"Okay, Abby, spill it."

"Good morning to you, too, Susan."

"I want details."

"You're not getting details," I tell her, turning from my locker and clamping my hand over a huge yawn that I can't seem to stifle.

"If you're yawning already, this must be good. I definitely need details." Just then the door opens and Sam walks in. Great, all the better to gang up on me. Just what I need.

"Details about what?" Sam asks.

"Abby's wild night."

"Wild night?" Sam's intrigued now.

"She finally got some last night."

"Susan.."

"Congratulations," Sam says. Congratulations? What the hell? I didn't know it was such an achievement. I also didn't know that the whole ER was keeping tabs on my sex life.

"You did get some last night, right?" Susan asks. Just making sure, I guess.

"Why? Am I walking funny?"

"No, but …" Susan stops, looks at me for a moment and then breaks into a grin. "Aha! So you did get some, huh?" So now I have a choice … fess up or put up with her nagging me all day. I'm just gonna end up caving eventually anyway so …

"Yeah," I admit. "Last night." Then, mumbling, "This morning. Several times in between."

"No wonder you're yawning," Susan says, obviously having heard those last statements. Guess they weren't exactly as under-my-breath as I thought.

"Damn." Sam adds. "Good for you,"

"Good for Carter," Susan says, sounding impressed. "I didn't know he had it in him."

"Carter?" Sam is asking. "So Carter's the lucky guy, huh? I guess I should have known." She gives me a speculative look and then says with a smile, "Took you guys long enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"It means … it's about time." Sam says.

"I've been trying to tell her for months."

"It's a good thing you finally got to it," Sam tells me. "We were losing patience."

"Who's we?" I ask.

"You know. The ER."

"The ER? Everyone in the ER is really that concerned about what's going on with Carter and I?"

"Yeah, but the waiting was getting tough, so …"

"Gee, glad I could be of help."

"So, c'mon," Susan says, pulling me over to the couch. "Details."

"Yeah, and don't leave out the good stuff," Sam says.

"Did you do it right there in the front hall?" Susan asks.

"The front hall?" Sam sounds surprised, but she perches on the coffee table in front of the couch and leans forward in anticipation.

"Yeah," Susan starts, "As if it wasn't enough that they were making out in front of my baby all night, they practically did it in front me."

"Susan!" I protest in a voice somewhere between outrage and exasperation.

"Don't pretend you didn't, Abby." Then she turns to Sam. "They couldn't get me out of the house soon enough. And then the door was barely closed behind me and they'd jumped all over each other."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been peeking in the windows."

"You peeked in the windows?" Sam doesn't seem to share my sense of outrage. In fact, I'm getting the distinct impression that she'd like to high-five Susan.

"They made me leave before I could see anything. But ten bucks says they did it right there in the hall."

"Carter? The front hall?" Sam sounds skeptical. "He seems a little buttoned-up for that kind of thing."

"So do we have a bet?" Susan asks Sam.

"Sure." Sam turns to me. "Well?"

"I'll never tell." Although I can't help laughing on the inside at the thought of Carter being too buttoned-up for sex in the hallway. Little does Sam know that it wouldn't take much to convince him to have sex in the hallway here in the ER.

"Sure you will," Susan says. "So you might as well tell us now."

"No."

"Come on, you have to settle the bet."

"No, I'm not giving you the details. Forget it."

"Forget what?" Carter asks, as he enters the room. Something tells me he's here looking for coffee, but a glance toward the coffee pot confirms that's it empty. Not surprising considering it's the usual state of affairs around here. Before John can even walk toward the coffee, I find myself overcome with some need to take care of him so I pop off the couch and scurry across the room.

"You want coffee?" I ask, not bothering to wait for a response. "I'll do it." In fact, I'm already rinsing out the pot and peering at it, trying to decide if I should actually wash it for once. Normally I wouldn't bother, but for some reason, this morning I want to. I seem to be on a mission to make the perfect cup of coffee.

"Oh God," I hear Susan say behind me, "She's making him coffee. It must be pretty serious."

"You told them?" John asks. He doesn't sound upset, just … curious, I suppose. Maybe a little surprised … but I figure we can't keep it a secret forever. Not that I want to.

"Well, I didn't exactly have to tell them," I remind him. "I think Susan sort of figured it out last night. So it's a good thing we weren't trying to keep it quiet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Susan asks. "Are you implying that I have a big mouth?"

"No, I wasn't implying it." I toss her a grin over my shoulder as I put the coffee pot on the burner. "And you wonder why I won't give you details?"

"Details?" Carter croaks, unnerved at the though of me sharing them, I suppose. He settles on the end of the couch and turns to give Susan a weary look.

"How about giving me the details then?" Sam wants to know. "I don't have a big mouth."

"Hey," Susan says, sounding offended.

"No," I answer Sam. "We're not participating in show and tell today. So forget about the details."

"Details about what?" John asks, sounding like he already knows.

"You know," I say.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He ducks his head down, and he's blushing. He's cute when he's embarrassed. It makes me want to reach out and ruffle his hair. So I do just that. Before I would have hesitated, even with such an innocent gesture, but not now. I don't really care who sees. I love him, I should be able to touch him.

