Here is the last half. I wrote this story a while ago, but a friend of mine told me to post it here. I have others, and will try to post more sometime over the weekend. Thank you for all of your comments. I know this was long, I like a good read, though! Next time after learning how to use this system I'll break it down into small chapters.
Lessons Learned
By Kristen
Thanks to Jackie for all of her editing and to Debbie for her medical help.
His eyes burned. That was the sensation that kept him from drowning in a million twisted thoughts of his own creation. He rubbed at them in his sleep, looking for some form of relief, and retained absolutely no comfort. The haze of the smoke in his dream was engulfing him as he ran down a hallway that never ended. His hand remained wrapped around a smaller, elderly one and he, and Mrs. Cobb navigated blinded through the corridor of dense smoke that was choking them both. As they dodged falling debris and wrestled with declining air, Carter glanced behind his shoulder to see the flames chasing them down unmercifully, but when he looked back to see if Mrs. Cobb was all right, he ended up staring into the frightened face of Lucy Knight.
"Do you know the way out?" She asked.
"Lucy?" Carter asked in a quivering voice, confused and full of sadness.
"We have to get away, Dr. Carter." She implored.
Feelings of paranoia swept through his mind as they valiantly maneuvered through the burning building. He kept a tight grip on Lucy's hand so he wouldn't get lost in the confusion of chaos. But, his eyes burned and the hallway began to spin, he felt Lucy's hand slip from his grasp and Carter stumbled forward as his disorientation grew from the oxygen deprivation.
He looked back over his shoulder at the flames and saw Paul Sobrieki behind him with the butcher knife. Carter screamed as he tried to escape from the man hidden within the shadows and dust clouds. He began to suffocate on the fumes, and could not keep on his feet. He tripped over something and crashed to the floor. Too overcome to bring get to his feet, he dragged himself along the floor to the object that had caused him to fall. Beside him lay Mrs. Cobb and Lucy, helpless on the floor and both dying before his eyes."
As he pulled his body along the floor he touched Mrs. Cobb's lifeless face. He wrung his hand through her long silver hair as he heard Paul creep up behind him.
"There's nothing you can do to redeem yourself, Dr. Carter." A voice said.
Carter looked up at the face peering down at him and saw that it was Dr. Logan with the butcher knife in his hand.
Instead of plunging the blade into his back, Dr. Logan simply laughed at him. His cackling filled the hallway and overcame the thunderous noise of the roof collapsing overhead.
"You're not going to get away with this!" Carter screamed through the black smoke.
Carter bolted up in bed and soon regretted the action. He gritted his teeth as the pain engulfed his left side. He scrunched up his burning eyes and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. After taking a second to compose himself, he turned his head to see Luka watching him.
"You okay now?" The doctor asked.
Carter laughed under his mask at the rhetorical question. He fitfully rubbed his dry eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Luka felt foolish for asking such a naïve thing, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He recognized the signs of a nightmare and wanted to console the young man if he wanted him to. Noticing his discomfort, Luka searched the contents of his lab coat and pulled out a bottle of eye drops.
"Thought you might be needing these." He said, handing them to Carter.
Carter took them gratefully and answered, "Thanks" as he squeezed the medicine into the source of agitation.
"What to talk about it?" Luka asked sincerely.
"Not really", Carter replied. He took a second to take stock in his current situation.
He was still in the ICU, he was still struggling to breathe at a normal level and he was in the mists of carrying out the craziest thing He had ever done. 'Well not as crazy as going into a burning building,' he mused. He looked back at the Croatian doctor and realized he had never taken the time to thank the man for helping him out of the fiery hellhole and for his actions in the ER.
He slid his mask down to the dismay of the doctor and took a second to collect his voice. "I never properly thanked you for all that you did." Carter told him quietly.
"I did what was needed to be done." Luka replied calmly. Seeing that his answer did not sit well with the man in the bed, Luka decided to elaborate.
He shifted slightly in his chair and looked at the wall before setting his gaze at his colleague.
"I hate fires. Back home, I encountered many blazing businesses, and homes like it was a normal routine. Bombings, shelling, vandals. As the months passed, so did many of the oldest parts of Croatia. My favorite bridge, which had withstood the damage of World War II, does not exist anymore."
Luka stood and leaned his weight on the railing of Carter's bed. "Sometimes one side would start a fire on their own people and then blame it on the enemy to fuel the desire for revenge and death. I tried to save a young girl trapped in a floor above me when I worked in triage and was sent into the field. I didn't save her in time." Luka's grip on the bedrail tightened as he relived the memory.
"Later, I found out it was her neighbor who had set a kerosene bomb in the basement so that he could gain support from the local militia during one the countless peace talks. The fighting began the next day." Luka turned his impassive face to Carter, holding back the depths of sadness and fury that were barely beneath the surface. "No one was ever held accountable for all the countless lives that were lost."
Carter withdrew the mask one more time and stared intently at Luka. "Then help me get out of this room so I can make sure that that someone else doesn't escape prosecution." Carter implored and took another shaky breath.
Luka shook himself from his memory and absorbed Carter' request. "Out of the ICU?" Luka asked with dismay. "You've only been in here for two days."
Carter nodded his head negatively. "I'm out of danger."
"Your stats haven't climbed above 93." Luka challenged.
"My vitals are stable." Carter spoke under the oxygen.
"You're on oxygen, a foley, and we are monitoring your inputs and outputs for a Benzene level." Luka retorted.
Carter slipped the mask down once more. "All of that can done in a normal room.," he argued.
Luka slipped the mask back on and gave Carter a warning stare. Carter ran his hand through his hair wondering if Peter had taught the Luka the unapproving stare of gloom. Not wanting to continue the argument, Carter eyed the brown paper bag with curiosity that was lying next to Luka's feet. He then looked at the doctor expectantion.
Luka had forgotten about his supplies and pulled out a pair of gray Sweatpants and a hospital robe. He couldn't help but chuckle at how large Carter's eyes got at the sight. "I brought these for you, but the deal is that I help you put them on and you walk over and sit in that chair for another half hour." Luka explained as he pushed the railing down.
Carter nodded excitedly, especially at the prospect of getting out of his hospital gown. He pushed the blanket aside and slowly swung his legs around. Luka stood beside him as he carefully put his weight on both feet and gingerly stood, grabbing Luka's shoulder to steady himself.
Luka, mindful of Carter leaning on him, took out the sweat pants and held them open for him. The younger doctor weakly lifted his left leg up and slid it into pants. He then tightened his grip on Luka's shoulder and the other man grabbed Carter's left elbow as he put all his weight on his weak left leg and inserted his right leg into the pants.
His body trembled, but both legs were on the ground now. Before pulling the sweats up, Luka taped the foley to Carter's leg then pulled the material to the man's waist. Luka wheeled the IV stand after securing the oxygen tank to the bottom the pole as the other man moved slowly towards the chair. He kept his hand on Luka's shoulder and the foreign doctor kept his right hand under Carter's left elbow. Luka noticed how changing into his new attire had tired his friend, but he seemed determined to reach the chair. Gently Luka lowered him into his seat, and Carter breathed heavily into the mask.
"Hmmm, maybe another day before switching rooms, no?" Luka questioned the wheezing patient.
"No!" Carter adamantly replied.
Luka rubbed his chin absently and slowly understood Carter's mood. "You spoke to him, didn't you?" He asked. When Carter looked way, Luka knew his answer. "He wants you to transfer to a more secluded location."
"Its hard to be...secluded in...a hospital." Carter retorted.
Luka shook his head. "I don't like it, and Dr. Benton will never agree with it", he stated.
When he saw the doctor stare at him with a mischievous expression, Luka rolled his eyes and grunted. "No. You can't be serious?"
He watched Carter's eyes gleam and he moaned some more. "You want me to convince him?" Luka unhappily asked
Carter innocently gazed at Luka and nodded.
"Since when did your name change from Dr. Carter to Detective Carter?" Luka asked humorlessly as the subject of their conversation walked into the room.
"Afternoon, Peter." Luka said as the surgeon grabbed Carter's chart and flipped through it. The Croatian exchanged looks with his patient, 'no Peter's patient' he reminded himself.
"Um, Dr. Benton, Dr. Carter would like to be transferred to a regular room." Luka ventured to say.
Peter stole a look with Luka and gave him an expression of bewilderment then one he gave students when they asked if they could perform a procedure.
"Dr. Carter," Peter glanced over at the man in question, "May what a lot of things, but I'm not here to do only what he likes." He responded stonily.
Carter began to remove his mask, but Peter quickly fastened it back on. "Carter, leave that mask on or I'll put a non-breather on you so fast..."
"Dr. Benton, Carter's vitals are stable, the Benzene is almost out of his system. He doesn't require anything from the ICU room that can't be provided in a standard one." Luka explained.
Peter avoided the resident's eye and stared a hole in the man in the chair who nodded in agreement to every one of Luka's points. "Well, that's all good, Dr. Kovac, but I'm in charge of Carter's care and I don't want to transfer him for another day or so.
"Now if you two are done questioning my orders, I'd lie to examine my patient." Peter grumbled.
Tired of being ignored, Cater voiced his opinion through his breathing device. "I don't want to stay in here, Dr. Benton. Give the bed to someone who needs it."
Peter crossed his arms in his usual defiant manner. "Since when were you put in charge of your own care and in the position to question my orders?" Peter asked his voice cold.
"Maybe Carter's right..." Luka began to say.
Peter whirled around. "Dr. Kovac, outside now!" Peter pointed to the door and watched Luka's face transform from annoyance to anger. He glared at the surgeon and stomped out with Benton hot at his heels.
Carter for his part, felt horrible for putting Luka in such a tough spot. He also regretted causing a bit of friction between himself and Peter. He was partially doing this to let his mentor off the hook, and ease the surgeon's guilt about what happened in the ER by putting the person responsible for their nightmare behind bars. The ringing of his cell phone interrupted Carter's ruminations.
It was laying on the right side of the bed and Carter panicked at the thought that Benton might pick up the phone if he heard it. As quickly as his body would allow, Carter stood up on his own. The phone was still ringing as he scrabbled towards the bed, dragging his stubborn left leg.
His body felt weak and Carter wavered to the right as he struggled to remain upright. It was difficult to move at all, but he dragged the IV pole behind him, then simply stretched all the lines as he reached for the gurney. His left leg gave out under his weight when he collapsed onto the bed. He reached out for the railing on the opposite side ignoring screaming muscles. Carter used the metal bar to pull himself over the mattress as the insistent ringing egged him on. He Pulled his mask off then grabbed the cell phone and flipped it open with his right hand.
"Hello." He wheezed.
"I didn't catch you at a bad time did I, Dr. Carter?" Logan's voice asked.
Carter closed his eyes as he rode the protests of his strained back. "Not at all."
"Good. Did you get yourself transferred?"
"I'm about to." Carter wheezed as he realized both his hands were occupied and he couldn't pull his oxygen back on.
"Can't do anything right, Dr. Carter? Well, what you have to say couldn't possibly be that damaging." Logan's voice taunted.
"Too scared to find out?" Carter rasped.
There was a pause.
Fine, if you're not there tomorrow then I'll take my chances," Logan Replied, then hung up.
Carter clicked the phone off and tried to pull himself up, but was too exhausted to do so. He felt his strength ebb away and was afraid he would fall into a heap on the floor. He simply could not get his muscles to work properly and he sagged against the gurney.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As soon as Luka exited room 111, the doctor next to him grabbed his arm to get his attention. Startled by the rough action, Luka pulled back and fixed Peter Benton with the same fiery stare as he was receiving at the moment from the man.
"What the hell were you trying to do back there, Dr, Kovac!" Peter demanded of the doctor.
Peter was more than furious, he was outright steaming mad. It was hard enough to be Carter's primary physician and having to force him to follow his strict orders. He didn't need now to have Luka Kovac to undermining his instructions. Carter was stubborn and it was hard enough to get him to cooperate as it was. Peter wanted the younger man to stay put, under many watchfully eyes, for his own safety. Peter continued to face the other doctor down; disgruntled that he had not received a prompt answer.
Luka rubbed his hand over his jaw. "I don't know what your problem is, Dr. Benton.
He's stable enough to be transferred to a standard room. His blood pressure and heart rate are good and the Benzene is dropping to minimal levels."
Peter shook his head as the other physician spoke to him, not wanting to trust such an optimistic picture.
"Yeah and his pulse ox is till unacceptable and his respirations are far below normal levels."
"All of which can be treated with oxygen and further Abertrol treatments. It does not dictate a stay in the ICU," Luka interrupted.
"What about the fact that he can be monitored closely by a few select people?
In his weakened condition he's going to have to stay here for at least a week until his lungs heal and he's able to have a normal range of mobility," Peter retorted.
Luka understood where Peter was coming from. The staff was wary from what had transpired in the ICU, and despite a heightened state of awareness no one could keep an eye on Carter all the time.
Luka had also played a part in Carter's plan to outwit Logan. He knew despite all the steps that could be taken by the police and the staff at County that there were still two problems.
Logan was allowed to walk away escaping prosecution and he posed a decent threat to Carter unless the young man could do something about it. Luka was apprehensive about Carter's new found idea he was some sort of detective now, but if the police were unable to gather evidence Carter thought it was up to him to get solid proof the man's guilt.
Luka choose his next words carefully. "I really think that Carter can receive a proper level of care in a normal room. There is no medical reason for him to remain in the ICU.
The guards will have to leave today now that the investigation into his doctored chart is on hold till those handwriting experts take a look at things."
