Helping Him
Chapter Two - Mark
By Joanne
bucklind@hotmail.com

This is my first published fanfic, so please bear with me. I appreciate any feedback you have to offer, at bucklind@hotmail.com
I recognize that this story basically quotes May Day, with some exceptions, but that is not the focus on the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own ER or any of it’s characters. Warner Bros., NBC, Constant C and the writers do. I also recognize that I did not come up with all of the dialogue used in this story, and credit again, goes to the above mentioned sources. My thanks to Megan, for editing!

I didn’t want to believe it. It was as unbelievable as it was believable. Yes, Carter had every reason to be taking drugs, but he’s also Carter. I saw how much Carter cared about his cousin, how disappointed he was when Chase came in overdosed on heroin but couldn’t help but care for him anyway. I just knew Carter would never do it to himself.

It is our fault. We weren’t here for him. Sure, if he came to us in tears or emotionally distraught, we would have noticed something was wrong. But because all the changes in him were so little, so subtle, we just figured they were justified by the attack and let it go. Of course, he shouldn’t have blamed himself for Lucy dying, there was no more he could have done than any of the rest of us, but there was justification for that too. There are always what-ifs. Always things you could have done to prevent it, but you didn’t and all you can do is think about them.

I do it now. I know I do it, and I know Kerry does it. I spent the last two months watching my father die. I wasn’t around the hospital much and when I was, what was happening there didn’t shout out at me. My mind was somewhere else, my mind was with the father I was gradually growing to love as he slowly slipped away. The last thing to go was his wit and emotions, and he assured me he loved me minutes before he passed. I know how lucky I am to have had the chance to tell him I knew, to have told him how much I love him too. But it didn’t make it any easier. I wondered if things like that ever crossed Carter’s mind. If he wished he could have told Lucy that he never hated her, he didn’t hate her now, he actually liked her a lot and he really thought she was going to make a wonderful doctor and he always has.

"Mark, do you have a minute?" Kerry asked me from behind.

Her face was pale and her eyes were clouded over. She doesn’t want to believe it either. Of course she doesn’t.

"Yeah," I said, escorting her into exam three.

"I just talked to legal. We need more evidence, even though

Abby saw him. I trust Abby, she wouldn’t lie to us."

"But he can’t see anymore patients?"

"No. Not until we can prove he’s clean. I don’t want to take any chances, Mark."

"Do you think he’ll take a drug test?" Kerry’s eyes screamed the same thing I was feeling. She can’t believe we’re even talking about this, that we have to do this.

"It wouldn’t matter if he did. He’s taking prescribed pain medication, it would come out positive. And I think asking him will just turn him away from us."

"I can talk to him again, see what I can get out of him. But then what?" I asked her. I know that Carter talks to me. Over the past six years, we have built up a good relationship, something that he searches for from people.

"I want to help him." Suddenly her eyes grew sad and her face fell from it’s usual stance of authority and strength. "How could we let this happen? I mean, he’s shown all the signs!"

"I know. But it’s Carter. Your mind just doesn’t go there." I walked out of the room and into the hallway. Jing-Mei was standing there, her usual look of worry on her face. She has always been an excessive worrier, even for that short time she was a med student with us. I guess it shows how much she cares about people. It’s hard to admit she’s been the only one to worry about Carter recently.

"I’m going to talk to him," I said before she had the chance to ask. She gave me a smile.

"Good," she said and continued down the hall. I walked out the double doors and stood in the ambulance bay and looked at Carter from where I stood. He sat on the bench, smoking a cigarette. That grabbed me right there. He never smoked before, not to mention that the first time I ever smoked was after one of the most traumatic events in my life. I had been attacked in the hospital once too, and it caused me to second-guess everything in my life. My career, my family, my friends. I couldn’t trust anyone, it deeply affected me for a long time and one of the things about Carter that worried me was that he didn’t seem as affected as I had been. He still had patience, he could still make people believe that he was doing good. Of course, we were making that incredibly easy for him.

"When did you start smoking?" I asked as I sat down on the bench next to him. He and I have had many conversations on this bench. Some of them just quick little chats, others about deeper issues. After the death of his friend, Dennis Gant, it had been on this very bench in this very ambulance bay that I reminded him why he was becoming a doctor, possibly one of the best and most important things I have ever done. Now, Carter swirled the cigarette in his hand and stared at it.

"Well, that depends. Would it mean I’m a druggie?" He still sounded light. He wasn’t about to dip into the truth because it would give him away.

"Carter, we’re worried about you. That’s all."

"Well, I’m going to be ok. At least I hope...no I am! I’m ok."

"You’re not talking to anyone, are you? Therapists, I mean."

He sighed and took another drab of the cigarette.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don’t feel like talking. It’s hard, you can understand that. I got stabbed twice in the back with a six-inch butcher knife." He stared at me. "I’m in a lot of pain. Lucy’s dead, which is partially my fault. I haven’t slept in months. I have to take pain medication just to function." There. He said it. "But I’m not an addict, Mark. And I’m not stealing anything. It was prescribed to me."

"I think you need help, Carter," I said. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to help him. Just seeing him sitting there, wondering what went through his head everyday. Marveling at how much he had changed in the past six years and how much he had gone through. How hard he’s always tried to be a good doctor, to please people and be as caring as possible.

"Look. I know you have to make this your business, but please,

PLEASE, let me deal with this, ok?"

"What time are you off?"

"Midnight."

"I don’t want you to see any more patients today. You can work on QA’s until your shift’s over." His face fell and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I’m perfectly capable of..."

"Carter, just trust me on this, ok?" I asked.

"Ok," he said, putting his arm around me. I got up and he patted my back as I walked past him. I stood at the door and watched him as he put his head in his hands, obviously knowing of what was going to come.