Chapter 17

Author's Note: This is the final chapter. It's obviously very, very AU at this point. Enjoy – and please read my "good-bye" note at the end, okay?

Good Rugby Weather

Jet lagged and bone weary, Carter stepped into the room. It had been a long day. Paris was beautiful... or so he'd been told repeatedly in the last few days; he'd hardly noticed it as they tooled around in that impossibly tiny car. The ease of companionship that passed between Michel and Kem, now that? He noticed. God, he wanted to pummel that smug shit. Grim satisfaction curled his lips in a savage smile at the thought that it was his lap she sat in the entire trip. The satisfaction passed quickly. She wasn't going home with him, thoughShe was going home with...the other guy.

"What did you expect, Carter," his thoughts taunted him, "that she'd just drop her whole carefully constructed life and fly back to Chicago with you?" He was pathetic, "I'll give it all up for you, Kem," he'd said. Give what up, exactly? What did he have? A house full of un-realized promise; potential built of sand. He threw open his bag as he hit the speed-dial for his travel agent. "Hello, Sandra... Yeah, I may need to change my plans a little. No, no -everything is fine, I just may need to hang here for a little while longer..." Absentmindedly fingering the zipper tab on his suitcase, he calculated how long it would take for Kerry to contact him with threats of termination. He decided he didn't care. "Yeah... what can you do for me?" he could hear Sandra's fingernails clicking like chopsticks on the keyboard, "Yeah -yeah... I'll wait. Thanks."

Susan's voice echoed in the empty lounge, startling Abby out of fitful dozing, "Ab? Did you talk to Carter yesterday?" Susan sloshed her coffee and let out a little curse, "Damn -I just put on this scrub-top..." she stopped short at the sight of Abby's sleep-confused face, "Oh, crap -Abby, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were sleeping..."

The shift last night had been a nightmare; several lac's and contusions, more than a few broken noses, all from some brawl that broke out in a local pub... Apparently, the fight touched off over a soccer game, and sucked in the entire bar's clientele before it abruptly ended. A bunch of angry drunks all cursing and sweating and bleeding. Nightmare. And, of course, Abby was scheduled to come back in the next morning.

"That's okay... I don't know how I made it to the couch last night... But I do remember deciding not to go home" Abby stretched her arms and let out a big, comfortable yawn, "what time is it, anyway?"

"It's 7:30, and you're not on for another twenty-five minutes..." Susan eyed her suspiciously, "So go back to sleep; I'll have Amira wake you." Susan was shaping up to be just the right balance of boss; she didn't let anyone off easily, but she managed to stop short of Kerry-level dogmatism. Abby liked her style.

"No, no -I'm up. If I go back to sleep I may drop into a coma." Abby let out a little snort, "I can't believe I'm turning down an offer of a longer nap..." She stood up into another full-body stretch, "hey -any of that swill left?"

"Yeah... there's a cup -you'll have to make a fresh pot if you take it, though," Susan's eyes twinkled with mischief, "I only took a half a cup."

Abby concentrated on her cup -her hand was shaky, "Hey- did you say something about Carter?" She wasn't sure she wanted to part these particular waters, but she couldn't help herself, either. When it came to Carter, she would always be extra-sensitive.

"Oh- uh, yeah... Yeah -have you seen him?" Susan looked at her sideways, "Or, you know, talked to him... or anything in the last couple of days?"

"I ...ran into him in front of the new Carter clinic, and had a very uncomfortable conversation with him... but then... we haven't been on the best of footing lately, you know." Abby had given up all pretense with Susan where the subject of Carter was concerned; Susan saw through her anyway.

"Yeah...yeah," Susan shrugged her shoulders, "I figured I'd just give it a shot... he's, uh, he's not picking up... and I've left about a dozen messages." A frown knit her brow, "I just hoped against hope that you guys maybe started talking again... we haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately, either." Susan shot directly at her, "Tenure; I was pissed."she said.

"He hasn't returned your calls, or anything, huh?" Abby shuddered; she didn't want to take any initiative, or any kind of active role in this... She didn't know who's problem Carter was, but he wasn't hers anymore... "Well, you could talk to Luka -maybe see if he'd go over to Carter's place; check things out..."

"Right... yeah, that's a good idea." Abby thought she didn't sound convinced. Susan tossed the last swallow of coffee back, "Okay -once more into the breech..." she pushed open the lounge door, "don't fall back asleep," she said.

Abby stared after her. "I guess I'm going to Carter's house," she said, to no one.

