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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She turns her head back towards him when he kisses her, nodding. I'm going to miss you...

He brings his hand up to cup the side of her neck, give her a gentle squeeze. I'm going to miss you too. I wish there was something else, another means to help you...but I trust you to know what you need.

She slips her arm back around his middle. I do need this...I wish I didn't, but I do.

He uses his thumb to caress the side of her neck. I know, Abigail. I do know. I don't like how much time we've spent apart lately but I guess this can't be avoided.

I'm sorry. She can't help repeating it again; she knows she won't be able to say it enough, especially to him.

He shakes his head. Stop apologizing, please. I'm happy you want to do this, get sober.

She swallows. I've been a bad wife, a bad mother.

He bites his lip, wanting to tell her that's not true but he can't lie to her. Not the greatest lately...but we love you.

She turns her head away; it hurts more to hear it from him. Should take that shower...

He sighs. I know it's not how you want to be, Abigail...don't be mad at me...

I'm not mad. It's the truth, though she shifts away from him, intending to get up.

He doesn't believe that, doubly so with her moving away. I'm sorry.

She sits on the edge of the bed, head in hands. It's okay.

He sits up beside her, rubs a hand over her back, kisses her shoulder. No one's perfect all the time. I'm not always the best husband or father, you know that. He's trying to soften his words from a moment ago.

She merely nods, then eases herself off the bed, picking up his shirt from the floor and slipping it over her head as she walks towards the bathroom. She looks back at him. Are you taking a shower too?

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