Title: Lose The Time


Author: Whoser-Chick


Summary: Will Carter's wounds ever heal? Eventually a Carby story.


Rating: R – for some rough language and drug use (this rating is for the overall story, not each chapter separately).


Disclaimer: The ER series and its characters belong to Constant C Productions and Warner Brothers. The plot of this story, however, is mine all mine! This story may not be redistributed in any way without the express consent of the author. No infringement is intended.

Authors Notes: There seems to be a little confusion on whether the rest of this story is based on spoilers or not; it's not. Only the first chapter was based on spoilers. The rest of the chapters are from my own imagination. The spoilers I read were the inspiration for this story, however. I've only read spoilers for the first two episodes of season 11, so I have no clue what is actually going to happen after those two episodes.

I'd like to thank my beta readers: Beth and Chrissy. Thanks for all your invaluable input. I couldn't have done it without you guys!

Chapter 2

Carter's POV

The next morning I woke up with the hangover from hell. It'd been a long time since I had drank anything and the alcohol had hit me really hard. Although it didn't help that I had actually drank a hell of a lot of it as well.

I tried to sit up in bed, but my head protested because it was swimming and my stomach was threatening to empty the contents of my dinner from the previous evening. This was a horrible feeling and I just wanted it to go away. I hated the feeling of being hungover. I very slowly got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom where I kept my aspirin. I opened up the medicine cabinet and extracted the bottle, taking three little pills from it. I replaced the bottle of aspirin back in the medicine cabinet and closed it. My next step was the kitchen where I could get some water.

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After getting the water and taking the aspirin I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. My head was throbbing like someone was pounding a sledgehammer into it and it was still swimming. Everything was swaying back and forth, yet nothing was actually moving. I groaned and was thankful today was my day off. If I'd had to go to work in this condition it wouldn't have been good. The only good feeling I had this morning was one of having gotten some sleep. And I wasn't thinking of Kem and the baby...until now of course. I had slept a good nine hours with no interruptions and no horrible nightmares.

I decided I'd spend the day getting my jeep fixed and catching up on things that needed to be done. By the end of the day I felt like I had accomplished a lot. Actually these days, just making it through the day was an accomplishment in itself. My jeep was fixed...for the time being, and I had been able to catch up on a lot. It was now 1AM and I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep again. My shift didn't start until noon tomorrow, but I wanted to get another good night's sleep. Tonight didn't seem like last night though; sleep wasn't coming willingly. I was lying in bed completely wide-awake. It had felt so good to sleep last night, why couldn't it be like that tonight? And of course I was back to thinking about Kem and the baby. The bed I was in felt so empty without her here. It was amazing how much I could miss someone. And it was amazing how much I could love and miss a baby I'd never even gotten to know. But it had been my baby and I guess that made all the difference. It was also amazing that Kem and I had only been together a little over ten months and yet it felt like I had known her forever and that we'd been together for years. I'd dated other women longer than Kem, like Abby for instance, yet this breakup felt like it was the worst of my life. I'm not sure why that was.

The rest of the night I tossed and turned and had nightmares about Kem and the baby.

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The next morning I got up at about 10AM after having only really slept for a couple of hours once more. This was going to have to stop and I was going to have to find a way to make it stop. I needed sleep and I needed to forget as well. Remembering was what was killing me and I couldn't keep going on this way. I was becoming a wreck physically, and emotionally I was almost dead inside.

I worked my normal twelve-hour shift: noon to midnight. It was a normal shift with normal things happening; traumas including MVAs, a stabbing and many more things. It was very rare in emergency medicine for any of us to get off work at the times we were supposed to; but tonight I was lucky because we weren't very busy and I was able leave on time. As exhausted as I was, I wasn't in the mood to go home quite yet. I almost thought about sleeping at the ER tonight because I'd probably get more sleep there than at home. I used to be able to go to Gamma's house when I was having trouble sleeping in the past. There I could fall asleep almost immediately, but now that she was gone and I'd donated the house for use in medical research, that was out of the question.

The thought of going home was quite unappealing. Nobody else was getting off work right now that I could get coffee with and it was too late to call anyone. I didn't know where to go, so I just began walking. Walking and thinking about everything, letting my feet guide me without really even paying attention. I wasn't really surprised to see where I'd ended up. I was back at the little dive bar down the street from the ER again. I made my way inside and to a bar stool, standing there indecisively for a moment before sitting down. At first I just ordered a coke because I had promised myself I wouldn't do this again. I had slipped the other day and that was it; a slip. If I drank now, it would be more than a slip. But after drinking the other night, I could actually sleep; I was actually able to forget about Kem and the baby for a while. It had felt so good...just one more time and then I'd find another more productive way of forgetting and sleeping. Maybe I'd even go to therapy because as stubborn as I was, Lord knew I needed to talk to someone about all of this and maybe, just maybe, a therapist was the right person. Maybe I'd even call my AA sponsor and start going back to meetings on a regular basis. Yeah, that's what I'd do...starting tomorrow. But tonight was tonight and I was going to get very drunk so I could sleep and forget for a while. Tonight was the last time though...I promised myself.

