Title: Let Go of Your Heart
Author: Andrea ([email protected])
Rating: R. Not yet, but just to keep things simple … we'll go with that.
Summary: Read it and find out. I will tell you that it's a Carby. Of course it is. And it's not really a spoiler based fic, but I guess you could call it inspired by the events of this season *so far.* And this is just one possibility for where those events could lead. It's not speculation as to what I *think* will happen . In fact, I'm pretty sure things won't happen in this way or any of the ways I imagine … since, you know, they rarely do. So it's just something that I'd like to see. Of course, if Wells and Chulack would like to hire me as a writer, well then … But until that time, it's just the random ramblings of my mind.
Disclaimer: Need I point out that I own nothing and no one? Yeah, I didn't think so. And Lanie … you know I thought of this, too … all on my own even … so no fair saying I stole it. (And if anyone really wants to know, I think I thought of it first. Because clearly no one else would think the same thing I'm thinking. Or wait, maybe that happens all the time … so yeah, never mind.)
Spoilers: Oh, probably just up to episode 10.4, 10.5. And only very general ones at that. In fact, there's really only one thing that is based on what's *going to* happen as opposed to what has happened or what I'm just plain making up. But I'm thinking that anyone who saw 'Dear Abby' and isn't … um … dead is probably clued in already. If not, just wait and read this one next week. Or, you know, tomorrow.
Author's Note: Yeah, I can't stop. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I really can't stop. I'm addicted. So sad. But anyway … here's a new fic. Yay! Thanks to COURTNEY, as usual, for the encouragement … and, as always, the line by line editing. If anyone else has anything to say about it, I'd love to hear your comments. So hit that review button or e-mail me, please. Especially if you want more. The more encouragement I get, the faster I write. So you see … it's really to your advantage to review. Oh, and … what's with the song lyrics? I dunno … I felt like it. So many good songs, so little time. I like to think of them as setting the mood for the chapter. Imagine them playing in the background while you read, if you so choose. Cheesy? Maybe. But everyone needs a little shtick now and then. The title lyrics belong to David Gray. And this chapter's lyrics belong to Alanis Morissette. In case anyone doesn't already know.
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Let Go of Your Heart *~*~*~*"If you want it, come and get it, crying out loud. The love that I was giving you was never in doubt. Let go your heart. Let go your head. And feel it now." ~ David Gray, Babylon
*~*Chapter 1: You Oughta Know*~*
"Cause the love that you gave that we made Wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide"
*~*~*~*~*
"Abby … wait." I hear his feet pounding on the steps behind me, and with a sudden flash of insight, I realize that coming up here was a bad idea. Once I hit the roof, he'll be right behind me. And then what? Way to paint yourself into a corner, Abby. Of course, in all fairness to myself, I didn't really expect him to follow me up here. I push through the door and march over to the building's ledge, staring out at the nightscape of the city before me.
"Abby?"
It's warmer than I thought it would be out here. It's February, the dead of winter in Chicago, but we've been experiencing a warm snap the past few days.
"I just want to talk to you, Abby."
Amazing to me that the city, which is so bleak and dreary by day during these long, cold months, can be so beautiful at night. The lights twinkling in the darkness of the crisp night air would make you think that this place is the most beautiful spot on Earth. But it's an all an illusion. Like so much else in my life.
"Why won't you talk to me?"
I cross my arms over my chest at a sudden chill. Maybe it's colder than I thought.
"Abby?" I can hear the defeat, the sadness in his voice. And then the bitterness, "So glad to see you've changed."
I'm so stunned that I turn around and look at him for the first time. But I just stare at him because I find that I have nothing to say. How am I supposed to answer that? A year ago, on this very roof, he told me that he wanted to marry me. And then he took it back because he was afraid that I could never change. And now that I have, he can't even see it. Or it's still not good enough for him. And that's fine, because it's not about him, and it never was. Whatever changes I've made in my life have been for myself. Why would I do it for him? He doesn't even want me. Why should I care what he thinks? So why do I care what he thinks? Well, maybe if he hadn't made it a point to chase me up to here to point out one more way that I've disappointed him …
"I'm sorry," he says, sounding contrite. "It's just … frustrating for me, you know?"
