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What if his whole life changed because of that fateful k night? He refused to give up on her just like he refused to give up on his darling Elizabeth over the years. She was his Breath of Life and he'd be damned if he lost her again. Terrible summary. Romano] [J. Robert teaches Lucy Knight when John Carter won't.

Romano, Elizabeth C. Double Helix by bamboo reviews Tess and Kate Ross have had 18 birthdays. These are those stories. How members of this family learn of the loss of their friend. Carter - Complete. Abby Lockhart just got the wind knocked out of her when Kerry Weaver kicked her out of Trauma for unpaid Medical School tuition. An unusual ally appears in the ambulance bay with an offer she can't refuse.

Romano, Abby L. Cold by Olivia.

A reviews Abby is losing herself. Alcohol and self harm is the only thing she can do. Will John see it in time? She could hear monitors beeping, and even though she couldn't quite open her eyes, she felt like there were bright fluorescent lights above her. She tried to turn, but it felt like someone was holding her hand firmly in place.

T - English - Chapters: When Abby and Luka travel back to Chicago for Rachel Green's wedding, a lot of feelings, past and present are put in play.

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Including those unfinished ones between Carter and Abby. AU where Carby had a child in Carter, Abby L. The Things That Keep Us Apart by psych21 reviews AU Lucy and Carter started dating after he stopped being her teacher but their relationship ended badly when she moved across the country.

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They kept randomly coming back in and out of each other's lives. Now that Lucy is coming back to Chicago, can they get past the things that keep them apart? Features Romano and Elizabeth as well. Carter, Elizabeth C. K - English - Chapters: Terms of Service. Bilbo moved closer, fascinated by the mention of a member of Thorin's family. His King was so very closed off at times, and Bilbo was so very eager to know anything and everything about the one that fascinated him so.

He of course, would love to hear about Thorin's family, but he didn't want to upset him. Thorin shrugged, though, and smiled fondly when he glanced at Bilbo. My mother loved them so much, she once decorated for an event while hosting a delegation from Mirkwood.

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It was a rather important event, though I cannot recall why. She adorned the feast hall with great bushy trees similar to these, in an attempt to please the guests.

She had pearls strung amongst the boughs, and tiny glass decorations that glittered in the candle light. It was very beautiful. I thought she had used magic for certain, to create such a sight, so ethereal was the scene she set. I was very young," he hastened to defend himself, but Bilbo moved closer still, and took Thorin's hand in his own, leaning into him in gratitude of the shared memory.

A scene of magical delight? Yes, a sense of wonder and magic is the goal, to create that feeling in all that surround the date. It's the general idea, anyway. Bilbo smiled, leaning into Thorin, and Thorin's smile stretched wide and happy, and Bilbo felt his heart bounce and reel, and made himself step backwards, trying not to notice Thorin's smile dimming slightly.

Bilbo sighed. There were trees in corners, trees on pedestals and trees in miniature forests in the middle of halls. Trees hanging upside down from the ceiling, and one lot trying to mount them from the walls like odd bristling torches. They were stunning. It was, in Bilbo's humble opinion, one of the prettiest so far. Dwarrows, he had discovered, actually had wonderful sense of taste. Bilbo had honestly expected a lot more He'd been ashamed to realise he had made quite the prejudiced assumption.

Of course Dwarrows would have a unique and well attuned sense of placement and colour coordination. They were the greatest craftsmen in all of Middle Earth! Bilbo had been careful to keep his surprise at their taste to himself. There were some things that he could not keep quiet about, however. He's just not very good at glass work, so some of the glaziers took over once they knew what he wanted. No Hobbit had ever had anything so beautiful on their trees before, he was sure.

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The very stones he was speaking of were hanging from what the Company was calling 'Bilbo's tree', in Thorin's rooms. It had been a whim, really, on the way back from a trip down to visit Bard and see how the slow recovery of Dale was coming along, to ask one of his -completely unneeded, thank you- escort, to lend him an axe to chop off a small limb from a Telpe tree off the side of the newly stamped road.

The Dwarrows with him had all given him the queerest of looks, but instead of just handing him an axe to do the job himself, they'd hastened to do the job themselves, quickly and efficiently removing one large branch from the tree and loading it onto their cart.

The branch had been quite a lot larger than the one that Bilbo himself would have taken, but he hadn't the heart to tell them otherwise, and thanked them for their assistance.