It hit him as he was walking from the café that he'd left Chicago without really talking to Susan. She was an old friend; hell, they were almost lovers, if a certain someone hadn't already preoccupied his thoughts... He didn't like leaving it that way with Susan; they owed each other more than that. He'd call her first thing in the morning... Chicago time, that is. Damn. Travel really screwed with his already over-taxed sleeping schedule...

As he crossedthe thoroughfare, he looked around him for the first time. God; this city really was beautiful. What the hell was he doing? He hadn't been to Paris in ... how many years, now, he couldn't remember. And he'd only focused on one goal: getting Kem back. It took all his mental energy. He hadn't even looked around him. It occurred to him that he was in the romantic capitol of the world, and yet he'd come on a fool's errand to reclaim the love he'd already lost. Ironic, really. He'd been brooding around for three days... and nothing had changed. Michel wasn't going anywhere, and neither apparently was Kem. Her mother was kind... but looked at him with a sort of sad pity... A kind of look that left Carter feeling doomed.

It hit him on the fourth morning in the café over coffee. He didn't belong here. Kem did; he didn't. When he looked up at her, over the table and croissant and the dark bitter brew... he saw the recognition in her eyes. He nodded mutely... and they parted ways. He spent the rest of the morning in idle window shopping... until he saw a tiny silver rattle in a shop window that reminded him so much of the one he gave Kem... And he knew. It was time to leave.

He fingered his phone, punching in Sandra's number. "Hello! -Sandra... help me out, I gotta get out of this city... I want to come home."

Well, that did it. Clanging the chart into the rack, she tore off her stethoscope as she charged through the lounge door. Banging her locker shut, she rushed out the back door before anyone could stop her; she was already over her shift time by an hour and forty-five minutes.

She'd been distracted throughout her shift, whenever she had a scrap of downtime. She didn't want to go, and she didn't want not to go. Carter's new house was foreign to her; she'd only been there once, to sober him up. She dreaded what she might find this time; Carter on a bender? Carter gone to ...Kem? Carter overdosed? None of the scenarios seemed particularly desirable.

She didn't know why...why he still held sway over her emotions. Why, when he seemed so unaffected by her...why was she so affected by him? It didn't seem fair. He'd moved on... She'd always been able to easily detach; she never allowed herself to get attached in the first place, so detaching was always effortless.

Before she knew it, Abby reached his place. Carter's new home... Carter's new life... well almost. Unannounced, a pang pinched Abby's heart. She still felt a slight tightening in her throat when she thought of his devastating loss. Breathing in deeply, Abby forced herself to walk up to the door. She knocked, decisively. Loudly, even. No answer.

This wasn't exactly an area wherein she could get away with snooping around, peeking in the windows... There were Neighborhood Watch stickers all over the place. Still, she was on a mission... And she felt sure Susan would back her up, if she got into a sticky situation. Even if she didn't exactly know Abby was here at her behest.

Abby took in her surroundings... Not a lot of cars around; she could probably go unnoticed if she just walked around the house, to the back. Hell with it -she'd take the chance. She pulled herself as straight as she could -like she was supposed to be there, and walked purposefully around the house.

Except she wasn't. Not anymore. What the hell was she doing here anyway? She hadn't said more than two words to Carter in almost a year. Nothing that wasn't work related... well, except for right after he - they - lost the baby... And the sobering up thing at Ike's. But that was nothing; nothing more than she'd do with any other fellow addict.

Oh, really? Then why did it seem she was trying to convince herself?

She ran her fingers along the window ledges... looking for – what? – she didn't know exactly. Up the steps to the back porch... Back door, right there in front of her. She had a moment of indecision and then stepped up to it quickly and gave a sweep above the door jamb. Nope. No key. But then no Chicagoan worth their salty reputation would leave a key on the top frame of a doorway. She scanned the porch... looking, without any real hope of finding some ...thing. She wasn't even sure what.

When she was uncomfortably balancing on hands and knees sweeping her fingers under the slightly overgrown hedge that spilled over the porch, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of shoe scraping cement walk startled her into a sprawl, resulting in the rude connection of her head with the balustrade. Fearing the sight of uniform blue and shiny brass badge, she elected not to turn around.