"You're cute," I tell him, letting my hand rest on the top of his head a moment before smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"So are you," he says, capturing my wrist and pulling me toward him. I drop onto the couch next to him, not exactly on his lap, but about as close to him as I can get, pressed up against his side. I tuck my legs up under me, my knees resting on his thigh, my hand on his chest. And with a yawn, I rest my head against his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asks, slipping his arm around my shoulder and holding me close.

"Mmm …" I mumble, "Someone kept me up all night."

"No, I think someone kept me up all night." Undoubtedly he didn't mean that to sound as … suggestive as it did, but it still sends Susan into a fit of giggles.

"So we heard," Sam says.

"I thought you said you didn't tell them," John says to me.

"Well, I didn't tell them the details. I might have mentioned that there were several … uh, instances."

"Did you tell them about the front hall?"

"No, you just did. They were trying to get it out of me when you came in, and I refused to tell them. Guess I shouldn't have worried about it."

"So you didn't tell them about the shower?"

"The shower?" Sam asks. Somehow I get the impression that she and Susan are taking notes … all the better to pass this information around the ER later. Oh well. Maybe no one will believe them.

"Twice." Carter tells them. I think he's enjoying this. Probably some weird male ego thing.

"Didn't you run out of hot water?" Sam wants to know.

"Didn't you get all pruny?" Susan asks.

"Two separate occasions," I explain.

Susan glances at her watch. "Two showers? You haven't been back together that long. Making up for lost time?"

"Well, you know, one this morning at his place. And then one at my place."

"Also this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Why would you have needed to take a shower at your place if you just had one at his place? Did you jog there?" Susan asks.

"No. Uh …"

"What?"

"Well …" I look to Carter for help, but he doesn't seem to have anything to offer.

"Oh my God," Sam says, "You did it in the car on the way to your place?"

"Geez, it's like a ten minute drive," Susan sneers.

"No, we didn't … do it in the car. We just … uh …" Now my cheeks are getting red.

"Never mind," Susan says. "I don't want to know."

"I do," Sam says, adding, "You two are like a couple of rabbits." I can't tell if she's impressed or disgusted. "Too bad I can't stick around and hear all about it." She gets up and heads for the door.

"It's that whole making up for lost time thing," Susan tells her.

"Well, whatever it is," Sam says looking back at me from across the lounge, "I just hope you're on the pill or at the rate you guys are going, you'll be pregnant by the end of the week."

I slide a quick a glance at Carter, but his expression is unreadable. He's not giving anything away at the moment. Susan, on the other hand, is rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Best to just ignore that subject … for the moment, anyway.

"Is it busy out there?" I ask Carter.

"Nope. Pretty dead."

"Good," I say in fading voice, letting my eyes drift close.

"Now I understand why you're so tired," Susan says.

"Impressed?" I ask, opening one eye to peer at her.

"Grossed out is more like it."

"I think you mean jealous."

"Shut up."

"Okay." I close my eye, and snuggle up to John a little more.

"I'm gonna let you guys have your little nap. But you'll owe me."

"Whatever," I mumble, feeling myself drifting off. I hear the door swing closed as Susan leaves and feel Carter's chin come to rest on the top of my head. I smile and let sleep wash over me.

"Don't you think we should wake them?" I'm suddenly awake. I know that voice. British accent. Neela. I squeeze my eyes closed, not willing to wake up yet.

"But they're so cute." Susan. I wonder who else is here, watching me … us sleep.

"So 'cute' gets you out of work all afternoon?"

I hear the shrug in Susan's voice. "They had a … long night."

"I didn't realize that baby-sitting was so strenuous."

"I don't think it was the baby-sitting." Uncontrollable giggling. I'm glad Susan is enjoying this so much.

I open one eye and find myself staring at the back of the couch. I realize that John and I have somehow gone from being curled up in the corner of the couch to being sprawled along the length of it with me lying squarely on top of him, my head resting on his chest. I lift my head and turn toward Susan and Neela.

"Oh, look. Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," Susan says. I blink a few times and lay my head back down, resting the other cheek on Carter's chest this time, so that I can look out into the room instead of staring at the couch.

"Or maybe not," Neela says, as my eyes drift close again.

"Hey," I croak out opening my eyes, fully this time, as what I just saw registers, "Are you guys drinking my coffee?"

"Your coffee?" Susan says, sounding a bit indignant.

"Well, the coffee that I made for Carter."

Susan laughs aloud at that. "Abby, that pot of coffee is long gone. That was probably three pots ago, in fact."

"What?" I'm confused. How much coffee can people drink in the span of a short little nap?

As if reading my mind, Susan says, "You guys have been asleep for hours."

"What? Why didn't you wake us up?"

She shrugs. "It's been quiet. Besides, I'm not sure we could have even if we wanted to. Everyone has traipsed in and out of here all afternoon, and you two have hardly stirred. Sam was poking at you earlier, but all you did was bat her hand away and bury your head under Carter's arm. And I don't even think he moved. I don't know what you did to him, Abby, but I'm not sure he'll ever recover. He might still be sleeping here on the couch next week."

"I know how to wake him up," I assure them.

