This is something new for me, a little fic written purely as a favour for someone I now regard as a friend. It's strange how writing this has given me the chance to meet someone new. Don't worry guys, I'm still going to continue to write May Change but this is something I wanted to try out. From the start I make this clear- this is no carby story. Or Abby story for that matter, it's just a story, plain and simple. Read it, you never know what might happen.

Dedicated to the real Cole Taylor... for the inspiration, for the ideas for this story which I have to make clear are all his. The ideas are not mine. They come from an idea Cole gave me. I simply wrote this for him at his request. All the normal disclaimers stand, I do not own ER or any of the characters, except for perhaps G. Cole Taylor most definitely belongs to you Cole, because as much as I would love to own you- I don't.

Diet Coke is so much better than Dr. Pepper. One day, my friend, you will learn.



Just In Time


Prologue


The streets are so cold at night. That's the first thing that hits you when you first sleep on them. I mean Chicago is always so cold in the winter but you assume you'll be okay in the Summer. You assume wrong. Night changes everything. The temperature, the people, the normal objects that you look at every day without a second thought. The simple crackling of a crisp packet in the wind can send you into spasms of fear at night.

The first night I spent on the streets I was so naive. I left the house in such a state I didn't think things through and of course I could never go back. I had the sense to take a sleeping bag at least and some clean clothes but little food. I didn't have much money- no-one in my house ever did. But it wouldn't have lasted long anyway, not with the guys you end up living with on the streets.

I just stayed in a doorway- big mistake. I never realised that there were so many homeless people before- or that the world was so rough. It sounds dumb but I was only 14. I got kicked out of it. Someone owned' it. That someone was G. G is a 6'3 black guy, an ex-bouncer. He's a drug dealer. At first his punches didn't hurt all that much but after the first few I began to feel the pain, blow after blow I could feel the pain getting worse. Eventually I fell to the floor. I began to cry. I know it was the most pathetic thing, but I was so low and in so much pain. It made G laugh. Something about liking the innocent. He picked me up, gave me the door and gave me my first hit.

I can't describe your first hit, its wonderful. Your whole body goes dumb with the sheer brilliance of it all. You feel like a million dollars, like a super hero, you feel like you can fly... When you take a hit your soar, high above the clouds, high above everyone else in the whole.

Then you crash and boy does that hurt. It only takes one hit before you need another before you become addicted. I'll admit I'm an addict, people in the real world have so much trouble saying that word but out here, on the streets, its strange to not be one.

Me and G got on fine at first, he gave me my first few hits and a safe place to sleep without any hassle. But soon he wanted money for it, and I didn't have any. Without money I was dead in the water so I did as he told me. I nicked stuff from the shops, broke windows at night and robbed people. Anyone, from kids to little old ladies, you don't care when you're going cold turkey.

Eventually I picked on the wrong guy, it was bound to happen eventually. He was too impressed with me, turns out he runs a street gang. G was gone like a flash and I was left alone, to take the hits, the punches and the stab. In that moment my world went black. Suddenly I saw where I lived for what it really was, the cities dumping ground. I was a druggie. It didn't hit me until that moment, that moment when the knife went in, that moment when I felt so much pain I felt as though I was already dead.

I don't remember the rest. It's a blur, a memory far, far away. I remember the noise of the ambulance as it approached, the gasps from passers by as the blood seeped from my chest and the paramedic. She was a white girl, young, pretty, she had a caring voice. I remember her caring voice soothing me as I was lifted into the ambulance.

The next thing I remember is being here. The voice of Dr. Carter shouting various commands at people around me. Then the voice of a blonde doctor, doctor Lewis I think he told me. I recall him shouting Susan at her. The pain was unbearable by then. I remember groaning, trying to stop the pain. After that I closed my eyes, shut them tight trying to drift off into a dream world.

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