[ER] {Fic} Self-Medication
Self-Medication
Carter's drug dependency isn't a secret.
Benton/Carter | R-rating | Un-beta'd | Post season 6, AU 7 | 556 words
You’re not sure when the glances started, when the others began to notice. It must have begun sometime when you were too occupied to pay much attention to anything else. You had been busy of late; obsessive, fixated. They may have even picked up on it straight away, but even then you were so hooked and reeled in that you probably wouldn’t have noticed a bomb going off in the ER unless it directly influenced you and the object of your mania.
The point is, that when you finally did notice their stares and their interest, their gazes flying across the ER between the two of you and their expressions of bemusement, it was too late to attempt to cover it up. Sharp doctors’ eyes, sharp nurses tongues, sharp instruments of emotional torture, and there you are, hiding in the closed-off east wing during your break to avoid the questions that you were sure they were going to drop on you as soon as they got you alone.
The last time any of the staff had cornered you had been traumatising enough. Violating and embarrassing, and humiliating because you had lied and stolen and they looked so eager to help and guilty for not stopping you. You were so messed up, muddled with pain and drugs and post traumatic stress that had gone undiagnosed even though you and everybody else knew what it was you were suffering from. Only Benton coming after you kept you from walking out on the best thing in your life; that ridiculous strength of his that he tended to down play overwhelming you so suddenly that in that moment of emotional torture you would have done anything that he asked of you. “Go to rehab, Carter,” he said. You went. How could you not?
Things were better now. You still shudder inside at the idea of needles in your hand, and the staff kept a closer eye on you for the first month or so since you had been back, but the hunger for the taste of the drugs doesn’t have claws anymore, and it has long since stopped scrabbling impotently at your arms. You have a new drug now; a warm, dark addiction that sates you more completely than anything else you have ever encountered. It grips you tight when things slow down, stirs a hunger in you that can’t be beaten by food or anything found in the supply cupboards. This drug doesn’t come with a warning label, though you think one might come in handy sometimes, and neither does it come in a clear bottle with a ridiculously long name. This drug that has you wrapped in knots around yourself and itself comes long and hard in your hand, or in your mouth, or in your ass when the both of you aren’t too tired from your latest shifts.
Benton is a drug that won't kill you with an overdose. He won't kill you if you depend on him too much, and he won't kill you if you depend on him too little. You could even survive without him for a while, though God knows you wouldn't relish the attempt. No, Benton is a drug that could never kill you. You're stronger now, he helped make you that way.
Benton is a drug that makes you live.
A/N: This ficlet was written YEARS ago, btw. Only just found the thing this morning.
Carter's drug dependency isn't a secret.
Benton/Carter | R-rating | Un-beta'd | Post season 6, AU 7 | 556 words
You’re not sure when the glances started, when the others began to notice. It must have begun sometime when you were too occupied to pay much attention to anything else. You had been busy of late; obsessive, fixated. They may have even picked up on it straight away, but even then you were so hooked and reeled in that you probably wouldn’t have noticed a bomb going off in the ER unless it directly influenced you and the object of your mania.
The point is, that when you finally did notice their stares and their interest, their gazes flying across the ER between the two of you and their expressions of bemusement, it was too late to attempt to cover it up. Sharp doctors’ eyes, sharp nurses tongues, sharp instruments of emotional torture, and there you are, hiding in the closed-off east wing during your break to avoid the questions that you were sure they were going to drop on you as soon as they got you alone.
The last time any of the staff had cornered you had been traumatising enough. Violating and embarrassing, and humiliating because you had lied and stolen and they looked so eager to help and guilty for not stopping you. You were so messed up, muddled with pain and drugs and post traumatic stress that had gone undiagnosed even though you and everybody else knew what it was you were suffering from. Only Benton coming after you kept you from walking out on the best thing in your life; that ridiculous strength of his that he tended to down play overwhelming you so suddenly that in that moment of emotional torture you would have done anything that he asked of you. “Go to rehab, Carter,” he said. You went. How could you not?
Things were better now. You still shudder inside at the idea of needles in your hand, and the staff kept a closer eye on you for the first month or so since you had been back, but the hunger for the taste of the drugs doesn’t have claws anymore, and it has long since stopped scrabbling impotently at your arms. You have a new drug now; a warm, dark addiction that sates you more completely than anything else you have ever encountered. It grips you tight when things slow down, stirs a hunger in you that can’t be beaten by food or anything found in the supply cupboards. This drug doesn’t come with a warning label, though you think one might come in handy sometimes, and neither does it come in a clear bottle with a ridiculously long name. This drug that has you wrapped in knots around yourself and itself comes long and hard in your hand, or in your mouth, or in your ass when the both of you aren’t too tired from your latest shifts.
Benton is a drug that won't kill you with an overdose. He won't kill you if you depend on him too much, and he won't kill you if you depend on him too little. You could even survive without him for a while, though God knows you wouldn't relish the attempt. No, Benton is a drug that could never kill you. You're stronger now, he helped make you that way.
Benton is a drug that makes you live.
A/N: This ficlet was written YEARS ago, btw. Only just found the thing this morning.