AN: I obviously don't own anything. T-rating just to be safe.
Also, Emma, thank you so much for proofreading this for me!
Doctor John Carter was having a bad day. No, scratch that; Doctor John Carter was having a terrible day.
Close to the end of his shift he found himself standing on the roof of Cook County Hospital in Chicago. This was the place he came to unwind, to be alone. A place where he could be himself, where he could let his walls down.
He let out a big sigh; he'd thought that it would be easier after Atlanta. He was clean and determined to stay clean. Alright, there was that almost relapse he'd had after that trauma. He'd regurgitated the pills before they had a chance to take affect. Not that it mattered to Dr Kerry Weaver; no, she'd made him start all over with the "no real procedures" 90 days, 90 meetings thing. He still went to meetings, not every day but on days where he needed to talk to someone, or someones he knew wouldn't judge him... People who knew what he was going through.
The counselor at the treatment centre had recommended that he find someone to talk to at home, not necessarily a professional, but someone he trusted. He trusted several people: gamma, Deb, Dr. Benton, Dr. Greene and Dr. Weaver. No matter how badly he'd reacted and behaved when they confronted him at the intervention, he did respect them all. It was in fact this respect and want of being respected in return that made it so hard for him to open up to any one of them. He simply didn't want to see the disappointment in their eyes when he told them about his cravings.
Having cravings, he was told at the centre, was normal and to be expected, but there was this nagging voice in his head telling him that half of the people he worked with would pity and try even harder to tiptoe around him and make sure that he got all the "easy" patients, while the other half would expect him to have a full blown relapse and therefore keep their distance from him. No, it was better to not tell anyone... To appear as "healed" as they'd hoped his stay in Atlanta would lead to.
He knew that the cravings were just cravings, and he had to admit. The Naltrexone was helping with that. He still had them, some worse than others, but he didn't feel that intense need to use. John Carter was not going to relapse. That slip up a few months ago scared him enough... He had too much to lose by relapsing, too much hard work on his part would go away. Too many people would be disappointed. He sighed again. This day was not going the way it should.
He'd been back to full duty for almost two months now and he loved it, on most days. This day, he'd prefer to be stuck in some examination room examining patients who presented with simple cold or flu symptoms.
It had been one of those days at County. One big trauma after the other, there had been a fight between gangbangers resulting in several hours of non-stop patch-work trying to save gangbangers and innocent bystanders and quickly send them up to surgery for "fine-tuning". They had managed to save most of their patients, but one of John's patients had died. It was a young girl, couldn't have been more than 9 years old. She'd been shot in the chest. John had tried everything he could think of to save her life. She was just losing too much blood too fast. He'd finally had to realize that there was no way he could win this fight and call time of death. The only thing that had been harder than losing that little girl had been to tell her mother about it.
Maybe he had gone back to full duty too early. Maybe he wasn't ready for everything a full duty meant. His hands were sweating and shaking out of control. He closed his eyes tightly and let out yet another sigh. "I really need a fix right now, if only I could.. no, damn it! That's not the solution John, you know better than that! I just need to breathe and I'll be fine."
He got to thinking about his time at the treatment facility in Atlanta, more specifically what one of the counselors had told him shortly before he left to go back to Chicago. He still remembered the words "The best thing you can do when you go home is to find someone you trust and really talk to that person. It does not really matter if it's a professional or not, as long as you trust the person"
He'd come back to think about those words several times since he'd come home. Who could he trust with his fears and struggles? Who would not look at him like some sad, pathetic shell of a person? Maybe he should see a professional; maybe none of his "friends" could offer what he needed right now. Sure, several of them had told him that they were available if he needed someone to talk to.
There was just no way he would or could take them up on their offer though. They would never look at him the same ever again. It would undo everything he'd worked for since he came back from Atlanta. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. He needed to feel normal.
Leaning forward with his hands on the railing, he barely heard the door open. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice that a person walked out on the roof and stopped right beside him. He did however notice when the person put their hand on his shoulder.
He turned to face whoever it was. The person he saw was one of the last he wanted to see right then and there. His future employment depended largely on this person's recommendation.
The strong-willed redheaded woman spoke before Carter had properly recovered from seeing her there.
-"John, I've been looking for you. Are you okay?" Kerry Weaver sounded like she actually genuinely cared about John's wellbeing.
Carter just hung his head, sighed and said "I'll be fine Doctor Weaver. Just needed some air, that's all."