Peter was still very unhappy, even if Luka's words did ring true. Carter could be transferred it was just too soon after he had been in such critical condition a few days before. The dreadful memory in the ER was still ingrained in his head, a vivid image that kept him from getting any decent sleep the last two days. As a doctor, he knew that it was a daily occurrence for patients that were so extremely critical one day to be transferred to a normal room mere days later. It was just that this particular patient was not just a name on a chart. Peter was paranoid over the way trouble seemed to be hunting Carter down as of late and he felt that his former student needed some extra looking after.
He made certain promises and assurances and they were now completely out of reach. His word was going to fall short and Peter felt very uneasy at lacking any kind of control over the situation. Peter bit down on his lip and dug his hands into the pockets of his scrubs.
"I think that I know what is best for my patient," Peter said gruffly.
"And I think Carter would appreciate it, if for once, we trusted him." Gaining an unyielding look, Luka continued, "John Carter is a grown man capable of making decisions for himself. If we hover around him, he is just going to push harder to appear normal, no?"
"Dr. Kovac, I am not hovering." Peter's emphasis on his words told Luka how offended the man was over the accusation.
"What do you call it, then?" Luka stabbed back. Sighing. a bit Luka relented.
Inside he was chastising himself. For what he could tell, Peter Benton was acting like someone who was concerned for another, admitting in his own little way a friendship for a colleague and Luka didn't want to ruin such progress.
"Fine." Peter scrunched up his face and look away. "We'll transfer him after one more examination. Once I'm satisfied that he's stable enough then we'll move him."
Peter headed for the door and halted for a moment. "By the way, Dr. Kovac, I've known Carter a little longer then you have. I don't need a lecture concerning what's best for him."
Peter brushed past the other doctor and re-entered Carter's room. When he walked in, he saw the empty chair and a very winded man, half sprawled on a bed, vainly trying to not fall off.
"Carter what the Hell are you doing?"
Peter exclaimed, as he carefully put his hand on Carter's back to keep him from slipping from the gurney while at the same time grabbing a hold of his sweatpants to pull his uncooperative legs onto bed.
Carter settled onto his back, still wheezing slightly from the effort, and trying to ignore Benton's thunderous gaze.
When Carter heard the door open, he quickly stuffed the phone under the blankets, hoping he had not been completely caught. He turned his head, already thinking about what to say to avoid another lecture.
When Peter recognized the signs of another explanation, he cut the man short. "I don't want to hear any excuses right now, Carter. I don't think you could come up with a satisfying reason as to why you decided to return to bed unaided."
Peter did not know what made him more angry, the fact that Carter was disregarding his orders or the fact the man was ignoring his tirade. "Fine, Carter, you want to move to a normal room, try acting like a normal patient.
You're a fine doctor in the ER, but you are under my care now. If you don't want your every step monitored then stop garnering such attention." Peter finished his speech and checked all the machines in the room. After getting satisfactory readings, he walked away, spouting off orders as he retreated. "You can examine him, Dr. Kovac. If you deem him fit for a transfer, then go ahead and arrange it."
Carter watched in disappointment as Peter left the room, leaving him alone with Luka. He swallowed painfully and gazed at the ceiling already knowing how many tiles were there. He had somehow disappointed his mentor and now was going ahead with a plan that was bound to infuriate Benton.
At the same time, Carter could not help thinking this was the only way to put This tragedy behind him, and release Peter from a promise he could not fulfill.
"Carter, you doing all right?" Luka asked, squeezing the younger man's shoulder.
All he got was unconvincing nod. "You couldn't just wait for us to come back?" Luka asked with a hint of unbridled humor.
Carter answered his question by pulling out the phone and looking him in the eyes while adjusting his mask.
"I see. Got a phone call, did you?" Again, Carter remained withdrawn and simply repeated his last gesture.
"So, I guess everything is set up then?" Luka asked tentatively.
"Yeah," Carter rasped under the mask.
"You can still change your mind. I could go get Dr. Benton." Luka tried to reason with him."
"No!" Carter forcibly refused.
Knowing he wouldn't be able to convince him otherwise, Luka wordlessly completed Carter's examination.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Next Day 8:00 am
The transfer had gone smoothly, and now Carter lay in bed, staring up at similar, but still boring, ceiling tiles. This time the oxygen was being administered from behind him and he was still hooked up to an IV and catheter, but he at least had lost the central line. His pulse ox had not improved enough to go on a regular nasal canal, and the annoying mask was still necessary to provide oxygen to his weakened lungs.
Carter ran his hand along his face, noticing with annoyance the stubble that had began to grow. He wished that could shave himself. But after noting how shaky his hands were, he guessed that he had better wait, or let someone else handle the task.
The guilt of keeping Peter in the dark about his scheming was still grating at his thoughts, but he was tired of being manipulated by things that were out of his control, and for once he was going to have a hand in how things played out.
His chest still ached from labored breathing and he once again traced his fingers where two paddles had sent jolt of electrical shock through just three days earlier. His heart had stopped beating, his life had ceased to be, and all of it was returned to him by electric current and drug stimulants.
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the dreadful images that must have been ingrained in the minds of his friends and the old familiar feeling of guilt gnawed away at him.
"No, not again." He muffled through the mask.
"No, not what again, Dr. Carter?" Romano asked, strolling in with an Abertrol treatment in his hands.
"Dr. Romano, what are you doing here?' Carter asked, startled through his mask.
"Dr. Carter, you shouldn't be speaking. I saw you were on this floor and thought I'd personally bring you your breathing treatment. You know, let the therapist take a break," Romano said in his usual falsely cheerful voice.
Carter sat up straight as Romano brought him the device to breathe. He slipped his mask off and sucked on the tube to breath in the fumes that Were designed to heal his lungs even though they made him cough uncontrollably, and in turn, cause him a great deal of pain.
While Carter took on the tedious job, Romano took it upon himself to speak to the doctor while he was unable to respond. "Now, Dr. Carter, I just wanted to let you know we are doing everything within our power to make sure that the investigation doesn't go the way of the Dodo."
Carter weakly nodded as he struggled on the spirameter thatnow was causing his lungs to seize up on him.
"I wanted to let you personally know that I'll be contacting some important people in the D.A's office about how inadequate those detectives have been." Romano paused to make sure the other doctor was listening to him. "I also want you to know that I sent you to Grady to keep an eye on you."
Romano's voice quivered only so slightly. He looked away as he spoke his thoughts. "I'm sorry that I simply did not instruct Kerry to monitor your progress or speak to your doctor about your recovery. That was my lapse. In my need to address some issues from last February, I took it upon myself to personally take part in your struggles, at work and for that I'm sorry."
Romano gazed at Carter intently, his face a chiseled look of seriousness. "And if for some reason that Dr. Logan slips through the cracks of justice, then you can hold be responsible for any of the trauma that you have endured this week."
Silence permutated the room and Carter was too shocked to respond even if he had not been receiving the breathing therapy. He had stopped sucking in the medicine halfway through Romano's speech, too stunned to speak. He opened his mouth to say something, anything but was wracked with coughs from the therapy treatment. He clutched at his chest in the same way he did after every treatment, riding out the streaks of pain that lanced through his body.
"And another thing, I heard it was your bright idea to be moved to a standard room, Dr. Carter. Do me a favor and don't suggest something so stupid again, okay? It's bad enough that Peter is chomping at the bit concerning that bastard, and I don't need him even more grouchy than usual because he's more concerned about your transfer down here than your stay in the ICU."
A repository therapist entered the room, and Romano turned to her, a perfect reflection of his authoritative self.
"Dr. Carter still needs about fifteen more minutes on his treatment. Now, I have some administrative duties to attend to." With that Romano left as quickly as he entered.
Carter was still too surprised to react to the Chief's lecture, let alone his words of apology. He was even more upset that he was causing Dr. Benton more undue tension concerning his room change.
Carter did not have time to ponder the course of events. After his breathing treatment and a half hour bout of coughing, he was once again exhausted, and he fell into a fitful sleep.
Carter never noticed Peter walking in to check his vitals first hand, and to flip through his chart. The surgeon then stood there in the room for a moment, watching Carter's chest rise and fall ever so slowly.
Carter didn't need to see how tired Peter felt, or even know that he was unable to even take a nap because he was always jerked awake by the sound of a cardiac monitor's steady drone of an absent heartbeat. Satisfied that all appeared normal, Peter silently left, with Carter none the wiser, just like Peter wanted.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The sensation of being watched was something that was hard to describe. It was a tingling sensation that tickled the mind and a paranoid sensation all at the same time. Carter woke up suddenly and bolted straight up in the bed. That was a bad idea as his back protested the movement and strained muscles caused him to gasp. He closed his dry eyes and rubbed his eyelids using his sleeve. He searched the room for the source of awareness and was greeted by an empty room.
He tried to fight an overwhelming desire to be anywhere but flat on his back. Carter internally grimaced at the thought of more sermons, but he felt extremely uncomfortable and vulnerable. Slowly, he slid his legs off the bed, and he sat there a few seconds, letting his feet hit the ground. He took the robe off the corner of his little table and put it on, then took the cell phone from under his pillow and slipped it into one of the pockets, resting it beside the tape recorder he had left there. Carter willed his body to move and he carefully stood up. He kept his hand on the railing just in case he felt dizzy, but he experienced only some slight light-headedness and it quickly dissipated.
Carter then methodically took a step and followed it with another and shuffled his way to the chair next to the bed. He was in the process of settling himself into the seat when a familiar voice rang though the air.
"You're looking well, Dr. Carter. Now don't feel you have to stand on my account." Logan's icy voice echoed from the bathroom.
Startled, Carter griped his IV pole and steadied himself as he was determined to remain standing. His body slightly trembled, but he fought the weakness and stared at Logan undaunted.
"I'm here, John, now would you mind telling me what it is that you think can possible motivate me to give you money?" Logan asked calmly, a smirk upon his face.
Carter dug his hand into the pocket of his robe and clicked on the tape recorder. He brought his hand nonchalantly out of his robe and grabbed hold of the pole again when he wavered. Slowly he slid his mask off.
"I know you set Grady on fire and I can prove it." Carter shuddered, and took a shallow breath freely. "And you're going to pay for my silence."
next
Logan strode over to Carter and stood merely inches from the man. He said nothing, remaining motionless and clearly enjoying the impact of his presence upon Carter. The Chief of Staff let his eyes wander around the room as if to assure himself that they were indeed the only two people present.
Logan watched Carter's chest heave in an obvious effort to control his nervous breathing. For Carter's part, he remained standing, tightening his grip on the IV pole. 'Slow and easy breaths,' quickly became his mantra. His legs protested at the strain of being on his feet for so long, and small tremors shook him slightly. He ignored it all, though, shielding his pain and reflecting only a mask of calmness and control.
"As Chief, you have control over all supply orders," Carter announced and sucked in another shallow breath.
Logan raised his eyebrows in amusement and chuckled. "Dr. Carter, I'm a bit too busy with hospital business to keep up with supply orders. All of that is handled through the proper channels; that I never see. A Chief of Staff would, how should I say? Never go near something so mundane." Logan dramatically sighed and his smiled broadened. "However, dear doctor, entertain me."
"As chief you can arrange," he paused, "for things such as Benzene to..." Carter unsuccessfully tried to draw in more air. "To be stored wherever you want without question."
Logan admired his manicured fingernails, completely ignoring the person struggling to breathe in front of him.
"I bet when we recover equipment logs, we'll find-" deep gasp, "your signature on a purchase order...for four extra containers of Benzene." Carter's voice became scratchy and his throat felt parched. He swallowed uneasily and tried valiantly to refrain from swaying. He felt slightly lightheaded, but he continued his speech. Carter saw Logan's expression twitch slightly, but it remained cool and composed.
"Wouldn't want to raise suspicions among the staff if," a pause, "some of the normal supply...had some missing," Carter managed to say in between labored breaths.
Logan turned to pace along the side of the gurney, his back to Cater. The doctor took advantage of this and took in a puff of oxygen from his mask. The perimeters of his vision started to become blurry and he was having trouble focusing.
The Chief of Staff walked along to the other side of the gurney, a smug look on his face and strode back to his original position. He toyed with the tubing of Carter's oxygen and smiled at the younger man as he let it slip back down. "Oh, sorry, I was distracted, go on," Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Carter felt he did not have time to bait the man as carefully as he had originally planned; he needed to attack his weakness and strike quickly. "So, where were you during the fire?" he asked, switching tactics.
Logan glanced up the doctor and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. "I was eating lunch across the street. Told those detectives this as well, they seemed satisfied," he replied.
"Anyone verify that?" Carter asked. He shifted his weight when he felt his left leg shake slightly, the once-slight tremors increasing in frequency and persistence. Before Logan could respond, Carter pressed on. "I think you were," gasp, "busy turning on the air conditioning." Carter's chest hitched slightly as he struggled for air. He fought off several coughs and cleared his throat.
Logan laughed out loud and stepped closer to Carter, invading the resident's personal space. His intrusion caused Carter to back up against the wall where he unconsciously leaned his weight for support. This did not escape Logan, neither did the death grip the younger man had on his IV pole. It appeared as if he wouldn't remain on his feet for very long. Logan just inched closer, his hot breath blowing in Carter's face.
Carter felt his heart race and his head began to pound. "I think...the police...might...want to dust...the circuit breakers...for your prints," He panted, then swallowed again. "Since...the Chief...wouldn't ever...go down there. Kind of ...beneath your position."
