TITLE: If It's Hurting You

AUTHOR: Ceri

EMAIL: ceriellis@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: JC

RATING: Universal

SPOILERS: Probably…

ARCHIVE: Sure, just ask

DISCLAIMER: Don't own them. Never will. No need to rub it in.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the sequel to The Dreams You Keep and Welcome To Paradise. Dirty Carby slush. It's taking me over.

SUMMARY: Carter relieves himself of his demons.

If It's Hurting You

The outside world rushed by, a blur of trees and cars and people, blending in with each other. The weather was not spectacular - stuck in limbo between rain and shine, a dull grey sky overhead, a cool breeze, and nothing more.

He had never felt so free. He relaxed in the seat, elbow propped up on the window ledge, watching the world as it flew past him. It was hard to believe that the night before he had been at his lowest. Of course, he didn't remember much of the previous evening…but what he did remember was played over in his mind, like a stuck record. But instead of torturing him, it simply reminded him to avoid letting it happen again. God, he couldn't go through it again.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he turned to her, curious. "Where are we going now?"

Abby turned her face to him, then returned her gaze to the long stretch of road ahead. "We're nearly there."

"Nearly where?" he pressed. He didn't recognize where they were…oh.

The car stopped, and they got out. Carter's gaze rested on the vast space, filled with row after row of grey slabs, some crumbling, some new. Abby lead the way, silent, weaving their way through the graveyard. Reds, oranges, yellows, and vibrant purples stood out at the foot of each grave, each flower a separate gesture of love, a memory of times gone by.

They stopped, and Abby stepped back slightly, showing the headstone in it's entirety. Carter froze, staring at the wording, unsure what he should say or do.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked slowly, not able to tear his eyes from it. He felt her eyes on him, studying his every move, every blink, every breath as if it would help her understand him more. The wind whipped around him, as if every spirit in this hallowed place was loose, searching for retribution. He shouldn't be there.

"You never came," she replied at last, her voice so soft that he could barely hear it over the thrashing silence that surrounded them. "You had to see it eventually."

Carter didn't agree with that statement, but he didn't reply. He had lasted so long without visiting, and for good reason. The nightmares were bad enough without a grave scene added in. Actually, the real grave was different to the one in his dreams. The sun shone here. He got the idea that no one laid to rest here could harbour resentment; everyone was at peace.

Everyone except him.

"I've been here," he contradicted gently, eyes on the slab of grey in front of him. "So many times, in my mind, in my dreams…what difference does reality make?"

She considered this, her own eyes following his to the intricate calligraphy engraved on the stone.

"Reality makes all the difference in the world. Look around you. Your life isn't a dream, it isn't something you can wake up from. But facing up to it…"

She paused, her breath catching in her throat.

"…that's what wakes you up."

**********

Abby had gone back to the car, leaving him alone with his thoughts. That could've been the worst thing to do…judging from past experiences, being alone with his thoughts led to the kind of self-destruction that only he could achieve.

It was true what they said…you are your own worst critic. And Carter was. He fought to stay afloat, to satisfy the needs of others, and he was the first to admit that lately, he had failed miserably. But sometimes, he didn't need to put himself down. He had a family, he had friends who could do that for him at no extra cost.

But no…he wasn't alone now. He could sense their spirit around him…as unnerving as that was.

"So I'm here," he said at last, his voice shaky with uncertainty. "I came."

He stopped, swallowing awkwardly. "Nice spot you got here," he added, looking around him. "Good view. You always did like the view of the city."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. As stupid as he felt, talking to a corpse and a chunk of granite, he had to do it. For one thing, Abby wouldn’t leave him alone until he did. And then there was the promise of the weight lifted from his shoulders, the instant relief.

At least, he hoped it was instant.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner, I'm sorry I didn't bring you flowers…I'm sorry I got you here in the first place."

"They said it wasn't my fault," he continued, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "How could I know the guy was ill? But hey…you can blame me. You're dead. I'm not. It only seems fair, right?"

He stopped, expecting an answer. When he received none, he nodded dully. "Right. Listen, Lucy, if it helps…I wish I was dead."

He found himself laughing, a foreign sound to the graveyard that echoed in amongst the stones.

"No, I do. I wish you had lived, and I had died. 'Cause…well, you could've handled a little back pain. You could've handled it all. And at least then I would get my just deserts, right? You wouldn't believe how many times I've thought about ending it all. It just gets harder to face every day, you know?"

