1.1 Chapter 2: Carter and the Drugs
"Put the bottle down, John."
"Why should I?"
"Because I say so."
"But it hurts so much."
"No pill can quench that pain, John."
"How do you know? You don't know the pain I'm in!"
"I've been there, John. Put the bottle down."
"And what if I say no? What if I just swallow the whole bottle?" Carter yelled at Samantha across the room.
"Then I'll bring help."
"You can't bring help."
"I can and I will. You don't know me half as well as you think, Dr. Carter."
She only called him Dr. Carter when she was serious or upset.
He knew this.
"Put the bottle down and relax. I'll help you."
"No. I don't want your help. I don't want anyone's help!"
"John." That was all she said. Simply 'John.' Nothing more. But she said it so powerfully, it caught his attention.
"No."
"Give me the pill bottle. Please, John. You've had your fair share of medication for the next six hours. Give me the bottle."
"I… I…"
"Please, John. Do it for me. Do it for Lucy." There was hesitation. The room was frozen, Samantha holding out her hand to take the bottle and Carter just standing there, about to take some. Then, Carter broke down and fell to the floor, dropping the bottle. Samantha rushed to his aid. She hadn't seen him like this since Bobby died. She took him in her arms like the mother he never had and stroked his hair soothingly like she would to a little boy. In truth, that's what the trauma had reduced him to.
"Please promise me you'll stop, John. You have to stop."
"I'll try."
"That's a start. I'm here for you as long as you need me. Open up, John, ask for help when you need it. You don't need to bear this pain by yourself. Please don't be stubborn."
"I won't." he promised, "I won't."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
But he was stubborn.
And he continued.
And she saw it.
But she didn't interfere.
It was up to Peter now. If she couldn't get to him, and if Peter couldn't get to him, then no one could.
"John and Peter's friendship is stronger than the pain. It is stronger than anything."
And it was. When Abby saw Carter in the trauma room, he was doing more than swallowing pills.
"I forgot my charts," she said when she saw him. He kept his back towards her, refusing to face her. But she saw the syringe anyway. After much thought, she told Dr. Greene.
They cornered him.
He felt betrayed.
"Show me your wrists, Carter," Kerry demanded.
"What?"
"I said show me your wrists!" She obviously didn't like saying those words herself. She felt like a betrayer, but knew it was for the best. He showed them.
"Take off your watch," the words tasted so bitter on her tongue, but she knew they needed to be said. That's when he quit.
"I guess that's it then."
"No," Peter said, "It isn't." He wasn't about to let Carter throw his life away. And Samantha smiled as she watched him chase after Carter. He stopped him outside. What she saw nearly melted her heart as Carter cried in Peter's arms. Peter drove him to the airport and even went as far as to get on the plane with him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Now what?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you?"
"It's your life, not mine. You decide. You're going to Atlanta. Good job."
"Yeah, but everyone thinks I'm an addict."
"But you *are* an addict!"
"That's not the point!" Carter tried to explain, "The point is that they think- OK, fine, that they *know* I'm an addict."
"It's not that shameful."
"It is to me. My cousin-"
"I know about Chase, remember, John?" Samantha interrupted. Carter sighed.
"I wonder if my parents will ever know. Or if they'd even care."
"Of course they care. Don't talk like that. And trust me, they'll know soon enough."
"I can't believe I could be so stupid!"
"It's OK, it happens. You went through a very traumatic ordeal and nearly lost your life." Carter sighed.
"That's just it, Sam. I did lose my life."
"You learned, though didn't you?"
"And then some."
"Tell me what you learned, John."
"I learned that I can't take things for granted, like you told me. I understand the guilt and the sorrow that are the consequences of it. I learned that pain is one of the worst things in the world. I've learned that life is short and can be taken away at any moment. It could be good if you make it good. And mostly, I've learned…"
"What have you learned, John?"
"I've learned she's not coming back."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"This is where I leave you, man." Peter said, standing in what would be Carter's room for the next few months.
"I'd just like to say… Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Benton. Thank you for not letting me turn into Chase."
"I could never watch you do that," Peter smiled, "You just stay away from drugs, OK? You should know, after all those patients you've seen, after Chase, that they destroy you."
"Maybe I wanted to be destroyed." Carter muttered.
"You don't want to be destroyed."
"No, but maybe I did, somewhere, some part of me just wanted to roll over and die."
"You wanted to stop the pain."
"You think I succeeded?" Carter asked, "I still feel it. Every damn day, it's there, as if the knife is still in my back. Hell, maybe it is! Metaphorically, I mean."
