by Céindreadh
ceindreadh@eircom.net
(An alternative universe fic featuring Dave and Carter)
Previously on ER
After a good meal and a few hours of watching TV, Carter was craving a cigarette. Dave reluctantly agreed to let him smoke one, but when trying to find cigarettes in Carter's jacket, he found morphine and Vicodin instead. Dave realized that Carter was addicted to drugs and not alcohol. Carter vehemently denied this accusation but reluctantly agreed to stay with Dave intending to prove to him that he wasn't addicted. However, he wasn't looking forward to spending the next few hours in pain. When Dave left the room to get a blanket, Carter noticed that the bottle of Vicodin which Dave had thrown away earlier was lying forgotten on the ground.
Carter bit his lip as he slowly started to push himself off the couch. The tablets were only a few yards away...he could easily take a few and leave the bottle where it was for Dave to retrieve it when he remembered it...Dave would never realize that there were less tablets in it than there had been earlier...just a few tablets...hell, even just one would ease the pain...just one tablet...
Before Carter could summon up the nerve to retrieve his medication, he heard Dave coming back into the room. Quickly he lay back down on the mattress and tried to appear nonchalant.
Dave frowned as he caught Carter's movement out of the corner of his eye. He had the sudden feeling that he had forgotten something important...oh well, he shrugged mentally...if it's important it'll come back to me later, he thought.
Chucking the pillow and blanket at Carter, Dave said, "Make yourself comfortable Carter. You sure you don't want something to drink? I can zap some milk in the microwave for you...might help you sleep."
"I don't need help sleeping," said Carter, a little petulantly. "Or at least I wouldn't if you'd let me take something for my back."
Dave rolled his eyes. "Look, I know this isn't gonna be easy...but it's only..."
"Only for twenty-four hours, I know...I know," said Carter, grumpily as he draped the blanket around him. "You keep telling me that, like it's going to make the time go faster...well it won't...it just keeps ramming it home that I'm going to be in pain for that long."
He rolled over until he was facing into the couch and wrenched the blanket up around him, cursing slightly as he pulled it too far, exposing his feet.
Wordlessly, Dave pulled on the blanket and gently tucked it in around Carter. "I'm sorry...I don't want to put you through any pain...but it's the only way I know how to do this...c'mon Carter...don't be mad at me...I'm only trying to help you."
Carter sighed...he knew that Dave's heart was in the right place...he just wished he wasn't so misguided in his efforts to help. "I know you're only doing what you think is right," he said finally, his voice muffled by the blanket. "And I appreciate you trying to help me...but it's not necessary...I don't have a problem."
Carter sounded so sincere that Dave was almost convinced, but then he remembered that the Chief had believed that Carter had a problem as well...and whatever about his own judgment...he trusted hers implicitly. "Try to sleep," he instructed Carter. "It'll make the time go quicker."
"Whatever," mumbled Carter as he tried to get more comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he was tired. It had been a long day...both physically and mentally strenuous. He was barely aware of Dave leaving the room.
Dave brewed up a large mug of coffee for himself. Sipping it slowly, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Carter's sleeping form. Mentally he reviewed the common symptoms for drug withdrawal. This wasn't going to be easy...and Dave was well aware that the severity of the symptoms was affected by the length and intensity of the addiction. Well Carter couldn't have been using before the stabbing...it would have shown up while he was in hospital...but there was no way of knowing how much stuff was in his bloodstream...and how long it would take to clear out. Dave was also aware that in cases of heavy users going 'cold turkey', the symptoms could be so severe as to be life threatening. He had already made up his mind to call County if Carter displayed any serious withdrawal symptoms. No way was he going to risk his friend's life...no way in hell. Carter wouldn't be too happy about that...but better a live and pissed off friend than a dead one. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that...hopefully once Carter copped on that he had been overmedicating so much that he'd gotten hooked, maybe then he'd realize that he needed professional help to kick it. God, he hoped that he could persuade Carter to get professional help...
Dave just hoped that it was a case of overmedication...the thought that Carter could be doing drugs just to get high...that was something he didn't want to think about.
Dave switched off the main lights in the room, leaving only a small side light for illumination. Carter looked to be asleep on the couch, so Dave settled himself in an armchair and dug out a book. It wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled an all-nighter for one reason or another...and the coffee should help keep him awake. He would have turned on the TV but he didn't want to disturb Carter...maybe later...when Carter started feeling ill...maybe then he'd switch on the TV to keep him distracted...but until then, he had just his book for entertainment.
Carter awoke a few hours later to find himself on his hands and knees beside the couch. He moaned softly as he clutched at his stomach. Oh God, this was worse than when he had regained consciousness after being stabbed. The pain was ripping through him...God he needed his morphine. Carter groaned again as he remembered that the morphine was safely tucked away in Dave's pocket.
