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Abby rolled over in bed and smiled. There was nothing like the feeling of new sheets. She had a feeling that someone was watching her and she slowly opened one eye. John smiled sleepily, making her blush.



"Hi." He said, stroking her hair off her face. He leaned forward to give her a kiss but Abby backed away, covering her mouth.



"What?" He asked, a bit shocked. Abby laughed and tried to get out of bed.



"Come on, John, let me go." She laughed as he playfully held onto her waist. "I've got to go brush my teeth," she laughed.



"Come here." He succeeded in pulling her back into an embrace, kissing her face playfully. Abby could smell mint.



"What are you eating?" She questioned. John smiled and stuck out his tongue, showing her the half dissolved mint.



"You cheated," she laughed.



He shook his head. "I don't like bad breath." He reached into the nightstand drawer. He held out a pack of mints. "Want one?" He shook the tin.



"What makes you think I want to stay in bed with you?" She teased, sitting up.



"It's cold out there," he sulked, tossing the mints in her lap and rolling over, pulling the covers up around his shoulder.



"Jesus, John. I was kidding." Abby sighed. "Man, you can be so moody!" She exclaimed, flopping back down onto the pillow.



"Sorry," he mumbled; his back still turned to her. Abby rolled over, spooning up against his back, wrapping her arm over his ribs.



"Don't pull away from me, please." Abby nibbled his ear, feeling his body relax under her touch.



"I'm not moody," he grumbled playfully.



"The hell you aren't! I've never seen anyone as moody as you!" She tickled his side and he pulled away, laughing. He turned over so that he was facing her and picked up the tin of mints, popping one in his mouth. Abby took one while he had it open.



"I guess I've always been sort of moody," he shrugged. "Been that way since I was little," he admitted.



"Since your brother died?" Abby asked. John rolled over to return the mints to the nightstand. He stayed on his back, staring at the ceiling. Abby reached out for his stomach and he pulled away sharply.



"Don't," he said quietly.



"John, why do you always do that?" She said in a soothing voice. She wasn't upset. She had just noticed his severe ups and downs ever since they'd moved in with each other.



"Do what?" He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the sheet over his lap. He fumbled with a condom pack that sat on top of the table.



"Pull away. You totally withdraw sometimes and I'm just trying to understand you. You do it at work, too. You avoid confrontation, you change the subject when it gets too personal and you have this total act that you put on for people. You know, I really don't know anything about you." She complained.



"What do you want to know, Abby?" he asked, sounding almost hurt. She hugged him from behind.



"I want to know it all, John. Every thought, every memory, every desire and heartache. I love you and I need to know everything there is to know." She stated from the heart.



"No, you don't." He shook his head. Abby crawled to sit next to him, picking up his shirt from the floor and she put it on.



"Yes, I do. You're not the only one who has had anything bad happen to him. Come on, I've told you about Maggie and how it was growing up with her. I've told you stories about Eric and Richard. I can't recall you ever telling me any childhood stories about you. You never even mention your sister. John, I need to know what you see when you close your eyes. I need to find out what sets you off and how to bring you back to me. For once in your life, you have got to let someone in and be willing to risk feeling something other than pain." Abby pleaded.



John got up and walked into the bathroom. She could hear him turn the shower on. Abby flopped back down in the bed. "You know what, John? I say we go back to being just friends. Screw this whole thing, okay?" She got up quickly and began to put on the pair of sweat pants that lay next to the bed.



"At least when we were friends, you talked to me. The past couple days, you've gone up and down so much I feel like you're going to break at any minute. I don't want to be the one to break you, John. Those women in the past may have been okay to do that to you but not me. I won't." She went around the room, picking up a T-shirt here, finding a sock there, purposely not looking toward the bathroom door. She couldn't because she knew he was there.



John stood in the bathroom, looking in the mirror. The same old face stared back at him, the one who had been laughing at him for years now. 'Here you go again.' The voice inside his head began. 'Push her away like you've pushed all the others away. You know you don't deserve a woman like Abby. She's too good for you. Abby Lockhart is someone who would never love you if she found out. No one would ever love you if they only knew what went on inside your head. You're losing your mind again, John. You'll always be alone.'