"Shall we leave the room?" Neela asks.

"No, that won't be necessary." I move my head to his shoulder and whisper into his ear, "Wake up, John. C'mon, time to get up." He groans and bit and turn his head toward me, but doesn't seem to really be approaching wakefulness. I kiss his neck and try again. "Wake up, Carter."

"Mmm … Abby?" I turn to see a smile on a his face, but his eyes are still closed tight as his arms wrap around me tight, holding me close to him.

"Good guess," I tell him. "Glad you got it right. But you still have to wake up. C'mon."

"Yeah, I can see where that's working really well, Abby," Susan says with the most sarcasm she can muster up.

"Okay, well … I know one way that always works."

"We really are leaving then," Neela says, starting toward the door.

"Speak for yourself," Susan tells her.

I roll my eyes. "You don't have to leave," I assure Neela. "And there won't be any nudity involved. Sorry," I tell Susan. I reach up and pinch Carter's nose closed. Predictably, his mouth falls open. And within seconds, he's flailing his head around. I pull my hand away, just about the time his eyes fly open.

"Hi," I say cheerfully.

"Hi." He gives me a little smile as his sleepy eyes gaze around the room. "What's going on?" He asks me, his voice still full of sleep, sounding deep and throaty.

"We had a nap. A long nap. Everyone's been watching us sleep. They probably took pictures, too."

"Just a few," Susan qualifies. "And they're cute. I'll print some out for you." She probably used that damn digital camera that she's taken to carrying around with her ever since Charlie was born.

"What?" John says, sounding dazed.

"Don't worry about it." I smooth the hair back from his forehead and gaze fondly at his face, still relaxed by the remnants of sleep. His features are softened, and he looks, for all the world, like a sleepy little boy struggling to wake up. "You're not awake yet, are you?" I prop myself up on my elbow and smile at him lovingly.

"What's that look for?"

I shake my head slightly. "I was just thinking how cute you are when you're half asleep."

"You keep telling me how cute I am, and I'm gonna get some sort of complex," he says, pulling me back in close to him, and turning his head so that he can kiss me. It's a soft and sweet kiss, but passionate enough to make me forget about the other people in the room.

"A-hem." Susan clears her throat loud enough to bring us back into the real world.

"Sorry," John says in a contrite voice, shifting me off of him so that he can sit up. He stretches and looks at his watch, doing a classic double take when the time sinks in. "Is that right? That can't be right."

"It's right," Susan assures him.

"We slept through practically our whole shift?" He asks, sounding stunned.

"Speak for yourself, I still have hours to go."

"Still …"

"Yeah, I know," I say.

"Well," Susan says to us, "Maybe if you two wouldn't be up 'til all hours engaged in various … activities, you could get some sleep at night."

"And then have sex in the lounge all day?" I quip, shocking Neela a little bit, I think.

"Maybe you two should take a vacation," Susan suggests.

"You gonna cover for me?" Carter asks her.

"I don't think you're a problem. They're used to you coming and going. But I'd probably have to die to get any time off."

"Aww, poor Abby. Poor, overworked intern. Such a shame." Susan's idea of sympathy.

"You would think it would be in their best interests not to work us to death the first year," Neela says.

"Aww, poor Neela. Don't worry, you'll get through it. Look at Carter and I. We got through it. And it didn't kill us or drive us around the bend or anything."

"Well, it didn't kill you anyway," I helpfully add.

"Next time I'm waking you up. With a bucket of cold water."

"That's what friends are for, I guess."

"Neela and I are gonna get back to work. If you feel like working at all during the rest of your shift, just come find me. I can probably come up with something for you to do."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I tell her as she leaves. Neela lingers to give me a look that I can't quite decipher, but then follows Susan out of the lounge, leaving John and I alone for the moment.

"So you going home now?" I ask him.

"Hard to believe that my shift is over already. This has to be the easiest shift I ever worked."

"Worked?"

"Okay. Mostly slept through. No wonder it went by so fast."

"Yeah, imagine that."

"I could stick around," he offers.

"No," I say shaking my head. "I appreciate the thought, but you should go home. Get some rest …" I give him a look that I hope comes off as the suggestive leer that I had in mind.

"If you're sure …" He gives me a grin that leaves no doubt in my mind that my meaning came through loud and clear.

"Oh, I'm sure." I stand up, somewhat reluctantly. "But I suppose I ought to see some patients today."

"You saw some this morning," he points out as he stands up and catches me around the waist, letting his hands rest on the small of my back.

"Oh yeah. Before nap time. But still …"

"You want me to leave the car for you?" Oh yeah, my car is still sitting in front of his house.

"Nope, I can take the El."

"I can come back and pick you up."

"No, that's okay. I'll be fine on the El," I assure him.

"I'll meet you there then."

"At the El? It's only a few blocks, I'm sure I'll be fine."

He sighs, but then smiles at me with a shake of his head. "Okay, so I'll see you at home then?"

