He awoke again, as the mattress fell with her weight. His eyes opened slowly, to see the red numbers glaring at him again.
Eleven-thirty, P.M.
He put a hand over his face, swept downward and breathed out.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"I've been awake," he lied. "Its okay." He closed his eyes. "Have you slept yet?"
"Yes," she whispered. "He's keeping me up. The baby, I mean." She chuckled lightly and shifted.
"Really?" he asked, laughing quietly as well. He turned around in the bed to see her with her eyes shut, too.
"Yeah," she replied.
Silence again. The entire apartment was silent. There was the faint song of traffic, and the L outside. He took it all in, resting his head deeper into the pillow. He sighed, a little louder than before. His hand was too warm, for his taste, against his face. It was all too warm again in the apartment. It was him being so nervous, so anxious, he knew. It wasn't really the heat.
She breathed slowly. The last nine months had been rocky. They'd been difficult. Everything had gone, though, as he had imagined it would have been. Abby was having a healthy baby boy soon. He was expected in two weeks. He didn't know what would become of the two of them when that time came.
He sighed again. She was sleeping, he thought. He hoped she was. He wished everything were different. He wished that she were happy. A mother should enjoy what Abby was going through right now; but she had fretted about it for the whole duration of the pregnancy. Or at least she had been such a closed out person. There was something wrong, and she hadn't told him.
He hadn't bugged her, or been such a pest as he had previously. But it made him wonder even more: what was going on? He hoped so badly that she would just come out, and confide in him. He wanted to help her. Hug her and tell her everything would be just fine. But the worst of this was that he didn't know if it would.
He would be there if she needed him, no doubt. Would he move out after the baby was born? He wanted to help her. But how far could he go? She was damaged, figuratively speaking. Unfortunately, he probably didn't have a say in her condition. But she was different than she had ever been.
But was it because of the baby? Or the secret she refused to divulge?
If only she would just tell him. He hated guessing. He hated hoping for her.
He stared at her, finding that she was asleep, at last. Everyday, for the past two weeks, she had been creeping into his bed. Most of the time, he would awake. And if not, he awoke to her in the morning. If he did wake up, sometimes he would talk to her. Sometimes he wouldn't.
He didn't know why.
He would whisper to her about anything he could talk to her about. The weather, County, baby names, the water heater. Sometimes she wasn't even awake when he would talk to her. He felt odd at first, but it was just right to him.
She stirred again in her sleep, causing him to glance at her, protectively. He had become increasingly cautious with her, around her. He walked next to her to County everyday, and accompanied her on her breaks each day at her request. He locked up the apartment every night, checking twice. Sometimes three times.
He put his arm around her, and watched. He waited for her to change positions again, but she didn't. When he was sure she was awake, he put his head into her shoulder.
He breathed every inch of her heart to himself. He hated being this selfish. He worried about her. He wondered if she would be okay. He didn't like it when he couldn't see her. He was scared when he couldn't see her. He didn't know what was happening to her. If anything was happening to her.
He kissed her shoulder. He despised the situation, really. He wanted to be near this baby, and yet he didn't. He wanted to be near this woman next to him. He always would. But, yet, he didn't. He didn't want to hurt her, and he didn't want to suffer himself.
But it couldn't be about him. He had never felt this way. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel in these circumstances.
"John."
He shook himself from the state he had been captured by and spoke to her. "Yes?"
She turned her head against his arm and lay her face into it. She snuggled up to him closer.
"Don't let go."
He didn't have time to think any further of this. He didn't think at all. He held her tighter, without a spoken reply and kissed the top of her head. Why he had been so affectionate toward her, and she toward he, was unknown.
Everything came down to moments, now. Everything. He didn't know exactly what it meant by that, but it was there. The reason to stay with her.
The reason to be with her through everything. The reason to lay his life on the line at her call. He would give her anything.
It disturbed him, literally, to see her in these states. He would stare at the ceiling and pray. He prayed that the fate of Abby and her baby would be a good one. He'd thought about her more than ever in the last nine months.
Why? was the one question he had asked. The one overriding question.
Why was it happening? Why was she so closed? Why was this baby Luka's, and not his?
And then he knew that it was going to be completely different now. Everything. He'd known before that it wouldn't be the same.
But something else had entered his mind.
Abby had a son. And Carter wouldn't get to be there.
Everything would be different. Nothing would be the same.