Logan's eyes peered into Carter's. "Sorry, doc doesn't prove a thing." Logan turned and headed for the door.
Carter was furious, but he channeled the energy towards his deteriorating voice. He stepped away from the wall and grabbed the railing of the bed. He dragged himself painfully after Logan, stumbling a bit, but persistently heading after him. He grabbed the mask that hung around his neck and took in a deep breath, knowing that it wouldn't replenish his draining energy.
"You failed, Dr. Logan!" Carter's rough, gravely voice yelled.
Logan froze in his tracks. Feeling the tide change, Carter mustered a taunting tone. "You failed as a chief, you failed to keep your own hospital open, you failed to burn it all down--you let--" Carter placed both hands on the bed to keep himself upright watching Logan, seeing his hands clench into a fist. "You let...let a cripple... ruin your plans." Carter clutched at the pain in his chest, certainly from oxygen depravation. "You're pathetic, a complete failure," Carter mustered a bit of pity in his voice. How the mighty reacted to the sting of shame.
Logan spun around, the veins on his forehead prominent from the rage welling from within. Carter smiled and nearly laughed at the site in front of him. Button after button being pushed, just how Logan had done to him a few days earlier.
"You. Little. Son of a Bitch." Logan spat his words venomously. His face was a shade of red that Carter didn't know existed. "I burned that place down with ease. Those fucks on the Board thought they could close MY hospital down!" Logan exclaimed.
He took several steps closer, his hands waving in the air uncontrollably. "I ran Grady with an iron fist, and if she was going to be closed then I would turn her into ashes and your bumbling ass happened to get in the way. I'm sorry you and that old bitch didn't burn in the fire so that at least, people would learn a thing or two about hand holding fucking cripples. I'm glad that you were injured back in February. I think the only thing keeping this world from being perfect was that freak didn't do the job right." Logan's rage was unwavering, he bored a hole into the shaking resident with the evil in his eyes. He smiled when he saw Carter flounder and kept himself from falling by grabbing the small table beside him.
After catching himself, he heard a clanking sound echo on the tile as his tape recorder fell out of the pocket of his robe. It landed by his feet and Carter fearfully stole a glance at Logan. The Chief was, by all accounts, shocked at the site of the recording device. He saw the man's expression change from surprise, to fear, to intense hatred.
"Fucking bastard!" Logan screamed as he lunged for the device.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Peter Benton tiredly walked down the hallway. He had notes to take on several patients in recovery, but he wanted to stop by to see Carter. He knew he was a bit hard on the doctor, but the wall was back up and he didn't feel the need to coddle him. He wanted Carter to recover fully this time, but he was just so damned worried. Benton would not allow himself to be caught off guard again along Carter's road back to good health. Dr. Kovac's speech still ran through his head. Carter was independent, and it seemed he hated to be perceived any differently. He always just wanted to be treated with respect by his peers and desperately sought it from him.
Peter Benton did not have friends. He knew co-workers; he had his sister, and his wonderful son. Never did he try nor want any friends. That required effort, time, and somewhat who gave a damn. His life had changed when his son was born; it was given new meaning and perspective. There was more to life then cutting open patients and fixing them. He listened to patients more, and he even struggled to be somewhat sensitive. Maybe it was time to invest time with others to realize the bonds of friendship. Maybe.
It might, possibly...it could be fun. Peter grimaced slightly at the thought. All right maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He wouldn't advertise the fact or anything. Carter's parents were too busy to appreciate their son, which was sad. Both of Benton's own parents were dead, and what he wouldn't give to have any of that time back. How could two people care so little about there son? Why did it take Carter's near death experience for Peter to realize he cared, or even have the desire to express the fact?
`Guilt, guilt never accomplished anything,' Peter thought. Words were never his strong point, but he would change that with action and practice. He would just start anew, nothing sweeping. He wasn't going to have a movie night or anything, but maybe he should start being involved in other interests beside his own. Maybe he could be a better friend. Peter smiled inwardly as he approached Carter's room.
"Dr. Benton," a nerve-grating voice stopped Peter.
Peter lowered his head in exasperation, wondering what he had done to deserve to be Rocket Romano's personal pet project of annoyance.
"Yeah, Robert?" Peter asked.
"Come on, we need to go downstairs to speak with a contact of mine in the D.A's office." Romano gestured for Peter to follow.
"Come on, we don't have all day, and Dr. Carter isn't going anywhere," Romano told the surgeon impatiently.
Grudgingly, Peter turned and followed his boss, pondering what the first step would be with his newfound outlook on his life.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Carter had enough sense to kick the recorder under the bed as Logan made a violent grab for it. Logan growled menacingly when the device disappeared beneath the gurney. His nostrils flaring and riding on a wave of pure rage, Logan grabbed Carter by his robe and shook him hard.
"You stupid son of a bitch!" Logan hissed into Carter's face and dug his thumb into the younger man's throat. He pressed hard on the windpipe, as Carter struggled to pry it off, as what little air he was able to take in was being cut off.
Logan continued to compress his throat, effectively dropping Carter to his knees, and watched as his left arm weakly lashed out.
Knowing he was suffocating, Carter balled his right fist, and with all his remaining strength, drove it into his assailant's groin. Logan screamed in pain as a piercing fire shot through him. Out of desperation, he fumbled with the oxygen line, snapping it off as he tumbled to the ground, bringing Carter crashing down on top of him.
Carter crumbled and landed painfully. His throat throbbed, his back seized into an uncontrollable spasm, he desperately gasped for breath, only able to inhale inadequate amounts of air. He cried out as he scrambled off of the man clutching at his groin in pain. Carter crawled agonizingly on the floor in search of his mask. He felt like he had been kicked in hard in the groin himself, and saw little droplets of blood on the floor; he had pulled the catheter out in the fall.
Logan, in obvious agony, pulled himself to his hands and knees and inched by the edge of the bed. He searched for the elusive tape recorder, and his fingers slipped around the device upon discovery.
Carter clutched at the head of the bed and tried to pull himself up, as Logan used the middle of the gurney and gingerly gathered himself into a standing position. Logan maintained a fierce grip on the tape recorder, and mercilessly brought it down on the younger doctor's skull, slamming the small device onto the side of Carter's head, cracking it in the process.
Carter felt the tape recorder smash over his head and a sharp pain rocketed through his skull. It toppled him onto the bed and he felt blood trickling down the side of his face. Carter saw Logan's hand out of the corner of his eye, ready to bring the broken device down on him once more. Unwilling to continue to be pummeled, Carter reached out towards the only object in reach, the IV pole. He twisted around excruciatingly, but with both hands slammed the metal rod over Logan's own head. The upper hooks of the IV stand connected squarely with Logan's forehead.
Logan collapsed to the ground, dropping the now-useless tape recorder. The force of the blow appeared to have knocked him out cold, and Carter collapsed to the floor in relief, his body unable to continue functioning with lack of oxygen. He lay helpless on the floor, fighting for air, his lungs still too injured to take in the adequate amounts. He was too weak, but thankfully unable to register all the pain he was feeling. Using his fingers, Carter unsuccessfully tried to drag himself over to where the oxygen mask lay, just out of reach. His hands shook and his chest burned, but he couldn't move across the floor fast enough.
He imagined himself as a fish out of water, gasping loudly, unable to breathe at all. The room began to spin and his head felt like it was about to explode. The last thing he heard clearly was a loud exclamation of a male voice, followed by a series of shouts.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Luka found every excuse in the book to wander over to Carter's room. He would stop momentarily and listen for any disturbances, shouts, alarms, anything. The same thing, silence, already greeted him. 'This was good,' he reasoned. It meant that there wasn't any trouble; there wasn't any need for concern. The doctor would stroll over to the nurse's station, casually inquiring about other patients and would happen to ask about Carter. He always got the same answer: he was doing fine, no new visitors, and then Luka would leave to cover the ER.
He was nervous, but Carter had insisted that he should avoid the area just in case he spooked Logan away or was spotted. Luka did not know what to worry about more, the possibility of Dr. Logan having made it over to County, or whether Peter Benton would figure out what was going on. In the latter case, Luka knew that both he and Carter would soon know the true definition of wrath. The Croatian knew that Carter was going to confront the Chief with his theories and evidence, in hopes of intimidating a confession, but he was still suspicious. The resident was keeping something from him, and now he was going out of his mind with worry and unease.
Luka had had it. Deciding it was time to check up on him, he spotted a fatigued Peter walking in his direction, his mind obviously elsewhere. He didn't notice him standing there.
"I was just heading over to his room," Luka stated to get the surgeon's attention.
Peter glanced over at him and walked with Luka towards their mutual destination. "Same here."
Luka thought it odd that he need not mention the patient's name in question, but was a bit reassured that the other doctor did not have the same demeanor towards him as he did earlier. Both men were nearing the room when they heard a crash and the sounds of a struggle.
As soon as it seemed that something very wrong was happening, Peter ran to the room and swung the door open violently. He didn't even pause, but barged into he room and yelled as he entered.
"Get security in here, now!" Peter screamed upon seeing two bodies on the floor. At first, Benton didn't know how to react, so he simply followed his instinct.
He ran over to Carter, who lay sprawled on the floor, his arm weakly reaching for something out of view. Peter checked to see that Luka Kovac was attending to the other man on the floor so he wouldn't have to worry about pounding the doctor. Peter noticed Carter's desperate gasps for air and the blood running down his face. He ran over to the head of the bed. He gently pulled Carter into a sitting position and leaned over to grab an additional line. He bent down and quickly placed the mask over Carter's face.
Carter drew in breath after shuddering breath, unable to control his rapid respirations. His body felt as if it could not inhale in the oxygen fast enough, causing him to cough violently.
Peter wrapped his left arm around John's shoulder. "Calm down, man, slow deep breaths," Benton encouraged him in hushed tones. "Don't hyperventilate." He wrapped his arm around Carter's shoulder, subconsciously encouraging the man to relax against him.
His body exhausted, Carter sagged onto Peter's side as he slowed his breathing down. He tried not to gulp down the oxygen as he battled the pain in his chest. His body did not react well to being deprived of air and then hyperventilation. He began to relax, and closed his eyes. Once his immediate concern had been attended to, his temple began to throb, a reminder of the violent blow it received.
Peter took his eyes off Carter for a second and observed Luka's ministrations of his friend's attacker. His anger was palpable as his mind flared with violent thoughts. When he first saw the blood on Carter's face, the rational, physician side of him that wanted to help his friend battled with his need to beat the hell out of Logan.
Luka glanced up at the surgeon. "He's semi-conscious, but his vitals are stable." The doctor pushed the IV stand away that lay strewn on the floor. "Looks like Carter hit him with the pole."
"Good," was Peter's only response.
Luka looked at him with surprise and slowly accepted the anger and hurt behind the words. Security quickly arrived with Mark Greene and Malik.
"What the hell happened?" Mark asked upon seeing both Dr. Logan and Carter visibly injured.
"I don't know, Mark, but we need you, please," Luka beseeched and moved around so that the doctor could help him lift Logan onto the stretcher.
Peter ignored Mark and Malik as they hurried in, and with the help of the guards, placed Logan on a backboard. The surgeon gently prodded the side of Carter's head to survey the extent of the gash and bleeding.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Peter asked his friend as he took his pulse along side Carter's neck.
Carter shook his head and grimaced as it aggravated his headache.
Peter watched as Malik, Greene, and Luka situated their new patient, and noticed that the man was waking up. Unable to contain his rage, he yelled. "You weren't satisfied at falsifying charts, so you came in here to finish the job?" Peter bellowed at Logan.
Logan held onto his head as spoke, ignoring the watchful eyes of two security officers. "This son of a bitch tried to threaten me and I defended myself against his attack."
"Yeah, Carter is real violent man," Mark replied sarcastically. "Luka, you want to take him? I think Dave is available for an assist."
"Dr. Greene," Luka said getting the senior doctor's attention.
Mark looked at him, and spotted the broken tape recorder on the floor. The attending bent down and retrieved the shattered device. He pried open the part that held tape in and a cassette fell out. Mark pondered the object, as it was clear it was still in perfect condition. He shared a meaningful glance with Luka, and eyed Carter with a curious stare.
The younger man looked back with a hint of a victorious expression, and gasped, "Proof," before he began another coughing fit.
Mark saw Benton's eyebrows rise in interest and he heard Logan start cussing away as he was hauled into the hallway. "That's my fucking tape, give it back!" Mark smiled when he heard the guards intervene to quiet the man down as he was taken away to be treated.
Mark cleared away the IV pole and spotted a small trickle of blood on the floor. He walked over to Peter and crouched down with the both of them. "Carter, do you know where this blood is from?"
Peter, who had been busy trying to console the young man, eyed the drops of blood with concern. "He should be moved and examined. He needs to be sutured and I want a CT of his head," Peter decided.
Mark peered down at Carter. "Are you experiencing any pain elsewhere?" Carter nodded in his response and Mark squeezed his hand. "All right we'll get you thoroughly checked out. Did he hit you anywhere else?" Mark asked trying to rule out injuries. Carter responded by shaking his head again.
"Okay, we need to move you to the bed, so I'm going to help you stand up. Now, I know you probably strained you back, so I'll be as gentle as possible," Mark explained.
"No, I want a backboard, I don't think it is a good idea to move him," Peter interjected.
Mark locked eyes with the surgeon and decided to overrule him. "Peter, we can look at him in here. I don't want to cause more drama by moving him back out into the ER where he might encounter a little more stress." Mark looked at Peter, hoping the man would understand that the last thing that Carter needed was to be the center of attention in this situation. They could use the bed in the room to wheel him to any tests, and Mark was pretty certain that Carter had been knocked around, but not seriously hurt.