"Will you fucking shut up?" He yelled, punching the bathroom mirror with every ounce of strength he had in him, shattering the glass and sending splinters flying out at him.



Abby stopped cold. Had he just told her to shut up? And what was that sound? Did he break the mirror? She tentatively walked to the doorway, fearfully peeking inside.



John sat on the floor on the far end of the bathroom, holding his towel-covered hand. Abby looked at the shattered mirror. Then she noticed the blood.



"What the hell did you do?" Abby yelled, totally shocked. John winced from the shrillness in her voice. Abby began to go to John when she heard a loud knock on the bedroom door.



"You two okay in there?" Brandon asked.



"We're fine, Brandon." She called, seeing the blood soaking through the bath towel. She was instantly down on the floor in front of him. "John, what happened? Did you break the mirror? Were you talking to me when you told me to shut up?" She flooded him with questions, concerned more about the blank look she saw on his face than for his injured hand. He blinked a time or two and slowly looked up at her.



"What?" He asked, looking right past her. A chill ran up Abby's arms.



"John! John! Come on, Baby, it's me." She shook him enough to get his focus to finally return to her face.



"Abby?" He asked, becoming aware that he'd done it again.



Abby sighed and sat next to him.



"Damn, John." She stated, placing her head on her knees. She'd only seen him do this one time before, back when they'd first moved in together. It had happened after they'd worked a particularly hard shift, lots of heartache and had gone to a meeting. As they sat there listening to someone's story, Abby felt John begin to withdraw emotionally. The story they listened to was very sad, about a lifetime of abuse and it touched both of them in different ways.



Walking home, John seemed almost paranoid, glancing behind him, wary of people on the streets. When they arrived home, he locked himself into his room and Abby didn't see him again for days.



Abby had noticed his strange behavior beginning soon after he'd seen Sobriki at the hospital. Most of the changes were subtle, hard to notice. The way he ran into the arms of Susan, who was a protector from his past. The sarcasm and the way he'd treated Abby, pushing her farther and farther away. The way his entire male support system left him one by one. The way he was able to totally release himself with Veronica and Brandon. And the emotional roller coaster ride he began as soon as the euphoria of his eye-opening week began to wear off.



Most of the changes were hard to see until they moved in together. While their relationship had been strained, it caught Abby off guard when they suddenly found themselves living together. But Abby quickly pushed her apprehensions aside when she discovered what a wonderful roommate and friend John had become. They returned to their light banter, talking late into the night. Well, Abby thought, it was her talking and John listening. John never spoke about himself. John was always doing sweet and thoughtful things for her like bringing home flowers or leaving 'happy' notes for her when he left for work.



But Abby soon began to see another side to John that she had almost forgotten about. They would have weeks of pure joy and out of nowhere, John would become depressed and hide away in his room. His appetite would all but disappear and he'd stop taking his calls. Then, like turning on a light switch, he'd act perfectly normal at work.



There were warning signs that Abby was learning to pick up on. When John didn't want to speak to his grandmother on the phone, John was dealing with personal issues. When he quit eating, it was usually followed with barricading himself in his room. So, when he was feeling social, such as bringing a movie home or stopping for dinner after a meeting, Abby learned to enjoy the good times for what they were. When they moved all the furniture and turned on the music, Abby was totally in love with the charismatic man she lived with. Luckily, the good times greatly outweighed the bad ones and Abby was used to living like this.



John had been able to keep his mood swings private, that is, until they attended the sexual harassment training. The entire day, John was being unusually moody and hinted at many personal things that Abby had never known. Abby was smart enough to begin to pick up on a pattern.



"John, I can't do this." She said, emotionally drained. He looked at her, total fear in his eyes. He turned his entire body to her, wrapping his good arm over her shoulder.



"Abby, don't do this," he pleaded, "Don't leave me now." He begged, touching her face.