"Yeah," I reach up and give him a quick peck on the lips before slipping out of his grasp and starting across the room. I pause at the door and look back at him. "I'll see you … at home."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I told Abby I would wait at home for her. But somehow, I find myself waiting on the El platform instead. I watch as another train pulls to a stop. This time, when the door slides open, instead of strangers giving me wary glances, it's Abby who steps onto the platform. She sees me right away and shakes her head. She's trying her best not to smile, but to give me a disapproving look instead. But I see the smile in her eyes, and I know that whatever kind of crap she may give me, she's secretly pleased to find me here.

"You were afraid I'd get lost?" she asks, walking toward the bench where I'm sitting.

"No, not exactly," I say, standing up and grabbing her hand.

"Just couldn't wait to see me?" She's being sarcastic, as usual, but she has no idea how right she is.

"Yeah. That's it." I say it quietly, sincerely, but with a playful tone.

Abby gives me a suspicious, sidelong glance. But then she giggles and breaks into a smile, ducking her head … in embarrassment? "You're gonna spoil me," she says.

"Spoil you?"

"With all this special treatment."

"Special treatment? Meeting you at the El?"

"Uh-huh."

"Boy, I must have really neglected you last time." It's a joke, but we both know there's truth behind the joke.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

"I just meant … it's the honeymoon phase, you know. I better enjoy it while I can."

"While you can?"

"Yeah. I better not get too used to it. By this time next week you won't be meeting me at the El when I have a late shift. You'll be mumbling something as I leave in the morning about being sure to not wake you up when I get home in the wee hours of the morning."

"I won't be doing that … Not next week, anyway. Maybe next month." She gives me a swat on the arm, but without much substance behind it. "Seriously … I probably won't meet you at the El every time you come home later than I do, but I'm not gonna take you for granted this time." I steal a glance at Abby, and find her looking down at our hands. My gaze, too, falls to our intertwined fingers. "I promise you that. I've promised myself that. I'm not gonna screw up this time."

"You're not the only one who made mistakes."

"Okay, we're not gonna screw it up this time."

"Right." She leans in closer to me as we walk, resting her head against my shoulder. "It feels different this time. I guess because we're different. Except we're still the same." She pauses, then says in self-mocking tone, "That makes a lot of sense."

"And yet, I understand perfectly. I think it's just … we're ready now. Everything up until now was just practice. Until we were ready to get it right."

She's still giving me a long look when we come to the house. She follows me up the front steps, and I unlock the door and usher her inside. I watch as she glances around the room and the expression on her face turns to something more speculative. She raises one eyebrow at me.

"What?" I ask her, as if I didn't know.

"Somebody moving?" She asks, gesturing to the bags at the foot of the stairs.

"You."

"Me?" She looks at me now with disbelief.

"Well … sort of. I thought you'd feel more at home if you had some of your stuff here. And we wouldn't have to be running over to your place before work all the time."

"So you just went and packed up some of my stuff." Her voice is flat and gives away no hint of her feelings.

"Um … yeah? I hope you're not mad. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"I'm not mad. I just … wait, how did you get into my apartment? I've got my keys."

"Uh … I kind of … borrowed your extra set this morning."

"You took my keys?" She sounds a little mad. And I guess I can understand that.

"Well, I figured …" I trail off. Because what if I'm wrong and Abby had no intention of giving me the key to her place? Just because she has a key to my place …

"Way to stand on ceremony. Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to present them to you?"

"So you don't mind that I have them? You just wish that you could have given them to me?"

"Well … yeah. After all, I've got the keys to your place, you should have the keys to mine. But it would have been nice to give them to you instead of having you snitch them out of the junk drawer."

"Oh. Well, in that case." I reach into my pocket and drop the key ring with her keys into Abby's hand. "Now you can give them to me."

"Maybe I don't want to now."

"Fine. Be that way." But even as I say it, I'm slipping her jacket off and hanging it up for her. "C'mon," I say, leading the way to the kitchen.

"So what kind of stuff did you bring over?"

"Your stuff?"

"Well, I hope it wasn't the neighbor's stuff."

"What neighbor?"

"You know what I mean. What am I gonna find when I open the bags you packed for me?"

"You know. Clothes and stuff. Clean underwear."

"You went through my underwear?"

"Yeah," I smile, relishing the memory.

"Pervert. Did you bring my toothbrush?"

"Got you a new one."

"Thanks. Hey, are you cooking?" She peers into a pot sitting on the stove.

"Well, I'm heating. Does that count?"

"Soup?"

"It's starting to get cold outside. So soup sounded good. And it's not even from a can."

"No? Where did it come from?"

"The gourmet market."

"Gourmet, huh?"

"Nothing but the best for you."

That gets me an eye roll. "I didn't know you could get a toothbrush at the gourmet market."

I shrug. "I don't know if you can or not. I didn't get it there. I picked that up at the pharmacy. Along with a few other things."

I guess that piques her interest because she wanders over to the table to investigate the bag from the pharmacy. "Purple," she says, pulling out the toothbrush and waving it around. "Nice choice. What else have we got here? Deodorant, razors, soap … you remember what kind of soap I use? Because I certainly don't think you were paying any attention this morning." But even going for the joke, I can tell how pleased she is.

"I missed that soap," I say wistfully as Abby continues to paw through the bag.

"John." She looks up from the bag and gives me a look that I can't quite decipher.

"Huh?"

"There are an awful lot of condoms in here."