No, not really. What's frustrating? That I won't make idle chit-chat with him now that he's deigned to grace me with his presence? Screw you, Carter. What do you know about frustration? Frustration is a 'fuck off' letter sent from halfway around the world, detailing your supposed failings. Frustration is having that letter passed around among everyone you know. Frustration is having the author of that letter drop back into your life without warning, wanting to act as if it never happened and blaming you for not being able to forget that it did.
But I don't say any of that. I'm afraid of what might happen if I open my mouth. So I just stare at him, hoping that my face won't reveal my emotions.
He looks back at me, and then away, out over the city as he begins to speak. "I guess, it's just … well, I came home and you were so … different. I wasn't prepared for that. I guess I just thought that things would be how they were when I left. I kept picturing this place, you, everything the way it was the last time I was here. Stupid, I know. But that's how it was. So when I saw you … I mean, med school? Don't get me wrong, I think it's great, but I wasn't ready for that. I prepared myself for you having some new boyfriend -- after all, I told you not to wait for me -- but a whole new career? It took some time for me to get to used the idea. But when I did, I wanted so much to talk to you about it, I wanted to talk to you about so many things, but … you wouldn't -- you won't -- talk to me." His voice is still calm, carefully measured, as he regards me for a long minute before turning away from me again.
"You act as if you didn't even notice that I came back. Or maybe it's that you just don't care. You seem so … indifferent when it comes to me. You weren't glad to see me. Not that I expected that, not after my last homecoming." The tone of voice is angrier now … or maybe …hurt?
"But I thought that maybe you'd at least act like you cared. Even if you were upset. Hell, even if you were mad as hell and came at me with both barrels, it would have been better than this … apathy. It's as if you've forgotten everything that ever happened between us. It's like you don't care if I'm dead or alive. Certainly you don't seem to care about what we once had. And maybe you never did. God knows I tried so hard to get some emotion out of you. I just wanted to know that you were as … passionate about us as I was. I wanted to know that I mattered to you. But you never could give me that. Maybe I never really was that important to you."
He turns and looks me in the eye. "You act like I don't matter to you one way or the other. Do you even care, Abby? Did you ever care? Or was I nothing more than just a good fuck to you?"
It happens so fast -- fast as the jolt of lightening that suddenly illuminates us in the night sky -- that I don't realize what I'm doing until I see, in that flash of lightening, my hand slapping him across the face. Thunder claps over our heads, and then the sky opens up, unleashing a torrent that rains down on us.
"How dare you!" I bite off the words angrily, infuriated beyond reason that he should even suggest turning what we had into something so trivial. Can he really think that all he ever was to me was just sex?
"You self-centered son of a bitch! You want to know if I care? Do I care? I'm not the one that ran away. I'm not the one who, the minute things got rough, threw up my hands and gave up on us. I didn't run off, halfway around the world, just to get away from you because I was too much of a coward to face my problems!"
"Oh, so now it's all my fault?" He sounds incredulous, as if he can't believe that I would think such a thing. Probably he also can't believe that I slapped him. He works his jaw a bit, bring his own hand up to his cheek where a red mark seems to be forming already.
"Well, you're the one who kept running away," I tell him, noticing that the rain has already soaked my hair, my clothes.
"And I suppose things were perfect until I left and ruined everything, huh?" And he says I'm sarcastic. Guess he took something away from our time together.
"I never said things were perfect, Carter," I say, the anger still evident in my raised voice, although my emotion is somewhat tempered now. "I don't know what kind of fairytale you were living in, but welcome to the real world where things aren't always simple. I know we had our problems. But that doesn't mean you give up. Not if you really care. Everyone has problems, and relationships aren't easy; you have to work at them. And I thought that we were working at it. Making progress. I thought things would get better. I wasn't the one who gave up on us."