"Looking for something, Abby?" A voice as familiar to her as her own. Dammit. Ducking her head, Abby decided to go for the sympathy approach. "Carter. I... uh, we were worried about you..." Silence. Crap. She turned around slowly, trying desperately to squelch the nasty grip of embarrassment and guilt bubbling up in her gut. She met Carter's slightly bemused gaze with a determined defiance. "Hey, look pal, there's more than a few of your colleagues who are a little put off by your Mr. High and Mighty-ness since you furnished an entire new wing at the hospital..." she was really reaching here, "but if you think we are all going to bow and scrape at your-," his sudden laughter caught her off guard. "What?" she managed an impatient tone.

Carter bent slightly at the waste, clutching his side with one hand and extending another loosely in her direction. "Your... you've got..." but his laughter hid his words from her. "What? – is there, like shmootz in my hair?" His laughter subdued a bit, he managed an affirmative nod, "Yeah." he choked out finally. She resisted the urge to pull at her hair and got up instead, inclining her head toward him, "Well... don't just stand there laughing – get it out!" His laughter tapered off as he reached up tentatively and gave a few gentle pulls and topped the gesture off with a deft smooth of her hair. "There; I think I got most of it." Abruptly his hand dropped.

They both stood rooted for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time. In silence. With him just staring up at her. Deciding she couldn't stand it anymore she cleared her throat, "So..." she glanced at his back door, "you gonna invite me in, or what?" He started visibly, recovered quickly, "Oh- of...of course!" and moved toward the porch steps. He had to snug by her to get to the door, "'Scuse me," he said quickly and unlocked the door. He stood aside with a sweep of his arm, and Abby crossed into a tidy kitchen. A lovely kitchen, actually – all the latest and efficient best, topped off with a beautiful green-hued granite counter top. The place dripped money. But then, it was owned by a Carter. She walked slowly to the center island, appreciating every nook and cabinet in the efficient space. "Nice, Carter... very nice," she didn't try to mask her unvarnished appreciation for the room. He moved a little closer, "Yeah... I like to cook, and K-..." he cleared his throat, then went on, "Kem always appreciated my cooking... I thought it would be nice to have a good space in which to 'wow' her with my culinary skills," he tried for lightness, but there was an unmistakable huskiness to his voice. Out of respect, Abby didn't turn to look at him, "Yeah... well I always liked your Szechuan Beef Noodle," letting a little grin spread over her face. She heard him chuckle and chanced a look. He looked at her sideways, "Now, that's not fair – we only ever had time for take-out..." but he was smiling now, too.

They stood there for a moment, each with separate ghosts from the past haunting their thoughts.

"Listen, I-,"

"Carter, I didn't-,"

"Go ahead -,"

"No, please-,"

They stood staring at each other, and then Carter grinned, "Well... let me be a gentleman and say what I want to say first," his eyes glinted with a hint of mischief, "Listen, Abby... I've been an ass for a long time-," he waved a hand at her attempt to correct him, "no, don't bother trying to spare my feelings... I came back to Chicago, less than seven months after I walked out on you, with a pregnant girlfriend and walked right back into the hospital... not caring if you were there or not..." he looked down, avoiding her gaze, "hoping, actually, that you were there..."

Abby knew... she knew then, and she knew now that he'd only done it to get at her... but they'd both done hurtful, childish things... and she had long forgiven him for anything that had caused her hurt. She wondered though, did he forgive her? "Carter... it's alright... I knew what you were doing... but, look... I was no angel in that..." how to term it?... "that whole... fiasco." She looked up at him, uncertain, "Why'd you think I hung that bag of stuff on your locker? It wasn't exactly everything you left at my apartment, you know..." she watched him closely, thinking of the T-shirt she still slept in on occasion. "That bag was really meant as a very personal stab in a very public forum...if we're going to try one-upmanship on this... I think I win. Hands down."

He smiled at her, reached for her hand across the island, "Then you've forgiven me? For all the...crap?" Abby was amused at him using one of 'her' words, "Yeah, Carter... I've forgiven. A long time ago." She felt the pressure of his hand on hers... and felt the little lurch her heart gave in notice. She moved away, trying to cover the flinch, "How about I make us some coffee -," His fingers tightened on hers, "Abby... don't... don't pull away, just yet?" She looked up and was startled to see his eyes moist, red just beginning to rim his lids. Felt the familiar clench of nerves in her gut, the desire to just take over, nurture, fix it. Fix him. Rationally, she knew she couldn't... As surely as she knew that she couldn't fall into old patterns of behavior; she'd worked too hard to attain a peaceful equilibrium in her life.

