Believing

Chapter 4

Author's note: This is an AU Carby. This is Carter's POV. *Flashbacks will be written in italics* I hope you enjoy it and that you review!!!

Thanks for reviewing !! :) :)

Disclaimer: I don't know anything you recognize from ER, though I really wish I owned John Carter, or at least be able to borrow him for a while :)

*******************************************************************************************************

I'm lying alone in the uncomfortable motel bed. I've spent the night staring into the ceiling and my back is starting to hurt. It's very early in the morning, there has been some light coming into the room through the small window for a short while now. Despite the great effort it takes for me to get up, I do it, frustrated at the sleepless night that has passed. I don't think I can remember what it was like to get a good night's sleep.

Looking aroud the room I see my suitcase laying on the floor. It's open and all my clothes are scattered around the brown carpet. I think I see my toothbrush there, next to a pair of jeans. I walk over to pick it up thinking about how this mess is all that's left from my angry outburst last night.

I've got nothing left.

Not that I think I deserve anything at all. I don't. I'm a terrible person and what I do deserve is to live a miserable life. I'm miserable now, and in a twisted way I think that's good.

I sitll can't believe I left home though. I never thought I'd be strong enough to give that up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Please John, I love you, the kids love you, but it's just too hard on us." Abby pleaded.

"It doesn't have to be" I heard myself tell her.

"What do you mean?" she asks me, confused.

"I mean I'm tired about this too. You can't accept I've changed. I'm sorry but I don't think I can try to pretend that we're still a perfect family like you're trying to do" I told her, getting angry at her, at the world but mostly at myself for not being good enough for them. For having to do this.

"So you're not even going to try to keep this family, us, together? It's just over?"

"I guess I'm not." I paused, "I guess it is." I said, keeping my voice steady, detached, knowing it was for the best.

Abby looked devastated, and I barely managed to stop myself from going over and hugging her. Instead I left the living room, and went into our room, taking a suitcase from the closet and putting as much as my stuff as I could into them. I was halfway done when Abby came in and stood there watching the whole thing silently. I finished and without looking at her left the room.

Halfway down the stairs I heard a small, questioning voice calling me. It was Olivia. But I kept going not turning around, knowing that if I did I wouldn't be able to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work isn't the same anymore. Saving lives just doesn't give me any satisfaction since I came back to work.

The charts are piling up and I'm so behind my paperwork that Kerry has had to talk to me about it. I try to get it done, but I just can't focus.

I never thought I'd hate practicing medicine. But I do now.

I hate it.

I guess it's because I don't care anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a busy day in the ER. I hadn't been able to handle it, and had had to resort to hiding in the only empty exam room I could find. I kept the lights off, hoping nobody would find me if they noticed my absence.

I had no such luck. After about 5 minutes, Susan ran into the exam room and turned on the lights.

"Carter! There you are! C'mon there's an MVA coming in, we need you!" she left before I could say anything. I sighed, if I didn't go, I'd get into trouble and that was the last thing I needed. I slowly got up and walked out the exam room, as soon as I was on the corridors, I went into full doctor mode and hurried towards the ambulance bay.

*~*

"Time of death 21:32." I said, looking at the middle-aged man on the gurney. He had been drunk.

"His wife's waiting outside." Chuny said, pointing to a worried-looking woman standing near the admit desk.

"I'll tell her." I said, my tone clearly leaving no room for contradiction.

I had barely left the trauma room, but my patient's wife was already next to me.

"Is Greg ok?" she asked, almost begging me to tell her he was.

"Your husband died", I told her "he was driving over the speed limit under the influence." I continued my voice raising, I was taking my anger at his actions on the poor woman.

"Oh God" she said starting to cry. I couldn't stop.

"It was his fault. He was being irresponsible and..."

"Carter!" I was suddenly cut off. Kerry looked at me disbelievingly. "Stop it! Go outside and calm down."

While I walked towards the ambulance bay, shocked at what I had just done, I saw Abby looking at me from the admit desk, and I could see the tears forming in her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I get into my car after work, and start driving. I find myself passing the familiar streets that took me home everyday for so many years. I stop outside the house. The light to what's now just Abby's room is on and I fight the urge to get out of the car and use my keys to get in.

I don't belong there anymore.

I'm horrible. I don't deserve any of them anyway. They are to good for me. I can't have a great family like them, when I killed a mother, when I killed a son. The father that survived the accident should have that.

And he doesn't anymore because of me.

It's only fair I shouldn't have any of that either.

I get out of the car and walk to the front yard. I can see the kitchen from the window on the side. Memories of the past weeks fill my mind. I haven't been in that kitchen much since the accident. I haven't helped Abby cook, I haven't eaten a meal with them as a family. I remember John asking me to make pancakes fro him one day. I also remember me being horrible to him just after he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared blanky at the TV, not really paying attention to anything being said by the newscaster. My mind was somewhere else, reliving the horrible accident. It happened all the time, and I couldn't, as much as I tried, to think of something else without being reminded of it.