Peter relented after a good deal of consideration. He didn't want to deal with the police, or Logan, or anybody at this point and time.
Mark took a few steps back, but remained close to assist the surgeon. Peter slowly stood, pulling Carter up from behind. He let the doctor lean against him and supported him from underneath his arms. Slowly he helped him walk a few steps to the bed where he was lowered down again. Peter spotted a few traces of blood staining his sweatpants and concluded that his catheter had been pulled out in the struggle. Once he was settled down, Mark did a cursory examination. He used his penlight and observed Carter's pupils, while Peter hooked up a blood pressure cuff.
"Heart rate and BP are normal," Peter announced.
Carter lay quietly as both doctors prodded him and continued to ask yes and no questions. Malik had wandered in as a crowd gathered at the door. The male nurse scattered the worried staff after receiving "the stare" from both doctors. Peter had placed a bandage on the side of Carter's head and was applying pressure to it.
"All right, let's get him prepped for a head CT, and I want to make sure nothing happened as a result of the dramatic foley removal. Then, after the tests, I'll suture him," Peter informed Malik. Peter peered down at his patient, who had remained silent during both doctor's ministrations.
"Then, Carter, I want you to tell me what the hell happened and how the hell you got a hold of a cassette recorder." There was no room for argument in that tone.
Carter actually felt bad enough to look a bit sheepish at the disapproving look he was receiving from both co-workers. He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Mark, and shrugged when the attending gave him a curious stare.
"I don't even want to know," Mark said as Peter sighed heavily.
next
Mark shared a glance with Peter and indicated that the matter should be discussed later. The attending watched Peter's lips twitch, but he silently agreed. Mark shoved the cell phone into his lab coat and glanced behind him, seeing that the crowd at the door had left, at least for now. Malik was still standing in the room just in case he was needed, and probably in order to get first hand information to relay to the rest of the staff.
Peter continued his examination of Carter, prodding for any hidden injuries by testing for tenderness along Carter's abdomen and side. He didn't want to be persuaded by Carter's insistence that he wasn't punched in the stomach or kicked when he was on the floor. It would be just like the younger doctor to continue to shy away or be less than specific when it came to his own discomfort.
As he felt along Carter's ribcage, he noticed how unaffected the man was to his probing. "Carter, man, I know you'll give me this silent stuff until you explain to me this little incident, but I need you to let me know if there is any pain."
Upon receiving no response, Peter shook Carter's shoulder lightly. "Carter." After several more seconds of silence, Peter tensed, and called his name louder as Mark took out his penlight again.
"Carter...Carter!" Peter's voice grew louder in worry rose half an octave, as his friend remained motionless on the bed.
Malik rushed to the gurney as he realized something wasn't right. He had remained at a discreet distance, but was alarmed by the sudden activity. Or Carter's lack of it. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Sudden loss of consciousness," was Benton's frantic reply.
Peter lowered the bedrail to gain easier access and felt for a pulse. "Pulse has increased...it's 110, from 90 just a few minutes ago." Peter grabbed the blood pressure cuff from the table behind him, where he had discarded it seemingly moments ago.
Mark lifted each of Carter's eyelids, shining the light into each. "Pupils are unequal, but reactive." Mark said, keeping his voice calm for the benefit of the other doctor.
"You want me to call for more help?" Malik asked nervously.
Peter fastened the blood pressure cuff around Carter's limp arm. "No, just make sure you get a room set up for a head CT, now!" Peter shouted, startling the nurse as he ran out.
"He was just fine a minute ago," Peter mumbled to himself. "BP is 140/110." Peter quickly released the cuff. "I want to elevate him to reduce any potential swelling, can you grab some pillows?"
Mark nodded, and gathered two pillows from the nearby closet and brought them over to the bed. Peter placed one hand under Carter's head and the other behind his neck, carefully lifted him up. Mark slid one pillow beneath the man's shoulders and one underneath his head.
"I want an MRI as well," Peter spoke, and locked a gaze with another worried set of eyes.
"We'll do everything thoroughly, Peter," Mark told him.
"He could be hemorrhaging, or have a clot or--" Peter was cut off by a the sudden placement of a hand on his shoulder.
"Peter, look at me," Mark commanded, his hand remaining in contact.
Benton glanced up, but could not help but gaze back down at the unconscious figure in front of him. After a moment, he stared up at Mark.
"He probably has a concussion, but we will rule out anything else," Mark told him pointedly. Any confidence he could relay to Benton at this point would be desperately needed. "I hate to tell you this, Peter, but you are still covering the ER. Why don't you go check on things down there, and you can view the test results when I get them back."
"I'll walk with you there and check the board," Peter answered gruffly, obviously reluctant to leave.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Luka Kovac was sitting in the lounge in the darkest corner he could find. It had taken every reasonable and rational bone in his body to properly treat Logan for his head injury. Dave had been helpful, but even the young resident could not control his distaste for whom they were helping. After surveying and assisting in the examination, Luka left when Kerry came in to finish with the sutures.
He had been panicked when he entered the room, discovering that sonofabitch had attacked Carter, and he could not help but feel responsible for anything that happened to the young man. Luka knew that brooding was not going to do anyone any good, so he sucked in a deep breath and headed back out to confess his role in Carter's scheme. He wanted to let everyone know, so they would not bother Carter about it. Luka just wanted the resident to recover in peace, without any additional stress caused by having to explain his actions to the staff, and namely, to Peter Benton.
Luka was making his way back when he saw Peter storming into the admit area. Luka noticed how much the staff kept their distance from the surgeon, and Malik had a rather "deer caught in the headlights" expression on his face. The Croatian crept over to the male nurse and asked him in a hushed tone, "Is there something else wrong?"
Malik watched Peter erase several names off the board and turned to respond, keeping his voice low. "Dr. Carter might have a head injury. He lost consciousness a few minutes after you left. Dr. Greene felt it was better for Dr. Benton to cover the ER until the tests came back."
Luka closed his eyes in despair. He rubbed at his temples, as the migraine he felt coming on took over his head in full force. As he was massaging his aching head, he heard a commotion and opened his eyes to see Peter staring at him. Upset was not the word to describe the other man's demeanor. It was more like a volcano waiting to explode.
Peter pointed his finger at Luka's chest and spoke, barely keeping the animosity from his voice. "I told you I wanted him to remain in the ICU under close supervision. That is the last time I let you persuade me or I let you question my decisions." Peter bit his lip to keep from continuing, and slammed one of the charts in his hand onto the. "I have no more patients here. Page me if I'm needed," Peter spoke to Randi, ignoring Luka, and stormed away.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Peter stepped slowly into the room, making sure he was quiet and unobtrusive. He surveyed the scene before him, his conscious weighing heavier then it had a few hours before. Logan was not seriously hurt, and was immediately transferred to the local jail. He had an appointment with the D.A, who had still been in the hospital at the time. Peter was on his way back to Carter's room when Mark found him and thought he should listen to the tape left in the recorder before handing it over to the police. They went to the lounge where Mark inserted the tape in a waiting cassette player.
Benton listened to the conversation with a vacant stare, while his imagination took over his mind. At first he was slightly proud when he heard the younger man ask some very interesting questions, obviously piecing together parts of a puzzle that others had not considered. As he heard these little tidbits of information, it occurred to him what exactly Carter was hoping to accomplish.
So, he figured out some things. Why didn't he point these out to detectives who did not know anything about medicine or hospital policy? As the semi-interrogation continued, he could hear the difficulty that his friend was having and the toll such confirmation was exacting on his health. Then the questioning transformed to taunting and the mental game that Carter was waging, ever so slowly trying to rattle the other man. Carter was trying to piss off the quick-to-anger bastard, and it was working. Then he did it; Logan confessed, and all hell broke loose. It was hard to tell, but a violent struggle apparently broke out, and the result almost had almost exacted terrible price on them all.
Having heard more than enough, Benton retreated to the ICU. Carter was back on that floor at his insistence. Peter gazed at the monitors connected to Carter, hoping for some improvement.
The surgeon heard the door open, and Romano walked in ever so quietly, his expression somber and his voice surprisingly sympathetic. "We should be getting the test results in a few minutes."
Peter simply nodded.
Romano stood near the edge of the bed, at a loss of what to do or to say to the other doctor. "What are his vitals?" Romano rolled his eyes at such a horrible attempt at conversation, but realized that Peter was too tired to even recognize the lame attempt at small talk.
"His temp has increased to 100.2, his BP and heart rate have increased also." Peter paused to rub at his chin and continued in a mechanical tone of voice. "He can't have any stimulants, so we were forced to take him off the steroids for his lungs, which only serves to complicate his recovery. Mark said he woke up once for a few minutes during his MRI, but he lost consciousness again. When he wakes up he will not be given any sedatives, so that means he'll be in pain from his strained back and they'll be nothing that can be done about it."
Romano was not the consoling type, so he had nothing to add to Peter's disparaging words. All in all, the young man was not in critical shape but Robert knew that Peter was upset because of his inability to keep what he feared from happening, so he remained silent, knowing that platitudes would only come across as insulting. Carter was hooked up to an oxygen mask, his face looked slightly flushed, but these were typical symptoms from a blow to the head. Robert heard the door squeak and saw Mark Greene standing on the outskirts of the room with test films in his hand. Not wanting to be left out, Robert told himself to screw the rules and signaled for the attending to come in.
Mark had already viewed the tests and had consulted others concerning the results. He was prepared for doubts and second opinions, but agreed with the diagnosis. "His head CT did reveal a small clot and some cerebral irritation, but the head of Neuro is very confident that is will resolve itself. It's very small and there is no need for surgery," Mark added while he handing the films to Peter, knowing the man would not be satisfied until he reviewed them himself.
"Well that's good enough for me, keep me posted. I'm going down to the station to make sure our interests are being looked after correctly this time. Despite what happened, I have to say I'm a bit surprised at our dear Dr. Carter's inventiveness for pursuing his own cause. I wouldn't put it past him to have a secret decoder ring hidden somewhere." Romano looked around and noticed that his co- workers didn't appreciate his sense of humor, so he grunted and made his way out of the room.
Mark gave the retreating Chief a perplexed look, and noted how unamused his colleague was. Mark shook his head and began to reason with the unhappy surgeon the brighter outlook of things. "Peter, he doesn't have a skull fracture or--"
"I know all the pros and cons of this diagnosis, Mark," Peter interrupted him.
While the two doctors continued to debate the issue, they did not notice the patient in question slowly coming around. Carter opened his eyes and squinted from the low amount of light in the room. His head pounded, and it felt like his skull was on fire from the inside. He weakly felt the side of his skull, noticing a new row of neatly sewn stitches beneath his fingertips. Touching the area where he was clobbered only sent new sensations of pain through his head and waves of nausea through his stomach.
He shifted unsuccessfully in the bed, catching the attention of the bickering doctors in the room. Both Mark and Peter leaned over him, causing him to feel somewhat smothered. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to disengage the feeling of being suddenly claustrophobic. His stomached churned and all the punishment his body had endured the past few days assaulted him all at once with a million dull aches and sharp pains.
Peter took out a penlight and tested Carter's pupils, receiving a sharp intake of breath in response that only caused his patient to cough violently. The surgeon looked on helplessly as his friend tried to control the coughing while struggling with his intake of oxygen. After the fit had subsided, Peter observed Carter cradle his head.
"You need to lay still and quietly. That means no getting up, no moving around, and no physical activity of any kind," Peter grilled Carter with an expression that meant his orders would be followed to the letter.
For his part, Carter silently accepted the Benton doctrine and grimaced, as the pain in his head only seemed to increase every minute he was awake. He felt restless and was sweating, which only served to make feel even more miserable. "Its hot in here." he said under the mask, his voice conveying his exhaustion.
"You shouldn't talk, Carter." Mark advised him.
"You have a fever, from what I can not determine. It could be from a possible infection from the dramatic foley removal, or from your injured lungs, or from the concussion..." Peter's voice was getting louder and louder from the fear and anger he had been feeling.
"I'm sorry," Carter said weakly.
"Back off, Peter," Mark warned him by placing his hand on the surgeon's shoulder.
Peter bowed his head in remorse. He didn't want to upset John, he just had to vent his feelings at someone. Carter had placed his life in danger to coax a confession out of a violent man, and he had done it with some kind of help. Patience was not one of his strong suits, and he did not know whether he had should wait for Carter to inform him about what transpired earlier in the day.
Carter wet his dry lips under the mask and grimaced again at feelings of lightheadedness. Before he had a chance to inquire about the specifics of his injury, his stomach finally rebelled against him. "I'm going to be sick," he managed to say.
Peter quickly snatched an emesis bowl and held it under John's mouth, while placing a hand under his head. Mark removed the oxygen mask and both men were situated to help as Carter retched in the bowl, but he ended up only coughing up bile since he had been off solid food for days now. His stomach muscles screamed and his chest burned, as he was sick for what seemed like hours. When the nausea pasted, he was gently placed back against his pillow.
Peter thought his friend looked awful, his face was flushed, and he was developing dark circles under his eyes. Mark left and returned with a wet washcloth, which he handed to the surgeon. Peter placed the moist cloth against John's forehead and bathed his neck. Peter clenched his teeth when he noted the bruising around Carter's windpipe, but kept himself from asking the man if toying with Logan was worth being nearly strangled.