Of course, once they had reached the mountain and asked Bilbo what he would like them to do with said tree, was when he had realised that his little indulgence would simply not fit in the small room he had chosen for himself -to Thorin's, and really, all the Company's loud objections; the room he had chosen was within the Royal wing where Thorin was settled and the others in homes nearby, but was apparently something along the lines of a storage cupboard.

Honestly, Bilbo didn't know what the fuss was all about. It was large enough for one small Hobbit, and quite cosy, thank you very much. It wasn't as if he should even be there, by any rights, being merely a simple Hobbit in such grand surroundings as the Palatial residences.

It served him well, at any rate. He wasn't quite sure what had prompted him to have them deposit it in Thorin's gathering room. Despite Thorin's grumblings of tiny leaves on his floors and in his sheets and somehow always in his boots, he hadn't had the thing removed so far. The Company was calling it Bilbo's tree, and if there was a tree to pick in the mountain that was by far the prettiest, it was Bilbo's. But we needed our own tree to, well, test them on, so we asked some of the hunters to grab us a few.

Fancy cutting the whole thing down -those trees are giant! Annoyed the stuffing out of Uncle, but once he got down there joining in the fun, he mellowed.

Tiny ornate silver flowers twined in a wreath of intricately detailed leaves, not unlike the leaves the decoration nestled in. I have something similar on my tree. Both Thorin's work.

He had Ori tracking down all sorts of pictures of flowers for him to model from. Because Hobbits like flowers, apparently. Honestly, he had no idea what was going on between himself and his prickly Dwarf King.

Thorin seemed to like him, and Bilbo tried to convince himself it was in a way that was promising, considering what he felt himself for Thorin. Even still, it was difficult to tell, and just at the moments when Bilbo felt that a moment between them might be significant, he'd start to wonder whether everything he thought there might be between them existed purely in his own hopeful imagination and he would find himself blustering in a ridiculous manner and half running from his poor bewildered Dwarf.

It was frustrating, since Bilbo was becoming more sure that Thorin was merely grateful for all his assistance, and saw him as no more than a friend, an acquaintance, really, towards which he perhaps felt honour bound to keep about.

But then something like this would happen, and Bilbo would feel himself getting his own hopes up again.

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Bebother and confusticate his silly hopeless heart. The balls were another wonder; each was hinged in the middle, and small cups inside held the odd glowing mixture the Dwarrows used to light lanterns in the mines.

The placement of what seemed to be dozens of the things gave the impression of the trees lit from within and made the elegant glass and metal ornaments glow and glimmer in the most magical of ways.

It was the most stunning display Bilbo had ever seen. What was he to say to that? Instead, he waved to a few of the guards he knew and nodded to a scribe that rushed past him and very carefully held back another sigh when Dori appeared on the other side of him and silently handed him a pure white bell, made from a smooth sort of clay, with a perfectly rounded stone clanger on a wire that tinkled beautifully when shook.

Dori clucked a little and said nothing, and they walked silently on to Thorin's rooms. Bilbo was not surprised to find several members of The Company already at home in the rooms; despite being Thorin's chambers, they all seemed to congregate there as if common rooms for the whole group.

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Dwalin was sprawled in a lounge chair nursing a tankard and regarding Bilbo's tree lazily, and Balin was chattering at him from behind a large stack of papers of some kind, while Bifur and Bombur were sitting playing a board game -one that was mathematically based, Bilbo had found, and quite beyond him- off to the side.

Crossing to add his beautiful new Dori bell to his tree, Bilbo found several more already dotted about the branches in artful disorder.

He seemed to have also gained a series of tiny carved roses, made from a lovely milky ivory stone and expertly detailed, placed here and there discretely in the bows. Thorin did not wait for a response, plucking him from his standing stool -even that what was made for Dwarrows at their more sensible size was still slightly too large for Bilbo- and checking him over, spinning him this way and that to check his body for He made sure to keep his floured hands well away from Thorin's lovely velvet robes, though.

He'd been busy kneading the biscuit dough for rolling when Thorin had rushed in all a-bothered, straight from something important, if the regal crown and intricate embroidered and bejewelled robes were anything to go by. Well, they weren't that bad, really. I know that many have deep suspicions of any Man travelling out of the East, but they truly were not so terrible. Wonderful spices, so very exotic and aromatic. I bought much from them. He seemed to be having many very UnBagginsish impulses lately.

