Peter straightened his tie in the mirror, watching Carter move gingerly about the room behind him looking for a pair of socks. It had been a couple of weeks since his surgery and while he wasn't using a cane any longer, he was still limping slightly.
"Did you check the drawer?" Peter asked, not bothering to hide his amusement with the younger man.
"Drawer, right," Carter replied off-handedly, obviously distracted.
Peter frowned in the mirror until he saw Carter hold up a pair of black socks triumphantly.
"Why didn't I think to look there?"
"Because you're too busy trying to dig a whole to China by pacing?" Peter shot back, finishing with his tie and turning to straighten out Carter's collar. "Now stop."
John dropped onto the bed to put on his socks, wincing as he landed just slightly too hard and jarred his lower back.
"Be careful," Peter reminded him, putting the finishing touches on collar and stepping away from his lover. "And stop worrying so much."
"I can't help it," Carter whined, "Everyone is going to be there judging me."
"No one is going to be judging you," Peter tried to assure him. "We're all there to celebrate with you. You've done fifteen years of great work as a doctor, and because of that you can't work in that field any longer, but instead of walking away you continue to donate a great deal of time and money to the medical field, and you're dedicating a new wing in the hospital today. Everyone is going to be there to celebrate you and your accomplishments."
"Is that really how you see it?" Carter looked up at him with wide eyes, a look Peter had learned over the years that meant Carter doubted himself and was obviously in need of affirmation.
Peter knelt in front of his protégé, settling himself between Carter's knees and resting his hands on his thighs, kissing him lightly before pulling back to look straight into his eyes. "That's exactly what it is," he replied with sincerity, willing Carter to understand that.
"But I failed," Carter tried to reason with him, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "I can't practice medicine anymore. All I can do is take over my Gamma's foundation. I've failed at the only thing I ever wanted to do."
"Carter," Peter replied softly, moving his right hand to his lover's face in a gentle caress. "John, how many patients did you see since you came back to County?"
"I don't know," Carter replied, confused, "Why does it matter?"
"How many patients did you see in the four years you spent in Africa? How many in the eleven years you were at County before that?" Peter tried to make Carter see his point, but he was obviously only confusing the man further.
"I don't know," Carter answered honestly, growing frustrated and confused.
"Hundreds?" Peter asked, catching and holding Carter's gaze. "Thousands? Tens of thousands? And you're going to sit there and tell me that you failed?"
Realization began to dawn in his eyes, though it was still veiled by self-doubt.
"What about that little girl? The one who lost both her parents and her brother in the fire? The one who died on the table, but you kept trying to bring her back even after we had all stopped and told you it was a lost cause? The one that you brought back because you knew it wasn't time for her to go? You're going to tell me that you failed her?" Peter tried to make him see, make him understand the truth.
"No," Carter replied quietly.
"What about the thousands of kids in Africa? Did you fail them? How many doctors are unwilling to go to Africa, and you went into the war zones without hesitation. Did you fail there, too?"
"No," Carter replied, his voice stronger, more confident.
"Carter, you did not fail as a doctor. You are one of the best doctors I've ever had the privilege to work with, and by far the most dedicated, and that dedication is what forced your retirement. You stayed there, helping others while your health deteriorated. You helped them as long as you could because you knew that when you left you'd never be able to go back. And when you got back to Chicago, you kept treating patients because it was what you were meant to do, even when you were receiving treatment yourself. Tell me, how many other doctors would do that?" Peter held Carter's gaze, his eyes filled with determination and honesty.
"Not many," Carter admitted finally, breaking the eye contact to look down at where Peter's hand was resting on his thigh. He covered it with his own hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Carter," Peter whispered softly, "John, you still doubt yourself too much." Louder, stronger, he continued, "You are the epitome of success, you had your dream and you went after it, even against your family's wishes, you became a doctor and helped save countless numbers of people, you fought your way through problems and heartbreak and physical pain to become who you are today. You can't honestly tell me that you're a failure."
"You're right," Carter agreed after a few minutes of contemplation. "I've done everything I could as a doctor, and now it's time for me to move into the next stage of my life. That isn't failure, it's growing up."
"Good job," Peter smiled up at his protégé who had surpassed his skill long ago, "Good job."
With a responding smile, Carter kissed him, pouring his thanks and gratefulness into the kiss rather than into words.
Pulling back for air, Peter smiled. He got the message loud and clear.
"We should go, otherwise we're going to be late," John said after a moment of just smiling with a dumb look on his face. "We still have to pick up Reese."