Unexpectedly, I was brought back to reality by a small tug on my t-shirt. I jumped a little and when I looked to my side I saw my son standing next to the bed, a big smile on his face. I sighed.

"Daddy?" he said while he sat on the bed, leaving me no choice but to scoot over to Abby's side to give him some space.

"Hmm?"

"Can you make pancakes today? It's your turn, and your pancakes are yummier than mommy's. She wants to make them but I want you to make them daddy..."

"No" I cut him off. I didn't need this. Not at that moment. He looked offended for a moment, but then he went back into full convincing mode.

"Why not daddy? It's your turn! Pleeeaaase? Please?" he begged giving me his whole puppy-eye look.

I looked and my son, sitting there. He was *alive*. The other boy who had been in the car I had crashed into, he had been only a bit older that John. He wasn't alive anymore, because of me. I suddenly felt horrible. My son continued to look at me expectantly. I began feeling so angry at myself. Before I realized what I was doing, I began taking my anger out on him.

He began crying and my eyes widened, realization of what I had done hitting me. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I looked up to see Abby entering the room. John ran and hugged her still crying.

Abby looked from John to me her eyes questioning what I had done. My head started throbbing at the noise of the crying and the stupid TV combined. I looked at her, irritated.

"What happened sweetie?" she changed tactics, deciding to ask our son instead.

"...pancakes...daddy...yelled...at me..." the three year old choked between sobs.

"Stop crying!" I snapped, my head felt like it was going to explode. All I accomplished was making him cry even harder.

Abby glared at me and a horrible feeling of guilt sunk in. What was wrong with me? I was the worst father in the world. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door and sinking into the floor where I couldn't stop the tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All I do is hurt them. It's better this way .

Abby.

She doesn't understand. At the beggining she tried to help me. She didn't understand I couldn't be helped. She kept telling me to talk to her, but I couldn't.

I'm sorry.

I do love you. Please don't think otherwise.

I hope she knows that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"John?" Abby asked me soflty. I sighed, I had thought she was asleep.

"Hmm?" I answered back.

"Are you ok?" Of course not, I thought, I just caused the death of a whole family.

"I'm fine" I said instead, pretending she was asking how I was feeling. "I have a headache, that's all."

She sighed, obviously frustrated. "No, I mean..." she paused, "I know you might be feeling bad for what happened today..."

"You think it's my fault?" I asked her, feeling even worse that I had been feeling, knowing that she blamed me as well.

"No, of course not!" she told me, but I knew she didn't mean it this time. "It's not your fault, I never said that. It's just that I thought you might be blaming yourself for what happened."

"I'm fine" I said, not caring about anything anymore. She blamed me.

"I just wanted to tell you that if you want to talk, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok" I said, knowing I'd never talk to her about it.

We sat in bed in silence for a while.

"Good night Abby" I said, not standing the uncomfortable silence that was surrounding us. I turned away from her and spent my first sleepless night trying as hard as I could not to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing is fun anymore.

All the things I used to love to do, they bore me.

Reading, watching TV, listening to my favorite songs, going for a good walk, those things don't do anything for me anymore.

It's not like I feel like doing any of them anyway. The only thing I want is to sleep. I wish I could. I'm so tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat on the small couch in the motel room. I had a huge stack of the most interesting medical journals I could find. I took the first one and started leafing through it. Seconds later I placed it down. The same thing happened with all of them.

"Damn it!" I was so frustrated. I sat on the bed and turned the TV on. I zapped through the channels before giving up. I threw the remote to the other side of the room angrily.

I grabbed some clothes from the mess near the suitcase. I hadn't cleaned it up yet. I quickly changed into my pajamas. I got into the bed and tried to get comfortable. I tossed and turned around for a bit before giving up. I closed my eyes, but sleep never came. I opened them and stared at the now familiar ceiling.

Another long night had to pass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the time now, I sit alone and think about how life is hopeless and that it holds no meaning for me anymore.

That's when I think I can't go on much longer.

And the I cry, but I'm alone so nobody can hear me.

Nobody.

*************************************************************************************

To be continued....

Yes, it was Carter angst by the truckload. It took me quite some time to get it where it is... Abby's POV is much easier. :) Well, you may want to know that I'm following the symptoms of a severe depression to write this, so...changes like this do happen. Next chapter I think we'll have a nice 3rd person narrator to lead us through it..maybe Carter and Abby will get to comment at certain points...but not during the entire thing. Hope you enjoyed, and review!!! :) :)

*Ariana*