You knew the signs. Hell, you were trained to spot them. You just never expected to see the signs in your own fiancé.

John Carter was many things. A brilliant man, first and foremost. Loving and caring to a fault. But troubled. Deeply, deeply troubled. And after his near-death stabbing almost a year ago, the troubles were always bubbling close to the surface. Always waiting for a tipping point.

You live with him, so you saw those early signs. The little trembles in his hand when it had been a few hours since his last dose of prescription painkillers. The signs of withdrawal that indicated use beyond his prescription. So, you counted the pills. Crossed records. All because you didn’t want to believe that your fiance—your sweet Carter—was an addict.

He was. And you knew all along, deep down, but now it was fact. Carter was a painkiller addict.

You tried to talk to him about it, you really did, but each conversation was the same. He swore it was just the prescription. No more, no less. Everything else was circumstance. He wasn’t an addict; he was a doctor! Doctors couldn’t possibly be addicts.

The intervention was inevitable. In fact, you were the one to stage it.

Carter walked into the drab, beige staff room in County General’s ER department. His eyes scanned the room. Benton, Greene, Deb, you…

Carter scoffed, chuckling humorlessly and heading for the door. “Oh, god,” he groaned, “give me a break.”

Greene stopped him by verbal cue alone, his authority still holding weight in Carter’s heart. “Carter,” he commanded, “just listen.”

Carter turned, scowling as he faced the crowd. The door shut behind him.

And then, his eyes locked onto you. Something in him froze.

After a breath, you look to him. To your love. Your fiance. The man you want a future with.

“My car is in the parking lot,” you relay to him, calmly as you can. “We have a ticket for Atlanta. There- there’s a…rehab center there. It specializes in- in treating doctors with addictions.”

Carter rolls his eyes. “I told you,” he says, aimed at you, “I am on painkillers for my back. But I am functioning.”

You don’t buy it.