A different day in May - Part 5/9
by Céindreadh
ceindreadh@eircom.net
(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.



"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."



"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.



To be continued