24 Steps
Part Four
By Carolina
super_carolina1@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.

Author's notes: Well, I didn't think this story was going to be as intense when I started writing it, but I like to deal with stuff like these. Someone very close to me was an alcoholic, so some of the things I write are from real life expreiences I had to go through. But, on with the show.



There were many colors dancing friendly yet sometimes frightfully in front of Abby's eyes. She had this dream often, and she assumed it was just a surreal memory of that mural she painted with her mother when she was a girl on the living room. It started out with her staring at the painting, until the blue and the yellow began to tango around; the green waltzed; the red and purple spun around in different patterns. It was like a Van Gough in motion, only her mother and her hadn't been as professional, and the painting was just a landscape. It always ended, though, when a mantel of black would fall over the colors, leaving nothing but darkness in front of her.

The ride from unconsciousness to lucidity was always quick and uneventful. This time, though, before she opened her eyes, her nose detected a different smell. It wasn't her apartment, but somewhere else she couldn't quite place, and she sensed some danger ahead. Maybe someone had called 911? Maybe she was in the ER? Maybe she was on a stranger's bed. This didn't stop her from waking up though, something maybe she shouldn't have done.

Where ever she was, it was bright and very quiet. She knew she had been drunk the night before; a) Abby was never the kind of drunk who would forget things, and b) she had been drunk now every night for a long time.

Her eyes fluttered open, and before she even moved, she looked around the room, as the blurriness became more and more soft. Then that energy. The feeling she wasn't alone. Sure enough, when she looked in front of her, there was Luka, looking at her as if she was a science experiment, with his elbows still resting on his knees and cupping his face with his own hands.

Confusion set in, although it could have been mistaken with fright. Did he know? Was he aware of what had happened? How did she get up here? She knew the answer to those questions would come awfully soon, and she wished she had the ability to disappear, or at least turn back time.

Luka saw her open her eyes and only after a while, he let out a sigh and sat back. He had been waiting for her to wake up for God knows how long, and now that she had, he wished she would drift back. Her face looked turbid, and as much as he hated the idea, he knew it was up to him to say something. His speech was still not ready though.

"Morning," he mumbled as everything but a happy greeting.

Abby felt an incredible urge to stretch her body, but she feared any movement would cause Luka to pin her to the ground and put the handcuffs on her. Well, enough with that bullshit. If they were going to get it on, now would be a good a time as any. Vaguely.

"What happened?" Abby sort of moaned, not able to look at his face, because she had it photographed in her mind already.

Luka tried to sit back even further, but his back was completely against the back of the chair, so he decided not to move at all. He looked down at her covered legs, at his fingers, and then at her lowered head.

"The manager called me last night," he sort of moaned as well, feeling as though he didn't need to go any further.

Abby felt disgusted with herself, yet again. "Luka..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Luka asked, interrupting her, in a tone of anger but mostly hurt.

A sarcastic and depressed smile appeared on Abby's face, and she looked at him for the first time. "What's there to tell?" she whispered, and swallowed hard to try and make that lump on her throat disappear. It didn't work.

"How long?" Luka asked, trying to ask all the questions in order of importance, or at least that's how they seemed to pop into his head.

Abby played with her fingers as she looked at them, "I don't know," she said. "Weeks," she whispered.

Luka closed his eyes in disappointment, anger, sadness, denial, pity; all the negative emotions he could get his hands on. Now he didn't know what to say. He had planned on asking her all kinds of questions until his curiosity was satisfied, and a verdict could be passed. But now, that look on her face of a child being scolded, and that trembling voice of hers, drew him back and all he felt like doing now was supporting her.

There was a long silence in which Luka tried to come up with something more to say. But he also had a lump on his throat; that and the dense air was making it difficult to breathe.

"I don't know how it happened..."

He directed his attention to her again as she decided to answer all his unspoken questions.

"Or why. But I don't think that matters much," Abby moaned. She took a deep breath and continued. "I thought I could keep it under control, if I only drank once. But then the second night came along, and I couldn't sleep. Then the third night I don't even know how I got to the bar."

She felt her eyes stinging as if she was diving at sea without a mask on, but tried to control the tears. Her eyes were moist though. "I can't stop, Luka," she moaned.

Luka's heart sank at that, and he moved closer to sit on the bed and take her hand.

"I drink everyday. Sometimes when you're not looking I take some bottles of your mini bar and then I pay them downstairs so you won't get the bill." A tear rolled down her eye at that, but her voice remained somewhat strong.

"I go to a different bar every night hoping I won't bump into anyone from the hospital. I drink during the day and even in the mornings," she whimpered.