Word of the reclamation of the Lonely Mountain had spread far, and Thorin had made it known that the riches of the mountain were free to flow generously to any that came to trade. Within weeks, the markets were established and all sorts of goods pouring into the mountain from far across the lands, even in the midst of winter. They traders had not been disappointed; Thorin was making certain that the Dwarrows that had suffered all these years would never again to be hungry or cold or ill, or without any sort of luxury that they had previously done without.

Much gold was changing hands in the ever growing market place and all parties were leaving well satisfied. It had been a point of contention with Erebor's allies, but the combined Markets of Dale and Erebor had been some of the most expansive in all the lands, and Thorin could not turn the contingent away that had ridden in from the wastes of the Eastern wilds a mere month after the dust had settled after the great battle.

They had promised they had come for naught but peaceful trade, and so far had stuck to that promise. Bilbo had been wary of the tall beings in their odd dress, but they had been polite enough, and their stalls had smelt so very good! He'd ended up speaking with them amicably for quite a while, and parted with a pouch of treasure eagerly, coming back to his little square of kitchen that always seemed to be ready for him, and had whiled away the morning attempting a few of the suggestions the Men had given him and trying a few of his favourite recipes with some of his downloads.

Much to the delight of the other Dwarrows cooking in the kitchens, as Bilbo had scurried around with a tea tray and some of his creations to be taste-tested by mouths other than his own. Thorin sighed loudly, pressing one large finger to the bridge of his nose and allowing his eyes to fall shut.

He opened his eyes and stared at Bilbo a moment, moving forward to carefully cup Bilbo's face between big, warm hands and study him a moment. I do not wish for any harm to come to you, not here, not-" He cut himself off again, sighing deeply as his thumbs smoothed over Bilbo's flushed cheeks. I wish no harm to come to you here. He turned back to his bench, arm gesturing expansively to his collection.

Give them as gifts, bring them as offerings at all the parties that spring up, and a great feast, of course, at the main event. Scones and pies and pastries and breads of all kinds, from seeded to cheese to fruity. Oh, the smells that waft the whole of the Shire! The time when each and every Hobbit really flaunts what wealth he has.

He relaxed then, assisting Bilbo back onto his step, and drawing a stool out from beneath the bench to sit. Bilbo wiped his hands long enough to tug his knitted cosy -a present from young Ori- off his teapot and test the temperature, and satisfied, poured Thorin a cup.

A plate of the best of his experiments went with it and Thorin hummed happily around a bite of fresh biscuit flavoured with thyme and an eastern spice that Bilbo had already forgotten the name of, but was pleasantly reminiscent of fruit and warmth to taste. Bilbo shook his head fondly at the eagerness Thorin was displaying with putting his little plate of biscuits away. He snorted as he went back to kneading his dough. Now is when the poulterer has the best and fattest of geese hanging in his window, and duck as well, and Farmer Brownfoot's smoke house is fit to bursting with his special cured hams.

The Men of Bree know to step up their hunts and come to visit us with the choicest of their venison and pheasants, and be well rewarded for their troubles. There is creamy butter and carefully kept jams and crocks of honey, and the best of the stored fruits and vegetables.

All the nicest kinds of sweets, toffees that stick your teeth together and boiled jawlockers so big you can barely get your mouth around them. This," he finished with a flourish of his rolling pin, "is comfort at its finest. A warm hearth, excellent fare, and the ones you love most gathered close. Regardless, Bilbo found himself most days eying that beard braid keenly. It was most attractive. Even now, bobbing slightly as Thorin chewed his last biscuit slowly, reaching to pour himself another cup of tea.

Bilbo got on with rolling and cutting while Thorin sipped from his cup, silent and contemplating. Not a word was said for the entire cup, quiet and staring at nothing before he drained it again and nodded decisively. Should you have need of special ingredients again, please ask one of the Mountain's negotiators for assistance in acquiring what you need. And if you will not take some of your guard when you visit the Markets, at least ask a member of the Company.

Promise me? He handed it to Thorin and was gifted one of those grins again, and the King was off, munching happily as he swept from the kitchens. A dwarf at a nearby counter snorted loudly and smirked at Bilbo. Bilbo gaped for a moment, flushing red in embarrassment before sighing and thumping his rolling pin onto his dough. There were an awful lot of hunting parties ranging out in all directions for game, and the Ereborian traders were being quite free with their gold.