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The next day was the hangover from hell again. I wondered why I had decided to put myself through this again. Unfortunately today I did have to work, albeit not until 4pm. I loved my job, but working so many varied hours screwed up my already less than perfect sleep schedule. I figured I'd spend the day getting over my hangover, which is exactly what I did and by the time I went into work I was feeling better. And of course I had gotten a good night's sleep, although it had been an alcohol induced sleep, which of course was different than regular sleep, but at least I felt more rested. Of course I felt horrible as well due to the hangover, but drinking had helped me sleep and had kept the nightmares at bay.

I was going to try and find an herbal supplement that was non-habit forming that maybe would help me sleep at night.

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After work I went to a 24 hour Savon and found something called Valerian Root, which was an herbal supplement that supposedly worked as well as sleeping pills. I hoped it would help. I also picked up a pack of Sleepy Time Tea. It couldn't hurt to have more than one herbal sleeping supplement around the house.

As I wandered through the store I came upon the alcohol section. I froze and found myself standing in front of the beer and wanting to buy a six-pack to take home with me. The way it made me forget, and sleep...my hand actually started to reach out for it.

'No!' I thought, 'I already have my sleeping aids with me right here. I don't need the alcohol.'

My hand found its way back to my side and I stood there and stared at the beer for a minute more. I turned around and walked away, paying for my things quickly in order to avoid the temptation that had become so great. When had this whole thing become about alcohol? It was about Kem and the baby leaving me, not alcohol. How had I suddenly come to rely on it? This wasn't a good sign and I knew it. Things had to change; I had to get my life back on track.

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It turned out that the Valerian Root and Sleepy Time Tea didn't really help me all that much. It made me a bit drowsy, but not enough to keep my mind from whirling around thoughts of Kem and the baby when I was trying to sleep. So here I was, two nights of taking this stuff, only to still get just a few hours of sleep at night.

I ached to call Kem in Africa and I was sure I could reach her somehow. As I was lying in bed, my hand reached out for the phone. If I called her, I could hear her voice that I loved so much. And maybe if I called her, I could convince her to come back to me, convince her that I needed her and wanted to have another baby with her. But what if she rejected me again? Would I ever be able to live with that? Would I ever be able to get over it? Probably not. And most likely I wouldn't be able to draw her away from her work in Africa. Her work that was her life, her work that she probably loved more than she did me.

I scrubbed a tired hand over my face and sighed. This was getting old; I was getting so sick of only being able to think of Kem and the baby. This was just ludicrous. I had other things in my life and I needed to start getting back into my old routine. And I needed to sleep. Sleep deprivation was a serious thing and I knew that, it was unhealthy. I never touched things like over-the-counter sleeping pills anymore, but maybe I'd have to. Or maybe just some Tylenol PM, which would be less addictive than sleeping pills. I needed something though, because if I didn't start getting some sleep soon, it was going to kill me. Once again, the last thought I had before falling into a restless sleep was that alcohol was the one thing that could make me sleep and keep the nightmares at bay.

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I woke up the next morning even more tired than I'd been in the past. And I'd been tired in the past. I supposed all this not sleeping was finally catching up to me. I was bound and determined to change my dreary outlook on life though, no matter what state of mind I was in. So therefore I made an effort to be happy and positive. If I was happy and positive on the outside, maybe I'd eventually feel that on the inside as well.

My plan today was to call my AA sponsor and set up an appointment, and to be honest about what was going on. I also decided to look into seeing a therapist and as we had many at County, I was pretty sure I'd be able to find one I liked. I had to work today and so all of this was going to have to be taken care of at County. I quickly got ready and headed out the door for work.

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Once I was there, I put on my happy face. I smiled at everyone and pretended like everything was okay and that I was happy. I didn't say anything negative and was only positive. Even though I wasn't feeling it on the inside, it still felt better to pretend like everything was okay than to have my dreary attitude.

Everyone seemed to be happy that I was back to myself; that is everyone except for Abby. I saw the looks she gave me all day because she was concerned and she was the one person who knew me well enough to see through my facade. We rarely ever talked about Kem and the baby and we really only made small talk these days. We were still good friends, but our lives were in two different places now. She had just become a doctor and was getting her life back on track, while mine was falling apart. Sometimes it drove me crazy when she'd give me those looks and I wanted to wipe them right off of her face. I knew she meant well though; it was because she still cared that she was concerned.

I was in the lounge and it was my break time. I was on the phone with my AA sponsor setting up a meeting to see him.

"Tonight? Sure," I said in response to his asking me about a good time for us to get together. We were discussing where we'd meet when Abby walked in. I tried to keep my side of the conversation at a minimum, because for some reason I didn't want her to know I was seeing my AA sponsor, but I wasn't quite sure why. I supposed it was because she'd know I'd slipped again.

She went about her business as I ended my conversation. When I was off the phone, she spoke immediately.