Luka closed his eyes and let out another sigh of disappointment, even though he tried his best to look strong in front of her. He looked at their hands and played with her fingers. "Do you drink at work?" he asked cautiously and almost inaudible.

Abby still looked down, and yet another tear jumped from her eye. "I can't function well if I don't," she said.

Luka's heart stopped. This was bad, really bad. If someone found out about this, she could lose her job along with Kerry's. He wondered if she had endangered a patient or two, and he suddenly remembered all those times he had worked with her. "How come no one noticed?" he asked.

"It's Vodka," Abby said. "Doesn't smell."

"How come I didn't notice?" he asked, knowing it was a question he should ask himself and not her.

"I don't know," Abby said sincerely. She took a deep breath, "But it's not your fault," she tried to reassure him.

"Like hell it isn't!" he yelled and sprung form his bed, immediately beginning to pace around the room.

Abby took that as a cue to escape, but she just uncovered her body and sat on the bed, hanging her head under her shoulders and breathing tense air.

Luka suddenly came over and knelt in front of her, "Abby, you have to stop," he asked desperately.

Abby let out a mirthless laugh, "It's not that easy."

"No," Luka gathered her hands in his, "I'll help you. And we'll go to AA meetings together, and... I'll call Carter, if you want to talk to someone, he can help you," he finished.

Abby shook her head and stood up from her bed. "It's not that easy, Luka," she repeated. "If someone finds out I can get fired," she said, looking for her purse everywhere. "And you can get fired for knowing so just forget what I just told you," she added.

"What?" Luka asked incredulously. "I don't care about losing jobs, Abby, you have a problem and we have to solve it," he said.

"No, *I* have a problem, and *I* have to solve it," she said, still looking for her purse.

Luka looked at her as she moved around the room. "A minute ago you were crying because you can't stop drinking and now you don't even care?" he asked in awe.

Abby ignored him and just kept looking for her bag.

"I'm not letting you walk out of here," he said firmly.

Abby turned around at that, "What?"

Luka gave her a knowing look, "You heard me," he said.

Abby let out a mirthless chuckle, she finally found her purse under the covers and turned to him, "What are you, doing a detox in here?" she asked incredulously.

"If I have to, yeah," Luka said.

Abby shook her head again, "That's ridiculous," she muttered.

Luka knew she was probably right, but he had to do something to make her realize she was not alone in this, and that she had his support. He went over to his cupboard and grabbed the keys to his car, along with a bag he had made earlier.

Abby watched all this with weary eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Luka looked up at her, "You don't mind if I stay over in your place for a couple of days, right?" he said.

Abby wrinkled her forehead but didn't have time to protest, because the next thing she knew Luka had grabbed her arm and was dragging her out of the room.



Abby unlocked the door to her apartment and threw the keys on the small dish on a table near the door. She felt like she had been followed by the police home, and was now getting arrested. Luka's car had been following hers so closely, she was scared he was going to slam into her at one point.

He walked in a couple of minutes after she did. As if it was his home, he walked into her bedroom and put his clothes on her drawers. Looking around her room to see if there was any alcohol around, and determined to throw any away.

Abby sat on her couch and buried her head on her hands. She couldn't deal with Luka like this, not sober. He hadn't said anything to her since they left his hotel room, and now he was walking around like a fucking rooster on a henhouse. She knew he was disappointed, but right now he was just acting like a cop. She wished that for once he could just put all this macho thing aside and just deal with his real emotions as they came.

He came out of her room with two bottles of Vodka and walked into the kitchen to look through the cupboards and cabinets.

"What are you doing?" Abby muttered without taking her head away from her hands.

Luka gathered a couple more bottles from the counter and from under the sink and put them on a plastic bag.

Abby looked up at him and shook her head. Screaming at him or hitting him was not going to do her any better, she knew how stubborn he was, almost as stubborn as her, and her pounding headache was sure to make her say something she would regret.

"Come with me," Luka suddenly said.

Abby looked up at him for the first time, her hair all over her face and her eyes tired. She didn't move. This was her house and he couldn't order her to do anything in here. Plus her legs had gone on vacation and her arms were only moving because she had to keep her face buried.

Luka waited for her to stand up, but since she didn't move, he went over and grabbed her hand, pulling her up rather abruptly. He opened the door and stepped out with Abby by her hand, and walked down the hall until they were face to face with the garbage shoot. He reached into the bag he was holding and opened the first bottle, and watched as the liquid traveled down the metal plank of the shoot.

Abby shook her head and looked away. "What are you doing?" she sort of moaned and whimpered as if she was about to cry.

