A different day in May - part 5
(An alternative universe fic featuring Dave
and Carter)
Previously on ER
As Carter hurried away from the Intervention in Curtain 3, Dave
caught up with him and invited him for drinks. Carter accepted in
order to avoid Benton trying to persuade him to seek help. Later
in the bar, Carter told Dave that he had quit working at County.
While Carter left to go to the bathroom, his cell phone rang and
Dave answered it, pretending to be Carter and heard Kerry
apologize to 'John' for confronting him over his addiction. Dave
hung up, but not before jumping to the conclusion that Carter was
an alcoholic.
Carter gave Dave a lift back to his apartment. While retrieving
Dave's bike from the jeep, Carter ended up in a puddle of water
and covered with oil. Dave (who had been wondering how to get
Carter into his apartment) offered him the use of his shower to
clean up. Dave's intention was to keep Carter there for a day to
dry him out, and if that didn't work, he was going to contact
Kerry for help.
Carter finished his shower and wearing Dave's bathrobe, wandered
back into the living area.
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"What the hell do you think you're doing?" snapped
Carter angrily.
Dave looked up guiltily from where he had just started to search
Carter's jacket. "Carter...this isn't what it looks like...I
swear."
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"Oh isn't it? It looks perfectly clear to me...Dave 'can you
lend me twenty till payday' Malucci is searching my pockets. I
think I can guess what you're after," said Carter
sarcastically. "Dammit Dave, if you were short of cash, all
you had to do was ask."
Dave blinked at Carter. "You think I was trying to steal
from you?" he asked, shocked. "You think I brought you
up here just so I could go through your wallet? You really
believe I'm a thief?"
"I don't know what to believe...you were the one who
suggested I come in and have a shower...and then I come out and
find you going through my stuff...what am I supposed to think?"
Dave grabbed Carter's wallet out of the jacket and flung it at
him. It hit Carter in the chest and fell to the floor. "Here...count
it...it's all there...you really think I'd stoop so low as to
steal from a friend...dammit Carter."
Carter made no move to pick up his wallet. "Well if not that...then
what were you looking for?" Carter's blood ran cold as he
suddenly remembered what else had been in his jacket pocket.
Please God; don't let Dave have found his drugs, he begged
silently. He knew he should have left them in his trouser pocket
after taking his dose in the bar's toilets...but while sitting in
the Jeep on his own before Dave had caught up with him, he had
transferred it to his jacket. Now he wished he had left it in the
Jeep...if Dave found it...he'd never understand...he'd be just
like all the rest...accusing him of being addicted...and he
wasn't...he needed the pain medication...just for a few more
weeks...maybe a month...just until his back healed up a bit
better...then he'd stop...he just wished he'd been able to
explain all that to Kerry and Mark...and Dr. Benton of course...he
was sure that Benton would have understood...after all, he had
been the first one to give him morphine after...after the
stabbing...he would have understood.
Dave bit his lip, wondering whether he should tell Carter that he
had been looking for a hip flask. A rich dude like Carter was
bound to have one...and it could easily fit into the pocket of a
jacket...or a lab coat...hell, Carter could have been taking
swigs in secret for months and no one would have known. Dave had
already found a breath freshening spray in one pocket...that was
a dead giveaway...only heavy drinkers who wanted to hide the
smell of alcohol on their breath needed to carry that stuff
around with them...unless you were a chick of course...they
carried all sorts of unnecessary junk around in their bags...but
men...they didn't need all those bits and pieces.
Finally Dave decided to be honest with Carter. After all, with
the apartment door double locked and bolted...the keys hidden
safely in Dave's pile of clean towels...and Carter wearing only a
bathrobe...he wasn't likely to be going anywhere too quickly.
"I was looking for booze," he said quietly.
Carter stared at Dave in surprise. Of all the reasons for Dave to
be searching his jacket, this was the last one that Carter would
have thought of.
"Why?" he asked, finally. "I thought you'd have
had plenty of beer back here...and what made you think that I'd
have any in my jacket?"
Dave threw the jacket on the couch. "I figured you'd have a
hip flask or something...so you could have a sip now and then...Carter...I
know you have a drinking problem."
Dave saw Carter open his mouth. "There's no use denying it...I
know that that's what Weaver and Greene were talking to you about
today in the Lounge...and I'm guessing they tried an intervention
or something... and that's why you quit County...isn't it?"
Carter's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to
say, "You think I have a drinking problem?"