"Yeah, well …" I feel a slight flush come to my cheeks.

"I hope you don't think we're gonna use all these tonight."

"Abby … I think that would probably kill me. I just thought it would be good to have a bunch around. We can stash them all over the house."

"All over the house. At my place. In the car. My bag. Your pocket." I think she's teasing me.

"I guess I was thinking about what Sam said."

"Sam's idea of a joke. I didn't even know you noticed."

I shrug. "I did. And I knew she was joking, but I guess it reminded me that we need to take some precautions until it's time."

"Time?"

"You know, the right time. Baby time."

"Baby time," she mumbles. The tone of her voice, the look on her face … I know there's something going on. But I'm not sure just what.

"What's wrong?"

She looks at me for a moment, but doesn't answer. "So are you hungry? Can we eat?" She starts moving around, setting the table, preparing for dinner. It takes all the restraint that I can muster not to ask her again. But I remind myself that it's best not to push her. If I just give her some time, she'll open up when she's ready. That's been a hard lesson for me to learn, but I think I finally got it. And as much as I want to know what she's thinking right this moment, I know I'll get nowhere by nagging her.

"Sure, let's eat." I get busy slicing and buttering bread while Abby ladles out the soup. We sit down and eat, exchanging small talk about work and the weather to get us through the meal. When Abby falls silent, idly twirling her spoon through the dregs in the bottom of her bowl, I struggle to wait her out, knowing it's better if I let her say it in her own way. Finally, she looks up at me, the deep, brown pools of her eyes reflecting the fear and uncertainty she must be feeling. Her eyes fall away from mine, and I have to strain to hear her.

"What if I can't do it?"

"Do what?" It pops out before I realize what I'm saying. I know what she's talking about. But now she probably thinks I'm trying to torture her by making her say the words.

"Have a baby." She gets up from the table in a flurry of activity, sweeping the dishes over to the sink and turning on the water to rinse everything off.

"What do you mean by can't?" I ask, genuinely confused as to her meaning.

She shrugs, her back to me. "Just … can't."

"Did you change your mind?" I get up and move across the room to stand behind her. I rub her shoulder gently, wanting to let her know that whatever her answer is, it's okay. I hope, with all my heart, that she hasn't changed her mind about having my baby, but if she has … well, that doesn't change anything else. Besides, I've got plenty of time to change her mind back. I smile a bit at the thought. Changing Abby's mind about anything is easier said than done, and I'd certainly never want to have to coerce her into anything as important as motherhood. But then again, it never hurts to point out all the rewards and hope that she'll see things my way eventually.

"We didn't exactly think it through."

"No," I agree, slipping my arms around her waist now and resting my chin on her shoulder, "But sometimes the best decisions we make are the ones we make in a heartbeat."

"I know." To my surprise, she hasn't fought my embrace at all, but instead, has seemed to melt into it.

"Sometimes it's how we know what it is that we really want."

"It's not about what I want."

"Then what's it about?"

She leans back and turns her head to look at me. I see some emotion in her eyes that I can't quite pin down. Fear? Pain? I'm not sure, but her eyes are glistening with unshed tears so it must be something intense. She pulls out of my arms then and goes back to sit at the table. She bites at her thumb nail and eyes me nervously, trying to work up to whatever it is she's about to say, I guess.

"I … I don't want to let you down again. I don't want to disappoint you. And then lose you. Not again."

And then I understand. And almost wish I didn't. She thinks I'm putting unspoken conditions on … us. And why shouldn't she? I did it before, didn't I? And when she didn't live up to the expectations that she didn't even know I had -- that I didn't even know I had -- I bailed on her. Of course she's worried that I'd do that same thing now. Especially since she knows, more than anyone else, how important children are to me. Now more than ever. I force myself to look over at her and watch as she lifts her eyes up to meet mine. Her face all guilelessness and vulnerability. So unlike Abby. And yet, I'm learning, so very much like Abby. If you know where to look for it. And here she is, opening up to me, not holding back. And I'm very aware that I better not screw this up.

I cross the room and get down to my knees on the floor next to her chair. I take her hand and wait for her to look me in the eye once more. "Abby," I hesitate, suddenly scared to death that I'll say the wrong thing. I finally decide that maybe I ought to tell her that. "Look, I don't know quite how to say this. And I'm worried about getting it right, so I'll probably mess it up. So you might have to give me another to chance to make it come out right, okay?" She nods, almost imperceptibly, but keeps her gaze locked on me.

"I love you, Abby. I'm only just realizing how much, but I've loved you for so long, I can't imagine what it would be like to not love you. Even all this time that we were apart when I tried to deny it and ignore it and even when I went to extreme lengths to prove to myself that it was gone … I always knew that it was there. And I don't think it's ever gonna go away." She smiles at me, and I reach out to stroke her cheek. "You know before, I thought it was unconditional, but I realize now that I had all these strings attached. I had all these things that I expected of you. That I expected of us. I thought when you found the one that everything would be perfect. And if it wasn't … but I know now that's not the way it works. When it's real, when it's the right person, it's still work. There are still going to be stumbling blocks that you have to work through. You don't just give up. And this time I won't. I'll love you … no matter what. Even if you have to put something or someone else first sometimes. Even if you fall off the wagon. Even if you don't want to have a baby."