Luka ignored her and continued to pour the alcohol down the shoot, forcing her to watch, and once the bottle was empty he did the same with another one. He knew he was torturing her, the way she was pacing around and shaking next to him was a sign of withdrawals. He didn't know why he was doing this himself, pouring the drink down the shoot. Maybe it was to show her that the drink was off limits, or maybe he didn't trust her enough, and deep inside thought she could sneak out of the apartment to dig the bottles out of the trash. Mostly, though, he just hated the alcohol at that moment, and its slow death was somehow making him feel better.

She tried to walk away, but he held her hand so that she couldn't. Abby leaned her back against the wall next to the shoot and sat down on the floor as Luka continued to get rid of her drinks. God she needed a drink. She didn't even know what time it was, but she needed one. Not only was this a stressful situation, but it was utterly embarrassing, and she just couldn't deal with it. Her mouth was dry and she was beginning to sweat a little, and she knew that was just the beginning.

'Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it,' she chastised herself, but it didn't work much. Luka was still holding her left hand, so she could only bury her face on her right and the gap between her cuddled knees. How she did this the first time, she had no idea.

"Get up," Luka said. He could have easily pulled her up by her hand, but he knew she had to take the first steps, and he wasn't going to go easy on her.

Abby kept rubbing her face with her hand. "I need a drink," she mumbled and was sure he didn't hear her because she could barely hear herself.

"You'll get a drink," Luka said. "Come on, get up," he added. "Everyone's starting to look at you funny," he said, even though there was just one person passing by, and looking at Abby.

Abby used Luka's hand to pull herself up, she never knew she was so heavy. He walked her back into her apartment and closed the door. Abby sat on the couch again and hugged one of her pillows, praying that she could at least fall asleep, but her mind was spinning around everywhere.

Luka came back with a glass of juice and gave it to Abby, who looked at it like it was soylent green. "You needed a drink," he said casually.

Abby looked at him with a hate she didn't know she had, and had the uncontrollable urge to take the drink and throw it all over his face. But her mouth was incredibly dry, so she took a small sip of the lemonade and put it on the table in front of her. Luka walked back into her bedroom and she just laid back on her couch, turned on the television and immediately tuned in to the Cartoon Network. Cartoons always made sense when you were either on drugs or in pain.

After a while, Luka came back out, although to Abby it seemed like seconds. He shook his head when he saw her watching the Smurfs, but figured that would help her stay under control and a little relaxed, maybe it was the color blue mixed with white. He went over and put a blanket over her, then walked to the front side of the couch and sat on the floor next to her head, which was still pointing at the television.

"I called Weaver and told her you were sick, you don't have to go to work for a while," he said and waited for her to thunder him about making her decisions, but she didn't even move.

He looked back and grabbed her face so she could look at him. "I have to go do something important, if I leave you alone here, can you promise me that you won't go out or drink anything?" he asked and stressed every word.

Abby nodded lightly, but maybe it was just her head shaking. "Can you bring me some ice cream," she whispered, since his face was right in front of hers.

Luka smiled for the first time that day, but maybe it was at her childish demeanor. "What kind?" he asked.

"Cookies and cream," Abby muttered.

"Ok," Luka said. He grabbed her face and kissed her on the lips, and stood up to try and find his keys, which he had remembered putting on his pockets. He grabbed her own keys from the dish next to the door and took them with him. He knew Abby had promised not to sneak out and drink, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't trust her right now.



Luka clutched a piece of paper on his hand after reading it now nearly ten times and looked at the different buildings in front of him. He finally found the number of the particular one he was looking for and walked in. Thanking God it didn't have a security guard or an intercom, he walked directly into the elevator and pressed the number 3. Glancing the numbers as they lit up above him, he closed his eyes for a moment, thinking what he was going to say. He didn't have much time though, as a small ding chirped and the doors opened.

He walked down the hall, looking at all the numbers on the doors of the different apartments, until he finally came face to face with the one he was looking for. 315. He knocked on the door once lightly, but then the second and third knocks were a little more confident. A voice form the other side informed him he would be greeted in "Just a moment," and Luka stood, there, looking at his own shoes.

Finally, the door opened slightly, and Luka raised his head to see Carter there, surprised about Luka's presence.

"Hey," Carter greeted, but it was more like a question.

Luka's face remained in blank, "Can I come in?"

Carter raised his eyebrows, confused. "Sure," he said and opened the door fully. He followed Luka in, who stopped in the middle of the living room, and stood in front of him, trying to figure out why the man was here. "Um, do you want anything to drink? Or?" he motioned with his hands.

