TITLE: Burning Bridges (Part 4 of `Here With Me`)
AUTHOR: Ceri
EMAIL: ceriellis@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: AL/JC
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: If there were, I forget which ones. Oh, and in my world, Rena never existed. Cruel, but necessary.
ARCHIVE: Sure, just ask
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the original ER characters – all I own are the characters I make up, and, naturally, the twisted little plots that are products of my addled mind.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the sequel to `In Spite Of Me`.
SUMMARY: Dinner and a gift, in that order.

BURNING BRIDGES

He had never felt so scared in his life.

It wasn't like it was the first time...far from it. But there was something about it all that made him irredeemably nervous. His knuckles were white, fists clenched under the table, little crescent moon-shaped dents in his skin from where his fingernails dug in to his hands. Basically, he was a mess.

Across from him, she was as calm as could be. She looked relaxed as she surveyed the menu, one finger idly playing with a strand of hair. She was wearing a red dress that clung to her in all the right places, successfully grabbing his attention. Not that she need worry about him looking elsewhere that evening – it was as if the entire restaurant were pitch black except for a spotlight on the woman in front of him, highlighting her as the most beautiful woman in the room, maybe even the world.

How he had got up the courage to ask her out, he didn't know. They had been outside an exam room talking about a diagnosis, when he blurted it out. She had looked up at him, smiled, and said that she'd love to. It was a pretty good beginning, in his opinion.

Something that sounded suspiciously liked Celine Dion was being played on the piano as couples danced, swayed, held on to each other desperately on the dance floor. His thoughts drifted to Titanic, and who he had watched that with, and what he had done when he had got bored twenty minutes in...

"John?"

He looked up, eyes widening guiltily. "Sorry?"

Ellen smiled gently, reaching across to squeeze his hand. "Are you ready to order?"

"Oh. Sure." All thoughts deserted him as he placed the menu down on the table and confidently turned to the waiter. "I'll have the boeuf bourgignon."

The waiter gave him a nod – clearly not impressed with what he had thought was a pretty good French accent – and disappeared. Realizing it was time to make actual conversation with the modern-day goddess across the table, he searched his brain for a suitable topic. Nothing seemed suitable. The things playing on his mind – Abby, Kate Winslet naked, the fact that it was the 7-month anniversary of his child's death – didn't really seem like things she'd like to talk about.

After his talk with Abby a few weeks ago, they had been a lot closer. They had called each other to talk, met up for coffee, just...been friends. Abby had shared her worries and fears with him, and he had done the same with her.

One particular thing was sticking in his mind. Abby had shown him a box of things that she had bought for their child – "Morbid, isn't it?" she had tried to laugh on presenting it – and every item was clear in his memory. She had purchased baby clothes – "I was only about one month and one day pregnant at the time…what can I say, I
was enthusiastic." – and stuck the scan photos in an album labeled `Our Baby`. She had said she hadn't wanted to throw them out after the miscarriage, and just shoved them in a box at the back of her closet. He had nodded mutely. Every little thing was a reminder of what they had been through, and though it was getting easier every
day, it was still harder to face than he had ever thought it would be.

Seeing Abby like that – so open, so honest, so vulnerable – had made him want to just hold her for the rest of his life. But that part of their past was still in the shadows. They didn't talk about how the baby had even came about – yes, they used to have sex an awful lot, but as far as they were concerned now, they had never touched each other. Carter didn't trust himself to talk about it – he had a bad feeling that it would only drag up feelings that he had long since tried to forget. Every time Abby looked at him like she had done in his car two weeks ago, he felt his resolve slipping. And she seemed to be using that look an *awful* lot. Maybe it was cataracts or something...it didn't necessarily mean that she still felt anything towards him. Did it? Oh Christ.

"John? Are...are you okay?"

Damn it. He'd tuned out again. He looked up at Ellen, offering her an apologetic smile, and struggling to think up a feasible excuse.

Ah well. The truth never hurt anyone.

"Actually, I've been better..." he admitted quietly with a nonchalant shrug. His `I have feelings and problems, but hey, who really cares` shrug. Usually it worked a charm. Clearly this woman was a bit different from what he was used to.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, tilting her head to the left and peering at him in the semi-darkness. "I am renowned for my listening skills."

He snorted. "This is our first date, and you want to hear all my problems? I usually wait until the fifth date before I drive women away."

She chuckled appreciatively. "What if I promise not to go anywhere until at least the fifth date, even if your problems scare and depress me?"

He paused, considering this. "Well...okay."

There was a long pause as they stared at each other expectantly. "It might help if you...talk," she suggested softly.