The store houses of the Lonely Mountain were positively groaning. The kitchens were a flurry of production. The smells were delicious. Bilbo said nothing, however, choosing to let this one go, as his concentration turned to other matters.

Important matters.

Very important matters. That may have compelled him to, to He hadn't broken his promise. Not really. All right, maybe a little. Which is why he was hiding.

Not terribly successfully, as it turned out, when Thorin yanked him from his little reading nook and shook him by the scruff of the neck. You said to ask for assistance from your Pursers if I needed, or ask one of the Company to come with me," Bilbo said defensively, squirming until Thorin released him. And of all the Company members to take with you to Market, you chose Ori? Apparently, that was ill placed trust," he finished with a mutter, scowling at the pile of books.

So much for his super secret reading nook. Thorin went still, eyeing him with a frown of pure befuddlement. The main event is just two weeks away, you know!

I wasn't sure if I would have everybody done in time. For us? And then Bifur's. At least he was getting some nice cuddles out of it. There is no need for you to go to the trouble. Gifts for all, I say! Off to the markets, I am! The Company seemed incapable of keeping things between them, for once they had an idea, the whole mountain seemed to be involved somehow, and during his morning stroll around the halls, he was halted and asked over a dozen times for confirmation of the when during the main celebration day one should give a gift, and what exactly constituted an appropriate gift to give to one's family and friends and acquaintances and business associates and random strangers in the street.

The Dwarrows of Erebor, it seemed, were in a mood for presents. That, coupled with the trees that were just everywhere, and the Dwarrows running about with preparations for what seemed to be enough food to hold feasts for the next month, Bilbo for some reason felt quite He wasn't home sick, not exactly.

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He'd made the decision to stay at the mountain as it was re-established, and he knew that even had he left, he would not have made it back to the Shire in time for the winter celebrations. It wasn't even that he wanted his home, or a more Shire-style of celebration. He missed some of his relations and friends, but not so much as he would miss his silly Dwarrows if he left the mountain, that was for sure. He wasn't very certain at all what was making him feel so down, even as he was happy, he knew that.

He was happy here. Whoever described Dwarrows as stoic and heartless did not know them at all, Bilbo decided. They had taken to him well enough, and were being more than tolerant where it came to his little celebration. Perhaps the Dwarrows were just itching for a reason to celebrate.

And who could blame them? Bilbo did not care a whit if that were their motivation, as these Dwarrows more than deserved a chance to throw themselves into the party mood, as it were.

If it made them smile, it made Bilbo smile. He was. He just felt Alright, fine, there might be a reason for that, but Bilbo was nod ready to be facing the reason for his moroseness, thank you very much.

He'd much prefer to mope in blissful ignorance. He's the deftest hand in the mountain, and I have a bracelet I made for Amad that I'd like inscribed.

A nice big caravan of all our people, come the long way up and around the top of the Misty Mountains, and back down to us again. Uncle's sending out warriors to guide them in. They should get here in time for our celebration! Oh, now he needed more gifts! Erebor was our last hope. Even if Uncle failed, the rest were going on to the Iron Mountains, and a small group might have tried to reclaim the old home lands in the Grey Mountains up north.

The cold doesn't bother us so much, and any little pack of Orcs would be foolish to attack a whole caravan of heavily armed Dwarrows with young to protect. Especially when Dain went off hunting the stragglers for sport. I need to borrow a hand cart. I should like to decorate my little stove and make a wreath for my door.

And Thorin's mantle would look fine, also, with some sprigs of something, a wreath perhaps, and I could borrow some of those beautiful red balls off the tree for the display to tie it all in together nicely He wanted to decorate his own little room a bit, certainly, but he'd had the niggling sense of wrongness when viewing Thorin's rooms since he had brought in the tree.

The room should be so festive with it in, but the rest of the room was bare of decoration- it really could do with some accentuating pieces. He had some wonderful candles, and beautiful solid silver candle holders he had bought from one of the immensely talented Dwarrows in the market place, and maybe a touch of, of It couldn't hurt. Nobody had to know. Did they? What was wrong with him lately? Put us all out of our misery? Or rather, when Thorin leapt forward to catch him as his rickety step wobbled and slowly started to topple.

I was placing a decoration. And stared some more. Well, it is, but it, it Eh hem.