"John, who were you telling to shut up?" She asked. He looked at her confused.



"When?" He honestly had no idea what she was talking about. Abby shook her head. She looked him directly in the eyes.



"John, I love you but we can't do this on our own. You have got me wanting to go get a drink real badly. I'm not strong enough for this right now." She explained, silent tears running down her face. John placed his cheek on her knee. Abby sat stroking his hair for several minutes.



"John I have to tell you the truth, about my relapse. It had nothing to do with my neighbor, not really. The day that Sobricki showed up at the hospital was also my birthday. It was my birthday and the only one who even remembered was my mother. Richard even came by to tell me that he was getting remarried and even he had forgotten. I wanted to go out with you that evening, just have a little fun, but you had your own problems. When I got home Joyce was sitting on the stairs and she offered me a beer. I just couldn't fight the urges any longer. Ever since you told me that you that... that… I was still hung up on Luka and then you went and flung yourself on Susan I just felt so empty inside thinking that I had lost you forever. I tried to still be your friend but you just kept pushing me away. I've tried not to let you. I've tried really hard, but it's getting impossible." Abby started to cry.



John held her tight as if he would never let her go.



"Abby, I'm sorry. I should have warned you. I have these…these sort of... well… I guess you could call them flashbacks. I don't know what sets them off but I swear…" He looked at her, pleading with his eyes. "I would never hurt you. I don't really know what I do. I just usually find myself curled up in the corner, scared and tired. I rarely do something as stupid as..." he held up his hand. "I just couldn't get them to shut up," he whispered.



"Who?" Abby asked, scared for the first real time.



"The voices. Shit, now I sound like Sobriki." He laughed a sort of sick laugh. "Abby, I'm not crazy, am I?" He looked like such a small child. Abby wrapped her arms around him.



"No, Honey, you're not crazy. A bit fucked up, but not crazy." She was thankful to feel his warm breath against her chest as he snorted a laugh. "Okay, Baby, let's see how much damage you did here." Abby pulled away and took gentle hold of his arm. John winced as she pulled the towel away.



"Oh, shit." He grumbled, seeing the bruise covering the back of his hand and the cuts along his knuckles



"This needs stitches," Abby stated. At that, John's head jerked up.



"I'm not going in. I can't, please don't make me, Abby," he begged. Abby thought for a few minutes.



"Maybe I can get Luka to come over." She thought out loud. John shook his head.



"No, call Kerry. She knows Veronica. Kerry will come. She's seen me do this once while I lived with her." He suggested.



"Okay, I'll call Kerry." She slowly stood and helped him to his feet. "Go lie down while I get this cleaned up." She turned off the shower and pushed John out of the bathroom. She helped him get into bed, keeping the towel around his swollen hand. She pulled up the covers and kissed his forehead. "I'll be right back."



Abby came out of the bedroom and as soon as she shut the door, she leaned up against it, letting out a deep breath. Brandon and Veronica were right there.



"What happened?" Veronica asked, seeing how drained Abby looked and seeing blood on the front of her shirt.



Abby looked into her eyes and broke down crying. Veronica led her to the couch as Abby collapsed into her lap, sobbing hard. Veronica and Brandon looked at each other, very concerned. Slowly, she regained her composure, her tears calming. She sat up, wiping them away with the back of her hand.



"Sorry." She forced a smile.



"What happened in there? Is John all right?" Veronica questioned, holding the nurse's face gently. Abby laughed sarcastically.



"He said he couldn't get the voices to shut up." Abby shrugged, another cry escaping her throat.



"Oh, shit." Brandon whispered, hoping Abby couldn't hear. Veronica glanced at her husband.



"Abby, let me go in and talk to him, okay? Make sure he's all right on his own." She said, motioning Brandon to take her place on the couch.



"I have to call Weaver. He's got cuts all over his hand that need stitches and he refuses to go to the hospital. I just hope he didn't break anything because it's already really swollen. He said she'd come over and stitch him up." Abby said, looking around for the phone.





To be continued……………
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