"The pain will fade," Peter said, "And you'll get on with your life."
"You're right."
"There will be other things, though. Other traumatic experiences, other lost loved ones, other close encounters with death. What you have to learn is that you can't rely on drugs every time something bad happens in your life. Bad things happen to everyone, the good, the bad, and it doesn't make you any less of a person. If anything, it makes you more of one."
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Carter smiled weakly. Peter smiled back.
"My plane's leaving in an hour and a half. I have to go."
"Right." Carter nodded. With one last, friendly hug, Peter departed. Carter sighed and sat on the neatly made bed.
"What am I going to do?" he sighed sadly, head in his hands.
"It's your choice isn't it?" Samantha closed the door.
"You're here again."
"I'm here when you need me."
"You've been here a lot."
"You've needed me a lot."
"What do I do now?" Carter asked her. Samantha smiled.
"It's good to know you have a choice, though, isn't it? It's good to know that your choice isn't death by drugs or death by sorrow and loneliness."
"I suppose so."
"What do you want to do, John?"
"I want things to go back to the way they were."
"Ah, but alas, the clock doesn't turn back for one person alone." Samantha sat next to him on his bed.
"You're right."
"So what do you want to do? Other than turn back time."
"What are my choices?" Carter asked. Samantha's smile widened.
"You mean you don't know?"
"No. I don't know anything any more."
"You can make an effort to get clean, to get sober again. Friends will help and if you try hard enough, you'll get through this with flying colors. The result? Friendship, possible romance, good times, bad times, pain, joy, and eventual happiness. In short, a shot at a normal life again."
"And other options?"
"You can stay here, in this room, and never come out. You can take your pills and you can take your syringes and you can take your alcohol, all temporary and easy solutions, and you can die here, cold and alone, your only friends being your faithful drugs. The same drugs that will slowly kill you."
"That's it?"
"That's it." There was long silence between them. Carter sighed and smiled at her.
"I'll take 'Make An Effort' for five-hundred, Alex!"
"That's the spirit!" Samantha grinned, more proud of John Carter than she ever had been.
"Sam…"
"Yes?"
"Who are you?"
"A friend."
"Are you real?"
"What's your definition of real?"
"Are you just an illusion?"
"I am no more or less than you say I am."
"Can others see you?"
"If they want to, yes."
"Am I crazy?"
"Far from it."
"Put the bottle down, John."
"Why should I?"
"Because I say so."
"But it hurts so much."
"No pill can quench that pain, John."
"How do you know? You don't know the pain I'm in!"
"I've been there, John. Put the bottle down."
"And what if I say no? What if I just swallow the whole bottle?" Carter yelled at Samantha across the room.
"Then I'll bring help."
"You can't bring help."
"I can and I will. You don't know me half as well as you think, Dr. Carter."
She only called him Dr. Carter when she was serious or upset.
He knew this.
"Put the bottle down and relax. I'll help you."
"No. I don't want your help. I don't want anyone's help!"
"John." That was all she said. Simply 'John.' Nothing more. But she said it so powerfully, it caught his attention.
"No."
"Give me the pill bottle. Please, John. You've had your fair share of medication for the next six hours. Give me the bottle."
"I… I…"
"Please, John. Do it for me. Do it for Lucy." There was hesitation. The room was frozen, Samantha holding out her hand to take the bottle and Carter just standing there, about to take some. Then, Carter broke down and fell to the floor, dropping the bottle. Samantha rushed to his aid. She hadn't seen him like this since Bobby died. She took him in her arms like the mother he never had and stroked his hair soothingly like she would to a little boy. In truth, that's what the trauma had reduced him to.
"Please promise me you'll stop, John. You have to stop."
"I'll try."
"That's a start. I'm here for you as long as you need me. Open up, John, ask for help when you need it. You don't need to bear this pain by yourself. Please don't be stubborn."
"I won't." he promised, "I won't."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
But he was stubborn.
And he continued.
And she saw it.
But she didn't interfere.
It was up to Peter now. If she couldn't get to him, and if Peter couldn't get to him, then no one could.
"John and Peter's friendship is stronger than the pain. It is stronger than anything."
And it was. When Abby saw Carter in the trauma room, he was doing more than swallowing pills.
"I forgot my charts," she said when she saw him. He kept his back towards her, refusing to face her. But she saw the syringe anyway. After much thought, she told Dr. Greene.
They cornered him.
He felt betrayed.
"Show me your wrists, Carter," Kerry demanded.
"What?"
"I said show me your wrists!" She obviously didn't like saying those words herself. She felt like a betrayer, but knew it was for the best. He showed them.