Luka didn't even look around the room to inspect Carter's new apartment, but remained still with his hands on his pockets. "No, I'm fine," Luka muttered.

"Ok," Carter said with a nod. "Is everything ok?" he asked finally, because Luka was already scaring him.

Luka looked down and then at Carter's face. "Abby got drunk last night," he finally muttered.

It took a moment for Carter to sink this in, and once he did, he still didn't believe it. "What?" he asked in awe.

Luka just nodded, the expression on his face as serious as ever.

Carter shifted on his feet. "Are you sure?"

"I found her on the bar of my hotel last night," Luka muttered.

Carter looked back to make sure there was a couch behind him and sat down. He put his elbows on his knees and stared straight forward. There was one question in his mind, well, many actually, and he looked up at Luka, "Was that the first time?"

Luka looked down at his peer, "No, it's, uh, been weeks... she says," he said.

Carter kept staring at the floor, and rubbed his chin with his hand. He didn't know what to do or what to think, his mind was still numbed after the blunt. He only felt when Luka sat on the couch next to him.

"I don't know what to do," Luka said miserably. "I know you are her friend, and you went to those AA meetings together."

Carter stood up, ignoring Luka. "Where is she?"

"In her apartment," Luka said and stood up after Carter, who was now putting on his jacket and trying to find his keys. He suddenly reacted to what was happening, "I don't think she needs to see anyone at the moment, I just wanted your advice."

Carter ignored Luka again, and finally found his keys. "I have to talk to her," Carter said and opened the door to stand under the frame, signaling Luka to leave.

With a sigh, Luka finally gave up and followed Carter out, who closed the door behind him.



Luka unlocked the door to Abby's apartment and threw the keys on the dish, only they hit the table and fell to the floor. The keys dish was on the floor, broken, and he realized Abby had tried to go out.

"Where is she?" Carter asked as he walked in after Luka.

Luka looked around and didn't see Abby on the couch, so he assumed she was on her bedroom. He pointed down the hall and walked into the kitchen to put the 4 tubs of cookies and cream ice cream on the freezer.

Carter walked down the hall and walked into the bathroom, but Abby wasn't there so he kept walking. He opened the door to her bedroom and she wasn't on the bed, but sitting on the floor with her back to the wall. She looked like she was asleep, but Carter knew she wasn't, he was way too familiar with that position. What the hell was Luka doing? He could get in a lot of trouble for doing something like this. Carter suddenly remembered how he had tried to detox his cousin.

This scene destroyed him though. This was Abby in trouble, not him or her mother or Luka. He had never seen her as much as trembling since he had met her, and it scared him now that she was the one at the bottom.

"Hi, Abby," he said as if it was just another day. He knew the last thing she wanted right not was visitors, but he couldn't just turn his back on her right now.

Abby looked up barely and smiled weakly at Carter, who was still looking down at her. "He told you," she said, her voice hoarse.

Carter nodded and walked over to sit next to her on the floor, "Yeah," he said.

Abby watched him for a moment, as he sat down and took her hand to kiss it lightly.

"Abby if you were having problems, why didn't you come to me?" he asked softly.

The question everyone had been asking for a long time. How easy it is to say 'You can come to me no matter what' but actually mean it. She knew he did, but that hadn't given her the courage to talk. "I... thought I could handle it myself," she said, her mouth still dry and her throat raspy. She took a deep breath and looked at Carter more intensely now. "Can you get me out of here? Please, I don't wanna be here, I need a drink," she pleaded.

Carter kissed her forehead and hugged her tight, "I'll see what I can do," he said, knowing how desperate she was to get out. He felt sorry for her, but knew she had to go through this, as much as he hated the idea of seeing her in pain. If she had spent weeks drinking every day, all day, then she was going to have a hell of a ride to recovery.

He squeezed her hand. "I'll be right back, ok?" he said and saw her nod, and walked out of the room, closing the door to make sure she couldn't hear anything. He found Luka out in her living room, cleaning the broken pieces of crystal on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Carter asked suddenly.

Luka looked at him with an expression of ignorance on his face. "What?" he asked.

"This whole detox thing," Carter said.

Luka knew where he was headed, and he wasn't in the mood to argue, particularly with Carter. "I'm trying to help her," he said firmly as he threw the remaining of the dish on the garbage can.

"By locking her up?" Carter asked stubbornly.

"She needs help," Luka insisted.

"Right. But she's not a mental patient, she's an alcoholic," Carter said calmly.

"She's not an alcoholic," snapped Luka.

