me as she puts her cigarettes down on the table. She's sitting down and taking a deliberate sip of coffee. I'm waiting for the face – she always complains about my coffee. She's leaning back in her chair and lighting her cigarette, she takes a deep drag then exhales slowly.
I sip my coffee in silence, glancing up every now and then to watch those cogs turning again. Cigarette in her left hand, right leg propped against the table, her right hand resting her coffee cup on her knee. She looks as enthusiastic about this situation as I am.
"You on tonight?" She's asking out of obligation. This is what people do after a night of sex with someone they aren't supposed to have had sex with – they fill the awkward, morning-after-silence with awkward, morning-after-conversation.
"No you?" I comply with morning-after protocol. I could really use a smoke right now. It would be slightly hypocritical of me given the amount of energy I spent on trying to get her to quit though so I will refrain.
"Graveyard." She tells me whilst stubbing out her cigarette butt.
I'm wondering what the point of this is if she is going to keep the conversation to one word answers. I think I'll up the stakes a little.
"How's Maggie?" I'm looking her in the eyes now. I can be defiant too.
"Okay…I think." She is surprised, taken aback. "I mean as far as I know…she's doing okay." A smile. "She freaked about Brian…I wasn't going to tell her but…"
At least it's a conversation. Conversations lead to other conversations and as long as I've got her talking I want to keep it that way…I think.
"But what?"
"I kinda slipped up I guess…I told her I was staying with you, and I had to explain, 'cause she got the wrong idea." She is smiling as though the notion of this is absurd. "When I explained she freaked…you know she wanted to come…look after her 'little girl.' I assured her that wasn't necessary."
I'm smiling along with her, as though I am listening as she talks about her loved ones. All the while I am thinking about why she came here. What we did…what we are doing.
"Were you drunk?" It's out before I realise I am saying it, and she is shocked…she looks as though I just slapped her.
"Wha…Excuse me?" She's standing; about to leave…I can't let her go.
"I just meant…you came here and…we…" She is really furious.
"So we have sex and I'm drunk…nice Luka. Real nice. Were you drunk?" She spits out.
"Abby I didn't mean…" I look like a fool…me and my big mouth.
"No! You know what? You are all the same."
"Who? Abby what-"
"You, Carter, Richard…You're all the fucking same. I either am a big fucking problem or I have one!"
"Woah, Abby-"
"No Luka. I've had it…I'm sick of being a problem." She's putting on her jacket and heading for the door. I have to stop her leaving.
"That's my shirt you're wearing." The first though in my head and as stupid as I believe myself to sound, it seems to do the trick. She stops her hand on the door.
When she turns slowly to look at me her eyes are narrow and she closes them for a second. She looks about ready to blow. "You are kidding right?" She asks quietly, calmly.
I don't say anything. I'm too busy wondering whether it would be completely stupid of me to move closer. I don't have chance though. She nods her head a couple of times at my unresponsiveness.
"Fine Luka. You know what? Mine is still wet, but that's ok…here, have your fucking shirt!" And with that she pulls it over her head and throws it on the floor.
I think she is actually furious enough to walk out of here in just her bra. I have to stop her leaving. For better or worse I got myself into this situation, now I need to resolve it. Like it or not we need to have this conversation.
"Abby stop. Please…put on the shirt…I'm sorry, it was stupid of me, I just…I had to stop you leaving…please."
"No Luka! Its fine…I don't want your damn shirt. In fact I don't want anything to do with you…I don't even want to look at you."
"Abby, you don't mean that." Any conviction I may have had has deserted me now and I look at my feet because the reality is that she may very well mean what she says.