Abby didn't tell Carter right away. It wasn't that she didn't want to. It was that she didn't know how to. There were too many things that still felt unresolved, and this—this news—only added to the confusion swirling in her mind. She had taken the pregnancy test the morning after her workout session, her heart racing as she stared at the double lines. The shock of it had knocked the wind out of her, leaving her feeling dizzy and disoriented. She needed to process it herself before sharing it with Carter, especially with everything he was going through.
She had waited a few days before calling Carol. The two of them had always had a special bond, even before Abby had joined the ER staff full-time. Carol was more than just a colleague—she was a mentor, a friend. And right now, Abby needed someone who could guide her through the mess that her life had become.
"Carol, I… I don't know what to do," Abby confessed when she finally got her on the phone. The words tumbled out in a rush. "I took a pregnancy test. It's positive. But Carter's sick, and I—"
"Abby," Carol's voice was steady, calm. "I can hear it in your voice. I know this is a lot. But you're not alone. You're never alone. This is a lot to take in, and I understand why you're overwhelmed. But you need to talk to Carter about this."
"I don't know if I'm ready," Abby said, her voice trembling. She looked down at the small test in her hand again, as though somehow it would change its result. "Carter's just started chemo. He's still recovering from everything. He's… I can't even begin to explain everything he's going through."
Carol was quiet for a moment. Abby could hear the hum of the hospital in the background. "I understand. But Abby, this is his life too. This baby is part of your future together. Don't hide it from him. He deserves to know."
Abby squeezed her eyes shut, leaning against the kitchen counter. "I'm scared. I'm scared he won't be able to handle this. I'm scared about what it all means for us."
"I know you're scared," Carol replied softly. "But you'll get through it. You're stronger than you think. You have the support of the people who care about you—me, the staff, and especially Carter. You don't have to face it alone."
Abby took a shaky breath, grateful for Carol's words, even if they didn't quite erase the fear building in her chest. "Okay. I'll tell him. Soon. I just need to get myself together."
"That's all you can do," Carol said. "Take it one step at a time. You've got this."
Carter was back at work two days later. The chemotherapy had left him drained, his energy sapped, but he was determined to get back to some semblance of normalcy. He hated being cooped up at home, the constant hum of the oxygen machine reminding him of how fragile his body had become. He wanted to be out there, doing what he loved, even if it meant pushing himself beyond his limits.
Abby had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, she knew Carter needed to feel like himself again, but on the other, she couldn't help but worry about him. She wanted to be there, to protect him from the harsh realities of his illness, but she knew he wouldn't let her. He was stubborn that way.
When he showed up at County General, Abby was already in the ER, checking on a patient. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him in the hallway, looking exhausted but determined as he wheeled his oxygen tank with him.
"Carter, you should be resting," she said, walking over to him. She had to fight to keep her voice steady. "You just started chemo. This is too much, too soon."
Carter smiled at her, but it was a tired smile. "I'm fine, Abs. Really. I need to be here. I can't sit around at home all day."
Abby frowned, concerned. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"I know my limits," Carter said, his tone light, but there was an edge of defiance in his words. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to be doing any surgeries today. Just a few consults, and I'll keep it easy."
"Promise me you'll take it slow," Abby said softly, her voice tinged with worry.
"I promise," he replied, but she could see the way his eyes sparkled with the old determination that had always defined him. She wanted to argue, to tell him to go home, but she knew she wasn't going to win that battle.
"Okay," she relented, glancing up and down the hallway. "But if you get too tired, you let me know. And no pushing yourself too hard."
"I will," he said, his smile deepening as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "Now, go check on your patient. I'll be fine."
Abby hesitated for a moment before nodding. She had to focus. Carter would be okay. He had to be.
Later that day, Carter found himself in the break room, sitting quietly, a cup of coffee in his hand. He'd made it through his consults, but he was already feeling the fatigue creeping in, the exhaustion from the chemo slowly dragging him under. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment, just trying to breathe.
Kerry Weaver, the Chief of Emergency Medicine, came in to grab a coffee. She paused when she saw him, her expression softening slightly. "Carter, how are you feeling?" she asked, leaning against the counter.
"Not great," Carter admitted with a wry smile. "I feel like I got hit by a truck. But I'll survive."
Kerry raised an eyebrow. "I'd tell you to go home and rest, but I know you'd probably ignore me."
