Disclaimer: I own every single character. Huh? What are you gonna do, NBC? Come
down and get me!

Author's Notes: Well, no matter how much I promise, I never seem to get these
out quickly, huh? Blame my boss for that. Feedback please.



"24 Steps: Part 12" by Carolina


Silence. Not something you want to hear when so many people are staring at you
as if you were about to read a living will. Not something you want to hear when
you have no idea what to say, and not something you want to hear when beads of
sweat are rolling down your spine.

Not even the air conditioner was making its usual humming around the room, no
one was coughing, no one shifting on their seat. Pure and complete dead silence.
One which was only interrupted by the discharge of a warm sigh.

"Uh, my name's Luka..." he was about to say his last name but stopped himself
before doing so, remembering no one used last names around here. He didn't wait
for an acknowledgement because frankly, he hated that part. That didn't stop
anyone from letting out a collective hello.

He hated speaking in front of people. It was a fear which started the minute he
was born and a fear which almost cost him his admission to medical school, and
then his graduation. Nothing had made him get over it, but for some crazy
reason, there he was.

So he fidgeted with his fingers and looked up to see all the expectant faces
looking at him. "Um, I've been coming here for a while, but I have never said
anything, I haven't even spoken to any of you." For a moment he toyed with the
idea of feeling bad about that, but he seriously didn't, so he continued.

"My girlfriend is an alcoholic. Sheeee, she drank before we met, and she was
sober for five years but she relapsed." He paused, expecting someone to stand up
and raise the roof, but everyone stayed quiet. That was worse.

So he decided to play with the papers on the podium instead, there were no faces
looking at him there. "Um, she's in rehab, and she's doing well..." he stopped.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had no clue as to why he had offered to
share. He had nothing he cared for sharing with anyone here. People came here
once a week and poured their hearts out and talked it all over until their sobs
made it impossible for them to continue. But that was an option which was not
available. There would be no crying tonight, no sir. Not only did Luka Kovac
disliked talking in front of people; he didn't show vulnerability in front of
them either.

--------------------

This was it. The night everybody hated. Well, most people loved it, really. It
wasn't looking good for her, though. On the one hand, she couldn't wait to go
home. On the other, she'd miss this place. It had become a shelter, a sanctuary.
Everyone knew what she was going through but they wouldn't take crap from her.
The last month had seemed more like 30 years. Days were longer now, hours
excruciating. It was like sitting in front of a clock and watching it move.
Sometimes the second hand moved backwards, only to move forward again. You want
it to go faster, but they say a watched pot never boils.

That was pretty much her life in that saying.

A watched life never goes forward. A watched alcoholic never recovers.

Everyone was looking her way, but she didn't feel awkward about it, not at all.
She had gotten used to all those familiar eyes looking her way, the insecure
arms hugging some knees, the trembling fingers as they played with the laces of
some shoes.

This was the last time she would share in front of all these people. There were
still a few meetings away, but this was the last time it would be all about
Abby. She didn't know what they would do... maybe throw a pitch of Gatorade over
her head, or do some hazing.

She opted for the Gatorade.

Instead, Renee walked into the room and greeted some of the people. Ben was
looking at Abby as if she was a stranger. He was mad, she knew that. But what
could she do?

"Abby?"

She looked up to see Renee standing next to her, with a few things in her hands.


"Well, this isn't a celebration, or a farewell party. But, um, I can safely say
that some of us are going to miss you around here," Renee said warmly.

Abby knew she was lying. How would they miss her? Tomorrow another Abby Lockhart
would walk through those doors with her boyfriend and everyone would forget who
she was. That was the life at rehab centers. Checking in, checking out, hope I
never see you again.

She smiled anyway.

"Um, I know you don't want us to make a big deal about this, and I know you have
shared almost everything. I do use the word almost, because I want you to do one
more thing for us," Renee said.

Abby raised her eyebrows and looked around, "You want me to sneak some booze
in?"

Lame joke, but some sympathetic people chuckled unconvincingly.

Renee sat next to Abby, and gave her a small notebook. "Why don't you read
something for us?"

