These Questions
Carter tugged at his collar and whirled around, finishing a recent patient's chart. He threw his pen into his pocket and sat back in the chair for a moment, relishing the moment. His eyes brought to a close, before the door behind him opened silently. He turned around and smiled.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Tired."
She laughed lightly, taking a seat on the bed beside him. "So, you're hiding?"
He grinned sleepily. He watched her fold out her legs over the bed and stretch back across the surface, resting the back of her head on the wall behind her. "Maybe."
She nodded, closing her eyes. "Mind if I join you?"
He shook his head and unwrapped his stethoscope from around his neck. "You already have?"
"Want me to leave?"
"No," he answered, fumbling with the tool between his fingers. He put it on the side table near him, neighboring the bed Abby was lying on. She picked it up and turned the other way to fish for something on the counter.
"What are you doing?" he laughed. "Give that back."
She returned to her sitting on the bed, beginning to clean the stethoscope. "Did you know its hospital policy to clean these between every patient?" She smiled down to her work, then up at him.
"Yes," he said, taking the things from her hand. "I can do that, thank you."
"And what will I do?" she laughed.
"Clean your own," he smirked, starting to rub the end carefully with the cloth.
She shrugged and grabbed another spare sheet from the surface beside her and sat in silence, as the two of them continued to clean the stethoscopes from around their necks. Carter glanced up at Abby, his smile now stale, and caught hers still fresh across her lips.
To be honest, he was starting to wish he had kissed her again. After two months of being parents together, not a single word had been mentioned on the topic. The only moment they had talked about of the elevator, of course, was the birth of their son.
Jonathan had been one of the greatest things in his life. He made him laugh, and smile and think. Think about a lot of things, of course. His life was always complex. To think about who he was, what he wanted, what he had, and what he needed. What this baby needed, what this baby wanted, what this baby already had.
But, of the many things this wonderful gift to him was, the baby also served as a reminder of how much he longed to be with Abby. It had been more intense, growing in strength when she came back to the hospital. He had thought about her a lot now; before going to sleep, waking up, at work. And he tried not to, for the purpose of his professional existence, his life in general. Before he even knew the baby was his, his life had been perplexed enough with his own thoughts of failure, referring to the situation between he and Abby.
Not to mention that Abby was now completely different than she had been when she was pregnant. She had been almost depressed when she was pregnant, something he hadn't understood. After nine months, the secret had been unveiled: all of the inquiries he had had about her behavior were solved. This secret had changed her view of him, the father of her baby.
And now they had a son together. He was happier than he had ever been.
"Can I say something?"
A faint smile played surely across her lips. "What is it?"
He swallowed. "I just wanted to say," he began, unsure, "that I hope your happy."
She stopped and looked at him, growing slightly upset. "What does that mean?"
He held up his hand. "I didn't mean it that way."
"Then how did you mean?"
"I meant," he corrected, "that I'm glad you're better than you were before Jonathan was born."
"Oh," she said quietly. She nodded, opening her mouth for a second to speak, rethinking it, and closing it again. She put down the stethoscope in her hands abruptly on the bed, and straightened her legs over the side.
"I didn't mean to - "
"No," she said, wrinkling her nose and waving her hands. "I know what you mean, it's okay."
He nodded, uncomfortable in the awkwardness he'd created out of the smiles they had shared just a minute ago. "I remember before he was born how sad you looked."
She stared at him, he found, when he looked up into her eyes. They fixed a gaze on the other, intent and straight.
"And then I saw your eyes light up again," he said slowly. "And I remembered how happy you were. How pretty you were, how happy you *could* be, how much I loved being with you at work... I remembered you. The real you."
Her lips drew solemn, her eyes never leaving his. His eyes darted to the side sharply, unsure of what to say next. He finally gave up and dropped his face into his hands. Massaging the corners of his eyes, he sighed for his own comfort.
"Thank you," she whispered. She got up to leave with a barely reviving smile and started out of the room.
"No," he said, taking her wrist. She turned around, her eyes hopeful, but stern. Once again, they were lost with the fascination of each other's eyes. But it ended. Too fast.
"What?" she asked, glancing at his hand around hers.
"Don't leave."
"What?"
"Don't leave," he said strongly. "You don't have to."
"I should get back to work."
"You're leaving because your uncomfortable," he said, pulling her hand back from his chair. "I'm going to ask you to stay here for one more minute. And then you can go back to work." He looked at her, his eyes pleading.
She nodded, the motion barely visible.
"If I were to ask you that," he said, ashamedly looking down at their hands woven together, "what would you say?"
She pulled away from his hand, much to Carter's dismay. They both watched as they drew apart, separating.
"I would say 'okay,'" she said, easing back to the bed.
[Part 36]