"Take off your watch," the words tasted so bitter on her tongue, but she knew they needed to be said. That's when he quit.
"I guess that's it then."
"No," Peter said, "It isn't." He wasn't about to let Carter throw his life away. And Samantha smiled as she watched him chase after Carter. He stopped him outside. What she saw nearly melted her heart as Carter cried in Peter's arms. Peter drove him to the airport and even went as far as to get on the plane with him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Now what?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you?"
"It's your life, not mine. You decide. You're going to Atlanta. Good job."
"Yeah, but everyone thinks I'm an addict."
"But you *are* an addict!"
"That's not the point!" Carter tried to explain, "The point is that they think- OK, fine, that they *know* I'm an addict."
"It's not that shameful."
"It is to me. My cousin-"
"I know about Chase, remember, John?" Samantha interrupted. Carter sighed.
"I wonder if my parents will ever know. Or if they'd even care."
"Of course they care. Don't talk like that. And trust me, they'll know soon enough."
"I can't believe I could be so stupid!"
"It's OK, it happens. You went through a very traumatic ordeal and nearly lost your life." Carter sighed.
"That's just it, Sam. I did lose my life."
"You learned, though didn't you?"
"And then some."
"Tell me what you learned, John."
"I learned that I can't take things for granted, like you told me. I understand the guilt and the sorrow that are the consequences of it. I learned that pain is one of the worst things in the world. I've learned that life is short and can be taken away at any moment. It could be good if you make it good. And mostly, I've learned…"
"What have you learned, John?"
"I've learned she's not coming back."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"This is where I leave you, man." Peter said, standing in what would be Carter's room for the next few months.
"I'd just like to say… Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Benton. Thank you for not letting me turn into Chase."
"I could never watch you do that," Peter smiled, "You just stay away from drugs, OK? You should know, after all those patients you've seen, after Chase, that they destroy you."
"Maybe I wanted to be destroyed." Carter muttered.
"You don't want to be destroyed."
"No, but maybe I did, somewhere, some part of me just wanted to roll over and die."
"You wanted to stop the pain."
"You think I succeeded?" Carter asked, "I still feel it. Every damn day, it's there, as if the knife is still in my back. Hell, maybe it is! Metaphorically, I mean."
"The pain will fade," Peter said, "And you'll get on with your life."
"You're right."
"There will be other things, though. Other traumatic experiences, other lost loved ones, other close encounters with death. What you have to learn is that you can't rely on drugs every time something bad happens in your life. Bad things happen to everyone, the good, the bad, and it doesn't make you any less of a person. If anything, it makes you more of one."
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Carter smiled weakly. Peter smiled back.
"My plane's leaving in an hour and a half. I have to go."
"Right." Carter nodded. With one last, friendly hug, Peter departed. Carter sighed and sat on the neatly made bed.
"What am I going to do?" he sighed sadly, head in his hands.
"It's your choice isn't it?" Samantha closed the door.
"You're here again."
"I'm here when you need me."
"You've been here a lot."
"You've needed me a lot."
"What do I do now?" Carter asked her. Samantha smiled.
"It's good to know you have a choice, though, isn't it? It's good to know that your choice isn't death by drugs or death by sorrow and loneliness."
"I suppose so."
"What do you want to do, John?"
"I want things to go back to the way they were."
"Ah, but alas, the clock doesn't turn back for one person alone." Samantha sat next to him on his bed.
"You're right."
"So what do you want to do? Other than turn back time."
"What are my choices?" Carter asked. Samantha's smile widened.
"You mean you don't know?"
"No. I don't know anything any more."
"You can make an effort to get clean, to get sober again. Friends will help and if you try hard enough, you'll get through this with flying colors. The result? Friendship, possible romance, good times, bad times, pain, joy, and eventual happiness. In short, a shot at a normal life again."
"And other options?"
"You can stay here, in this room, and never come out. You can take your pills and you can take your syringes and you can take your alcohol, all temporary and easy solutions, and you can die here, cold and alone, your only friends being your faithful drugs. The same drugs that will slowly kill you."
"That's it?"
"That's it." There was long silence between them. Carter sighed and smiled at her.
"I'll take 'Make An Effort' for five-hundred, Alex!"
"That's the spirit!" Samantha grinned, more proud of John Carter than she ever had been.
"Sam…"
"Yes?"
"Who are you?"
"A friend."
"Are you real?"
"What's your definition of real?"
"Are you just an illusion?"
"I am no more or less than you say I am."
"Can others see you?"
"If they want to, yes."
"Am I crazy?"
"Far from it."