Abby looked at the journal in her hands, and played with it for a while, running
her fingers through the front and back. This was the journal she had received
when she checked in; the one they always encouraged her to write on. She opened
it and immediately realized what Renee wanted her to do was read to everyone her
deepest thoughts, her private emotions.

"Can I just, summarize instead?" she asked Renee, a little hopeful.

"Why don't you read the marked pages?" Renee said encouragingly, ignoring Abby's
plea.

Abby let out a sigh and stood up, opening her journal as she did so. The writing
was that of a child, or at least as if she had used one of those trembling pens,
which she hadn't seen since the 80's. Some letters were washed away by tears,
some pages smudged together by humidity. It was like finding an old diary and
discovering forgotten thoughts.

She cleared her throat, and found the first bookmark as some waited for her to
start, some not even caring. If she wasn't leaving sober out of this place, she
was definitely leaving embarrassed.

"Ok," she said before anything, and took a deep breath. "Um, April 12th, 2001.
Nothing new to say today, I'm just writing this down because Renee is looking at
me." Some chuckled softly at that, including Renee, who was looking up at her
with a smile on her face.

"Um," she continued. "What else can I say? Besides: I really want a drink right
now," she turned serious at that, so did everyone else. "I've been here for two
days, and I don't see how I can possibly survive another 28. I hate this place.
I hate my room, I hate the food, I hate the songs and chants, and I hate the
people. I hate, that's all I feel right now. I can't think straight, because I
can't hear over the painful pounding on my head. My hands keep shaking and I
hate that the most. I hate it so much that sometimes I feel tempted to run the
hot water and sticking them under it."

She closed her fist, trying to hide the small scar. She looked up and everyone
was looking at her expectantly. Her eyes stung, but she blinked that away. "I
really haven't made any friends here and I'm not expecting to. The last thing I
wanna do right now is sit down and talk about the weather with someone who's not
even listening because they're thinking the same thing I am. I shouldn't be
here. I shouldn't even be on this planet. I wanna turn back time and make it
stop forever. I want to go home, but I want to run away too. I've heard it's
beautiful down in the south. Maybe I'll buy a small farm and live there alone,
eating things I cultivate myself..." she realized that this was getting boring,
so she skipped a few parts.

She cleared her throat yet again. "I even miss Chicago, and I miss my patients.
I miss Carter and the nurses, and I miss Luka." She paused to swallow that bulge
on her throat away, and continued. "I know he thinks this is his fault, but I
wished I could convince him it's not. He doesn't deserve this; he doesn't know
what a piece of shit I am. Sometimes I wonder why he's with me. I was there for
him once, when I showed him the best of me. Then things got better for him, and
he started seeing the worst in me. He's still with me. I don't think that'll be
for too long, though. I'm pretty sure he'll go his way once I'm out of here and
that's another thing that makes me mad because right now I miss him as much as I
miss the booze."

She chuckled to herself, "I don't remember writing that." She sniffed and looked
at Renee, "It stops there."

------------------------

"I was married before, and when you lose a spouse, you only remember the good
things and they become angels. It's hard to admit that my wife had flaws, but
it's hard to admit Abby has them also. She's perfect and I keep thinking that
maybe this is just like the flu. So maybe if I take care of her for a while,
it'll go away," he stopped, still looking down at the podium.

He took a deep breath, but didn't let it out. "I'm scared, because she's coming
home and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to her, or how to act
around her. I don't know if she wants me to go about as if nothing had happened,
or if she wants to talk about it. One of our friends is a drug addict, and him
and Abby go to meetings together and they always know what to say to each other.
She's always been very independent and after months I'm still trying to get her
to trust me completely. So, um, I guess that's why I came here. My girlfriend is
coming home and I don't know what to do," he said with a gulp.

-----------------------

"April 18th, 2001. It's raining outside, it started during the night. The sound
of it makes me feel a little better, and it's ironic how wet it is outside yet
my mouth is so dry. Maybe it's not an irony, who knows. When I was 8 I remember
one time when it was raining like crazy in Florida, just like it is here. It was
a Saturday and Eric was hungry, so I made him some pancakes before I went up the
stairs to wake Maggie up for work. The door was locked, but I had learned to use
my bobby pins to open it, and as I did, I found her on her bed, in the same
clothes she had the day before. Another cycle had started. I still didn't
understand well what was wrong with her, so I did as my aunt told me, just learn
to live with it."