"Oh right, Abby. I gave up on us. While you were open and honest and fully committed to making things work. Except, of course, that anytime something went wrong you would push me away. You didn't need me. You didn't want me. Hell, you kept telling me to go away." He's angry, yelling every bit as loud as I am. But the hurt in his voice is more raw now. He doesn't seem to notice the rain cascading down around him.
"I was just trying to protect you. I didn't want to drag you down with me." We've been over this. Must we do this again?
"But I didn't want to be protected. That wasn't your decision to make." He turns away from me, the frustration in his voice just as evident in his tightly-clenched jaw and abrupt movements. He's frustrated, but then his voice takes on a softer tone. "All I wanted was to be with you Abby. To protect you. I didn't care what I had to go through, I just wanted to help you through it. If you just would have let me in, we could have gotten through anything together. We could have been happy. God, if you could ever stop with the gloom and doom for two minutes, maybe you would have seen that."
"Well, excuse me for being scared. Excuse me for assuming that my life is going to be a series of tragedies. I don't know where I got such a crazy idea. Oh wait, yeah, I do. Only from my entire life's experience. Everything I touch turns into a disaster. Something always goes wrong." It's true. My personal life is a mess and always has been. That's why I'm better off just giving up. Besides, I have a career to concentrate on now. And there all I have to do is make life and death decisions on a regular basis. But it's easy … there's always a right and wrong answer. And if I don't know the answer, someone else will. I can figure out what the patients need, but when it comes to my own life …
"But you can't live like that, Abby," Carter says, softly, interrupting my thoughts. "You can't base your whole life on what bad thing might happen."
"What other choice do I have?" I yell at him. Because what business is it of his anyway?
"You could be happy! You could stop dwelling on the bad things that you can't change. And start changing the things that you can."
"What do you think I'm doing? What do you think I've been doing?" My God, is he really that blind? "Why do you think I went back to med school? Because I wanted to be the one in the driver's seat in my life for once! Because I was miserable and I needed to change something … and that was the only thing I had control over. After all, you were gone. And you'd decided that we were nothing other than the disaster I was always terrified we would turn into. Not that you would have noticed if you'd been here, anyway. You were too damn worried about yourself to notice how hard I was trying."
"How hard you were trying? How exactly were you trying, Abby? By not being there for me because you had more important things to do? By refusing to let me in … by refusing to let me make you happy?" I can tell by his body language that he's angrier about this than he's letting on. Well, fine. I'm angry too.
"And when exactly were you trying to make me happy?" I spit at him, shoving a handful of rain-saddened hair out of my face.
"Always, Abby. That's all I ever wanted. It's why I wanted to see you stop being so negative. It's why I wanted to see you make some changes."
"And I did! I did change. And you didn't see it. Or you didn't think it was real. You accused me of trying to fake you out with some quick fix so I could get my hands on that ring. I was trying so hard to change. Not for you … but because of you. That night on this roof … when you said you wanted to marry me … I couldn't believe that it was really true. It was way too scary to hope that it could be. But a part of me couldn't help but hope … and then, at the restaurant … Look, I understood why you didn't propose. And I don't blame you. But you know, it made me take a good, long look at myself. And I realized that there were some things I didn't like. So I wanted to make some changes. For myself. But also so that I could be the person that you deserve." I've walked away from him now, but I turn back to look at him and see the sadness on his face.
"But I wanted you just the way you were, Abby."
"No, you didn't, John. That was the whole problem. You wanted to fix me," I say without anger so much as exasperation … and defeat. I look back out across the city in the rain, watching for the next lighting strike, and averting my gaze from him.
"I didn't want to fix you. I wanted help you fix your problems so you could get your life on track."
