AN: Okay, here's the next chapter of this fic. I can't tell if people are reading or not because I haven't gotten many reviews. Maybe it's too dark for you guys? But it is going to lighten up, and it will become Carby, I promise!! Also, some flash backs will come a little later. You will learn chapter by chapter how these two got involved again. You aren't supposed to know the whole story just yet; let it unfold. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing my fics!


I wake in the morning and stretch my legs out to the side of the bed that is usually empty. I let them glide underneath the sheets, feeling around a territory that is unknown to my body as I usually stay so contently on one side. For a good while that side of the bed was taken; it was occupied almost every night by a warm body, my ex, my coworker; well I guess I could call him a friend. It's weird to think that that side of the bed was occupied for a while last night and its even weirder how strange it already feels that it is once again empty. But then again, it almost feels normal, to have him here for a while and then for him to be suddenly gone.

I'm afraid that I have gotten used to it, him coming over late at night and crawling into my bed and then leaving shortly after we have made love. I'm not even sure you could call it that. Technically, I wouldn't say we're making love all those nights that he sneaks into my bedroom. It's sex, that's it. We have sex and then he leaves. We use each other to feel good, and then we go our separate ways. And then the next day we pretend that it didn't happen, and then I'll see him again that night at my door.

For him I think that our sexual encounters are an escape, a way to get away from the darkness in his life, a way for him to continue to deny that he's hit a rough patch. It's a way for him to feel good without feeling emotional, a release that makes his body feel good because his heart is so wounded. For me, it's the feeling, the way that he knows my body so well; the fulfillment that I somehow think that only he can give me. It's having sex with someone I'm comfortable with, someone that I know physically and mentally. And it's sex, just sex. We're good at it together, we always were.

It's a different experience now than it used to be though. When we were in a committed relationship it was tender and loving, never rushed and always exciting. Now, it's hard and blank and animal like. We attack each other and drown into one another, no talking, no cuddling, no staring into each others eyes. He touches me differently, even the way he glides his hands over my body seems less intimate. We have sex and lay silently in recovery, before he gets up and leaves in a haste.

It's still quite odd that our relationship has turned to this. Years ago we were the best of friends, then lovers, and now screw buddies. We meet at night to use each other, and I still can't believe that we go through with it. Every time we do it the same thing happens, we both know the drill by now. We feel regret, I see it in his face the way he looks at me sometimes. He wants me to know that he's sorry. He's sorry for using me, for the disrespect, the disrespect we have for each other and for ourselves. We're sorry for what this relationship has turned out to consist of.

I find it strange that after so long apart I can still see down to his soul, I can still tell that deep down he cares about me, and I know he can see it in my face too. It rises to the surface, now and again, a hint that tells me that he still cares, a look in his eyes when were having sex, or the way that he'll forget for a moment and touch me like he used to. And soon after I can see the regret in his eyes, a trigger that he has just told himself that he shouldn't touch me that way, he shouldn't kiss me the way that he did before, it's too intimate.

I walk into the hospital at half past seven, tired and a bit cranky from my lack of sleep last night. I shove my stuff into my locker and grab my lab coat out, throwing my stethoscope over my shoulders. I walk out of the room and right by Carter, smiling a friendly hello as I pass him on my way to my first patient. We are past the point of avoidance by now and we have both have accepted that this is how it's going to be. When we first started sleeping together it was awkward when we would see each other the next day at work. Now it's normal, we don't hide from one another but we don't seek each other out either. It's this thing that we do when we're not at work, we sleep together and no one knows about it, no one even suspects it and neither one of us would give it away. We don't pull each other into empty exam rooms and make out secretly; we don't meet for lunch and walk along the river holding hands. There is no passion and no sweet embraces; we don't enjoy the same things that a relationship offers, at work, or in our homes for that matter.

My shift is a long one today and it has proven so far to be quite boring. It's friday and it's usually pretty busy the day before the weekend, but today is almost painfully slow. I walk out into the ambulance bay, wrapping my coat tightly around my body and inhaling the cool, crisp air. I notice Carter sitting on the bench outside and for a minute I contemplate going over and sitting down next to him. After all, a little conversation could never hurt. We haven't been talking so much lately, well really, ever since we started sleeping together. It seems that all we can do right together is have sex, everything else has faded away. For one hour, a couple nights a week we are close, the rest of the week we are strangers that smile in passing or occassionally we'll work together with a patient. It's odd, really, I think about how you could define our relationship all the time. There are so many instances in my head that I use to figure us out. If there was a crisis at the hospital and the place was in flames, would he call my name and find me? If he was playing hero and had to chose one person to save, would it be me? I simply don't know.

I hate how we are now, its meaningless, the way we use each other and leave; it isn't right. This wasn't the direction that our relationship was supposed to take. Our friendship used to mean more to us than sex, now it's sex that has taken the place of a friendship. I could sleep with anyone and ignore them the next day, why does it have to be someone that I care about. How did John Carter end up being this person in my life?

I walk up to him slowly, giving him a look that asks if it's okay that I sit down. He smiles, almost embarrassed, his way of saying, 'of course, I wont bite'. Its not that I'm afraid of him, it's just awkward to hang out with him, to talk to him and ask him how he is when I see him almost every night. I take a seat, crossing my legs, lifting my coffee cup up to my lips.

"How are you?" He asks me before I can ask him, as I sip the bitter liquid. I look up at him and smile and we both role our eyes, sharing a little laugh with each other at our stupid situation.

"Okay . . . How are you?"

"Gettin' there" He shakes his head as I suddenly start to remember how this all happened. It was him that came to me, he was the one that reached out. He was depressed and hanging by a thin thread after Kem left. I know that's where his answer came from. He's 'gettin' there', he's starting to feel better about being alone, the memory of her starting to fade from something that was so present to something that's completely unreachable. He's starting to accept the idea of being without her.

I look up at him and smile warmly, wanting him to see the side of me that could be more than just sex. I want him to know that we could still turn this around, there are other ways for me to comfort him that don't involve sexual pleasure. I just hope that we haven't completely destroyed any chance of that happening.

I wonder when he'll embrace his loneliness. I wonder when he'll stop coming to me for the little pleasure that lets him forget all the pain he feels. And I wonder how I'll feel when that time has come. . .