She cleared her throat and shifted on her feet, wondering why on earth Renee
wanted her to read this particular story. "I laid next to her on the bed,
listening to the rain outside. She was awake, but she didn't even move when I
laid my head a few inches away from hers. I laid there for a while, and I know
she was awake. But I didn't say anything. I didn't sleep either. I just stared
at her closed eyes. After what must have been hours, she finally opened them. It
was then when I understood. We stared at each other forever, none of us saying
anything. At that moment I realized what was wrong. Through her eyes, I saw the
mania, the moods, the insanity and the madness. They paraded in her eyes like
the Macy's parade, and I was a witness of it all. It was frightening to see all
those things on your own mother. All those things my dad and other family
members had told me about Maggie being sick never made any sense, because I
barely saw her strike a fever or throw up. But Maggie's eyes explained
everything to me. After that I went to the library and read the few articles on
manic depression, but none of it made as much sense as it did seeing it through
her own eyes."

Abby stopped for a moment and licked her lower lip as she played with the corner
of the page, but the silence was worse, so she continued. "Suddenly her eyes
went black, all black, and she closed them again. She didn't come out of that
room for 2 weeks, and I never went back in."

-----------------------

"I spend almost every night reading articles about alcoholics, and I've probably
been to every internet site. I keep reading books and I keep asking questions
but the more people try to explain it to me, the more confused and scared I get.
I don't know how to handle this, I never had to deal with an... something like
this on a personal level."

He took a deep breath. "I'm a doctor, on an emergency room, and every night we
get at least two drunks who come in because they have no where to sleep. We
always put them on a bed and ignore them for the rest of the night. When I came
to this country it bothered me. I stared at those men and it disgusted me the
way they'd rather drink than go to a job interview. Then Abby told me she was an
alcoholic. I remember feeling nothing when she did, because I was battling with
my own demons, and it never came up in a conversation again, I'm sure I even
forgot about it."

Luka looked up at all the faces looking at him, and then looked down again
because for some reason he didn't want to stop; everything was pouring out of
him like lava. "Um, a couple of months later her mother came to town, she has
manic-depression and, um, Abby has had to deal with her since she was little.
She used to say that everything's ok, and that she was used to dealing with
Maggie's moods, but I knew she wasn't ok. The thought that she could relapse
didn't even occur to me, and it didn't even happen until a couple of weeks
later."

He curled his mouth, realizing he was saying things he didn't even know he knew.
"I, um, I didn't make things easier either, because I wasn't there when she
needed me. Everything was going ok, though. We were talking, and her mother was
taking her medication, and... Abby was doing great." He shook his head and
continued. "She was laughing and smiling every day, and she was making more
jokes than usual. It made me feel better too because it seemed like everything
was fixed and we'd finally be able to focus on us." He let out another sigh,
"Then all of a sudden she was depressed again, and I was scared because I
thought... I don't know what I thought."

"I didn't want to think she was Bipolar also, but I couldn't find another
explanation. She lost a lot of weight, and she rarely smiled. I tried to ask her
what was wrong but she said everything was ok." He paused, wanting to stop but
not being able to. "One night I, um, I found her at a bar, and, uh, it was one
of the most horrible things I have seen in my life. She was unconscious, and I
didn't know what to do. I took her to my room and waited for her to wake up. It
was scary, mostly because I felt," he let out another sigh, but of frustration,
"because at that moment it really sank in. She's a drunk."

-----------------------

"April 26rd, 2001. I haven't written anything in a couple of days because I
can't concentrate much. Despite the turmoil in my head, I actually feel a little
better. The trembling is stopping, I'm eating better now, but then other days I
can't get out of bed. Mostly I'm frustrated. I wanna go home, I think I can
handle that. I went to the reception today, determined to sign myself out of
here. I must have leaned against that wall for hours, and finally turned around
and came back here. I don't know why, but when I was standing there I remembered
Maggie. I don't wanna be like her, so I decided to stay."

She stopped, and as she closed the journal, she looked at Renee.

"And here you are," her sponsor said.