"John, I know that you've been back to full duty for almost 2 months now, but you know as well as I do that what we've seen today is some of the nastiest stuff we get. It's not easy for anyone." Kerry said.
John was frustrated, and it showed in his voice. "What's that supposed to mean Weaver?"
"Just that I'd understand if you want to take the rest of the day off."
"I don't need the day off Weaver, I can handle my job."
"I don't doubt your ability to do your job John. I know that you're a more than competent doctor. I also know that you've been through a lot lately and a case like the one with the little girl would affect anyone..."
Carter interrupted her "So you're afraid that I'll run off and start using again is that it? That's all you're ever going to see when you look at me, isn't it? Carter the druggie. "
"It's okay to admit that you're having a bad day John, no one is going to think any less of you for admitting that."
John snorted "Do you really believe that? Are you really that blind Kerry? Half of everyone I know is waiting for me to fuck up, the other half are tiptoeing around me, scared that the slightest stress is going to send me running to the drug supplies. So I ask you again, do you really believe that no one is going to think any less of me? Maybe you're right. Some of them can't possibly think any lower of me than they already do."
He sighed in frustration, and went and sat down by the wall next to the door leading in to the hospital. He rested his head on his arms away from Doctor Weaver.
"I can't answer for the thoughts or actions of others, but I can tell you that I would definitely not think any less of you. And I want you to know that you can always come talk to me. " She paused for a few seconds. "You might find that I'm able to understand more than you think."
"Can you really understand though, Kerry? Have you ever been an addict? Do you know what it's like to live with addiction every day?" John sighed.
Kerry looked at John "No, I've never been an addict. I don't know what it's like firsthand, but I saw my best friend die of an overdose. I did everything I could to help her, I got her to go to rehab, made sure she went to meetings when she came home again. She stayed clean for 3 months after rehab. After another 6 months, she showed up at my apartment, high as a kite and begging me for money. I told her that I wasn't going to give her drug money, but that I'd help her get back to rehab. She didn't want to hear what I had to say." Kerry wiped her eyes with a tissue she'd taken from her lab coat pocket before she continued, "I tried to stay in touch with her, to encourage her to go to rehab. Then one day when I went to her apartment with some food, she wouldn't open the door. When I finally got the door open, it was too late. She'd died earlier that day." She took a deep breath. "So you see, John, I'm not completely ignorant." She started to get up from the ground.
John didn't move for a few seconds, too shocked from Kerry's story to move. When he finally did recover his ability to talk he raised his head and turned to Kerry.
"Kerry, wait. I never knew that. I'm sorry."
"It's not something I usually talk about. I have a feeling that you're one of the few people in this place..." she gestured to the hospital, "who'd understand what it's like to see someone you love get so completely lost in drugs."
John thought back to his cousin Chase, who just a few years earlier had overdosed on heroin, barely survived, and had ended up with brain damage.
"Yeah, you're right..." he paused. "I really fucked up my life, didn't I. God, I never thought, not ever for a second, that I'd end up an addict. I actually looked down at Chase because of it. I thought of him as weak for not managing to stay clean. I couldn't even imagine how hard it is. But it's hard, harder than anything I've ever done before.." He turned to Kerry "Why am I even telling you this? I must be insane, you have the power to have me fired and I'm sitting here telling you about this crap."
Kerry put her arm around John's shoulders. "I'm not going to fire you for talking to me about your struggles with staying clean John. I want you to talk to me before anything happens rather than hear about it after, okay? You being honest with me about your cravings and fears, what you find hard, or what makes you feel good is what I've wanted you to do since you came back from Atlanta. I want you feel like you can talk to me about those things. I'm not here as your boss right now, I'm here as someone who cares about you, someone who wants to see you succeed."
John didn't say anything at first. He just sat there, letting Kerry's words resonate within him. After a few minutes of just sitting there in an awkward almost hug with Kerry he'd made up his mind. He was going to take a chance and trust Kerry. The need to talk to someone had been there ever since Atlanta, and that need had grown bigger with each word Kerry spoke. They did have a pretty good relationship when he rented her basement, and he'd found himself missing that relationship at times since.
He did feel safe, here in her arms. Not in a romantic way at all though. No, if he were to put a name on it, it would be more like the relationship between siblings. His subconscious had made up his mind for him and before he knew what he was doing he found himself telling Kerry about his fears, cravings, insecurities and victories.
It was there, on the roof of the hospital where John took a chance and found a true friend in Kerry Weaver, and for the first time since before the stabbing John Carter felt completely safe.
That's all she wrote.