Carter chuckled. "You know me too well."
Kerry took a sip of her coffee, her eyes thoughtful. "Listen, I know it's hard to accept, but you need to take it easy. I've been through the chemotherapy process with a lot of staff members and patients. It's brutal. You don't have to push yourself this hard, Carter."
"I know," Carter replied, rubbing his forehead. "But I can't just sit around and do nothing. I need to feel useful. I can't just… waste away."
Kerry gave him a pointed look, one that held a lot of unspoken understanding. "You're not wasting away, Carter. You're fighting. But you have to fight smart. Rest when you need it. This illness doesn't give you a break just because you want one."
He met her gaze, and for a moment, the bravado seemed to slip away. He was tired. Tired of pretending he could do it all, tired of the uncertainty, tired of the daily battle to stay positive. Kerry's words hit closer to home than he cared to admit.
"I'll try," he said quietly, looking down at his coffee. "But it's hard."
Kerry gave him a supportive nod, offering a small smile. "I know it is. Just remember, you're not in this alone."
That evening, after Carter had finally gone to bed, Abby stood by their bedroom window, looking out at the city below. She hadn't yet told him. She had wanted to, wanted to tell him everything, but there was a part of her that was scared. Scared of what it would mean for them. Scared of the unknown.
Her hand rested lightly on her stomach as she stared out into the night. She had to tell him. He had a right to know. He had a right to be a part of this, to know that there was something else they were about to navigate together.
Finally, she walked into their room, her heart pounding in her chest. Carter was already lying in bed, breathing heavily, the oxygen mask resting on his face. His eyes fluttered open when she approached him, a soft smile on his lips.
"Hey, Abs," he murmured. "You okay?"
She took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Carter," she began, her voice shaky. "There's something I need to tell you."
He propped himself up slightly, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's wrong?"
Abby swallowed, looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant, Carter. We're having a baby."
For a moment, there was silence. Carter's expression faltered, the news slowly sinking in. His mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came.
Abby smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "I didn't know how to tell you, but now I do. We're going to do this together, okay? You're not alone."
Carter's eyes softened as he reached out for her hand. His voice was hoarse as he said, "A baby… I don't know what to say, Abs. This is… a lot."
"I know," she said, her own eyes filling with tears. "But we'll figure it out. We always do."
Carter squeezed her hand, his eyes searching hers. "We're in this together. I promise."
Carter's silence lingered in the room, and for a brief moment, Abby felt a wave of doubt. She had expected a more immediate response, maybe even a flood of questions. But Carter didn't say anything right away. He just stared at her with wide eyes, as if trying to process what she had just told him. The only sound was the soft hum of the oxygen machine beside the bed, punctuating the heavy quiet.
Finally, Carter blinked, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn't a smile full of joy, not yet, but it was a smile nonetheless. "A baby," he repeated quietly, as though testing the words on his tongue. "We're having a baby."
Abby nodded, her heart beating faster in her chest. She was desperate to read his expression, to understand how he was truly feeling. She wasn't sure how he'd react to the news, especially now, with everything going on. His battle with cancer, the uncertainty of his future—it all seemed too much for someone to handle in one moment.
"You're sure?" Carter asked, his voice tentative, like he needed to make sure he wasn't hearing things. "I mean… you're really pregnant?"
"I'm sure," Abby said softly, squeezing his hand. "I took the test. It's positive."
Carter closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long, steady breath. When he opened them again, he met her gaze, his expression still a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper, maybe even conflicted. "Wow," he whispered, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't expect that."
"Neither did I," Abby replied with a nervous laugh, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. "But it's happening. And we're going to figure it out. Together."
Carter's smile grew, but there was a tinge of uncertainty in his eyes, like he didn't yet know how this would fit into their already chaotic life. "I… I don't know what to say. It's a lot, Abs. But I guess, if it's true, then we're in this for the long haul. You and me."
Abby leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she let the warmth of his presence soothe her. "We'll make it work," she said, almost to herself as much as to him. "We always do."
They sat there for a while, wrapped in a quiet moment of uncertainty, neither of them sure of what was coming next but knowing, deep down, that they would face it together. The road ahead wasn't going to be easy—not for any of them—but in that moment, there was something to hold on to, something to fight for.