She's crying now, tears slipping down her cheeks. But she sniffles, and looks at me, suddenly startled and confused. "I want to have a baby."

"But you said …"

"I said 'what if I can't?' "

"Like if you can't bring yourself to do it, right? If you get too scared about passing on the bipolar disorder? Because, Abby, so long as you're open to raising children, to being a mother … there are other ways. Lots of them. If it's just the biology, we can find ways around it. I mean, the first thing we can do is talk to a genetic counselor, and then --"

"John."

"No, really, Abby. It might help. To know exactly what we're up against. And if it seems too risky, there're still lots of ways -- adoption, surrogates, donor eggs, donor embryos. The technology is out there and money's not an issue. And as much as I'd love to look at my child and see your face, the biology really doesn't matter. Not nearly as much as having a child to call our own and --"

"John."

"What?"

"That's all good to know," she says, looking bemused now, "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"Oh. Well then, what are you talking about?" She hesitates a moment, and I stand up, pulling her to her feet as well. "C'mon … let's go get comfortable and talk this out." I see her glance over at the dishes. "Later. Just leave 'em." I drag her out to the couch where she settles on the end opposite from me. But she doesn't protest when I move over next to her and pull her to me. I wait her out through several false starts until finally I feel, more than hear, her sigh.

"I want to have a baby," she reiterates. My heart seems to swell at the those words, and I can feel the smile forming on my face. "Specifically, our baby. I've held so many newborns, now I want to hold one that's mine. I want to know what that feels like. I know all about the risks, and they still worry me. But not enough, anymore, I guess, to keep me from what I want. I mean, if everyone worried about all the things that could go wrong, no one would ever have children. And what's the worst that could happen? I end up with a child that grows up to be like Eric? It would be hard, but … I guess I've realized that as much as it hurts watching Eric go through this, the only thing worse would be if he wasn't here at all. So it's worth it … the hurt in exchange for all the good. That's how it is with you, too. Even after things went wrong, I didn't really regret it. Because some of my best moments were with you. And I wouldn't have traded them for anything, not even to make the pain go away. I guess that's how it would be with a child, too. And … I want one."

"So then what's the problem?"

"Well, just because it's what we want doesn't mean it will happen. Lots of people want to get pregnant, try to get pregnant, and can't get pregnant." She looks down at her lap where she nervously traces a pattern on her jeans. Her voice drops down to a whisper. "What if I can't? Or what if I can't stay pregnant? I don't want to put you through that. I don't want to be the one to hurt you like that. And if I can't give you what you want …"

Alarm bells are clanging in my head. Something tells me this is about more than just her fears about infertility. I realize that she's worried about what it would mean for us. Not just the sadness or disappointment we would feel, but what it would mean for our relationship. "Do you think I would leave you if you can't give me a baby?" I detect the slightest shrug from her. And then another thought slips into my mind. "Do you think … Abby, you don't think that this … that us is just a means to an end for me, do you?"

"You mean … that you want me back just so I can give you a baby?"

"Yeah."

"No. Not really. It's not what I think; it's what I worry about."

"Well, you can stop worrying because it's not the case. "

"But mostly I worry about letting you down."

"You couldn't. You've already more than proven that. And I wouldn't walk away from you if you couldn't get pregnant. Like I said, there are other ways. I want us to be a family. You, me .. and children. But I don't much care where they come from. My first preference is for babies that we make together, but I meant it when I said that the biology really doesn't matter. So if we can't get pregnant … well, there are lots of treatments to try and if that doesn't work … we can find some other way to be parents. Unless you change your mind about that part and decide that I'd be an awful dad --"

"You'd be a great dad."

"Or that you're scared to be a mom. I know with Maggie and everything …but for what's it worth, I think you'll be a great mom. It's what I always wanted, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But don't worry -- I'm not expecting anything from you than to just be yourself. And that's all you have to do to be the mother I want for my children."

She looks up at me from her curled-up-in-my-arms position, and then lifts her head to give me a quick kiss. "You're sweet. Possibly completely full of shit, but sweet nonetheless."

"I'm not kissing your ass, Abby. It's true. I think you'll be an incredible mother. And it's what I wanted ever since …"

"Ever since when?" she asks when I trail off.

"Ever since I can remember. It's always been tied up with you -- this idea of … well, I never wanted you and I to be just … I always wanted us to be it, you know. I wanted a family. And I wanted it with you. But even if we weren't going to have a family … if, for whatever reason, you changed your mind, I would still want you. I won't lie, I'd be disappointed, but not in you. And I hope it'll never come down to this, but if I had to choose between you or kids … I'd choose you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you don't have to choose. Not now. Not this time."

"And you don't know how happy that makes me. But Abby, I'm not with you just for a baby." She gives me a long, contemplative look. I think she believes me, but just in case … "I can prove it."

"Prove it?"

"Yeah, hang on," I say, gently encouraging her to sit up so that I can slip from behind her. I go out to the hall to retrieve a small packet from my jacket pocket. I return to the couch and sit down next to Abby, facing her this time. I hold out the contents of my hand to her.

