I'm technically proficient

...despite certain attitude issues

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I need help [RP for Lee] (spoilers for tonight's ER)
standing in the elevator
lockhart_md
After a strangely jarring conversation with the new hospital chaplain, Abby finds herself taking the elevator upstairs, to the surgical department. Making her way to her husband's office, she waffles outside the door, pacing, stalling.

It's not until she sees one of the surgical nurses casting a curious look in her direction that she knocks softly on the door, then pushes it open. She takes a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair, and lets the door close behind her as she steps into Lee's office.

She begins to speak but has to clear her throat before she tries again.
Hey...how's the leg feeling? She approaches her husband slowly, gesturing to his injured leg.

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He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He's still having a hard time accepting this isn't his fault. I'm sorry...

She shakes her head, frowning. You don't need to be sorry about this.

I must have done something to make you start drinking again...He won't look at her, thinking it's his failure as a husband that's caused this.

Well, you haven't. She can't say some things he's done has made it any easier for her, but she won't say so to him; this is her problem and she's made enough excuses already.

He doesn't believe her. If I had been here when Lily...if I didn't keep alcohol in the house...have drinks with people and come home to you...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Lee, stop. She shakes her head. This is *my* fault. I did this. Not you.

He nods, not wanting to make matters even worse. Okay...okay.

She nods then sighs, standing up and moving to her dresser, pulling the drawer open and staring at her clothing, not knowing what to pack.

He watches her, wanting to keep her company, to spend as much time with her as he can before she has to leave. Take your warmer pajamas. You know they keep the temperatures low in facilities. He thinks about the fact that his sister always complains about being chilled in the common areas of her residential group.

She nods, pulling out one of the pairs of long pajamas he'd given her for Christmas. She also pulls out a pair of summer pajamas, knowing what's in store while she's going through detox. The thought of it, the memories of the last time she did this, are almost enough to say forget it, but she closes the dresser drawer and stuffs the clothing into the bag he'd gotten out for her.

He waits a beat then pulls the clothing back out, folding it neatly for her. He doesn't know what else to do with himself.

She moves to her closet, pulling out a couple pairs of jeans and some shirts; they go into the bag as well, along with underwear, bras, and socks. She murmurs a quiet "thanks" to him when she sees he's folded the pajamas.

He does the same with the rest of her clothes, folding them all, making sure the socks she put in the bag aren't worn in the heel, fussing with the objects. If you realize you need something else, you can always call and I'll get it to you...

She nods, standing at the foot of the bed awkwardly once she's gotten all the clothing she thinks she'll need. Yeah, okay...Thanks.

He places his hands on the bag, as if holding it is going to keep her home with him. Can...I mean, is it okay if I hold you for a while?

The relief she feels at his request is almost palpable, and she nods, sitting down beside him, moving her bag off of the bed. I...I'd like that.

He wraps his arms around her and leans back against the headboard, holding her to his chest. Eyes closed, he swallows hard before finding his voice again, Everything's going to work out just fine. When you come home, we'll make sure we work on things together, okay? You and me. No more of this doing everything on our own.

She turns into him, wrapping her arms around him, linking her legs with his, wanting to feel as much of him as she can, drawing comfort from his presence and his words. We'll do it together...She agrees, knowing she'll have to.

That she readily agrees makes him feel more at ease as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. I've always thought we were good together. He rubs a hand up and down her back, needing to reassure himself that she's there, letting him take care of her even for a short while.

We are good together. She murmurs against his chest, though she's not sure if he believes they are, anymore.

He smooths her hair with his other hand, presses a kiss to the top of her head. He still feels as if she's the only one for him, even if he doesn't know what the future holds for them any more. I don't know that there's much choice in the matter, you are the love of my life, you know.

She nods, kissing his chest softly. You're mine, too.

I hope so. He hugs her a bit tighter. So...how long is this program going to last? What does it consist of? What are we looking at here?

She draws in a breath, letting it out slowly before she answers. It's...six weeks. She swallows; he won't like that. It's too long, she'll miss too much. But she knows she doesn't have a choice. First is detox. She almost chokes on the word; it's what she's dreading the most, even though she knows that's not even the hardest part. Then, just...a lot of groups, therapy and counseling, that sort of thing.

He bites his lip at the mention of six weeks, quickly doing the math. Christmas, your birthday, our anniversary...He sighs and shakes his head, trying to tell himself that none of those things are important right now. This is what you need, right?

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