Abby looked at her in confusion, and looked at the journal again. "I don't get
it."

Renee stood up. "You can take it home with you. Read it when you like lost, or
like you want a drink. Mostly read it when you want a drink," she smiled.

Abby nodded, looking at the book and putting it on the chair.

"Is there something else you wanna say?" Beth asked, smiling from her chair.

Abby looked at the floor for a moment, and then looked up at everyone around the
room. "Thank you, for taking all my crap. And, um, I'll miss you," she smiled.
She really wanted to let all these people know how grateful she was, but she
didn't want to be too emotional either. Still, deep inside, she knew they knew
she'd always carry a soft spot for them.

She sat back on her chair with a smile on her face, watching as other people
started sharing their problems with the group. Mostly she couldn't help but
watching that new young woman on the other side of the room, her hands shaking,
her face sweaty, her knees up on the chair. She had a hell of a few weeks ahead
of her. 

-----------------------

"Nothing you read or hear prepares you to deal with things like this," the man
at the podium started. "I must have read thousands of articles too but I find it
that every time my dad drinks, the experiences afterwards are different. And,
it's normal to feel scared, because you don't know what's going to happen. When
you see alcoholics walking down the street it's different, because, well, you
don't care. But when it's someone you love the emotions are so acute that it
leaves you clueless."

Luka kept staring at him, feeling ashamed about all the things he had said, but
desperately hanging on to the man's every word.

"Mostly you feel hurt because in your own selfishness, the idea that they won't
stop for you makes you angry, and anger leads to bitterness, and then you don't
want anything to do with them, and that makes them want to drink more. So it's a
cycle. But it's natural. Don't hide your emotions. As much as this is a
sickness, you also have the right to feel, and have opinions. If you don't let
her know how you feel, then she won't have a reason to go forward. As much as
they have to do these things by themselves, they have to know that they hurt us
when they drink. I must have begged my father a thousand times, I still do. But
this is different because it's my father. I can't just break up with him, his
battle is mine also. My girlfriend is not an alcoholic, but even if she was
there's no way I can tell you what to do, Luka. You'll learn to deal with it by
yourself. It's like learning to ride a bike. Hopefully the bumps will disappear
and the ride will become easier."

"Don't be negative. The best advice I can give you is to be patient. It takes a
lot to deal with this, so if you feel like you can't handle it, it's best to
step out. But don't be afraid to give it your best, give her a reason to get
better." He smiled warmly. "Good luck, Luka."

Good luck indeed.

-----------------------

The car slowly came to a stop, making that gravel sound as the tires collided
with the small pebbles of the parking lot. Coincidentally, that was the same
parking space he had left his car when he came to drop her off. Not that he had
the memory of an elephant, but he could remember every single event of that
night as if they had happened only 5 minutes ago. He could still hear the sounds
of the morning as the sun rose, could feel Abby's trembling hand inside his own,
and still felt confused as thousands of thoughts raced through his mind like a
whirlwind of negative and positive ideas, both running forward, backwards,
against each other until there was nothing but utter confusion.

It was quiet, too quiet. There was something about silence which always made him
feel comfortable, as if the definition of the word carried a picture of himself
in the dictionary. He had always enjoyed silence, peace, serenity... but this
silence he didn't like. This was the silence that came before a tidal wave, the
silence before war. His heart was getting restless and his mind began to spin
again. What if she's changed? What if she doesn't want anything to do with him
anymore? Would she break up with him because it's not smart to get into a
relationship during recovery? Would she allow him to help her? And most of all,
would he be able to help her?

Still, he remained tall and strong as he walked through the doors. It was empty
inside. Somehow in his own innocence he had expected a big farewell party in
which he'd have to sign a Good Luck card and then they'd eat chocolate cake with
vanilla ice cream and a banner would be hanging from the ceiling. There was
nothing. Only a receptionist who looked as if she hadn't gotten off that chair
since he had last saw her. Playing nervously with his fingers, he approached her
and tapped on the counter unnecessarily; a small smile appeared on his face.

"Lockhart?" she asked warmly.

"Yes," Luka said, and cleared his throat. "Yes," he repeated more confidently.

"She'll be out in a minute, you can wait over there," she said and pointed to a
small couch with her green pen.

