TITLE: Letting Go (Part 16 of `In Spite Of Me`)

AUTHOR: Ceri

EMAIL: ceriellis@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: JC

RATING: Universal

SPOILERS: Probably…

ARCHIVE: Sure, just ask

DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me. Just the ideas, twisted angst, and all the trappings of this particular Carby love-in.

AUTHORS NOTES: This is the final part of ISOM. But, do not despair – I’ll either change my mind and add more, or write a sequel story. In the meantime, big thanks and hugs to Jen, Mona, and Bri for beta’ing for me.

SUMMARY: Carter brings Abby home from the hospital.

1 Letting Go

Rain fell, clouds gathered, wind swept. But as he unlocked the door, following her in to the apartment, there was no mistaking the chill in the air that wasn’t the product of the typically terrible Chicago weather.

Very few words had passed between them since they had left the hospital. She had sat in the car, staring blankly out the window whilst he drove. She shrunk away from his touch like it would hurt her to have his hands on hers. She hadn’t looked directly in to his eyes for what was actually hours, but felt like centuries. If Carter were a superstitious man, he would think it was something out of The Sixth Sense, and he would turn out to be dead.

Well, he was dead on the inside. Surely that counted.

After his conversation with Luka the day before, he had gone back to Abby’s side, hugged her tightly, and apologized. So many times, he lost count. And by the time he had finished, she had had that glazed look in her eyes...she had already distanced herself from him. And he knew of no way to narrow the gap.

He had done a pretty good job of not even thinking about *why* they had been in the hospital in the first place. Just at work, he had told himself. Everything’s fine, everything’s normal. She’s just a little under the weather....just a bit tired...just been a long day.

But he couldn’t forget how close he had been. So close to becoming a father. To having a child with Abby. To living the life he had always wanted to lead. Instead, once more, he found himself existing, not living, just waiting for something to happen that would change it all. The fire inside of him had died a long time ago; any hope of igniting it again had been lost 15 hours ago – taking with it the love, the passion, the trust.

He didn’t even trust himself.

There was only one person he could blame for it all; one person she could blame – and that was himself. He couldn’t just be happy. He couldn’t forget his goddamn insecurities for one minute and just enjoy what he had been given. He couldn’t let things slide. And in not doing these things, he had lost everything. Not just the child who he had loved at the first sound of a heartbeat; he had lost Abby.

Whilst he wanted nothing more than to pull her in to his arms and hold her for the rest of his pitiful existence, he knew it wouldn’t happen. Only on blind trust had he even bothered to bring her back to his apartment – he didn’t know what she would do when she arrived. Would she settle down in front of the TV? Crawl in to bed for a few hours? Or pack her bags, and get out before he killed her spirit as well as his own?

He watched her uncertainly as they entered, her empty eyes skimming the room listlessly. The tension was so thick it was suffocating as she stood, hands in pockets, face as blank as could be. No emotions, no nothing. She was hard to decipher normally – now, it was impossible.

“Do you want something to drink?”

She finally met his eyes, and Carter wished she hadn’t. The stare was so meaningless that it pained him. She looked at him as if he was a stranger, a stranger who she would rather not be near to. Was that all he was now? A random heartbreaker? Not even worth thinking about?

“Drink?” she questioned softly, her voice barely audible over the soft strains of music coming from the kitchen. He didn’t give this a second thought – probably left on from Abby’s last sing-song session – instead staring back at her with mild confusion and worry.

“Y’know...water...juice...tea...coffee...”

Silence fell once again, and the lyric `didn’t we almost have it all?` filtered in from the kitchen. Carter dropped his gaze, studying the carpet with forced interest, inspecting the swirling patterns and dull colours.

“I don’t want a drink.”

His head shot up, as if that simple sentence had been his death penalty. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

“Maybe I should go home.”

There was a brief sensation of sharp, stabbing pains in his chest, but they subsided. Carter and Abby stared at each other, each daring the other to end it first. All Carter knew was that `ending it` was something he didn’t want to do. Something he had never wanted to do.

“This is your home...” he murmured weakly.

“No, it’s not,” she corrected softly, eyes drifting around her as if to emphasize her point. “My apartment. That’s home. This...this is *your* home.”

