Helping Him
Chapter Eight - Peter
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 kept my eyes focused on the road as Carter sat silently beside me. He hadn’t said a word since he got on the plane. It made me glad to have gone with him. I would never have been able to leave him in the airport alone, because God knows what he would do. I trust Carter, I do, but he was not himself right now.

I pulled into the long driveway of the center and looked at

Carter. He was gazing out the window, his hand on his forehead. He was defeated. He couldn’t fight anymore. I pulled into a parking space.

"Carter, you have to want to do this," I said, breaking the silence. He turned his head to me, his eyes red and deep, his face pale.

"I know that," he said.

"Do you?"

"That job is all I have in my life. Everything I live for. All the people I care about are at that hospital. If I don’t have that job, I have nothing. And I don’t want to have nothing," he said, his voice breaking. "And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend I’m fine and just keep popping a pill or sticking a needle everytime I’m not. I can’t."

"I know that," I said gently.

"Well, I guess I better go, huh?" he asked bravely. He was still wearing his suit from work. Navy blue blazer and pants, light blue shirt, striped blue tie and navy suspenders. The tie was loosened around his neck.

"Yeah, I guess you should." He got out of the car and I opened my door to join him. We stood at the front of the car, staring at the big building.

"There’s going to be some really screwed up people in there," he said. "Heroin addicts, stuff like that. I don’t do that stuff. You know that right? You know I’m not a junkie? You know I didn’t mean for it to get so out of control. I never wanted to need the stuff the way I do. You know that, right?" He sounded desperate, like he had to know.

"I know that Carter. And I’m doing this because I love you.

We’re doing this because we love you. I’ll be counting down the days till you come back."

"Ok."

"And I’ll call. We all will. Because we’re not going to be able to stop thinking about you. Stick it through, man. You’ll make it."

"Right." He stood, his hands in his pockets, and then started walking toward the building.

"Carter?"

"Yeah?" He asked, turning around. I caught up to him and looked into his eyes. I grabbed him close and hugged him tight.

"Good luck, man. You’ll make it, I have faith in you."

"Thanks," he said. He started walking back toward the building and I watched as he walked through the doors. And somehow I knew that finally, Carter would be ok.