Peter placed the washcloth on the table, and rested his hand on the bed, leaning his head against it. Carter had fallen asleep. If Peter could not control that Carter's nausea, then his patient would be in danger of further weakening and dehydration. He would make sure that his antibiotics were monitored closely, and he would give him Compazine. Peter felt a bit flustered after momentarily forgetting he was not alone in the room. Slowly he stood up and took the films with him.
Both men left the room in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Peter wanted to make damn sure that there would be no other mistakes made regarding Carter's health. He would consult with the head of neurology about the clots and confirm that the medical course of treatment was the safest and most effective. Benton leaned against the wall of the hallway, pondering on how he could determine who Carter's helper had been in all of the recent madness. It had to be someone he could convince or bribe. It could have been a member of the nursing staff, Carter could have just ordered them around, or even paid off in order to get the recorder and phone.
Mark watched his co-worker's expression transform with each flickering thought. He was at a loss as to how their patient could have gotten a hold of things so easily. `Didn't whoever Carter conned into helping him know the extent of the danger they were placing the younger man in?' Mark wondered. The ringing of a phone interrupted his random musing. Startled, Mark looked over at Peter who was staring back at him.
It took a moment before Mark realized the ringing was coming from the cell phone in his lab coat. He pulled it out cautiously, as if it were a ticking bomb. He hit the talk key and spoke into it. "Hello?"
Peter watched intently as Mark talked to the person on the only line. The attending's eyes widened during the caller's portion of the conversation.
"No, this is not he," Mark replied, his face taking on a shade of red.
"Yes, I'll be sure to tell him you called." Mark punched the end button on the phone and placed it back in his lab coat. He looked up at Peter, his expression dumbfounded.
Peter turned and squared his shoulders in order to look as intimidating as possible. "So, who the hell does the phone belong to?" he demanded.
"Peter, I want you to calm down," Mark asked.
"Just tell me who they were asking for, Mark," Peter insisted impatiently.
Mark looked down at the floor and answered, "Luka Kovac."
Peter grabbed Mark's lab coat pocket and pulled out the incriminating cell phone. "I'll kill him," he said, and violently brushed past Mark on his was to the admitting area.
Luka Kovac had retreated to the confines of the lounge. His shift had ended an hour ago, but he remained there in order to do some intensive reading. He did not want to go back to the ICU when he knew both Mark and Peter were there attending to Carter's new complications. He would confront the two physicians when tensions were not so high. Luka cursed himself for letting any of this transpire. He allowed Carter to convince him of the worthiness of the deed and talk him into believing that it would be somewhat safe.
Carter was a smart man, he conned him into retrieving the phone and the recorder by insisting that it was the only way to bring Logan to justice. There were other reasons for the risk that Luka had noted, even if Carter did not say it out loud, or consciously realized it. John was trying to protect more then self interests and Luka knew that the young resident did not need to endure anymore emotional stress or guilt.
So, he took the chance, and in Luka's mind, he lost. Frustrated, the Croatian gave the nurse his medical I.D. and after many rounds of self-assurances was able to get a copy of John's chart. The doctor had spent the remaining hours combing through John's medical history and making notations of his current stay. Too many smaller injuries were mounting, creating a slower recovery than normal. He had violated the physician's code, so it didn't matter whether Benton, Greene, or anyone would ever accept what he did; Luka knew he would never be able to condone his own actions.
Luka placed the folder on his lap and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. His head hurt and he was exhausted, but he knew sleep would not come for him tonight, or any time soon for that matter. He stretched his back and stared at the ceiling. The slamming and then locking of the lounge door quickly eroded his distracted focus on the tiles. Knowing what was about to transpire, Luka took a deep breath and stood up to face the overly aggressive and protective surgeon.
It was a wonder that the cell phone Peter was holding had not cracked under the pressure of his intense grip. He shook the device as he spoke; each word was barely audible from the battle between control and fury.
"You gave a very sick patient a telephone to call a man that we had guards posted outside the door to keep from coming in and then you convinced me to have him transferred so that same individual could gain access to him?" Peter asked incredulously.
Luka would not deny it, so he simply answered, "Yes."
Peter stepped closer as he tried to comprehend things as he was discussing them. "What did you think he was going to do with the tape recorder? Dictate his thoughts?" Peter asked angrily.
"No, I knew he was going to ask Logan some things in order to get a confession out of him, I did not know he was going to taunt him into giving one." Luka explained trying to keep his voice calm.
"Well Logan also used it to bash his head in just like this!" Peter took Luka's cell phone and slammed it onto the counter and the device seemed to explode, sending little plastic pieces everywhere.
Breathing hard from releasing just some of his anger, Peter stood still only a moment before tearing back into the doctor. "He has a concussion because of you!" Peter pointed his finger at Luka as he continued releasing his fury at the other doctor. "Do you have any idea what kind of set back you have caused? Not only do we have to take him off his breathing treatment for his seared lungs, he's off his morphine!"
Peter approached Luka; his breath coming in and out in short bursts. "Any complications from here on out are result of your ethical violations as a doctor and I place you personally responsible for every extra minute he is in pain." Peter waited for a reaction, for anything.
Luka watched the surgeon twitch with uncontrolled emotion; the other doctor wanted any excuse to rip into him. "Do you want to hit me Dr. Benton? Would that make you feel better? Will that make Carter recover any faster?" Luka asked, his accent thicker from the stress.
Peter considered the idea for a second. He was correct, all he wanted to do right now was beat the hell out of the him, but his better half that was overwhelmed by his inability to express himself was keeping him from acting according to his intentions.
"What I want from you is the reason you aided Carter in this ridiculous plan. Cut all the bullshit about seeking justice, because I don't want to hear it," the surgeon growled.
Luka looked away and muttered quietly. "I thought he could handle it."
"He couldn't even walk!" Peter yelled in a quivering voice.
Luka spun to face him and he stared at him, eye to eye. "I took the chance that he could fix one thing...one thing that was out of his control." Luka's voice rose as he spoke, all of his feelings coming out in one large flourish of emotion. "You're right, I don't know Carter as well as you do, but I know how to speak to people."
Luka began to pace around the room gesturing wildly as he talked. Peter stood there stunned, just listening. "He coaxed that confession for you! Carter doesn't want the extra burden of knowing you could not deliver on your promise that Logan would be arrested. You assured him that somehow you would make sure that he was arrested and convicted even though you had no control over such things. How dare you make such promises! You...you don't know how to speak with words, you show people how you feel with actions. Carter knows this, you taught him this way of communicating!"
Luka stopped only to catch his breath and face the angry doctor. "Carter wanted to reassure himself that he could take command of his own life and do it for himself. Carter can't bring back Lucy, he can't show Romano that he's 100 percent, so he's left with one thing he can make amends with. He felt he could get the proof needed to arrest Logan, a person responsible for his hospitalization, and release you from some sort of debt."
"So somehow this is my fault?" Peter questioned.
"No, no, no, there is no fault!" Luka implored. He continued to walk around the room. "Yes, I'm to blame." Luka faced the surgeon. "So blame me! I did it! He confided to me what he wanted to do." Luka placed his hands on his hips, his voice taking an exasperated tone. "He's very persuasive when he wants to be."
Peter avoided eye contact with the foreign doctor, his mind reeling with all this new information. "You should have told someone. You had an obligation to keep a patient in a serious state of ill health from a dangerous situation, no matter how good your intentions." Peter said bitterly.
Luka nodded. "I know, and I was wrong. I'll never forgive myself."
Peter stalked over to Luka, grabbing the lapels of the doctor's lab coat. "That's not good enough. Where was your guilt when Logan was trying to strangle him, huh?" Peter shook Luka and the other doctor let him.
Both doctors heard loud tapping on the glass window of the door to the lounge. Peter felt his anger swell and willed himself to calm down. He let go of Luka and spoke to him, his voice threatening. "You stay away from my patient, I don't want to catch you near him."
Luka understood why Peter was feeling this way, but he felt the other doctor did not have the right to keep him away from anyone. "I want to know how's he doing. I want to know what you're doing for the cranial bleeding."
Peter shook his head. "You want to know, here." The surgeon took out a several sheets of paper, and flipped through them, stopping on a desired page. He ripped it away and flung it at the other doctor. "You can read a copy of how I'm treating these new sets of complications."
Without a second thought, Peter unlocked the lounge door and scattered the crowd whom had been eavesdropping on the heated argument. Luka picked up the sheet of paper off the floor and sat down wearily to read it.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
John decided that counting ceiling tiles had lost its appeal days ago. Staring at them for long periods of time did not distract him; it did not make him sleepy, in fact the idea of any form of mathematics only increased the pain in his head. He was exhausted, miserable, and hot. It was impossible to stay still, but the slightest movement only caused his stomach to roll or his head to pound.
Mark Greene watched the restless resident from the corner of the room. He did not want to disturb him and the attending was impatiently waiting for Peter to return to administer the medications that their patient needed. Peter had been terse and to the point. While he was present, he would be the only one to inject medications or sign orders for procedures. Mark moved aside when he saw the door open and Benton enter the room.
"How's he been?" Peter asked in a hushed tone.
"His nausea has increased and he's been restless." Mark turned to look at the other man. "I heard through the grapevine you had somewhat of a confrontation earlier, I'm glad you didn't do anything foolish."
Peter grunted his dissatisfaction and made his way to the bed. His patient faced him, trying to hide the grimace his movement caused.
"Guess that's," pause, "the last time I do something so," small gasp, "stupid." Carter said.
"You're right, it was stupid thing to do, and one I'll never understand." Peter responded while checking Carter's vitals. The surgeon frowned.
"Been sick several times?" Peter asked.
Carter merely nodded and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable with so many extra pillows shoved behind him for elevation. "Everyone thinks I'm deaf, but I'm not."
Another shuddering breath. "Don't blame Dr. Kovac for what happened." Carter continued to speak under the mask, knowing that his friend could understand him after several days of communicating this way. "I made him do it." Carter closed his eyes, willing the pain away.
Peter chose to ignore him as he proceeded to look at equipment readouts. "I examined your CT and MRI results and I'm pretty certain we can avoid surgery at this point. I think the medication will reduce the clotting, but it'll be a few days before we can resume the Abertrol treatments. I'll be monitoring your pulse ox and resps really closely, so this means no talking."
"I don't care," was John's weak reply.
Peter began to change the burn dressings on his chest. "These don't look too bad, when you get home be sure to keep changing them and I'll doubt there will be any scarring," Peter went on, his voice and demeanor monotone.
John took his hand and placed it on the surgeon's to stop his ministrations. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice still very raspy.
"I want you to care, damn it!" Peter shouted. The surgeon could sense Mark's gaze at him from the corner but he chose to ignore him. "You ran into a burning building twice, you lied to me about how you were feeling in the hallway, and you placed yourself in a situation that resulted in your stay here!" Peter indicated the ICU room.
"I also placed an maniac in jail and saved you the torture of a guilty conscious!" John wheezed back. The effort of yelling only resulted with a bout of coughing that he couldn't control. He couldn't stop his lungs from seizing and his chest burned ferociously. He couldn't catch his breath and he panicked.
Peter quickly reacted by increasing the oxygen to 10 liters and placed his arm around Carter's back. The younger man grabbed the railing as he rode the coughing fit out and sagged against Peter's side. Peter rubbed his hand up and down the doctor's arm, trying to calm him down.
"I'm sorry," Carter muttered between gasps. "I just wanted to fix things," he said, choking on the words.
Peter saw Mark approach the bed and the surgeon warned him away with a stare. "It's okay man, it's all over." John seemed to break down in the bed, a wave of emotions exploding. "You didn't have to do that alone, you could of told me." Peter responded in a softer voice.
John shook his head, "You'd talk ...me out...of it."
"Yeah, you're probably right, there could have been safer ways. I hope next time when you're faced with such a stressful choice you might...share it with me." Peter struggled to find the words to express himself.
"Maybe."
"You better." Peter replied in an insincerely forceful voice.
The surgeon overruled his inner voices and embraced the other doctor in a quick hug.
John appreciated the gesture and relaxed back into the bed. "It's been...so hard...lately. I...thought I could...handle things alone. I... think...I need to work...some things out." He inhaled deeply from his mask. "I...I might talk to someone about...it."
Peter patted him on the shoulder. "That might be a good idea, Carter." Not used to displays of emotion, Peter smoothed out his unwrinkled scrubs "When you're feeling better, I can arrange for someone to come down and talk to you."
The older doctor studied his patient, taking in his grayish pallor. "Okay, let's take care of the nausea and keep you hydrated." Peter injected the Compazine into one of the IV ports. "I'm increasing your dosages of widespread antibiotics for the fever," Peter said, changing one of the bags of solutions.
John closed his eyes while he was given the different medications. He chastised himself for his previous actions, thinking at the time it was worth the trouble. John did not know if he could count on anyone else's support, in a weird way he was glad that he had misjudged others. Too bad it took getting the sense knocked into him to make such a realization.
John couldn't let Peter leave without at least trying to change his mind about Luka. "Dr. Benton, please give...Dr. Kovac a chance--"
"Carter, be quiet." Peter tried to keep his patient from wearing himself out.
"Please, Dr. Benton...he was helping me--"
Peter placed his hand on John's chest to indicate that it was time finish talking." He used bad judgment and that's the last time I'll speak about it."
Realizing he had just spoken to his friend like a child, Peter amended his words. "He made a hasty decision about a patient's care, yours," Peter said pointedly to John, "and I don't trust his medical opinion."