"So that things could be easy for you. But it was my life. Not yours."
"No, Abby. That's where you're wrong. Because it's not just your life. Why don't you get that? Everything that happened to you … happened to me too. And I … I couldn't stand seeing you miserable. But it seemed like at the first sign of trouble, you'd just fall apart."
"How incredibly hypocritical." I turn back to look at him, hearing the disdain in my voice.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, sounding as if he doesn't have any idea of what I'm talking about.
"I'm the one who fell apart when things went wrong? That's interesting." I hope my voice denotes my sarcasm. "So I guess I was supposed to be strong and think positive when … oh, I don't know … I found out my baby brother had the same disease that ruined my mother's life. Or, you know, when I thought he was dead. I should have just sucked it up and put on a happy face to make your life easier. Yet, when something bad happened in your life … it was okay for you to … fall apart. And it was okay for you to leave me." The anger is back full strength now. Who the hell does he think he is? Sitting in judgment on me, and then turning around and doing the same damn thing he condemned me for.
"The same way you left me."
"What are you talking about?" My turn to be confused because I have no idea what he's getting at.
"Abby, my grandmother died. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
"How would I? You didn't talk to me about it."
"You weren't there!"
"For one day, Carter. My brother was sick. And I'm all he has. He needed me."
"I needed you, too."
"You had a funny way of showing it. Wanting nothing to do with me. Who was pushing who away then?"
"Your brother made a mockery of my grandmother's funeral."
"And I apologized for that. What more could I do? It was a terrible thing, and I felt awful. I wanted to be there for you, but I needed to take care of Eric, too. What was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, Abby. It just seemed like I was always lowest on your list of priorities. Everyone … everything else came first. I was always there to help you through, but when I needed you … it felt like you didn't care. And you have no idea how much that hurt. And I just kept thinking, 'Is this how it's always going to be?' You know, would I always have to wonder about my place in your life? And I was just … losing Gamma, things between us, work … everything just seemed so … hopeless."
His voice is quieter now … and full of sadness. He doesn't even sound like himself. A part of me wants to just wrap my arms around him and tell him it's going to be okay. Just like that night when I found out he was going to Africa the first time. He sounded so sad … so defeated. But he didn't come to me. And that still hurts. Even now. Thinking about how different things could have been if only he wouldn't have run away, the anger flairs again. He went to Africa to escape. From me.
"Oh, well, no wonder you had to go to Africa to get away from me. Since I'd gotten to be such a burden, such a miserable failure."
"You were never a burden, Abby."
"Just a failure. Just a disappointment."
"You're weren't a disappointment."
"Of course I was. You told me so in that letter that you were nice enough to send. Nothing like being dumped from halfway around the world to make a girl feel good." More sarcasm, and this time I know it isn't lost on him.
"Abby …" He's giving me that look … asking me not to go down this road.
"What?" I don't know why I shouldn't let him know how that felt. He should know what it did to me.
"I … I wanted to explain why I wasn't coming home. I thought you might understand."
"Sure. I understood. I couldn't live up to your expectations. I wasn't good enough. So you were dumping me. It was pretty clear."
"Abby, I said a lot of things in that letter that …at the time … Look, I wasn't thinking clearly. And … when I said it was me, not you. That much was right. But the rest of it …"
"Well, doesn't really matter much anyway, does it? Because … actions speak louder than words, right? So whatever your reasons … whatever your excuses … it doesn't matter, because you still left me."
"Abby … I never meant to hurt you."
I laugh, but it's a mirthless sound as all my anger comes bubbling back to the surface. "Sure you didn't. That's why you left me." I bite off the words in bitter pieces, spinning around to face him.
"You left me!" The rage in my voice shouldn't really surprise me. After all, my jaw is clenched, and my hands are balled into tight fists. I concentrate on the pain of fingernails digging into the palm of my hand, trying to hold back the angry tears that threaten to fall.
