Gone Away
Title: Gone Away 1/?
Fandom: ER
Pairing: Abby/Neela
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Luka's in Croatia. What does this mean for our Abby?
The vodka burned. Burned and burned in that nice way, that way that she so sorely missed. Abby curled into the feeling, unscrewing the cap to another one-shot, the second to last of the stash she'd shoved in her purse at the Jumbo Mart. It was six in the morning and no one had been there save for a few construction workers and a homeless man buying a stash of Cisco Red. He'd smirked at her as though he'd known and a rage had filled her chest, the same rage that had been building since Luka had... Well, she supposed, since he had left.
But that had been hours ago, hours that felt like days, and there she was, hunkered in a doorway by the El, licking the last stinging dregs from the miniature bottle. She could feel it hitting her and she liked it, wanted more, knew she had a bit more time before the daycare upstairs would get worried.
She knew where she could go.
It was almost too easy, climbing the familiar stairs, pushing the key into the lock. She knew Neela wouldn't be home, had a shift; their schedules had been flip-flops of each other for weeks now.
The apartment was blissfully silent, the same, yet different. Neela's dishes were stacked in the sink, her baubles and charms carefully placed on shelves and tables, the scent of her light perfume, the one she wore when she bothered to remember, just barely detectable. Only that and the couch, that horrid green affair, was the same, and Abby sank down into its familiarity.
She closed her eyes, feeling the half-drunken reel of the room, and popped a starlight mint into her mouth. It crunched against her fillings and god, the only thing that would have made it perfect was a cigarette. Dammit.
"Abby?"
The voice startled her and her eyes flew open in shock.
Neela.
She stood in the doorway to her bedroom, a questioning look on her young face. She was in her oversized pajamas, hair rumpled.
"Jesus!" Abby said, without thinking.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh," Abby faltered, "God, I... I was just coming to get something that I, ah, left."
To her intense relief, Neela's expression changed and she nodded, moving towards the closet.
"It's here, I've got it," she said, "Just a few things, really."
"You don't have to bother with that now," Abby said, feeling a warmth settle over her, "Come talk to me."
Neela's brow furrowed.
"Talk?"
"I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."
Neela's face dropped.
"Ugh," she same, coming around to the couch and flopping down, "I feel like I've been on call for ages. It's a nightmare."
She looked at Abby with those brown eyes of hers.
"Tell me it ends," she says.
"Okay. It ends."
"You don't mean it."
"I know. I don't."
"Abby?"
"Yes?"
"Are you all right?"
Abby nodded, perhaps a bit too vehemently.
"Just overworked."
"How's Joe?"
"Good."
"And Luka?"
"He's--"
Abby stopped.
"Look, Neela," she said, "I don't really want to talk about this, okay? I just... I don't... I don't know.
Neela put up her hands.
"Okay," she said, "we don't have to."
Fandom: ER
Pairing: Abby/Neela
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Luka's in Croatia. What does this mean for our Abby?
The vodka burned. Burned and burned in that nice way, that way that she so sorely missed. Abby curled into the feeling, unscrewing the cap to another one-shot, the second to last of the stash she'd shoved in her purse at the Jumbo Mart. It was six in the morning and no one had been there save for a few construction workers and a homeless man buying a stash of Cisco Red. He'd smirked at her as though he'd known and a rage had filled her chest, the same rage that had been building since Luka had... Well, she supposed, since he had left.
But that had been hours ago, hours that felt like days, and there she was, hunkered in a doorway by the El, licking the last stinging dregs from the miniature bottle. She could feel it hitting her and she liked it, wanted more, knew she had a bit more time before the daycare upstairs would get worried.
She knew where she could go.
It was almost too easy, climbing the familiar stairs, pushing the key into the lock. She knew Neela wouldn't be home, had a shift; their schedules had been flip-flops of each other for weeks now.
The apartment was blissfully silent, the same, yet different. Neela's dishes were stacked in the sink, her baubles and charms carefully placed on shelves and tables, the scent of her light perfume, the one she wore when she bothered to remember, just barely detectable. Only that and the couch, that horrid green affair, was the same, and Abby sank down into its familiarity.
She closed her eyes, feeling the half-drunken reel of the room, and popped a starlight mint into her mouth. It crunched against her fillings and god, the only thing that would have made it perfect was a cigarette. Dammit.
"Abby?"
The voice startled her and her eyes flew open in shock.
Neela.
She stood in the doorway to her bedroom, a questioning look on her young face. She was in her oversized pajamas, hair rumpled.
"Jesus!" Abby said, without thinking.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh," Abby faltered, "God, I... I was just coming to get something that I, ah, left."
To her intense relief, Neela's expression changed and she nodded, moving towards the closet.
"It's here, I've got it," she said, "Just a few things, really."
"You don't have to bother with that now," Abby said, feeling a warmth settle over her, "Come talk to me."
Neela's brow furrowed.
"Talk?"
"I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."
Neela's face dropped.
"Ugh," she same, coming around to the couch and flopping down, "I feel like I've been on call for ages. It's a nightmare."
She looked at Abby with those brown eyes of hers.
"Tell me it ends," she says.
"Okay. It ends."
"You don't mean it."
"I know. I don't."
"Abby?"
"Yes?"
"Are you all right?"
Abby nodded, perhaps a bit too vehemently.
"Just overworked."
"How's Joe?"
"Good."
"And Luka?"
"He's--"
Abby stopped.
"Look, Neela," she said, "I don't really want to talk about this, okay? I just... I don't... I don't know.
Neela put up her hands.
"Okay," she said, "we don't have to."