A small, incredulous smile appeared on Carter's face. "Yes she is. She couldn't stop drinking for years, she can't stop drinking now. Maybe you don't wanna see that, but she's a drunk Luka, she'll be a drunk until she dies," he explained in a soothing yet cynical tone.

Luka stood there with his hands on his hips, trying to look at Abby through the door, although it was closed.

Carter analyzed his face, "I want to help her too, but if she doesn't want us to do anything, then there's nothing we can do."

Luka looked at him, swallowing those words, "She admitted she had a problem, I don't care what it takes, I'm not gonna sit there while she gets drunk every night," he said.

Carter rubbed his forehead, "You're treating her like she's a prisoner, if you lock her up the only thing that's gonna cause is make her want to run away, and you can't stay here forever, sooner or later she's gonna sneak out and go to the closets bar," he said.

"She's not gonna do that," Luka said.

"She's a drunk!" Carter said firmly, although it wasn't a yell. "She's not ready to give up drinking, you're just forcing her to do so, so you're just walking around in circles," he said.

Luka exhaled deeply, and just shook his head slightly.

Carter watched him closely. "You should let her go, I'll talk her into coming to an AA meeting with me, and if she's willing, then we can do a detox, but you're going nowhere right now," he said.

"I'm not going to let her drink again," Luka said firmly.

Carter rolled his eyes. "You don't know how to handle this, Luka, let me deal with it," he said.

"No, absolutely not," Luka said as he shook his head.

"You'd rather do everything wrong just as long as you're the one doing it?" Carter asked incredulously. "This isn't putting IVs on a dummy, ok? You're dealing with an addict," he added. "Does Dr. Weaver know about this?"

"This isn't any of her business," Luka said.

"Right, this isn't any of her business," Carter repeated to make sure Luka could hear how absurd that was. "Why are you being like this?" Carter asked, "Don't you care about what might happen to Abby at all?"

"Of course I do, and that's why I'm doing this, I love her," Luka said firmly.

"Oh, no, don't give me that love crap," Carter said as he shook his head and smiled sarcastically. "This isn't about who loves who, this is about you trying to help her now because you didn't when she needed you to. That's not love, Luka, that's guilt. And if you're doing this to redeem yourself, then you better let me handle it, because guilt is not enough to help you go through what's about to come," he finished.

Luka shook his head, "You're wrong," he said as he walked into the kitchen.

Carter followed him, but just to grab his keys and his coat, "Trust me, Luka, there's nothing I want more than for you to prove me wrong," he said and opened the door. "I'll come back tomorrow, if she still wants me to get her out of here, I'm calling Dr. Weaver," he said and walked out of the apartment.

Luka didn't watch him leave, because he was too busy pretending he was washing the dishes. He dropped a cup as soon as the door closed and turned around, biting his lip. He grabbed a cup and opened the freezer to put some ice cream on it. How Abby was going to survive with just ice cream was beyond him, but he figured it was the cold in her throat that made her feel better, so he walked over and knocked on her door.

"Abby?" he said, but soon realized it was ridiculous to knock on her door, so he opened it and walked in. She was still in the floor, so he put the ice cream down on her dresser and walked over.

"What time is it?" Abby asked from under her arms.

Luka looked at his watch, 5:30," he said. He could tell she was disappointed that it was still so early, so was he. This was going to be a long and excruciating process, luckily he had a couple of sick and vacation days saved up at work.

Her arms were wrapped around her legs, so he took them and pulled her up with difficulty, since her arms were as stiff as a trunk. "You want some ice cream?" he asked her as she began to pace and shift on her feet in front of him.

"NO!" Abby said, annoyed and trying to get her hands free from his.

"Do you want an aspirin or something," he asked hesitantly.

Abby just shook her head from side to side exaggeratedly.

Luka sat down on the bed and made her sit on his lap, trying to get her to stop moving, but she immediately began to shake her foot. "Abby, you know why I'm doing this, right?" he asked her softly.

Abby shook her head and rubbed her face with her hand.

"I'm doing this because I care about you and I don't want to see you get hurt," he said. "I'm not trying to be mean or boss you around, I'm just doing what I think it's best for you, do you understand that?" he asked as if she was a little girl.

Abby just kept shaking her foot and looking elsewhere.

"But you did this once, you can do this again, I know you can," he said and kissed her cheek. He rested his head on her chest and hugged her tight to convince her his intentions were good.

Abby put her arms around his shoulder and buried her head on the nape of his neck. "Luka, I need a drink," she moaned and began to whimper.

"I know," Luka said and kissed her forehead, "Just hang in there."



To be continued...