Peter gathered the medical waste and disposed of it in one of the receptacles. "Now, try to relax and I'll be back in a while." Peter joined Mark walking out the door.
Mark remained silent, not wanting to comment on any part of the exchange he overheard. He was just relieved that this day was coming to an end, and that their patient was doing better and a certain surgeon did not punch out one of his co-workers.
They rounded the corner and Mark's peace of mind became short-lived when he saw Luka running down the hall out of breath. The attending stole a glance at Peter, seeing his jaw was set and his posture straightened. 'This was not the time for this,' Mark thought.
Luka's expression was urgent and he gestured with his hand for both men to stop.
"Dr. Benton, you need to go back in there and take him off the Compazine!" Luka said breathlessly.
Peter had definitely had enough of Luka Kovac for one day. "I told you to stay away--"
"Peter, be quiet! Did you give him Compazine or not?" Luka was directly in Peter's face.
Mark intervened by grabbing Luka and pulling him away from the surgeon who was about to lose his fleeting cool.
"Yes, I gave him Compazine for his nausea!" Peter hollered back, his patience depleted.
"Take him off it now!" Luka shouted and tried to get past both doctors blocking his way.
"What the hell are you babbling about, Kovac?" Peter asked, his voice rising.
"Enough! Both of you!" Mark shouted as he struggled to keep Luka and Benton away from each other.
"I've been reading his medical history. He's allergic to Compazine!" Luka said urgently.
Peter's eyes grew large in horror. "Damn it!" He barreled down the hallway and busted through the ICU room.
John woke up startled as Peter came charging in. Without warning, the other doctor ripped out his IV.
"Ouch! What did you do that for, Dr. Benton?" John asked as the surgeon placed his hand on the source of the bleeding.
"Nothing, nothing," Peter muttered as he searched for a bandage. He found one, and applied it to the IV site and taped it down. "I'll start another one," Peter said, his voice slightly uneasy.
"Why did you tear out the one I had?" John looked at his mentor with bewilderment.
"I...I gave you Compazine and I didn't know you were allergic to it," Peter explained while keeping his voice soft.
John knew that voice, the one that could not admit to a mistake. John watched somewhat fascinated as the doctor silently attached a new IV to his arm. His face was impassive except for a slight twitch. John remained silent himself, not wanting to disturb Peter in the midst of self-doubt.
Peter finished cleaning the mess made and glanced up almost sheepishly. "Feeling any odd effects? I mean, you shouldn't, since there shouldn't be much in your system," Peter's words were spoken quickly.
John just shook his head no. He wasn't worried about the mistake and he wasn't about to complain. Peter was giving himself a hard enough time as it was.
"Good, then I need to go."
Peter left in a hurry of embarrassment or shame, Carter wasn't sure which. The thought of his muscles stiffening and the feeling of having a stroke that the Compazine would have made him experience was not something he wanted to go through again. The one time Dennis Gant had given him some was one too many times for him. It scared him for a moment, the prospect of such a reaction in his medical condition, but it didn't happen.
It was time to count sheep now, he mused, as he tried to drift off to sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The Next Day
Robert folded his hands on the front of his oak desk. In his office he felt like the king and as the domineer, overlooking a disgruntled subject, only made him smile. Yes, he smirked, something he worked very hard to obtain. The matter before him was serious and that was the reason why his smile was a facade. He wasn't as cold hearted as everyone presumed, but the less they knew the better.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Peter. Didn't you learn to check case histories when administering drugs to a patient?" Robert knew his question was rhetorical, but he enjoyed rattling people's cages, especially Peter's. It was so much fun to watch him react.
"Well, are you going to answer me or continue your impersonation of a statue?" he asked condescended.
Peter looked away briefly, but brought his eyes back to the person in front of him. He held his hands in the air and brought them down in a quick, jerky expression. "I missed it."
Robert slammed his fist down on his desk. "You missed it, Peter, and the result could have sent the young doctor into shock," Robert said curtly.
"I caught it in time," Peter defended.
"Taking credit from others? Dr. Kovac caught it, you just tore the damn thing out of him." Robert corrected, his tone as chastising as ever.
Peter shifted in his seat and muttered to himself.
"What's that, Peter? I can't hear you," Robert taunted.
"I said none of it would have happened if Kovac had not conspired with Carter to bring Logan into his room, resulting in his current status," Peter replied brusquely.
"We're talking about your mistakes here, Peter, no one else's." Robert eyed him intently.
Peter remained silent, having nothing else to say.
Robert sighed dramatically. "Don't worry there, I already grilled Kovac for his actions and have dealt with him in my own way. You, on the other hand, need to review your medical judgment. Shall we?" Robert rose from his chair and leaned against the edge of the desk.
"Cheer up Peter, I have good news. Seems like good old Chuck is being hung out to dry. When he was confronted with the taped confession, the detectives took a cue from Carter and egged him on. That superiority complex took over damn quickly and he spilled his guts about the whole ordeal. He'll be in prison for a long time."
Peter looked up and felt a sense of relief.
"So, in a roundabout sort of way, Carter is responsible for Logan's arrest. I won't come down too hard on him, I think the whack on the head taught him a thing or two about playing cowboy." Robert rolled his eyes when he saw Peter's scowl at his poor tact.
"Okay, lecture over." Robert stood up. "By the way, try not to be so hard on the foreign guy, he did go after your butt in the fire and if I recall correctly, helped drag everyone out. I think all of us used some bad judgment and I don't know, learned a thing or two."
Peter exited the Chief's office and saw Luka hovering outside.
The other doctor looked up. "He wanted to see me again when you were done," Luka said.
"Yeah, well, glad you caught the allergic reaction in Carter's medical chart," Peter said.
Luka nodded accepting the fact that this was as close he would ever get to making amends with the other doctor. "I'm glad the bleeding was controlled by medication, he should be released in a week or so, no?"
Peter nodded. "He'll resume his treatments for a few days, and once we wean him off oxygen, he'll go home next week."
There was an awkward silence and Luka simply replied, "Good."
One week later
John hobbled to the door after hearing the persistent knocking. He had just been released from the hospital a couple days ago, and since then phone calls and visitors had barraged him. John was tired, but nothing could destroy the happiness he felt since being released. On his last day at County Judith had called and insisted that John and all of his friends come to her house for a victory dinner. Somehow, the elderly woman pressured Peter into driving him to her home once he was settled.
John was less than thrilled with the prospect and was equally shocked when Peter agreed. He even went as far as checking his IV to make sure no one had slipped him morphine when he wasn't looking. The gesture was not lost on the other doctor, and he had been on a receiving end of another trademark 'I'm not in the mood for this' Benton stare.
The knocking continued and John opened the door to let the surgeon into his apartment. Peter entered, seeming somewhat relaxed instead of his usual abrupt and serious manner. The other doctor watched his friend limp back to his couch and bend down ever so slowly to put his dress shoes on. Peter noticed that the younger doctor had one of his nice dark suits and a gray tie on.
Peter had dressed in one of his own suits as well. He knew it was not a formal affair, but felt the need to dress up, as Carter seemed eager about the invitation. Peter studied the other man carefully with physician's eyes. Carter still moved around gingerly since it would take a while for his strained muscles and inflammation to heal. Peter had arranged for physical therapy to take place three times a week, since even before the fire Carter had still been recovering from his surgery merely ten weeks ago. The younger man still had to visit a respiratory therapist twice a week for his ongoing treatment for the chemical damage to his lungs.
John looked up at Peter and smiled. "Don't worry, Dr. Benton, I'm taking things easy." The younger doctor felt the waves of concern emanating from the man across from him.
Peter shook his head to deny such musings. "I'm not concerned, just making sure I don't have to see your face as a patient anymore," Peter replied nonchalantly.
John grinned, knowing the falsity of the words and stood up. "You ready to go?"
Peter looked around the room. "Yeah, but where's your cane?" The older doctor had sent Carter home with a walking cane because he was still experiencing some left-sided weakness, enough that he could not drive his stick shift yet.
John crossed his arms. "I still have it, but I just don't want to use it over at Mrs. Cobb's house. I don't want to deal with the fuss or the worry." His voice was adamant.
Peter knew that stubborn tone and did not want to argue when his friend was looking forward to the dinner. "Fine, but you use it every other time, you understand, Carter?"
John heard the doctor's voice loud and clear. "I will, Dr. Benton."
John picked up a flower arrangement lying on a table near the door, and both men left for their celebration dinner.
XXXXXXX
Peter pulled into the driveway of a small brick home in the suburbs of Chicago. Both men got of Peter's vehicle and the older doctor noticed the BMW parked next to his. "Looks like Romano is here," he said unhappily.
John looked surprised, he didn't think the Chief of Staff would have accepted Judith's invitation. Judith offered it during her last visit to the hospital. She had come back for an appointment concerning her Bell's Palsy, and brought Carter some books to read for his remaining days in the hospital.
John climbed the stairs, carefully keeping his hand on the railing, well aware of the other doctor's astute observation of his movements. It hurt to scale even the small set of stairs, but he was assured that months of physical therapy was going to rehabilitate his back from both his surgery and his new injuries.
An overjoyed Mrs. Cobb greeted both doctors after they rang the doorbell. The elderly woman gave John a huge hug that he reciprocated, slightly blushing from the exuberance. Judith even went as far as to hug Peter, who, embarrassedly, gave her a small squeeze back and bowed his head when he saw Carter smiling at him. The men were ushered into the living room where they could smell the food baking in the kitchen.
"Dr. Carter, why don't you sit here?" Judith asked, pointing to a large plush chair.
"Thank you, Judith," John replied, settling himself into the comfortable seat.
Peter remained standing and heard clashing noises coming from the kitchen area. He turned in shock to see Robert Romano emerging from the other room with an apron wrapped around his waist. Peter's eyebrows rose as he suppressed any offhand remarks about his boss's odd appearance. He turned sharply when he heard Carter snicker.
Robert eyed the younger doctor with an amused expression. He noted Carter's grin and inability to disguise his reaction. "Laugh it up, Dr. Carter. I'll have you know that I'm a pretty good cook, when I have to be. Especially when I working with such a lovely lady," Robert said, laying the charm on thick.
Peter found an interesting spot on his shoes to admire so he could avoid rolling his eyes at his boss. Judith burst out laughing from her guests' comedic exchanges.
"You dear people really are funny. Now I hope you're hungry, the food will be ready when that other fine doctor arrives," Judith announced as she sat on the edge of the blue couch next to Carter's chair.
Peter took a deep breath, but he wasn't going to spoil anything. He crossed glances with Romano, whose face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Yep, we're all going to be on our best behavior," Romano said cheerily as went back into the kitchen.
"You look much better, Dr. Carter. I mean, John," Judith corrected.
John shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you, I'm feeling a lot better." It dawned on the younger doctor that he left Judith's flowers in the car.
Peter noticed the change of expression on his friend's face and the way he glanced at his hands. "What's the matter, Carter?" he asked.
John began to stand. "I left something in the car."
Peter motioned his friend to remain seated. "I know what it was, just stay put."
John frowned at the unwanted attention, but he sat back down without protest. He and Judith engaged in pleasant conversation as the surgeon walked back to the car. As he retrieved the bouquet, another car pulled in and Luka Kovac exited his Saab.
Both men stood motionless when they saw each other, silence being the only thing exchanged between them. Luka pulled out a bottle of wine from the seat and decided to be the first one to speak. "I was running a little late. Um...is everyone already here?"
Peter looked down as he spoke. "Yeah, we just arrived a few minutes ago. Romano seems like he has been here for a while."
Luka nodded. When nothing else came to mind to say, he started towards the steps. Peter remained stationary for a moment and followed him without a word. Both men entered the living room where Judith met them.
"Dr. Kovac, you look so handsome!" Judith remarked when she saw the doctor's tailored chocolate colored suit.
Peter rolled his eyes and felt the need to get away from such pleasantries. He congratulated himself from not audibly letting Luka know how he felt, and escaped to the kitchen. He would keep things civil for Carter's sake.
John, for his part, was restless from sitting in the chair. When he saw Benton walk in without his flowers, he felt a bit frustrated that Luka's arrival would make him forget the very reason he went to the car in the first place. John slowly stood up, and Luka glanced at him.
"Hey, I see you are doing a lot better than the last time I saw you," Luka remarked with a slight smile.
"Thanks, I guess it was kind of awkward at the hospital for a while. I'm sorry about that," John said, his voice remorseful.
Luka's smile only broadened. "Hey, it's over with, no? You're better and all the things we talked about have been resolved. When will you return to work?"
John scratched his head. "I'm not sure. In a few weeks, I guess. One of the things I came to realize is that I came back a little too early the first time I was hospitalized. I have some therapy to go through and when I resume working, I want to be a 100 percent when treating patients." John said this with no bitterness or resentment.
Luka patted his shoulder. "Well, I think it is best for you, to be completely healthy before trying to heal the world," Luka said, happy that his colleague was not going to repeat the past and over do things again.
John appreciated his friend's understanding and excused himself. "I left something in the car, I'll be right back."
Luka turned his attention back to Mrs. Cobb when she started to speak. "Such a nice and sweet young man, isn't he?"
Luka nodded and extended his arm when she gestured for it. Luka escorted her to the dining room. "Yes, he certainly is."
XXXXXXX
Peter was not thrilled with the idea of interacting with Romano, but in his attempt to create distance between him and Luka he had had no other alternative at the time. He watched Robert chop vegetables with more delight than should be experienced in the kitchen.