The next few days were a blur of appointments, tests, and frantic attempts to keep their lives as normal as possible. Carter had started his chemo treatments, and though he was determined to fight through it, there were days when the weight of everything seemed too much to bear. The fatigue, the nausea, the overwhelming sense of vulnerability—it all took its toll. But he never complained. Not to Abby, not to anyone.
Meanwhile, Abby had gone into full-on planning mode. She began researching the best ways to care for someone going through chemotherapy, jotting down notes, setting up schedules for Carter's medication, and preparing herself for the new, unexpected role she was going to have to take on. She had always been the strong one—strong for Carter, strong for the people around her—but now, she wasn't just supporting him through his illness. She was carrying their child.
Her body, too, had begun to change. At four months pregnant, she wasn't showing as much as she might have expected, but she could feel the changes happening—both inside and out. The weight gain she had struggled with before seemed to be stabilizing, though it wasn't the cause of her newfound discomfort. Instead, it was the knowledge that her life was about to be pulled in a thousand different directions. She wasn't just taking care of Carter now. She was taking care of a baby. The weight of that realization was enough to make her want to curl up into a ball and escape for just a little while. But there was no escape—not from this reality, not from the demands of her life.
By the end of the week, Carter had made it through the worst of his chemotherapy side effects. The nausea was less severe, though he still felt weak and worn down. His strength was slowly returning, and Abby could see it in the way he smiled when she kissed him goodbye in the mornings, or the way he reached for her hand when they sat together on the couch. He wasn't giving up, and neither was she.
One morning, after a particularly long night of nausea and sleeplessness, Carter was sitting on the couch in their living room when Abby came into the room, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her face drawn from lack of sleep. She didn't mind the exhaustion though—if anything, it made her feel closer to him. She wasn't doing this alone. They were both struggling, both fighting in their own way.
"Hey," Carter greeted her weakly from the couch, his voice still a little hoarse. He had his oxygen mask on again, but he seemed to be taking the time to adjust. The machine's hum was a constant presence in their home now, a reminder of how fragile everything had become.
Abby smiled softly and walked over to him, gently lifting the mask from his face so she could kiss him. "Hey, how are you feeling today?"
"A little better," he replied, his lips curling into a tired smile. "But I still feel like I've been run over by a bus."
"I know the feeling," Abby said, sitting beside him. "But we're getting through it, right?"
"Yeah," Carter said, taking her hand in his. "One day at a time."
Abby looked down at their intertwined fingers, feeling a surge of emotion. They were doing this together. Whatever came next, they would face it hand in hand.
"I've been thinking," Carter continued, breaking her train of thought. "About the baby."
Abby turned to him, her heart skipping a beat. "What about the baby?"
"I just… I want you to know, no matter what happens with me, no matter how hard it gets… I'm in this. I want to be a father, Abs. I really do." His eyes were serious, the weight of his words sinking in. "And I'll fight for that. For both of you."
Abby's heart swelled with emotion. She had needed to hear those words more than she realized. In the midst of everything—the chemo, the uncertainty, the fear—he was still thinking about their future. Their baby.
"I know you will," Abby whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you will."
For a moment, the two of them just sat there, their hands still clasped together, both of them grappling with the enormity of what lay ahead. But in that silence, there was also an unspoken promise—one that bound them together through whatever came next.
That afternoon, Carter returned to work. It wasn't easy, but he insisted on pushing through. Abby had given him her full support, though she couldn't shake the lingering sense of worry as she watched him walk out the door, his oxygen tank in tow. She knew he had to do this for himself, but every part of her wanted him to stay home, to rest. She didn't want him to push too hard.
But she also knew Carter. He wasn't going to stop fighting.
Later that day, as Abby prepared to go for her afternoon walk—something she had been doing more frequently lately—her phone rang. She checked the caller ID. It was Carter.
Her heart skipped a beat. She quickly answered, her voice shaking. "Carter? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," Carter's voice came through, a little breathless. "Just wanted to let you know… I'm okay. And I'll be home soon. I just had a conversation with Kerry about the future—about what comes next."
Abby's breath caught in her throat. "What did she say?"
"She said I have a chance. That if I stick with the chemo, if I keep fighting, there's hope. We're not giving up."
Abby smiled, relief flooding her. "I knew it. I knew you would keep fighting."
"I'm fighting for you, Abs. For our baby. I'm not going anywhere."
And just like that, in his voice, she heard the unwavering resolve. They were both fighting for their future. Together.