Dave nodded, then to his surprise he saw Carter burst out
laughing. "What's so funny?" he asked, annoyed that
Carter didn't seem to be taking it seriously. "The Chief
wouldn't make up something like this."
Carter abruptly stopped laughing. "Kerry told you I was an
alcoholic?" he frowned, unable to imagine why she would lie
like that...unless it was maybe to spare his feelings...after
all, people seemed to be more sympathetic to someone with an
alcohol abuse problem rather than a drug abuse problem...not that
either case applied to him of course...he was just taking his
necessary medication...that was all.
"Well...not in so many words," said Dave, reluctantly.
Shit, now he was going to have to tell Carter that he'd answered
his cell phone. "You left your phone on the table in the bar...it
rang...I saw it was the hospital...thought it might be important,"
he added, a little defensively.
"You answered my phone?"
Dave nodded, "Anyway, it was the Chief...she was all
apologetic about confronting you earlier..."
"Wait a minute, she told you about *that*?"
"Um...not exactly...she thought it was you on the line."
Carter groaned, wondering just what Kerry had said to Dave...and
how he was going to explain it away. "What did she say?"
he asked, trying to control his mounting nervousness.
Dave shrugged, figuring that it didn't really matter at this
stage. "She apologized for earlier...said they handled it
all wrong. Then she tried to persuade you to go back to the
hospital...for treatment or something...or to check yourself into
Rehab."
"And what did you say?"
"Nothing...I just hung up...I didn't know what to say...I
mean it's not everyday you find out someone you're friends with
is an alcoholic and you never even noticed."
"I'm not an alcoholic, Dave, I really wish you'd believe me,"
said Carter, as his mind raced furiously trying to think of a way
to explain it all. Thank God, Kerry hadn't said anything about
drugs...that would have been awkward...
"It...it was PTSD," he said on the spur of the moment.
"Kerry thinks I have PTSD from...from the stabbing...she
wanted me to talk to someone in the psych department," he
lied easily. "But I told her I didn't need it...and even if
I did...I couldn't talk to anyone from County...then she wanted
me to do this 'inpatient program'...out of State," he said
with a flash of inspiration. "Anyway, she was hassling me
about it...got Greene and Benton to try and back her up...but I
just got fed up with everyone thinking they knew best...I guess I
might have over-reacted by quitting...but maybe when things have
cooled off a bit I'll apologize...and maybe things will be okay."
Carter looked carefully at Dave, wondering if his story sounded
plausible...he knew it wasn't brilliant...but it was the best he
could come up with at short notice.
Dave frowned as he wondered could he have made a horrible
mistake, and then he pushed that thought from his mind. One thing
about addicts...no matter what they were addicted to, they always
denied...no, Carter definitely had a problem...and Dave was the
only person in a position to help him. He'd better be right,
thought Dave as he remembered the six-pack of beer that he had
emptied down the sink while Carter was in the shower...well, five
cans had gone down the sink...Dave had polished off the other one
in order to steady his nerves. It had struck him as mildly ironic
to be drinking while preparing to dry out Carter...but it had
seemed such a shame to waste *all* the beer.
"Look," said Dave, finally. "There's a simple way
to prove it. You stay here for a day...without any booze or
anything...if you're not an alcoholic you'll have no problem...but
if you start getting withdrawal symptoms...well then I guess
we'll know for sure." Dave hoped that Carter would go for it...he
knew that he could easily stop Carter from leaving by using force...but
he really didn't want it to come to that.
Carter rolled his eyes. "Fine Dave," he said. "I'll
stay here...but I'm not going to get withdrawal symptoms...I'm
not an alcoholic."
"We'll see about that," muttered Dave under his breath.
Out loud, he said, "Pasta should be ready soon...you hungry
yet?"
"I guess so."
"C'mon then," said Dave, heading for the kitchen.
"You can help mix the sauce."
Carter glanced at his jacket as he followed Dave into the kitchen.
Okay, so he wouldn't be able to take any morphine for a day...that
was fine...he still had a half-full prescription of Vicodin...and
he was sure that Dave wouldn't mind him taking some painkillers...though
maybe it would be better not to tell him...Carter was sure he
could surreptitiously take one or two to ease the pain...and if
he couldn't...well it was only twenty four hours...he could
easily manage twenty four hours...it might be painful...but he
could cope...and then it would prove to everyone that he didn't
have a problem...not alcohol...not drugs...not anything...he
didn't have a problem in the world.
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To be continued