Luka smiled once more reluctantly, and hesitantly put his hands on the back
pockets of his jeans as he walked over, analyzing the fabric with which the
couch was made, thinking about so many questions, either of them could be
answered.

---------------------

"Don't forget to call me if you need anything, or if you just want to talk,"
Renee said as Abby gathered all her things.

"Can I call collect?" Abby joked.

Renee chuckled lightly and dropped her head, "I'm being serious."

"I know," Abby nodded, looking at her sponsor and holding on to the handles of a
bag which was resting on the bed.

"And, you can come visit if you like, we love having former patients come and
talk to others," Renee added hopefully.

Abby smiled, "I don't know if giving a lecture is one of my priorities now."

"Just something to think about," Renee said casually.

Abby's smile remained on her face, and as she looked down at the floor, she toed
one of the tiles, feeling weary and completely submerged in a sea of
vulnerability. "Um, thank you," she muttered and looked up. "For everything. I
know I didn't make things easy."

Renee nodded and stroked Abby's arm, "You're getting out of here, you must have
done something right."

Abby nodded also, looking everywhere but at Renee. "I guess this is good bye
then?"

"Maybe a see you later," Renee said.

Abby finally looked at her, and without a care of being corny or embarrassed,
she leaned over and gave her new friend a hug.

Renee chuckled as she massaged Abby's back. "Listen, stay sober, ok? I don't
wanna have to see your ugly face around here again."

Abby laughed, feeling a lump forming on her throat. "I'll try."

"You'll try? This isn't the Special Olympics," Renee said as she pulled away.

"I will," Abby said, the words coming out as a bitter liquid because it was a
promise she didn't know if she could keep. She picked up her bag and both walked
out of the room.

"Go to meetings," Renee said.

"Ask for help," Abby added.

"And stay sober."

"Renee?" a male voice came form behind and both women turn around to come face
to face with Ben, who looked as if someone had died. "Um, Morgan needs some help
with Christian, he's not looking well."

Renee let out a little groan and turned to Abby, "Don't be a stranger."

Abby smiled, "Thanks, Renee." She watched her go, holding her bag with both her
hands as it hung just below her feet. She looked from the distant figure of
Renee to Ben, who was looking at her bag. She suddenly didn't know what to say,
not knowing how to say good bye and not knowing how to start a conversation
either. She curled her mouth when Ben saved her the trouble.

"Going home, huh?" he said lamely.

"Yeah," Abby said on a little high note, mostly glad he was the one to break the
silence.

"Yeah, I'll get there," Ben said a little sadly.

"I'm sorry, Ben," Abby said, knowing it was bothering him more than he let on,
which seemed to be a lot. "But, um, I'm sure you'll be out soon," she said in a
more positive note. "I mean, you're looking better."

Ben let out an amusing sigh, mostly at her inability to lie convincingly about
something so important. But at the last minute he decided to change the mood, at
least put an effort. "Hey," he said with a couple of steps, "When I get out I'll
track you down and you can leave that boyfriend of yours for me."

Abby chuckled, "Deal."

Ben smiled and with a couple more steps, gave Abby a strong hug, trying to
protect her, but also himself, from his misfortune. "Call me every once in a
while, ok?"

Abby nodded against his shoulder, "Ok."

"Maybe we can go to a few meetings together," Ben added.

"Ok," Abby repeated. They both pulled back at the same time and she smiled up at
him. "Go see them, Ben. I'm sure they miss you."

Ben nodded unconvincingly.

"I'm serious. You don't know how much you love your father until you're taken
away from him," she said, looking up at him.

"We'll see," Ben said, nodding. "Luck, Abby."

"Good luck," Abby added, and saw him turn around and leave. The smile on her
face vanished and it was replaced by a small tremble of the lips, but even more
trembling was every single organ inside of her.

She had to stand there for a couple of minutes to make sure she still had her
balance, and after making sure she wouldn't go straight to the floor, she turned
around.

----------------------

There were brown stains on the ceiling. He stared at them as they became
different figures, as if they were clouds. There was a mushroom, a tree, a
bottle... he closed his eyes tight and shook his head. The effects of lack of
sleep were definitely strengthened his fright. The silence was still eating him
alive. It was uncomfortable, and so dense he could almost see it.