"Right," he agreed quickly, glancing down at his hands awkwardly. Suddenly all he wanted was to be at home, in his apartment, with the TV blaring and coffee brewing and Abby soothing their baby to sleep...

Tears gathered in his eyes. God. Not the `imagined life` again. He had spent one month straight brooding over what his life would've been like with a baby and a wife. Images straight from Hallmark had flitted through his mind, and he was the first to admit they hadn't helped him one bit. Every time, they managed to make him want to cry. And it really wasn't the first impression he wanted to make to the beautiful doctor on the other side of the table on their first date.

So he talked. He told her pretty much everything, in a condensed form – he had been in a serious relationship, things had been rocky, she had become pregnant, he had said some stupid, accusatory things, she had miscarried, and everything had ended. When he added that it was seven months ago to the day, she looked like she was about to
burst in to tears. And all in sympathy for him.

She had reached across the table, clutching his hand in her own as if she was trying to send him some sympathy vibes or something similar. Then, she had told him how sorry she was, and how some things in life are hard to get over, and that things would be better eventually.

She had left it there.

They had parted ways with small smiles, promises to get together again soon, and a soft kiss. That kiss...it was something he wouldn't forget in a hurry. Whilst it certainly didn't erase all his worries and pain, it definitely helped him along the way. Watching her climb in to her cab, he couldn't help but feel slightly more at peace.

This `moving on` thing was a lot easier than he had thought it would be. He could get used to this feeling – strangely detached from the world, and yet a lot more involved than he had been a few months ago. Rehab and addiction were distant memories as he drove home, his mind fixed firmly on the woman he was `dating`.

`Dating` had never been that much of a big deal for him. He had had a number of blonde women throw themselves at him, so he didn't really have to do anything. And what he had had with Abby…he had never classified that as `dating`. That was preamble to marriage. The beginning of the rest of his life.

It hadn't really gone according to plan.

But that was the essence of life. You win some, you lose some more. Life was like a box of chocolates…hmm. He had never quite understood the comparison, but hey, that was life. The nonsensical analogies made it what it was.

With that in mind, he unlocked and pushed open his front door, and stopped. There she stood, hunched over by the CD player, humming along softly to a song that he didn't instantly recognize. She turned, finally noticing his presence, and smiled sheepishly.

"I didn't know I owned the Evita soundtrack."

She chuckled. "You don't. It's mine. I came over to get a few of my things...you weren't in so I used my key...I hope that's okay..."

He dumped his own keys on the coffee table, kicking the door shut lightly, and shrugging off his jacket. "Sure. As long as you don't steal anything," he replied with a grin.

She paused, sizing him up, impressed. "You look nice. Been schmoozing with the Carter family?"

"Unfortunately not," he retorted with the smallest hint of sarcasm…something about the mere mention of his family brought out his harsher side. He rifled through a stack of CD's as he talked. "I was on a date."

Her silence reminded him that perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up. In fact, it probably was the worst thing to do, judging by the look on her face – it was somewhere in between horror, jealousy and sadness. Then, it went blank.

"Anyone I know?"

He blinked at her sudden indifference, and handed her a CD that he was certain didn't belong to him. "Aretha Franklin."

She managed a small smile. "You went on a date with Aretha Franklin? Nice one, John."

"That is your Aretha Franklin album," he corrected her with a smile. "My date was with Ellen Crawford – "

"Pedes oncology," Abby interrupted, and he looked up in mild surprise. She knew Ellen? Did that mean Ellen knew Abby? Had Ellen known all along who his ex was when he had shared all his secrets? "She's pretty."

Suddenly, he was very uncomfortable. Anything he said could either offend Abby, or Ellen. And he didn't feel like offending either – it would never end well.

"Yeah. I guess," he mumbled, handing over another CD. "Wham! – now, I *know* that one isn't mine."

She stared at him, then pulled the case from his grasp. "Thanks. Well, I think that's everything. I'll leave you in peace."

She started towards the door, a box tucked under her arm which was nearly full to the brim with CD's, videos and clothes. She opened the door, and was about to leave when Carter remembered something, and called out, "Hold on a sec, Abby..."

At the door, their eyes met, and he handed her a carefully – and yet still messily – wrapped gift. "Uh...I got this for you...a while back...when you were...pregnant," he stuttered awkwardly. "And I forgot all about it until this morning...so...you don't have to open it now...or...or ever, if you don't want to...it's your choice..."

She smiled softly, and stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, John."

He felt himself blush, cursing his easily embarrassed nature, and shrugged. "Any time. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

*****