"What's this?"

"Plan B."

"The morning after pill?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to take these?"

"No, I want you to know that if you want to take them, I'm fine with it."

"And if you were in it just for the baby, you'd want me knocked up as soon as possible, right?"

"I guess."

"So this is my proof."

"Well …that's not why I brought them home."

"Why did you? I mean, I could have gotten them for myself at work."

"I know. But like I said … I wanted you to know where I stand. I knew you might have gotten some already. For all I knew, you may have taken the first dose already."

"John. I wouldn't do that. Not without talking to you."

"No, I didn't really think so. But it would have been okay if you had. After all, we both agreed that we ought to wait awhile. And if only we'd been thinking more clearly last night …"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I thought about getting them myself."

"But?"

"But … all this stuff we've been talking about. And then there was this patient …" I give her what I'm sure is a blank look. She sighs and gets up, moving over to the windows. I watch her cross her arms loosely as she looks out the window. After a moment she turns back toward me. "You weren't the only one who … took note of what Sam said. I mean, I know she was just joking around. But I got to thinking about how just last night we decided that, of course, we should wait awhile. And then what do we go and do? Have unprotected sex in the hallway."

"And the bed, the kitchen, the bathroom, this couch …" I can't help adding.

"Yes, I remember. But it was more the unprotected part that I was focusing on. So anyway, I did the math. And I knew … well, there's pretty good chance that I was ovulating. Or just had or was just about to."

"So that's why you were all over me. Some primitive hormonal thing."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Me? All over you?" She laughs dismissively.

"That's how I remember it."

"Clearly, your memory is going. So anyway, I was thinking that we'd been careless at just the right time … or wrong time, I suppose. And I figured maybe I should do something to rectify the situation. So I went to the drug lock-up, and I'd just found them when Haleh appeared with some patient labs. A 12 week IUP with spotting who was afraid she was having a miscarriage. But the labs checked out the fine; her exam showed that everything was fine. I got to give somebody some good news … which was nice. When I told her that everything was okay, she burst into tears. She told me she didn't know what she would have done if she'd lost the baby because she spent the last two years trying to get pregnant. And I started thinking about … I don't know, missed opportunities, I guess. It's dumb because I wasn't thinking about a missed opportunity for last month or even next month. And I still think it's a good idea to wait awhile, but … somehow this," she gestures to the pills in her hand, "feels different. I'm not sure how, but … I mean, if we'd used condoms last night -- and this morning," I catch a little grin slip onto her face momentarily at that thought, "I wouldn't be giving it a second thought. But we didn't and now …"

"What?" I prompt, wondering if she thinking what I'm thinking. And also realizing what's probably inspired this round of doubts.

"It's so silly. I mean, we agreed that this isn't the best time. We just barely got back together, for God's sake. We need time to get used to ... everything."

"But?"

"But … what if it's already happening? What if I stop something that's already starting, and we never get another chance? And then I'll always wonder 'what if?' " Turns out she is thinking what I'm thinking. I'm so caught up in thoughts about how we obviously haven't lost the ability to read each other's minds that I almost miss what she's saying now. "But it's so crazy because I know you could ask yourself the same thing about any month that you keep it from happening. And I'm not suggesting that we throw the birth control out the window so … I don't know. I guess I really should take these. There's no good reason not to. It would be the sensible thing to do. We decided this isn't the right time." Her words sound firm, but her eyes tell a different story. We don't always want what's logical and practical, after all.

"Yeah, that's true," I say carefully, not wanting to exert undue influence. Still, she seems to want to include me in the decision. "But I know what you mean. Somehow, it does seem different, after the fact. But I'm okay with it. If it's what you want. But if not … well, that's okay, too. Ideally, I think that a little bit later, after we've had some time to get used to being an us again, would be better. Get used to it being the two of us before it's the three of us … But if the choice were between now and never --"

"I'd take now," she says in unison with me.

"We could just let it ride," I suggest.

"Yeah," she agrees, but doesn't sound sure. We share a long look, and then she nods, once.

And then, suddenly, she's moving across the room. I watch as she hurries off to the kitchen, leaving me confused. Did we make a decision? Where's she going?

"Abby?"

"Yeah?" She says, returning to the room, glass of water in hand. But I thought …

"So … did you decide to take them, then?"

She stops in front of me, giving me a smile as she looks down at me. "No," she shakes her head, "I decided to put them down the garbage disposal."

"Oh. So they're gone? "

"Well, I know where I can get more," she says, with a chuckle giving me an amused, but questioning half smile.

"Not what I meant. So … we'll just see what happens, huh?"

She sets her glass down on the table and lifts my hand up so that she can quickly slip into my arms. Settling down on the couch next to me, but leaning against me, she wraps my arm around her. And then I feel her head settle onto my shoulder. "Well just see what happens," she echoes.

"You fit just right," I murmur into her hair.

"What?"

"I like the way your head fits just right into my shoulder. Like that's where it was always supposed to be."

"Well, if my head were always on your shoulder, it might make life difficult. Think about trying to work a trauma like that."

I sigh audibly. "Gee, Abby, you sure know how to make the most of a moment." But it's all I can do to hide the smile that wants to creep across my lips.

