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
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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I want to protect you from this because I *love* you! She doesn't understand how he can't see that.

Fine. He spits back, resenting that she doesn't think he can cope with her problems. The next time my blood test comes back with bad news and I start a new round of chemo? I'll protect you from that. You don't have to come with me to Evanston any more either. I'll protect you from having to deal with my sister. In fact, why don't I shelter you from everything and just stop talking to youcompletely?

You won't need to tell me about the chemo because if your cancer comes back you're not fighting it, remember? She shoots back, stung by the digs, not sure how they've gotten here from her saying she needs help in the first place.

That'll be a relief for you, won't it? He doesn't even care what they were originally discussing at this point, he's just venting his frustrations.When I'm dead you won't have to hide anything from me.

She just stares at him for a long moment, stunned, before unfastening her seatbelt and getting out of the car. She slams the door closed and walks into the house, finally noticing she's trembling when she fumbles with the key.

Once inside, she methodically collects all the bottles of alcohol she's hidden throughout the house and brings them to the kitchen, resisting the urge to smash the glass as she begins to pour the liquid down the sink. She's crying as she does so; it takes all the wavering willpower she has left to not drink the alcohol instead of dispose of it.

As soon as she's in the house he starts to regret yelling at her. Without her there to assist him, it takes Lee longer than usual to get out of the car and make his way inside. And once he is indoors, he stops short of entering the kitchen, stunned by what he's seeing.

He's had no idea that Abby was drinking anything other than the vodka in the freezer, at home anyway. Her collection of bottles shocks and dismays him as he stands there watching her cry. How the hell did things get this bad and how could he have not known?

When she's finished she feels drained, absolutely empty, and part of her still wants to take it back, insist she can still handle this. It scares her to be without what's become a crutch of sorts, and it scares her even more, what she knows is coming.

She turns from the sink and startles when she sees him standing there. She hadn't heard him come in, and she keeps her head down, broken, ashamed that he's seeing her like this.
That's all. She manages, referring to the alcohol.

He leans one of the crutches against the wall, not needing it to walk the short distance between them. Moving to her he wraps his free arm around her shoulders and presses his head against hers. He isn't prepared for this, has no idea what to say that could comfort her so he stays quiet.

The enormity of the situation hits him again as he sees the empty bottles, feels her smaller body against his. She's not well and it tears him up inside to admit how serious this is.

She's shocked when he embraces her, and she can't do anything but lean into him. She balls the edges of his shirt in her fists, clinging to him as she takes slow, deep breaths.

After several moments, she speaks softly, voice muffled into his shirt.
I'm so scared...

His own hand tightens around the grip on the crutch, she's scared? He's terrified. He feels like he's losing her and it makes him ill. He has to swallow hard before he manages to respond to her. So am I. I'm scared for you, for us.

What if I can't do it? She's speaking in the same small voice, and it trembles; her greatest fear right now, that she won't be able to recover. She knows what will happen; she'll lose him, she'll lose Lily, she'll lose everything. She doesn't want him to know that she's afraid of this, wants him to believe she *can* recover, but the fear is too strong to hold in anymore.

He closes his eyes at her question. He knows if she can't get sober he can't stay with her, for Lily's sake. He's afraid to tell her this, scared that he'll somehow assure her failure if he tells her he'll leave. You can do this. You have to, he adds silently, because if you don't we're over. We can't be over.

She holds onto him tightly, letting herself believe he actually does have that confidence in her. For as much of an independent front she sets up, she knows she needs him to believe in her. Something to hold onto during the hell she knows is ahead for her.

Her grip on him lets him know just how scared she is, he's never seen her this way, hasn't been sure it was even possible. He lets go of the other crutch and brings both of his arms around her, needing her to know he's there for her. If there's anything I know about you, it's that you know how to survive. You'll do this.

If he is lying, she doesn't want to know it. She'll believe the lie if that's what it takes, and she's grateful for it. She swallows with difficulty before speaking again. I have to.

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