He shook his head again, trying to remind himself that he had gone through worse
things and he had survived. This was just a little bump on the road and he held
on to the idea that everything would be ok, that in the end what doesn't kill
you makes you stronger. That bump was beginning to grow into a hill.

With a sigh, he stood up, and began to pace around the waiting area. Two weeks.
He hadn't seen her in two weeks and he had only talked to her on the phone twice
since she came in. He had no idea what had been going on the last few days
because he hadn't gotten calls, or news, or a letter. She could be recovered or
they could be sending her off because she was a lost case. He didn't know.

He could still remember how low his heart sank when he got that phone call.
"She's ready to go home." The words spun around his mind and for almost three
nights he hadn't been able to sleep. All that advice, all that sharing, all
those cliched phrases, they were all useless at the moment.

"Just be supportive. Be patient. Don't push her. Take it one step at a time.
She's still recovering. She's still a drunk. It can happen again."

Good God. He was probably over reacting now, but he still didn't know what to
do. Even before she relapsed, he had found it that it was almost impossible to
'be there' for Abby. She built this wall around herself and after months and
months of good and bad experiences, he knew she didn't trust him completely.
That made his stomach spin. It was something he couldn't accept, yet the reality
of it slapped him in the face every day. Abby laughed, Abby cried, Abby cringed,
and Abby sang, but Abby was a cipher. Abby crawled inside her shell like a
turtle every time someone, anyone, tried to touch her.

But he knew why. All that clinical work, that psych rotation, all that
literature... he knew well. She didn't. There were a lot of things he knew and
she didn't. He knew she was an angel, even though she herself believed to be a
rotten apple. He knew she was funny, even when she herself believed to be
sarcastic. He knew she was capable of loving, even when she herself believed to
be emotionally barren. He knew she made him feel in heaven, when she herself
believed she could never be loved.

Those were truths he tried to held on for the moment. Abby was wrong, he was
right. He was willing to prove it to her and he couldn't wait for her to realize
it.

As he came to a stop to begin counting the small green tiles on the floor, he
heard steps. His brain ordered his head to look up, but he could only close his
eyes, and take a deep breath. The steps became louder, and when he finally
looked up, the first thing he saw was a brown bag.

Suddenly she was standing there, wearing her usual dark clothes. He blinked a
few times, making sure it wasn't a mirage, but it was all too real. She smiled
at him, but to Luka it seemed more like a sigh of relief.

He couldn't move.

Abby finally looked down and then walked over to the receptionist.

"Checking in?" Marci smiled.

"Yeah, very funny," Abby said as she grabbed the papers from Marci's hands.

"Just sign at the bottom of every page," Marci said.

Abby browsed through the pages, feeling Luka's eyes burning holes on her back.
She wasn't even sure she was signing her name or someone else's, but she didn't
even check before she gave the papers back to Marci.

"Ok, honey, that's all." Marci looked up at Abby, with that smile still on her
face. "Good luck, sweetie."

"Thanks, Marci," Abby said as she picked up her bag. The phone rang and Marci
immediately picked it up, going on about her business as if nothing had
happened.

Abby looked at her for a moment, trying to stall, and then turned around. Luka
was still standing in the same place, with his hands on the back pockets of his
jeans. She could barely recognize the feature of his face. He was trying to
smile, but there were too many emotions running through his eyes. It scared her.
She had never been a glass-is-half-full person.

She walked over, trying to think of something to say, but not being able to come
up with something good enough to impress him, or at least bring him back to
life. She found herself putting her bag on the floor as she finally reached him.
She looked up at him, and finally came to the conclusion that he wasn't numbed
when he put his arms around her. She leaned in completely and hugged him back,
the smell of his cologne bringing back memories and making it seem as if the
last 30 days had been a mistake, a real nightmare, the catalyst that would make
this chemistry lab explode.

Luka rested his head on top of hers, and couldn't stop his fingers from
trembling. So he hugged her even tighter. He let out a sigh, but didn't say
anything. That silence was still circling around them like morning fog.

From far, very far, he could almost hear the battle cry.

To be continued...


Carolina