Never Too Late




4. It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing


Somehow, she made it through the next two weeks. She wasn't in pain, so much as...numb. It wasn't until night that she truly felt, the old demons coming back to plague in her sleep once more, the nightmare becoming a reality when she woke, wide-eyed and shaking, in a cold, empty bed, his name dying on her lips.

Only once did she come close to breaking down at work. As she passed his room, she'd looked in at the little Croatian boy - the one everyone was beginning to call 'Luka's kid'. A flash of memory assaulted her - Luka, bending over the unconscious child, caring for nothing more at that moment than for him to be safe...picturing him, even now, in the Congo, treating a patient just like that, and her eyes had filled with tears.

The staff knew something was up, of course - they couldn't fail to, with her giving a highly accurate impression of a waking zombie - but they pinned it down to Eric, or 'the Carter thing'. A bitter smile had crossed her face the first time she heard someone saying that. If only they knew.

*Hope life's been good to you
since you've been gone
I'm doin' fine now--I've finally moved on
It's not so bad--I'm not that sad

I'm not surprised just how well I survived
I'm over the worst, and I feel so alive
I can't complain--I'm free again*

The eighth day, a letter from him had come to her apartment, the envelope battered and covered with stamps. She'd eased it out, hands trembling so badly she feared she might tear it. Frantically, her eyes scoured the creased page.

'My Abby,
I arrived in the Congo yesterday. I know that I should say, 'Wish you were here'...but I can't. I miss you so...but I am glad that you don't have to see this. We can give only the basest of care, and yet they thank you as if you had performed a miracle...even though you know you could have given them so much more...'

'My Abby'...her throat went dry at those two words in smudged pencil. A wealth of emotions was conveyed in those words, the acknowledgement that, even half a world apart, they belonged to each other. The rest, too...that was him. Those words could have come from no other's hand. He went on, asking her about Eric, how she was doing back at work.

'Time and again I've looked towards the airport, wishing I could catch the next plane home...if it were that simple.

All my love,

Luka.'

One word leapt out at her from the wrinkled page, and she read it again and again, that one word giving her more hope than the rest of it together...'home'.

*And it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
So, I hold my breath--to forget*

The phone rang, snapping her suddenly awake where she stood, looking at the lines of names across the board. She heard the gruff 'Hello' from Frank, then...

"Abby, it's for you."

Her eyes widened, as she crossed to take the receiver from him. Luka had warned her that it wouldn't be easy for him to get to a phone, but he'd promised to try...and the voice on the other end did have the familiar accent, barely perceptible over the long-distance static...but it was a woman speaking.

"Is this Abby? Abby, can you...can you hear me?"

"It's Abby," she replied loudly, confusion furrowing her brow as she recognized Dr. Horvat.

A pause. "Thank goodness...Abby, he asked me to call you..."

A pang of worry shot through her, and she gripped the phone hard. "What's going on? Why couldn't he call me? What -"

The doctor cut her off, voice shaking. "Abby...they think it's malaria."

*Don't think I'm lyin' 'round cryin' at night
There's no need to worry, I'm really all right
I've never looked back--as a matter of fact*

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and blackness danced in front of her vision as she tried to focus on what Horvat was saying.

"Abby, it's a hard strain...they've got him in the hospital, and he's fighting it...Abby? Abby, are you there?"

The voice faded from her ears, the receiver slipping from her numb fingers as she braced a hand against the wall to steady herself. The 'click' of the line going dead echoed in her ears like a gunshot. As if from miles away, she heard voices, saying her name, but she ignored them, letting herself fall back against the well.

Hands grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, and she blinked. It was Susan.

"Abby, who was it? What's wrong? Is it your brother?"

She ignored her, pushing past. "I've got to go," she choked out, passing Weaver by the door. The older woman held out a hand, opening her mouth, but she pushed past, and Weaver let her go.

Abby fled out into the open air, finally stopping to collapse on one of the hard benches of the El station. "No...no," she whispered, shaking her head violently, as if to wake up from a terrifying nightmare. After what seemed like hours, she shakingly tried to rise.

Realizing for the first time where she was, memories flooding back of the last time she sat like this, how he had come to her...

Suddenly filled with a quiet determination, she stood up. He couldn't come to her. She had to go to him.

*Hurts when I'm breathing...
Breaks when it's beating...
Die when I'm dreaming...
It only hurts when I breathe...*



Part 5
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