"You know you like it," she says with a yawn, snuggling a little closer.

"Maybe," I admit. I flip the tv on and hunt around until I find a movie I know that we both like. We sit together watching and not talking for a while. Her fingers tangle through the hair at the nape of my neck while my fingers methodically massage her scalp, something that she always used to say was incredibly relaxing.

"This is so weird." Abby's voice startles me out of the trance-like stupor I'd fallen into.

"What?"

"You don't think it's weird?" Abby asks me as her hand trails lightly up my chest.

"Hmm … tell me what 'it' is and I let you know how I feel about 'it.' "

"You know. This. Being here like this. Back together. It's a lot like yesterday. Only entirely different. And it's just … weird. Yesterday we were just friends, albeit with a history. But still … and now, here we are."

"Back together, you mean?"

"Well not just that. Back together and … serious. Committed. Right?"

She sounds a little uncertain, so I drop a kiss onto the top of her head. "Right," I say firmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Which is good. Especially considering the whole … baby thing. But don't you find it weird? Literally, it was just yesterday that we were just friends and today we're talking about having a baby. That the issue of birth control should be at question at all when you just got together with someone is a little … insane."

"Yeah, but we got back together. We talked about this last night. It's not like we just met yesterday or even a few months ago. This has been building for years. And I really feel like everything up until now has happened to get us to this point. Like this is where we are really supposed to be. But if you feel like we're rushing into anything and you're not ready…"

"If I felt that way, I would have taken those pills. I didn't say I wasn't happy with the way things are; I was just … marveling at how much things can change in such a short time."

"Sometimes that's a good thing."

"In this case," she says, "It's a very good thing. But it's still … a little … unbelievable. Hard to get my brain around this whole thing and exactly what it means."

"It feels good, though, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Comfortable. Familiar. But new and exciting, too. And just … the way it should be." I stroke her hair lightly, lovingly, happier than I can describe to have her back in my arms when I didn't think that it would ever happen again.

"I feel like I'm dreaming." She echoes my thoughts, her voice sounding a little dreamy, all soft and breathy.

"You're awake." My voice is barely a whisper.

"Then it must be a dream come true."

Not exactly the type of sentiments I expect to come out of Abby's mouth. But not surprisingly, my sentiments exactly. "Then we must have been having the same dream. I didn't think that I deserved a second chance with you. But I'm so glad you gave me one. Because this really is all I ever wanted." Our eye meet first, and then our lips. When we pull away, my eyes are drawn to hers, a magnetic reaction, as if we're opposite poles with a pull toward each other stronger than we could have ever imagined. "This is the first time, in a long time, that I've felt … alive. Happy. And that … I've really felt like myself."

She's nodding, undoubtedly understanding me perfectly. "When I'm with you, I feel like I'm really myself. Not just that I'm comfortable enough to be myself, but that I'm the most like the self that I want to be." She hesitates for a moment, but I can sense that there's something else that she wants to say. Finally, she speaks again. "They say that when you love someone, it's not just for who they are, but for who they make you. And you make me the best me that I can be."

"You don't need me for that, Abby."

"No, but I do need you. You know that, right? Not to save me. But just to be … with me. Because something is always missing when you're not here."

"I don't know how I got so lucky. I wouldn't have blamed you if you hated me after … how I hurt you. I know you think I was disappointed in you, but I wasn't. I was disappointed in myself. So I don't know how you can say I made you a better person."

"Well, adversity is character building, right? And I am a better person because of you. My life is better because of you. There's all these things that I may have missed out on if it hadn't been for you. I feel like I owe you … and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"And there's nothing you wouldn't have done for me then, right?" I sigh, realizing all over again what a colossal idiot I was to have walked away from her the first time around.

"All you would have had to have done was ask."

"I was afraid of that."

"I figured this time I better just offer."

Suddenly an idea that has been worrying around the edge of my subconscious crystallizes in my mind. "Abby … you're not just doing this for me, are you?"

"This what?" I'm just about to answer when she continues. "Oh, the baby thing? Yes, I'm doing it for you. And for me. For us. Because it's what I want. Because there's nothing else I could do … not and be satisfied with my life. Am I doing it for you? Absolutely. Is that the only reason? Of course not. But you know what? It's one more thing that I'm doing because of you. Without you … or with someone else … I don't know … but with you …" She trails off then, and I don't really know how to respond.

"I'm … honored," I say finally. And I am. To have had that kind of influence on her … and apparently a positive influence in spite of all my mistakes is pretty amazing. And that she's not just willing, but also wants to do something for me that she wouldn't necessarily do for someone else. And something that I want so much that I always feared she'd never want."

"You're right," she says, pulling me out of my reverie.

"Huh? Right about what? Being honored?"

"No. About how good this feels. How right it feels."

I smile and wrap my arms around her a little more tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

"I was a fool."

"I know."

"I'm better now."

"I know."

"I'm gonna make it up to you. Somehow. It might take a while, though."

She looks up at me from her place nestled in my arms. "Lucky for you that I'm not going anywhere. You can have all the time you need. You can have the rest of our lives."

The rest of our lives … I like the sound of that.