"Catching up on discharge summaries."

"You really think that’s gonna let you off the hook with Weaver?"

The words were out there before she could stop them, and she only regretted it briefly when she saw the look of hurt flash over Carter’s features.

"Obviously you heard."

"She could have been really hurt."

"Don’t you think I know that?"

"I don’t think you thought at all. And she paid for it."

"Christ!" He pushed the charts away from him with a sudden shove whose violence belied the lack of volume in his exclamation. "Explain something to me. Because I really would like to understand." He stood, hands on hips, and glared at the woman he once– still, perhaps– wanted to call his own. "What the hell is it with her? What kind of hold does Kim-fucking-Legaspi have over half this hospital–"

"Stop it."

"No. I really want to know."

"John…"

"Tell me, Abby. What exactly is it she does for you…"

Moved by nothing more than the overwhelming desire to wipe the condescending smirk off Carter’s face, Abby lashed out, "What she does for me, John, is something you or Luka never have." Sighing deeply, she ran a weary hand through her short locks, thinking that noon was entirely too far away for her own good. "She listens to me when I need to talk," Abby continued, looking at the shellacked expression on her friend’s face and wondering if any of this was getting through to him. "And she respects me when I need to be quiet. She reaches out and puts her arms around me, and isn’t afraid to let me do that for her." Thinking of this evening, and the frighteningly fragile look on Kim’s face when she quietly requested a hug from her lover. "She gets me, Carter," she repeated the same words she had used with Luka, hoping that maybe John understood better than he had. "In ways that I can’t explain. Have you ever had that?" she asked, reaching out to him. "Somebody who just gets who you are, almost more than you do yourself?"

"Yes," he answered simply. "You."

The admission struck Abby with gale force intensity, and she swayed lightly on her feet, struggling for some kind of emotional equilibrium. "John…"