“My home is wherever you are.”

She flinched, breaking his gaze to look away. “Relationships...they’re not just about lust...passion...”

“I know that – “

“People have to trust each other – “

“I trust you!”

“No, you don’t!” Her eyes widened, her expression finally showing the emotions she was experiencing. Carter felt physically ill. There was the pain. There was the unbridled, unadulterated pain; pain that he had caused. “You don’t trust me, John. And because of that...”

She trailed off, and for one brief moment, Carter was sure he saw a tear in here eyes. But when she looked up, her face was stony.

“Because of that, I don’t trust *you*.”

For someone so prepared for the worst, Carter was surprised. No, not surprised. Shocked, horrified. Scared out of his mind at the prospect of this woman walking out of his life, leaving him with nothing.

“But...no...I – I do trust you, Abby!” he protested, shaking his head in bewilderment. “I love you, I trust you, I *need* you – “

“I don’t need you.”

He froze. Her words cut in to him like a knife; the pain racing through him incomparable to anything he had ever experienced.

“...what?”

For another brief second, she looked like she was going to cry. “I don’t need you. I’m not dependent on you. And I certainly don’t need you accusing me of something at every turn.”

Somewhere along the line, he had started to cry. He didn’t remember when, but he finally noticed the tears leaking out the corners of his eyes, streaming down his face. His head ached, his body screamed for physical contact...anything to take away the pain. Anything to erase the doubt. Anything.

“I – I’m sorry – I – “ Not knowing what to do, he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her.

The chemistry was intense...and for a brief moment, she reciprocated the kiss eagerly, her hands drifting to his waist. But then, her hands moved to his chest, and she gently pushed him away from her. He looked down at her, horrified, as she took a few steps back.

“But – “ he started quietly. “Abby...I’m sorry...for what I accused you of, for the things I said...it was stupid, and I wish I could take it back but I can’t – “

“I should’ve known that the whole thing with Luka would be too hard to get past,” she interrupted him slowly. She started to button up her coat. “It’s...it’s a shame. It is. But...it’s for the best. Not having the baby – “ She paused, taking a deep breath as one tiny tear trickled down her cheek. “ – it just made us see the truth earlier. Better now than when we...when we had a child.”

She had turned abruptly, opening the door. Carter watched, feeling strangely detached from it all. This couldn’t be real. This didn’t happen in real life...just TV shows. Just movies. Any minute now, someone would yell `cut`, and everything would be fine.

When no one called out, he did instead.

“But I’m in love with you!”

She paused in the open doorway, not turning to face him, not moving an inch. Carter’s stomach tightened – she would stay. She couldn’t leave. She loved him too. They had another chance. Everything would be fine.

Slowly, her hand lifted to the door handle, and she stepped in to the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her with the softest of sounds.

It took a few moments to register. When he realized what had happened, he took an uncertain step away from the door. His breathing increased, coming in short shallow bursts. The pain in his chest had returned. His legs felt like jelly, barely holding him upright. Finally, he realized what he had to do. It had taken him this long, but the realization had come. Clarity was upon him.

He turned, and stalked in to his bedroom. Suddenly he had energy, suddenly he had rage. Kicking the door shut, he looked frantically around the room, then headed straight for his drawers. Top drawer was pulled open, shirts and ties went flying. Second drawer, and pants followed suit. Third drawer...and there they were.

He pulled them out, his hand shaking violently. His vision blurred dramatically as he squinted at the label on the vial – there it was. This was the one thing he had left. His constant. His love.

Strangely, his hand wouldn’t move. Whilst his head and body screamed out at him to knock the lot back right that second, his hand was locked in place. His fingers tightened their grip around the bottle, and he stared at it angrily.

Then, as if in slow motion, it dropped to the floor with a resounding thud.

He didn’t move a muscle, looking down at the vial tiredly. All he wanted to do now was sleep...escape...do anything, go anywhere but there. His own house. His own body. His own mind. They were trapping him, and there was no escape.

He clambered in to bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes in to nightwear. As his head hit the pillow, as his eyes fluttered shut, one thought entered his mind. And that thought stayed with him until he fell in to the restless slumber that had plagued him for an eternity.

Everything was lost.

*****