Silence fell once more, and he shook his head in frustration.

"No, you don't know. You're dead."

**********

A week passed, and then another. He had been to more NA meetings than he cared to remember - some with Abby, some without. She had visited him every day, sometimes even staying the night…on his couch. He didn't blame her. He couldn't expect her to leap in to bed with him when he cried himself to sleep, when he tossed and turned all night, images taunting and telling him to do things he didn't want to do.

Somehow, as hard as he had tried to avoid it, he had returned there, like a moth to a flame. His feet sank in to the soft turf, in the same place as they had two weeks previously. His gaze fell on the same wording, but now, for the first time, he actually took them in.

Lucille Lucrecia Knight

Loving daughter, treasured friend

Too greatly loved in life to be forgotten in death

The last sentence rung true in Carter's mind. He would never forget her, he would never forget how she died, when she died, what she looked like. But that wasn't why he was there.

"Hi again," he mumbled, nearly incoherent, "It's me. I…I thought you might like to know….it's a little late…but still…you matched. Psych."

He paused, a smile briefly playing on his lips.

"One of life's little ironies, huh Luce?"

The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared, his face blank and emotionless once more.

But not for long.

One tiny, insignificant droplet of water made it's way down his cheek, and he looked up instinctively. But there was no sign of rain. The clouds above were pearly white against a cold blue sky. It hadn't been rain. He was crying.

He should've recognized the feeling - after all, it happened to him so often nowadays that it almost blended in with who he was. Another tear fell, and another, and another, blemishing his pale cheeks and forcing his eyes in to that familiar bloodshot state.

"I know what I've done," he stammered, the tears choking the words in his throat, "I know I let you down, over and over…and this was the final shot…I let you down…and you died."

"I should've listened to you," he continued, the words coming as thick and fast as the salty tears that coursed down his face. "I should've given you the praise you deserved. You…you would have made a great doctor…better than me…maybe that's why I resented you so much…"

"But I didn't resent you…no, I never did…I liked you, I loved you…I just didn't know how to show it."

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the tombstone, up towards the heavens. "I hope you can forgive me, Lucy," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, "Because if you can, then I can. Please. I can't do this anymore. You have to let me go."

**********

He was surprised to find the door unlocked when he got home. A faint smell of tomatoes and spices drifted through the thin wood door of his apartment, and he pushed it open, surprised at what he saw.

The floor was clear of all junk - it was the first time he'd seen his carpet in a while - and all the surfaces were clean and tidy. The aroma of cooking grew stronger, and a soft, lilting voice could be heard drifting in from the kitchen. He smiled; relieved to find that he could still smile. He paused at the entrance to the kitchen, watching as she shimmied her way from the refrigerator to the stove, singing softly under her breath.

"What's cooking?"

She stopped, and turned to him, flushing bright red. Her smile mirrored his as she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the stove and handing him a wooden spoon. "Stir this for me, will ya?"

Carter took the spoon, peering curiously in to the pan. "It looks like something out of a thoracotamy," he commented helpfully.

Abby gave him a dig in the ribs with her elbow. "That, you will find, is a classic Wyczsenski recipe," she retorted, "Tomatoes, garlic, basil…it's great."

He inhaled deeply.

"Admit it, it smells like heaven in a sauce," she teased with a smile, going through the cupboards for some pasta.

"Not bad," he relented, "Not bad at all. But first - you're gonna tell me how you broke in to my apartment, and why, and when."

She shrugged casually, dropping the pasta in to a pan of boiling water. "I had a key. I wanted to cook you dinner 'cause you look like you haven't eaten in three weeks. And when?" She checked her watch. "About three hours ago."

He nodded slowly, stirring the sauce with sloppy precision.

"I thought you'd be here," she continued calmly, turning to face him so their bodies were barely inches apart, "But you weren't."

"No," he agreed softly, "I was…I went to see Lucy."

He could've sworn she had smiled, a discreet, minute smile that might have meant a million different things, but he would never find out.

"Yeah?" she replied at last, meeting his eyes, all signs of a smile long gone.

"Yeah." He paused, looking down at her. "So, is the pasta nearly ready?"

She smiled, and glanced over at the stove. "Might be a while yet."

"Good," he responded.

She raised an eyebrow curiously, and he grinned. Happiness that he had thought had long since expired seeped from every particle of his body, and he didn't think twice as he swept her in to arms, and kissed her.

He was free.

**********