On the Eighth Day
SPOILERS: Quo Vadis?
ARCHIVE: Sure, just drop me a line
DISCLAIMER: Crichton and Co. own it all. Oh, and the title is the title of a wonderful song by The June Spirit. "I'd give my world for you, to have you feel the way I do. To spend my life right here with you, I wanna be the world for you." Really had me.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Dedications: As usual, to my dear FF Lubies. And of course, to my dear Lino
- Thanks for beta-ing :) Love you guys!
SUMMARY: Post-ep to 'Quo Vadis?', 8.07
You had been wandering in the streets for what, 4 hours now, and still no
end for your journey in sight? You keep that up and you will travel through
all of Chicago, know every crack in the sidewalk by heart. But you can't go
home, because home is not home anymore, home is empty and so useless. She
took away the only thing that made your apartment home. No, you correct
yourself - She didn't take it, it was never there to begin with.
All your hopes shattered in a few sentences. Montreal. Leaving. No baby.
At least one more hour of wandering passes by until you start to identify
the place you reached. Her neighborhood, her street, her building. Her home.
Your home for a while, suddenly not after one brutal night. No, you correct
yourself - Not just one night, many nights when you knew it was coming and
were too scared to admit it.
You go inside anyway. Going through the motions but not really knowing that
you are going up the stairs. Three stairs at a time, then two, finally you
slow down to one. The last five are walked on so slowly that you feel like
you're about to freeze in your place.
Her door, colored in dark green. Dark. Everything is so dark in here;
everything seems so dark to you. You knock on her door, the same way you did
for almost a year, her way to know it's you so easily. You hear a chair
move, then a movement, then a chair moves again, and someone walking.
Finally, the sounds of the lock. She is standing there. Light.
"I..." you start to say, but she puts her index finger on your lips, she's
silencing you. She knows why you're here. She sees the tears threatening to
burst from your eyes, she heard the words - She knows. She takes your hand
in hers, so warm against your ice-cold skin, and she leads you inside to sit
on the couch.
"I was wondering if you'd come," she starts. You nod your head, confirming.
Unvoluntarily, the tears finally burst out, and you cry without a voice. She
pulls you towards her, leaning your head against her shoulder. You remember
everything; so many times she did just that. From the first time in your
hotel room, to the last time in your new apartment. So many nights you'd
wake up crying after dreaming of the war, and she would hold you closely,
whispering reassuring words until you fell asleep, safe again. She's doing
it again now - The words, the smoothing of your hair, the light kiss on the
top of your head. She remembers everything.
"I wasn't being responsible..." you begin in, mumbling into her already wet
shirt, and she doesn't stop you this time. "... I was selfish," your tears
have stopped by now, making it easier to speak, "She... She was going to
give me the family I wanted... I don't love her, I never did, but I could
pretend because I wanted it so much..."
Her only reply is the reassurance that it would be okay, though the both of
you know that it never will. Not quite still married to Danijela's ghost,
but definitely wishing for what the two of you had. You wonder if Abby knows
that you wanted just that for the both of you. Not out of selfishness like
it was with Nicole - You wanted it with Abby because you wanted Abby. You
wanted her to be happy, you wanted to be the one that would make her
happy... And you wondered if you would have a second chance. You've been
wondering that since that terrible night that ruined any hope you might've
And now... Now you've lost yet another chance. She lied, she fooled you,
lead you on, and you fell for it because you needed it so much.
You pull back, gazing right into those deep brown eyes of hers. "I-I never
told you h-how it happened."
"I couldn't ask you to tell me something this hard."
You nod, understanding. "I wanted to. I-I still do."
She takes your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Tell me," she says. So
you do, you tell her everything from the day you met Danijela until the day
you decided to leave Croatia, not leaving one little detail out. You tell
her how hopeless you felt after your family died, how much you wanted to use
your medical knowledge to kill yourself, how it was only your father that
had kept you alive for so long. How amazing he was, how amazing he still is,
how much influence he has had on your life.
And in turn, she tells you everything as well. Everything she remembers, you
now know too. She tells you about life with Maggie, tells you how her father
left when she was only seven, how she had to keep the family together, how
Eric became more of a son to her than a brother. She tells you about the
abortion she had years ago, tells you she's a recovering alcoholic, how she
craves for a drink every single day, every single moment. She tells you how
afraid she was to tell you that while you dated, afraid you'd hate her,
"I wouldn't have," you reassure her.
And the two of you talk, talk about everything that went wrong between the
two of you, how you wished she would talk to you more, how she wished for
the very same thing from you.
Nothing of what happened since you walked inside is what you expected, but
you realize now that it's just what you wanted. Mostly the promise - when
you're already tired of hours spent talking - that you would have another
chance. That this time around, things would be different. Better. That she
and you would make sure that it works this time, that you would try harder.
She gets up, her hand still in yours, and she leads you to her bedroom.
There would be no sex tonight, no love making, just the two of you sleeping
in her bed, your bed, curled up together. And the gentle kiss you share
before each of you is pulled to the land of dreams, a kiss that promises
there is much more to come.
~ The End ~