Previously on ER
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 being 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 only to find Dave searching his jacket. Dave explained that he was trying to find Carter's stash of booze and revealed that he suspected Carter to be an alcoholic. Carter denied this, claiming that the 'confrontation' Kerry had referred to had been about his reluctance to seek treatment for PTSD. Still unconvinced, Dave had persuaded Carter to stay with him and go without drink for twenty-four hours. Although realizing that this would mean he'd be unable to take any morphine for his pain, Carter agreed.
Dave shoveled more pasta on to Carter's plate, ignoring his token protests. He knew that Carter would need all his strength to get through the drying out period. Okay, so Carter was still claiming that he wasn't going to be suffering from any withdrawal symptoms cause he wasn't addicted to alcohol, but Dave wasn't taking any chances. This wasn't going to be an easy twenty-four hours...but Carter was his friend...and he was going to do whatever it took to get him through this.
Carter did his best to eat his dinner, knowing that Dave would see a lack of appetite on his part as yet another sign of his alleged alcoholism. Hell, at this stage Dave would probably see anything as a sign of alcoholism, thought Carter with a wry smile.
Dave looked at Carter suspiciously as he chucked more Parmesan on his meal. He wondered what Carter was thinking. After all, he had capitulated surprisingly easily to being locked up with Dave for a day...maybe he had a plan to break out...maybe he was just waiting his chance to overpower Dave and ransack his apartment for something to drink.
Dave put that idea from his mind. There wasn't any booze left in the place...well, okay, there was that half-bottle of whisky left over from a girlfriend with a fondness for Irish Coffee. Dave had toyed with the idea of pouring it down the sink along with his six-pack...but it had been expensive stuff and he hated the idea of wasting it. Finally he had decided that wrapping it in a towel and sticking it in his closet would ensure that Carter wouldn't find it...hell, even he had trouble finding stuff in there...he supposed he really should tidy it up one of these days. But anyway, Carter wasn't the violent type...no way would he get physical...and even if he *did* get violent...he could take him...easily.
A few hours later both men were sitting in front of the TV. Dave had the remote and was flicking idly through the channels trying to find the program with the most amount of skin and with the least amount of plot.
Carter, by now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants borrowed from Dave, shifted uncomfortably on the couch. In spite of the growing pain in his back, he was actually having a good time. Dave was a fun guy to spend an evening with...even if his video selection left a lot to be desired. Carter had tactfully declined an offer to view some of Dave's more 'adult videos' and had settled for watching TV with him...he hadn't dared to ask about the stash of obviously home-taped videos that had been at the bottom of the box...some things it was better not to know too much about.
Carter briefly considered faking a few of the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal just to see Dave's reaction. He could easily pretend to be shaking and agitated...hell, he could even claim to see a few pink elephants...that would really freak Dave out. He grinned at the mental image of Dave trying to convince him that there weren't any brightly colored animals in the corner of the room...man that would be fun...or would it...
Carter sighed as he realized that he couldn't do something like that to Dave. After all, the guy was going out of his way to try and help a friend...granted that the friend wasn't in any need of help, but Dave's intentions were good. It wouldn't be fair to mess with his head like that. He shifted his weight around, trying to find a more comfortable position, but without much success. Damn, he thought, as he realized that what he needed was some painkillers. Just a couple of Vicodin...that would take the edge off his pain. Carter glanced at his jacket, which was on the couch between him and Dave. Just a few inches away from him, carefully tucked away in a pocket was a bottle of tablets...just a few inches, but it might as well have been a few miles for all the good it was doing him. Now if only Dave would leave the room for a minute, he'd be able to take one. Of course, there was also some morphine and a syringe, but he didn't think he needed any of that...not yet anyway...but if he could be sure that Dave would be out of the room for long enough, he might just take a shot to keep him going...sort of a 'pre-emptive strike' against the pain...just enough to help him sleep...that was all...after all, he couldn't sleep while he was in pain...and he needed his sleep if he was going to be able to work...
Carter's thoughts came to a sudden halt...he didn't need to be able to work...he didn't have a job anymore...it didn't matter how much or how little sleep he got...he could sleep in, all day and every day, and it wouldn't matter...not now...not anymore...shit.
Dave glanced over at Carter, wondering if he was okay. He didn't seem to be showing any of the usual symptoms of sudden alcohol withdrawal...not yet anyway...but then, it had only been a couple of hours since his last drink. Okay, the shower might have helped speed up the process...but not by much. Dave couldn't remember whether a cold shower or hot shower was more effective in sobering someone up...he knew that he usually had a cold shower when he needed to sober up quickly...but he didn't think Carter would appreciate Dave suggesting it to him...not yet anyway...but maybe in a few hours when the nausea and headaches started up...well then he might try anything to speed up the process.
"You okay man?" he asked Carter quietly. "You look a bit shook."
Carter jumped at the sound of Dave's voice. "What? Oh...no...I'm okay, really..."
"Not feeling dizzy or sick or anything?"
Carter shook his head. "Nope, I'm a bit stiff...but that's just because your couch isn't that comfortable...but I'm not feeling dizzy, nauseous or anything like that."
"Oh," said Dave, a tinge of disappointment evident in his voice. Not that he *wanted* Carter to be sick or anything...but the longer it went without Carter showing any symptoms, then the more likely it was that he had made another stupid mistake. Dave wondered if he should just apologize to Carter and let him go home...after all, if he wasn't an alcoholic, then there was no point in keeping him here.
"Do you want anything?" Dave asked finally. "Some tea or coffee? I've probably got some biscuits that aren't out of date."
"I'm fine," said Carter. "But actually, I'd really like a cigarette. Would you mind?" He started reaching for the jacket.
Dave scowled and grabbed it away from him. "Not in this apartment...no way man." He held the jacket out of Carter's reach.
"Oh come on," said Carter impatiently. "Just let me have one...unless you're planning to wean me off them as well as alcohol," he said sarcastically.
"A-ha," said Dave, triumphantly. "I knew you had a problem...see, you can't fool me...and yeah, maybe I will try to get you off the cigs as well, they'll kill you quicker than booze."
Carter rolled his eyes. "Okay Dave, I admit that I probably do smoke more than I should...and yeah, I should give them up. But there's no way in hell you'll get me to admit I have a drinking problem, because I don't. And by the time I've been here for twenty-four hours, I'll have proved it to you."
Dave eyed his friend suspiciously. There was a ring of sincerity in his voice...but then Dave had heard all the denials before...and he knew better than to believe him. Besides, it was easy to be sincere in denying an addiction if you didn't believe you *were* addicted.
Carter's voice broke through his thoughts. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you Dave. But I'd really like a cigarette. I'll stick my head out a window if you don't want the smoke in your apartment...I'd offer to go outside, but I don't expect you'd let me...come on Dave, just one cigarette...please?" Carter turned on his best 'lost puppy' expression.
Dave groaned, "Okay, okay...just one...and no knocking your ash all over the place, okay?"
"Okay," said Carter, as he reached for the jacket.
Dave held it out of his reach. "I'll get it...not that I don't trust you," he said with a grin as he plunged his hand into one of the more bulging pockets. "But..." The words died on his lips and the grin faded as he felt a familiar shape in the pocket.
Pulling out his hand, he stared at the bottle of morphine and the syringe.
To be continued