"You left me, you asshole!
How could you do that? The one thing I asked of you … the only thing I asked of you. And you couldn't do it. You had to go. Even after you promised me. You promised that you weren't going anywhere. You promised! And I believed you. I trusted you. And you left me." My voice is thick with tears of anger and frustration."Oh, Abby, I didn't mean …" He moves toward me, reaching his hand out as if to comfort me in some manner.
"No! Don't touch me. Don't make it any worse. Just go away."
"You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do. It was so much easier before you came back. So much easier to convince myself that I'd moved on." I don't know why I'm saying these things to him. I don't want to tell him these things. But it's almost as if I can't help myself.
"Maybe you don't want to move on. Maybe I don't either. Maybe we should … give 'us' another try."
"I can't do that." My voice heavy with tears now, but some of the anger deflated.
"Can't? Or won't?"
"It's like you said in the letter … we're better off 'unfettered.' I wouldn't want you stuck with me."
"I wouldn't be stuck with you, Abby. I want you back."
"What makes you think I want you back? Let's not pretend that you came back for me. You had more important things on your mind than me."
"For your information, when I came back, I didn't want to presume that I could ever have you back. I knew you would probably be angry with me. And you had every right. I wasn't even sure that getting back together would be the right thing. And then … when you seemed happy without me, I thought maybe it was best to leave well enough alone. But I just can't do it, Abby. Even after everything, I'm still drawn to you. I can't stay away. I don't want to. And I don't think you want me to, either. I can see it in your eyes Abby. You're not really happy, are you? Deep down, you know as well as I do that something's missing."
"Just because you're here now … that doesn't make it all go away. You left me, you dumped me -- in a letter no less. I've never been so humiliated in my life. And then you come back here … but you weren't even thinking about me. As usual."
"Always about you, huh, Abby?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's all about me. I'm the selfish one here. Remind me again … who dumped who? Who was it that got left behind?"
"I know, Abby. And I'm sorry … but I'm trying to make it right."
"But you can't. You can't just make it go away. You can't just make me trust you again. It's not that easy."
"Abby …"
"You broke my heart, Carter. For the first time in my life, I thought that maybe there was a chance. That maybe happily ever after wasn't just for storybooks. I thought that maybe I could really be happy … with you. Maybe I could have the things I always wanted out of life. You promised you weren't going anywhere, and I believed you. I thought you were different from … everyone else in my life. Everyone I love always leaves. But I thought you were different."
"You loved me?"
"How you could not know that? I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. And then you broke my heart. You told me you wanted to marry me. And then you walked away. Just to waltz back into my life again and mess everything up. I've been so mad … and I've wanted more than anything to hate you. But I can't."
"Why not?"
I shake my head, refusing to answer.
"Abby, why not? Why don't you hate me? Why can't you hate me?" I just keep shaking my mutely, biting on my lip, trying to hold back the tears, not trusting myself to keep my feelings in check.
"Why can't you hate me Abby? Why? There's gotta be a reason." He knows. He already knows. Well, of course he does.
"Abby? Why?" I'm shaking like a leaf, trying desperately to hold on to my composure.
"Abby!" His tone is stern and even rough now. He grabs me by the shoulders and holds me at arms length, staring in my face. Bound and determined to make me say it.
"Abby. Why? Why can't you hate me?" I can't stand it anymore. I can't be this close to him … just inches away from him … and lie to him. The tears are streaming down my cheeks now, mixing with the rain drops. And I can't stop them any more than I can stop the pouring rain.
"Tell me, Abby!" He's staring at me, looking into my soul. And I can't fight it anymore. I can't fight him. I can't fight my feelings.
"Because I love you! Because I still love you. I probably always will." My voice cracks as a sob breaks loose and a new wave of tears washes over my cheeks. I slip out of John's grasp and fall to my knees, burying my head in my hands as I choke on my sobs while the rain pours down over me, soaking me to the bone.