"Hey," she said, and I heard the tentativeness in her voice. It wasn't so great to have someone at work that knew me so well I was finding out.

"Hey," I tossed back cheerfully, making sure I was smiling.

"Making an appointment to see your sponsor, huh?" she asked bluntly, staring at me intensely, with her eyes seeming to bore a hole into mine. She was standing in front of the table I was sitting at.

What was it with her? How could she know these things?

"What, you have ESP or something?" I asked, remembering a time when I had asked her that same exact question, but the tables were turned now. She had been drunk and I had been trying to get her to go to a meeting then.

"I believe you've asked me that question before," she said smiling, obviously remembering that conversation as well. She paused and then began again. "I've made that appointment before...I know what it's like," she ended. She was wearing her lab coat that said, 'Dr. Lockhart.' I was very proud of her.

"Yeah, right," I said flippantly, dropping my hands lazily onto the table in front of me. She pulled out a chair and sat down directly across from me.

'Here we go,' I thought.

"You know I'm here for you, right? Regardless of our history, I'm still your friend and I still care about you," she said, her eyes reflecting her care and concern for me.

"I know, thanks and I'm fine," I said, with a plastered fake smile on my face. "I'm finally beginning to feel like myself again." God, the words sounded fake even to my own ears. I knew there was no way in hell that Abby would believe me if I couldn't even believe myself. And I was right; she gave me a very skeptical look. She knew me well, probably better than anyone here at the ER. Her look was making me uncomfortable and I could feel myself squirming in my chair. I really didn't want to have this conversation when I was trying to convince everyone that I was all right.

"Look, I have to get back to work, my break is over," I said standing up. I smiled and started walking in the direction of the door.

"Carter," she said, frustration evident in her voice.

I turned around and said, "I have to go. I'm fine and thanks for your concern. If I need help, I promise I'll come to you, okay?" I said looking her directly in the eyes trying to drive my point home. I turned around and quickly made my way out of the lounge before she could say anything else. I felt her eyes boring into my back as I walked out the door, but I kept on walking.

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My talk with my sponsor had gone relatively well and I admitted to him that I was drinking and why. He realized I was going through a really tough time and told me that that was the hardest time for an addict. He gave me some tips on how to deal with my cravings for alcohol and also told me that I could call him anytime day or night.

Even though the meeting had gone relatively well, it still didn't seem to help in my craving of alcohol. After the meeting I was exhausted and went home, hoping I'd be able to fall right to sleep. Of course as had been par for the course lately I wasn't able to get to sleep. I ended up deciding to take a late night stroll. I knew it was cold, but I still figured maybe it would help. I got out of bed, got dressed, grabbed my coat, keys and wallet and walked out the door into the chilly night air.

For a long while I just wandered around my neighborhood going nowhere in particular, just walking and thinking. Before long I found myself out on one of the main roads in Chicago. And when I saw a taxi cab a few minutes later, my hand automatically went up to hail it. I wasn't even sure why I'd done it, or where I wanted to go.

When the cab driver asked me for an address, I was silent for a few minutes, wondering why the hell I'd even gotten into the cab if I had no idea where I wanted to go.

"Hey, buddy, tell me where you want to go, or get the hell out," the cab driver said gruffly. I finally rattled off an address and off we went.

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I sat down on the bar stool with certainty this time and ordered a rum and coke without even thinking twice about it. Subconsciously, I knew that when I had gotten out of bed for my late night stroll, that I would end up here. I guess this was my plan all along. One would think after having just seen my AA sponsor that this would be the last place I would go to, but somehow I ended up here. I wasn't doing this every night though and contrary to what people would think if they knew, I had it under control. I wasn't letting it affect my work and I only did it at night when I couldn't sleep. And alcohol was the only drug I was "taking." I wasn't back to stealing drugs at work again. As Abby had told me last year, I had this under control and I was okay.

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Over the next few weeks I found myself at the little dive bar at least three to four times a week. And of course I could sleep on the nights I had gone there. I'd fall right into an alcohol-induced sleep and wouldn't have any nightmares. On the nights I'd decide not to go to the bar, I'd still have a hard time sleeping. And even though the nightmares didn't come all the time anymore, they came frequently enough to still cause me distress.

I was keeping my cheery and positive attitude up at work and most people were beginning to believe my wounds were actually healing. In a way, I was beginning to feel like my wounds were healing as well, at least on the outside. And I couldn't lie. The alcohol was helping.

Days and nights blurred into each other as my life became work and the bar mostly. Sometimes Luka and I would go grab a bite to eat after our shifts. And that was the only time I would really open up and reveal that my happy-go-lucky attitude was all a farce and that really I was as depressed as ever, missing Kem and the baby more with each passing day. Luka was the only one I could really open up to but I didn't even tell him that I was drinking. That was my little secret.

Time was not healing this wound and I found myself drinking more and more to forget. I still had it under control though. I was not in denial as some people might have said if I had told them the truth. It still wasn't affecting work and I'd never let it get that far, like before; that I promised myself.