At the thought of Dave, he looked around and saw him sprawled in the chair...asleep...a book lying open on the floor by his feet. Carter tried to stifle his moans of pain, but Dave showed no signs of waking. Haleh had once said that Malucci could sleep through a crowd of stampeding elephants. As Carter watched, Dave sighed in his sleep and twisted around in the chair. Carter could see the bottle of morphine bulging in his pocket. It was so close...and the way Malucci slept, he could easily grab it, give himself a shot and have it back in the pocket before he even noticed it was missing. Carter forced himself to crawl towards the chair.
He was on his knees beside Dave...his shaking hand poised above the chair...trying to summon up the nerve to get his medication...when Dave mumbled something incoherent and twisted around in the chair again. Carter almost cried out in anguish as he watched Dave's bulging pocket disappear from view. There was no way he could get the bottle now...no possible way he could get his hands on his pain relief without waking his friend. Oh God, thought Carter, I can't go on...I need something...anything...
He slumped to the floor; his arms wrapped around him and tried not to scream as a wave of pain surged through him. Maybe he should wake Dave...try and persuade him that he needed something for the pain...Dave wouldn't want to see him like this...he'd surely relent and allow him a shot of morphine...hell, even a few Vicodin would...Carter opened his eyes as he remembered the tablets which Dave had forgotten about. Oh yes...there they were...just a few yards away.
Pushing himself to his hands and knees, Carter crawled painfully over to where the bottle lay. Halfway there, he stopped...groaning as a wave of nausea swept over him. Finally he reached the bottle and slumped against the wall. Fumbling with the lid, he almost cried in frustration as his hands refused to obey him. After what seemed like hours, he managed to remove the lid...only to have his shaking hands spill the contents on the ground around him.
"I only need one," he said. "Just one...I'll put the rest back...Dave will never know..."
Slowly he reached out for the pills.
Dave could feel something digging into his hip...he tried to ignore it...tried to go back to sleep...but he couldn't. Cursing under his breath, he felt around, trying to locate the source of his discomfort. His eyes still closed, his hand closed around the familiar shape of a medication bottle. Huh? Why had he something like that in his pocket? Ah shit, thought Dave, as he remembered that he was supposed to be making sure that Carter was okay. Blinking in the dim light, he tried to focus his bleary eyes on the couch, and groaned as he saw the crumpled blanket on the floor.
Pushing himself up from the chair, he winced at the cramp in his neck from sleeping in the chair. To his relief, he saw Carter sitting against the wall on the other side of the room.
"Carter...you okay man?" asked Dave, as he made his way over to his friend.
Carter looked up in shock at the sound of Dave's voice. His hand instinctively closed over a handful of Vicodin.
Dave saw the sudden movement and groaned again as he remembered throwing the pills against the wall. "Give them to me Carter," he ordered. "Come on man...you don't want to do this...please Carter...don't be an idiot..."
"I...I can't," said Carter. "I...I need them...you...you don't know the pain I'm in...I need them...my back...I'm in so much pain..." He clutched his stomach as another cramp hit him.
Dave's heart sank. "That's not pain from your injuries...that's withdrawal symptoms." He crouched down beside Carter and started gathering up the pills. "Come on Carter...give me the pills...you know you don't want to do this."
Carter kept his fist clenched around the pills...they were his only chance to get through the rest of the night. "No...they're mine...I need them," he replied stubbornly.
"I don't want to have to take them from you," said Dave. "But I'll use force if necessary."
The only response from Carter was a sudden movement of his hand as he tried to swallow the pills...but Dave's reflexes...plus the fact that he wasn't hampered by spasms of pain made it easy for him to grab Carter's wrist. A quick twist...followed by a yelp of pain from Carter...and the pills were in Dave's hand.
"I'm sorry Carter," said Dave, as he stood up. "I didn't want to hurt you..."
"What...what are you going to do with them?" asked Carter.
"I'm gonna flush em like I should've done hours ago...and I'm gonna dump the morphine as well."
Dave had his back to Carter as he headed for the bathroom. He didn't see the look of shock on Carter's face...he also didn't see the look of fear as Carter realized that once his medication was gone then he'd be stuck with his pain for several more hours...he didn't see Carter push himself painfully to his feet and stumble after him. He *did* hear Carter's footsteps coming after him, but by the time he turned round, Carter had caught up with him and was swinging wildly.
Desperation lent Carter strength and that coupled with surprise meant that the first punch knocked Dave to the ground. As he lay there dazed...feeling a trickle of blood run down his chin, he saw Carter reach for the Vicodin, which had fallen from his grasp.
"Don't do it," said Dave, through a mouth that was already starting to swell. "Please Carter...don't you see what's happening? Don't take the pills..."
Carter bit his lip as he looked at his friend sprawled on the ground in front of him. As if in slow motion, he saw himself shaking out two pills into his hand...raising them to his mouth...and then swallowing them.
To be concluded