"Your buddy must have shown up for you to be hiding out in the kitchen with me," Robert said casually with an inflection of humor.
Peter picked up a carrot and began to chew on it so he would not have to respond.
"That's not polite, Peter." Robert chastised him for eating before dinner was served. "Why don't you help set up the table or something?"
When he received a blank stare, Robert put his hands to his hips. "Come on, now. You can set a table, can't you?"
Peter furrowed his brow, and started picking up plates of food and carried them into the dinning room. He groaned to himself when he interrupted Luka and Judith carrying on and laughing. He placed the plates of vegetables down and turned to retrieve more.
Luka got up from his seat and called out, "Do you need any help, Dr. Benton?"
"I'm handling it just fine, Kovac," he yelled back.
Luka sighed with irritation, and Judith took notice of Luka's expression of frustration. "Why don't you and Dr. Benton get along, dear?"
Luka smiled as he spoke. "Difference of medical opinion."
Peter made two more trips between the kitchen and the dining room. Satisfied that he had kept out of everyone's way, he went back to the living room to keep Carter company. He walked into the living room and noticed that his chair was vacant. Recalling that he didn't notice the younger man with Judith or Luka, he returned to the dining room.
"Where's Carter?" he asked both of them.
Luka looked past Peter to see if he could locate the subject in question. "He went back to the car for something, I think."
Peter rolled his eyes; he had forgotten the flowers after running into Luka. Peter entered the hallway and found Carter leaning against the wall for support with the flowers in his left hand. The door to the outside was ajar and the younger doctor seemed a little winded.
Peter quickly moved towards him, but Carter waved him way with the flowers, which might have been comical if the surgeon had not been so concerned about his friend's health.
"Don't be so stubborn, Carter, have you learned it's okay to ask for help?" Peter said in an annoyed tone.
John relented and Peter led him by his elbow to the plush chair in the living room. He gripped the side of the chair as he lowered himself back into the chair and groaned when his stiff back protested the movement. "I was just a bit short of breath and the muscle relaxers make me tired so..."
"So you didn't take them," Peter finished his sentence for him. "You need to take it easy for a while, no strenuous activities, your lungs are not completely healed."
John just gave him a sheepish grin. Before the other doctor could chastise him, Judith entered the living room. Upon seeing the red roses in John's grasp, she blushed and placed her hands over his face in surprise. "Oh, John, you shouldn't have!"
The lines of discomfort on Carter's face washed away and were replaced with an expression of delight. John handed the flowers to her and she leaned down to give him another hug. His muscles were still tender, but he was so filled with joy that it didn't matter. John gave Judith a giant bear hug that reminded him of the childhood days he spent with his grandmother.
"It's been a long time since a man has given me flowers, and such a good looking man at that! I'm so lucky to be surrounded by all of you handsome doctors." Judith was becoming emotional and felt a slight tear slide down her face. "I still thank the Lord everyday that you came back for me in that building, Dr. Carter. I can't believe anyone would care about a little old lady like that. You're my hero." Judith wiped at her eyes.
Peter continued to look down at the floor, slightly embarrassed to be witnessing such an emotional moment, but Judith's words really made him realize how lucky she was to have a supporter like John Carter. He searched the room to occupy his gaze with something else in order to give the two more privacy, and saw Luka standing on the outside of the room.
John rose from his chair stiffly to hold Judith, as she was overcome by emotion. He stroked her long silver hair, but he was not depressed. He felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment.
Judith composed herself and looked over at both Peter and Luka. "I'm also so relieved to know that John has such good friends and co- workers who came in to help us. If neither of you young men had arrived, I hate to think how John and I would have gotten out."
Luka and Peter exchanged looks and expressions, both slightly self- conscious as well.
"All three of you are brave men, and I'm so happy to have you in my home to share dinner with me." Judith gave each man an embrace. "Now, let's chow down, you look like you need to eat more, John," Judith chiding him gently in a motherly tone.
Peter laughed. "You should see how much he does eat."
Judith led the way into the dinning room with Luka and John behind her. Peter remained behind Carter, just in case he needed assistance. He limped heavily to the dinner table, but made it there without any further difficulties.
Robert Romano had overheard the emotional display and decided to keep his comments to himself. There was a little healing left to be done, but he was relatively assured that some of it had been accomplished this night. He brought with him the lasagna he had helped prepared. The night was not filled with tension; all of it had melted after the shared moments in the living room.
After the meal had been devoured, all four doctors retreated to the living room. Judith brought out her photo album and showed them pictures of her husband and past friends. Romano asked her where her camera was, and went in search of it.
John stifled a yawn after the dinner and decided that instead of hiding his discomfort he would be upfront with it. "I'm feeling a bit worn out, Judith, I think I need to head home soon."
Peter hid his smile and Judith patted him on the knee. "No problem darling, you're still recouping and need lots of sleep to get all better."
Robert returned, camera in hand, with a huge smile plastered over his face. "Mrs. Cobb, I think we need to add another photo to your collection. Okay people, gather around the fireplace."
John and Judith stood next to each other as Peter and Luka created the bookends of the picture. Robert took a couple of shots, and then one of Judith and John together. When all the posing was over with, each person made his or her goodbyes.
Judith gave another round of hugs to the doctors, and even Peter allowed himself to be briefly hugged. Judith took John by the hand and led him over to the corner. "Whenever you need to talk to someone or want the company of an old lady, you just give me a call."
John smiled. "I will, Judith, and I plan on making you dinner next time."
"Now as much as I appreciated what you did for me, please don't do any more heroic stuff for a long time," she said with a hint of humor.
John nodded with a smile. "I'll try." He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
While the younger doctor and Judith conversed, Peter decided it was time to have a word with the Croatian doctor. "I will never condone what you did last week, but I understand why you did it and the kind of position Carter put you in. I think we all have judgment errors, let's just not try to have any more."
Luka nodded and did not push things too far by shaking the surgeon's hands. "I think we all earned a few lessons, including Carter. I just hope we remain more astute about asking and giving our friends' help."
Peter nodded in return, noticing how Romano remained silently during the exchange, but he could tell by his expression that this was all part of a carefully orchestrated plan. John made his way to the hallway and all four doctors made their exits.
Peter drove Carter to his apartment and walked him to his door. He could tell the younger man was exhausted, but he had seemed to regain a certain spark that had been lacking for months. The quiet man turned to Peter. "I made an appointment to see Dr. DeRaad on Thursday, um...do you think you could give me a ride?" John asked hesitantly.
"Sure thing, man," Peter replied.
"I understand a lot about myself, Dr. Benton, that I was pretty confused about. I think it'll take some time to get over what has happened these past few months, but I know that there are people to turn to if I need some support." Carter kept his voice low just in case he had crossed an invisible line with his mentor.
He looked up, afraid to see an expression of uneasiness on Benton's face from such an admission; instead, he saw understanding.
"I'm glad you know that, Carter. If you need anything, just give me a call," he replied.
John smiled. "Thank you, Dr. Benton."
Feeling slightly odd, Peter gave John a quick hug and watched him enter his apartment. "You're going to be all right, Carter," he told the closed the door. For the first time in ages, Peter did not worry for the younger man.
John sat on his couch wearily, but with more confidence than he felt in a long time. He was on his road to recovery, both mentally and physically, and he knew he had the kind of friends that would help him if he needed it. He knew he could ask for assistance when he needed to. Satisfied, he turned on the TV and fell asleep on his couch.
The end
Thanks to all of you for supporting this story!!! There will be another one soon.
Lessons Learned
By Kristen
Thanks to Jackie for all of her editing and to Debbie for her medical help.
His eyes burned. That was the sensation that kept him from drowning in a million twisted thoughts of his own creation. He rubbed at them in his sleep, looking for some form of relief, and retained absolutely no comfort. The haze of the smoke in his dream was engulfing him as he ran down a hallway that never ended. His hand remained wrapped around a smaller, elderly one and he, and Mrs. Cobb navigated blinded through the corridor of dense smoke that was choking them both. As they dodged falling debris and wrestled with declining air, Carter glanced behind his shoulder to see the flames chasing them down unmercifully, but when he looked back to see if Mrs. Cobb was all right, he ended up staring into the frightened face of Lucy Knight.
"Do you know the way out?" She asked.
"Lucy?" Carter asked in a quivering voice, confused and full of sadness.
"We have to get away, Dr. Carter." She implored.
Feelings of paranoia swept through his mind as they valiantly maneuvered through the burning building. He kept a tight grip on Lucy's hand so he wouldn't get lost in the confusion of chaos. But, his eyes burned and the hallway began to spin, he felt Lucy's hand slip from his grasp and Carter stumbled forward as his disorientation grew from the oxygen deprivation.
He looked back over his shoulder at the flames and saw Paul Sobrieki behind him with the butcher knife. Carter screamed as he tried to escape from the man hidden within the shadows and dust clouds. He began to suffocate on the fumes, and could not keep on his feet. He tripped over something and crashed to the floor. Too overcome to bring get to his feet, he dragged himself along the floor to the object that had caused him to fall. Beside him lay Mrs. Cobb and Lucy, helpless on the floor and both dying before his eyes."
As he pulled his body along the floor he touched Mrs. Cobb's lifeless face. He wrung his hand through her long silver hair as he heard Paul creep up behind him.
"There's nothing you can do to redeem yourself, Dr. Carter." A voice said.
Carter looked up at the face peering down at him and saw that it was Dr. Logan with the butcher knife in his hand.
Instead of plunging the blade into his back, Dr. Logan simply laughed at him. His cackling filled the hallway and overcame the thunderous noise of the roof collapsing overhead.
"You're not going to get away with this!" Carter screamed through the black smoke.
Carter bolted up in bed and soon regretted the action. He gritted his teeth as the pain engulfed his left side. He scrunched up his burning eyes and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. After taking a second to compose himself, he turned his head to see Luka watching him.
"You okay now?" The doctor asked.
Carter laughed under his mask at the rhetorical question. He fitfully rubbed his dry eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Luka felt foolish for asking such a naïve thing, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He recognized the signs of a nightmare and wanted to console the young man if he wanted him to. Noticing his discomfort, Luka searched the contents of his lab coat and pulled out a bottle of eye drops.
"Thought you might be needing these." He said, handing them to Carter.
Carter took them gratefully and answered, "Thanks" as he squeezed the medicine into the source of agitation.
"What to talk about it?" Luka asked sincerely.
"Not really", Carter replied. He took a second to take stock in his current situation.
He was still in the ICU, he was still struggling to breathe at a normal level and he was in the mists of carrying out the craziest thing He had ever done. 'Well not as crazy as going into a burning building,' he mused. He looked back at the Croatian doctor and realized he had never taken the time to thank the man for helping him out of the fiery hellhole and for his actions in the ER.
He slid his mask down to the dismay of the doctor and took a second to collect his voice. "I never properly thanked you for all that you did." Carter told him quietly.
"I did what was needed to be done." Luka replied calmly. Seeing that his answer did not sit well with the man in the bed, Luka decided to elaborate.
He shifted slightly in his chair and looked at the wall before setting his gaze at his colleague.
"I hate fires. Back home, I encountered many blazing businesses, and homes like it was a normal routine. Bombings, shelling, vandals. As the months passed, so did many of the oldest parts of Croatia. My favorite bridge, which had withstood the damage of World War II, does not exist anymore."
Luka stood and leaned his weight on the railing of Carter's bed. "Sometimes one side would start a fire on their own people and then blame it on the enemy to fuel the desire for revenge and death. I tried to save a young girl trapped in a floor above me when I worked in triage and was sent into the field. I didn't save her in time." Luka's grip on the bedrail tightened as he relived the memory.
"Later, I found out it was her neighbor who had set a kerosene bomb in the basement so that he could gain support from the local militia during one the countless peace talks. The fighting began the next day." Luka turned his impassive face to Carter, holding back the depths of sadness and fury that were barely beneath the surface. "No one was ever held accountable for all the countless lives that were lost."
Carter withdrew the mask one more time and stared intently at Luka. "Then help me get out of this room so I can make sure that that someone else doesn't escape prosecution." Carter implored and took another shaky breath.
Luka shook himself from his memory and absorbed Carter' request. "Out of the ICU?" Luka asked with dismay. "You've only been in here for two days."
Carter nodded his head negatively. "I'm out of danger."
"Your stats haven't climbed above 93." Luka challenged.
"My vitals are stable." Carter spoke under the oxygen.
"You're on oxygen, a foley, and we are monitoring your inputs and outputs for a Benzene level." Luka retorted.
Carter slipped the mask down once more. "All of that can done in a normal room.," he argued.
Luka slipped the mask back on and gave Carter a warning stare. Carter ran his hand through his hair wondering if Peter had taught the Luka the unapproving stare of gloom. Not wanting to continue the argument, Carter eyed the brown paper bag with curiosity that was lying next to Luka's feet. He then looked at the doctor expectantion.
Luka had forgotten about his supplies and pulled out a pair of gray Sweatpants and a hospital robe. He couldn't help but chuckle at how large Carter's eyes got at the sight. "I brought these for you, but the deal is that I help you put them on and you walk over and sit in that chair for another half hour." Luka explained as he pushed the railing down.
Carter nodded excitedly, especially at the prospect of getting out of his hospital gown. He pushed the blanket aside and slowly swung his legs around. Luka stood beside him as he carefully put his weight on both feet and gingerly stood, grabbing Luka's shoulder to steady himself.