"Carter..." it was as much a warning as an appeal. "Listen... I'll be here for you, you know that. But... not in the same way as... before." His face registered a gaping hurt, raw and needy, "Abby... I'm sorry...I just..." Abby slid her free hand to rest atop his, "Carter... you don't have to apologize; you've been through a lot in the last year..."she struggled; words felt so inadequate, "you're probably going to be needing a lot of support... from a lot of people...you know? I can be one of those people..." His face broke into a rueful grin, "Just not all the people," he finished for her. "Yeah," she breathed a sigh of relief, "don't you think that's best? I mean... with our history, it's probably best if we give each other a little breathing space..." He released her hand, breaking contact gently, "I know... I know..." But he looked like he'd been sucker-punched.

Oh, she could so easily just reach out and stroke his cheek., tell him everything was going to be alright, pull his hurt and his anger into herself... let his sorrow become hers. Dangerous, treacherous territory, for a recovering alcoholic with co-dependant tendencies. She felt compelled to explain, at least. "No... you don't know. You're sitting there telling yourself that I'm a bridge you burned...that I'm another gaping hole in your safety net..." tilting her head until she could look him in the eye, "Carter. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. But I can't let myself screw up your recovery, your grieving...by trying to make it my own." Her words hovered in the still air. He looked up at her, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "You had a long climb back up, didn't you Abby?"

He sat there, holding her eyes with his, refusing to let her look away. Her mouth said the words before her brain could engage, "Yes. I'd lost everyone that meant anything to me; I was lost... and I couldn't figure out what I'd done that was so bad that everyone..." she looked down at their clasped hands, "that everyone just...left. I only ever tried to... help. I realized too late... that it wasn't the right kind of help." Tears unshed knotted a painful lump in her throat, "But this isn't about me, now. I've beat my demons into submission, Carter. It feels good to hear you acknowledge my hurt, but that wasn't essential... and I don't want you to bring it up to me again," she took an unsteady breath, "for a long, long time." She reached up, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "When you are ready...when you've healed," she gave him a wicked grin, "then I'll beat the hell out of you for being such a jerk."

Carter remained on the porch long after he'd watched Abby walk away and out of his view. There had been so much unresolved hurt and anger over her that he'd walled up inside of him, refused to deal with. It felt good to not only hear that she was sorry...but that he was sorry, too. He'd spent so much time thinking of all the ways that she had failed him... he'd never given much thought to how he could have failed her. He'd tried hard, too. Just as she said she had. And, as she said about herself, he realized that his help was the wrong kind of help, too. Their conversation was full of revelations for him, and he'd need a while to figure them all out; how they'd help him deal with the past, and how they'd help shape his future. He was amazed again at how easy it was to talk to her; always had been. How they just seemed to 'get' each other, without strenuous effort. The easy shorthand between them ran smooth even now though the pipes might be a little rusty from disrepair.

It had been that way... almost from the very first conversation, so long ago on the hospital roof, a time that seemed a part of another dimension, now. The contrast of that easy conversation, with the knife plunging into his back... two events joined forever in his mind by the simple fact that they occurred on the same day. Two events which had taken on new meaning in his life. If he was honest with himself – and he promised himself he would be, from now on – he had to admit that just as Sobriki plunged that knife into his back, cutting away everything he was before and leaving him, for a time, in shreds... Abby's sharp tongue, fierce loyalty and fragile independence had plunged beneath his defenses, dragged him through the first steps of his recovery and propelled him through his first and most devastating love. It was as simple as this: if he hadn't gone through his near death experience, the shame of drug addiction, and the loss of Abby... he'd never have been prepared for... for losing his baby... for losing Kem.

So much sorrow. So much unbelievable pain. But, he'd survived. And that was something... wasn't it? He didn't know what the future would hold; didn't even want to hazard a guess. He only wanted time to heal... and only needed familiarity to help him get there. He'd take it one step at a time, ease slowly back into life at the hospital.

And Abby would be right there.

Finis

AN: Well... Three years and two months and I'm done. I don't watch ER anymore, lost interest a couple of years ago. I started this story waaaay back when I still had hope that Carter was going to come back and he and Abby would slowly rebuild their relationship on more solid ground. But...that was not to be. I'm cool – lots of my friends are very satisfied with the ER that is now and that's good. Although I still had a slight yen for "my" ending, this one was a compromise. It's not the ring and the flower girl and the wedding and bliss. But it does end with a certain amount of hope.

And that's the best gift that we all have, my friends.

Thank you to everyone who read this story, thank you to everyone who reviewed. I've appreciated your comments, and really did enjoy this journey.