These Questions
Chapter 13 - War and Peace
"John?" she called from the living room.
"What?" he called back, staring at a magazine absent-mindedly. He was sharing no interest in it, as he had been showing no interest in anything lately. Being stuck in a bed all day would get boring. He had only been home for five minutes.
"You aren't hungry or anything are you?"
"No thanks," he answered tightly. He looked up, and threw the magazine to the side. "Shouldn't I be the one running around to help you?"
"I'm not running around," she said straightly. Her voice was still covered in frustration. Of what, he wouldn't know.
"You busy?" he asked, wanting her to be near him again.
"No," she said. "I suppose you want me in there again."
"Again?" He couldn't help the smile creep across his face. Their flirting, or so he thought it was, was never ignored, but never acted upon. Did that make any sense?
"Alright," she said, entering the room. "I'm here. Bore me."
He patted his hand next to him on the bed. She sighed with a smile and sat near him as he requested. She leaned into the comfort of the pillows as they sat in silence, another thing one of them anonymously desired.
The feeling between them when they were in the midst of quiet was indescribable.
"You aren't in here just because I'm sick are you?" he laughed.
"I'd stay with my friend," she said with a smile. Again they were stuck in the quiet mode. She bent forward to give him a small peck on his forehead. He saw her coming toward her fast and closed his eyes to welcome whatever she had in mind. Her lips were cool against his skin, but warm at the same time.
"I'm going to get something to drink," she said. "Do you want anything?"
He was still mesmerized by her touch. His eyes were on her lips, and he thought she could see it. Her fingers lifted uncomfortably to her lips, where she touched them gently whilst turning away from him.
At a loss, he replied, "Water, please."
She nodded with a meager smile and was out of the room. He felt lonely, but accompanied at once. His hand was resting on the bed. It had been next to her when she was there. Now it was alone.
He could hear the sound of her rummaging through the cabinets for glasses. Then the sound of the sink rushing. She was back with two glasses, one for he and one for herself.
"Here," she said. "Cold enough? I'll add some more ice if you want me to."
"It's fine, thanks," he said with a cool smile. He reached up and smoothed some hair behind her ears. "Why are you so tense lately?"
She looked at him, as if she was questioning this. She shrugged with an anxious laugh. "Isn't it obvious?"
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I want you to tell me all that's going wrong."
She smiled, but her head darted to the left to hide something. "Um," she sighed, "I don't know what you mean."
"Come on, Abby," he whispered gently, "I'm not that stupid."
She shook her head and clasped her hands together after setting the glass of water between her knees. "Just the baby," she said looking down.
"That's not it," he said. "What's really going on?"
She got up. "Nothing, okay?" She began out the room, but stopped at the door with a hand on the frame. "I wish you'd stop trying to be Dr. Fix-It, Carter."
"What?" he shouted, but she was already out of the room and it didn't look as if she'd be coming back in to talk. Her bedroom door closed to a quiet shut down the hall. He collapsed back into the pillows again. Wincing when he attempted to change positions, he cried out. "Damn," he muttered. He held his side. The pain was unbearable. He touched it again. "Damn," he repeated, louder.
"Don't do that, John," she said suddenly, appearing at his side.
"Bastard," he said.
Abby stood back. "Excuse me?"
"Not you," he said. "I blame Luka for all of this."
"Who else would you blame?" she asked, taking his waist gently and turning him onto his back. He groaned, sighed and looked up at her face, which was now very close to his.
"Myself," he said.
She stuttered. "Are we still talking about the rib and nose thing?"
He shook his head against the dark. Her face was coming closer, to pull his up and watch it. He blinked, then closed his eyes. "No, I don't think so."
She swallowed. Even with his eyes closed, Carter heard her. His eyes opened at the sound of it and found themselves staring directly into hers. Without looking down, he felt her hand pulling away from him. "Then what are you getting at, Carter?"
He shook his head in his palms. He brought one of her hands up to his cheek and rested it there. She looked nervous, but in a way, he felt the feeling drain from her in an instant at their touch. She shuddered with a heavy sigh and quickly wrapped her arms around him. He closed his eyes again and did the same. Hooked into a tearful embrace, neither spoke for a few minutes. Her arms were around his waist, tenderly as not to arouse any pain. And his arms were around her waist as well, stroking her back. He couldn't get enough of the moment. He was still surprised by her sudden move, but didn't let that emotion through the gate as much as the others.
"What about us?" he said.
She didn't pull away, as he thought she might. He got off lucky. "Us?" she said, her breath against his neck. He wanted to kiss her, then and there. But he didn't at the same time. He didn't want to ruin what they already had, and yet he wanted to take the leap and make it something more, because he knew it would work.
But she was so fragile. She was warm against him. Her hair was falling lazily around her neck, and some had gathered in front of Carter's face. He breathed in her scent and kissed her head. He soon regretted it, seeing as that action might not fit their situation.
"Yeah," he said. "Is there not an 'us' anymore?"
She gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. "Things are hard for me now," she said with a sigh. "You, Luka, the-the baby."
He nodded, rubbing her back again. "So, you don't see us?"
She pulled away and looked at him, startled. "I'm going to have a baby, John. I don't think there's much of an 'us' if it includes me with anybody."
"What difference does a baby make?" he asked, his hands around her waist. Thankfully, hers were still there.
"A big one," she answered with an unstable nod. "Especially between you and I, John."
He shook his head, not knowing how to answer any of that. He looked at her semi-understandingly, while the other half looked to shrug it off for the moment. "Hug me again," he said, his eyes darting around the bedspread. The demand was stupid.
"I was going to," she said. He looked up, but there wasn't a smile on her face. Instead she had her eyes closed. She came toward him and hugged him tighter, but cautiously. "I hate this."
"What?" he whispered against her again. His eyes were closed as well now, taking in everything he could of her. If things couldn't be the way he wanted them to be, then he would breathe in every memory of her and keep it with him.
"I hate the way things turn out," she said. She was crying now, but too quietly.
"Don't, Abby," he said. "Why would you?"
"There's more than you think," she said. She sat up and lifted her arms to his shoulders.
"Then why don't you tell me?" he asked.
"No," she said quickly, then corrected herself in a more relaxed tone. "No, at least not now."
He was confused. He watched her shoulder shudder with each breath she released. "You aren't drinking again, are you?"
He felt her tense up at the sound of it. "God, no." There was another huffy laugh, but they quickly settled down.
"I didn't think so," he said. And he really hadn't.
[Part 14]