Luka, mindful of Carter leaning on him, took out the sweat pants and held them open for him. The younger doctor weakly lifted his left leg up and slid it into pants. He then tightened his grip on Luka's shoulder and the other man grabbed Carter's left elbow as he put all his weight on his weak left leg and inserted his right leg into the pants.
His body trembled, but both legs were on the ground now. Before pulling the sweats up, Luka taped the foley to Carter's leg then pulled the material to the man's waist. Luka wheeled the IV stand after securing the oxygen tank to the bottom the pole as the other man moved slowly towards the chair. He kept his hand on Luka's shoulder and the foreign doctor kept his right hand under Carter's left elbow. Luka noticed how changing into his new attire had tired his friend, but he seemed determined to reach the chair. Gently Luka lowered him into his seat, and Carter breathed heavily into the mask.
"Hmmm, maybe another day before switching rooms, no?" Luka questioned the wheezing patient.
"No!" Carter adamantly replied.
Luka rubbed his chin absently and slowly understood Carter's mood. "You spoke to him, didn't you?" He asked. When Carter looked way, Luka knew his answer. "He wants you to transfer to a more secluded location."
"Its hard to be...secluded in...a hospital." Carter retorted.
Luka shook his head. "I don't like it, and Dr. Benton will never agree with it", he stated.
When he saw the doctor stare at him with a mischievous expression, Luka rolled his eyes and grunted. "No. You can't be serious?"
He watched Carter's eyes gleam and he moaned some more. "You want me to convince him?" Luka unhappily asked
Carter innocently gazed at Luka and nodded.
"Since when did your name change from Dr. Carter to Detective Carter?" Luka asked humorlessly as the subject of their conversation walked into the room.
"Afternoon, Peter." Luka said as the surgeon grabbed Carter's chart and flipped through it. The Croatian exchanged looks with his patient, 'no Peter's patient' he reminded himself.
"Um, Dr. Benton, Dr. Carter would like to be transferred to a regular room." Luka ventured to say.
Peter stole a look with Luka and gave him an expression of bewilderment then one he gave students when they asked if they could perform a procedure.
"Dr. Carter," Peter glanced over at the man in question, "May what a lot of things, but I'm not here to do only what he likes." He responded stonily.
Carter began to remove his mask, but Peter quickly fastened it back on. "Carter, leave that mask on or I'll put a non-breather on you so fast..."
"Dr. Benton, Carter's vitals are stable, the Benzene is almost out of his system. He doesn't require anything from the ICU room that can't be provided in a standard one." Luka explained.
Peter avoided the resident's eye and stared a hole in the man in the chair who nodded in agreement to every one of Luka's points. "Well, that's all good, Dr. Kovac, but I'm in charge of Carter's care and I don't want to transfer him for another day or so.
"Now if you two are done questioning my orders, I'd lie to examine my patient." Peter grumbled.
Tired of being ignored, Cater voiced his opinion through his breathing device. "I don't want to stay in here, Dr. Benton. Give the bed to someone who needs it."
Peter crossed his arms in his usual defiant manner. "Since when were you put in charge of your own care and in the position to question my orders?" Peter asked his voice cold.
"Maybe Carter's right..." Luka began to say.
Peter whirled around. "Dr. Kovac, outside now!" Peter pointed to the door and watched Luka's face transform from annoyance to anger. He glared at the surgeon and stomped out with Benton hot at his heels.
Carter for his part, felt horrible for putting Luka in such a tough spot. He also regretted causing a bit of friction between himself and Peter. He was partially doing this to let his mentor off the hook, and ease the surgeon's guilt about what happened in the ER by putting the person responsible for their nightmare behind bars. The ringing of his cell phone interrupted Carter's ruminations.
It was laying on the right side of the bed and Carter panicked at the thought that Benton might pick up the phone if he heard it. As quickly as his body would allow, Carter stood up on his own. The phone was still ringing as he scrabbled towards the bed, dragging his stubborn left leg.
His body felt weak and Carter wavered to the right as he struggled to remain upright. It was difficult to move at all, but he dragged the IV pole behind him, then simply stretched all the lines as he reached for the gurney. His left leg gave out under his weight when he collapsed onto the bed. He reached out for the railing on the opposite side ignoring screaming muscles. Carter used the metal bar to pull himself over the mattress as the insistent ringing egged him on. He Pulled his mask off then grabbed the cell phone and flipped it open with his right hand.
"Hello." He wheezed.
"I didn't catch you at a bad time did I, Dr. Carter?" Logan's voice asked.
Carter closed his eyes as he rode the protests of his strained back. "Not at all."
"Good. Did you get yourself transferred?"
"I'm about to." Carter wheezed as he realized both his hands were occupied and he couldn't pull his oxygen back on.
"Can't do anything right, Dr. Carter? Well, what you have to say couldn't possibly be that damaging." Logan's voice taunted.
"Too scared to find out?" Carter rasped.
There was a pause.
Fine, if you're not there tomorrow then I'll take my chances," Logan Replied, then hung up.
Carter clicked the phone off and tried to pull himself up, but was too exhausted to do so. He felt his strength ebb away and was afraid he would fall into a heap on the floor. He simply could not get his muscles to work properly and he sagged against the gurney.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As soon as Luka exited room 111, the doctor next to him grabbed his arm to get his attention. Startled by the rough action, Luka pulled back and fixed Peter Benton with the same fiery stare as he was receiving at the moment from the man.
"What the hell were you trying to do back there, Dr, Kovac!" Peter demanded of the doctor.
Peter was more than furious, he was outright steaming mad. It was hard enough to be Carter's primary physician and having to force him to follow his strict orders. He didn't need now to have Luka Kovac to undermining his instructions. Carter was stubborn and it was hard enough to get him to cooperate as it was. Peter wanted the younger man to stay put, under many watchfully eyes, for his own safety. Peter continued to face the other doctor down; disgruntled that he had not received a prompt answer.
Luka rubbed his hand over his jaw. "I don't know what your problem is, Dr. Benton.
He's stable enough to be transferred to a standard room. His blood pressure and heart rate are good and the Benzene is dropping to minimal levels."
Peter shook his head as the other physician spoke to him, not wanting to trust such an optimistic picture.
"Yeah and his pulse ox is till unacceptable and his respirations are far below normal levels."
"All of which can be treated with oxygen and further Abertrol treatments. It does not dictate a stay in the ICU," Luka interrupted.
"What about the fact that he can be monitored closely by a few select people?
In his weakened condition he's going to have to stay here for at least a week until his lungs heal and he's able to have a normal range of mobility," Peter retorted.
Luka understood where Peter was coming from. The staff was wary from what had transpired in the ICU, and despite a heightened state of awareness no one could keep an eye on Carter all the time.
Luka had also played a part in Carter's plan to outwit Logan. He knew despite all the steps that could be taken by the police and the staff at County that there were still two problems.
Logan was allowed to walk away escaping prosecution and he posed a decent threat to Carter unless the young man could do something about it. Luka was apprehensive about Carter's new found idea he was some sort of detective now, but if the police were unable to gather evidence Carter thought it was up to him to get solid proof the man's guilt.
Luka choose his next words carefully. "I really think that Carter can receive a proper level of care in a normal room. There is no medical reason for him to remain in the ICU.
The guards will have to leave today now that the investigation into his doctored chart is on hold till those handwriting experts take a look at things."
Peter was still very unhappy, even if Luka's words did ring true. Carter could be transferred it was just too soon after he had been in such critical condition a few days before. The dreadful memory in the ER was still ingrained in his head, a vivid image that kept him from getting any decent sleep the last two days. As a doctor, he knew that it was a daily occurrence for patients that were so extremely critical one day to be transferred to a normal room mere days later. It was just that this particular patient was not just a name on a chart. Peter was paranoid over the way trouble seemed to be hunting Carter down as of late and he felt that his former student needed some extra looking after.
He made certain promises and assurances and they were now completely out of reach. His word was going to fall short and Peter felt very uneasy at lacking any kind of control over the situation. Peter bit down on his lip and dug his hands into the pockets of his scrubs.
"I think that I know what is best for my patient," Peter said gruffly.
"And I think Carter would appreciate it, if for once, we trusted him." Gaining an unyielding look, Luka continued, "John Carter is a grown man capable of making decisions for himself. If we hover around him, he is just going to push harder to appear normal, no?"
"Dr. Kovac, I am not hovering." Peter's emphasis on his words told Luka how offended the man was over the accusation.
"What do you call it, then?" Luka stabbed back. Sighing. a bit Luka relented.
Inside he was chastising himself. For what he could tell, Peter Benton was acting like someone who was concerned for another, admitting in his own little way a friendship for a colleague and Luka didn't want to ruin such progress.
"Fine." Peter scrunched up his face and look away. "We'll transfer him after one more examination. Once I'm satisfied that he's stable enough then we'll move him."
Peter headed for the door and halted for a moment. "By the way, Dr. Kovac, I've known Carter a little longer then you have. I don't need a lecture concerning what's best for him."
Peter brushed past the other doctor and re-entered Carter's room. When he walked in, he saw the empty chair and a very winded man, half sprawled on a bed, vainly trying to not fall off.
"Carter what the Hell are you doing?"
Peter exclaimed, as he carefully put his hand on Carter's back to keep him from slipping from the gurney while at the same time grabbing a hold of his sweatpants to pull his uncooperative legs onto bed.
Carter settled onto his back, still wheezing slightly from the effort, and trying to ignore Benton's thunderous gaze.
When Carter heard the door open, he quickly stuffed the phone under the blankets, hoping he had not been completely caught. He turned his head, already thinking about what to say to avoid another lecture.
When Peter recognized the signs of another explanation, he cut the man short. "I don't want to hear any excuses right now, Carter. I don't think you could come up with a satisfying reason as to why you decided to return to bed unaided."
Peter did not know what made him more angry, the fact that Carter was disregarding his orders or the fact the man was ignoring his tirade. "Fine, Carter, you want to move to a normal room, try acting like a normal patient.
You're a fine doctor in the ER, but you are under my care now. If you don't want your every step monitored then stop garnering such attention." Peter finished his speech and checked all the machines in the room. After getting satisfactory readings, he walked away, spouting off orders as he retreated. "You can examine him, Dr. Kovac. If you deem him fit for a transfer, then go ahead and arrange it."
Carter watched in disappointment as Peter left the room, leaving him alone with Luka. He swallowed painfully and gazed at the ceiling already knowing how many tiles were there. He had somehow disappointed his mentor and now was going ahead with a plan that was bound to infuriate Benton.
At the same time, Carter could not help thinking this was the only way to put This tragedy behind him, and release Peter from a promise he could not fulfill.
"Carter, you doing all right?" Luka asked, squeezing the younger man's shoulder.
All he got was unconvincing nod. "You couldn't just wait for us to come back?" Luka asked with a hint of unbridled humor.
Carter answered his question by pulling out the phone and looking him in the eyes while adjusting his mask.
"I see. Got a phone call, did you?" Again, Carter remained withdrawn and simply repeated his last gesture.
"So, I guess everything is set up then?" Luka asked tentatively.
"Yeah," Carter rasped under the mask.
"You can still change your mind. I could go get Dr. Benton." Luka tried to reason with him."
"No!" Carter forcibly refused.
Knowing he wouldn't be able to convince him otherwise, Luka wordlessly completed Carter's examination.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Next Day 8:00 am
The transfer had gone smoothly, and now Carter lay in bed, staring up at similar, but still boring, ceiling tiles. This time the oxygen was being administered from behind him and he was still hooked up to an IV and catheter, but he at least had lost the central line. His pulse ox had not improved enough to go on a regular nasal canal, and the annoying mask was still necessary to provide oxygen to his weakened lungs.
Carter ran his hand along his face, noticing with annoyance the stubble that had began to grow. He wished that could shave himself. But after noting how shaky his hands were, he guessed that he had better wait, or let someone else handle the task.
The guilt of keeping Peter in the dark about his scheming was still grating at his thoughts, but he was tired of being manipulated by things that were out of his control, and for once he was going to have a hand in how things played out.
His chest still ached from labored breathing and he once again traced his fingers where two paddles had sent jolt of electrical shock through just three days earlier. His heart had stopped beating, his life had ceased to be, and all of it was returned to him by electric current and drug stimulants.
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the dreadful images that must have been ingrained in the minds of his friends and the old familiar feeling of guilt gnawed away at him.
"No, not again." He muffled through the mask.
"No, not what again, Dr. Carter?" Romano asked, strolling in with an Abertrol treatment in his hands.
"Dr. Romano, what are you doing here?' Carter asked, startled through his mask.
"Dr. Carter, you shouldn't be speaking. I saw you were on this floor and thought I'd personally bring you your breathing treatment. You know, let the therapist take a break," Romano said in his usual falsely cheerful voice.
Carter sat up straight as Romano brought him the device to breathe. He slipped his mask off and sucked on the tube to breath in the fumes that Were designed to heal his lungs even though they made him cough uncontrollably, and in turn, cause him a great deal of pain.
While Carter took on the tedious job, Romano took it upon himself to speak to the doctor while he was unable to respond. "Now, Dr. Carter, I just wanted to let you know we are doing everything within our power to make sure that the investigation doesn't go the way of the Dodo."
Carter weakly nodded as he struggled on the spirameter thatnow was causing his lungs to seize up on him.
"I wanted to let you personally know that I'll be contacting some important people in the D.A's office about how inadequate those detectives have been." Romano paused to make sure the other doctor was listening to him. "I also want you to know that I sent you to Grady to keep an eye on you."
Romano's voice quivered only so slightly. He looked away as he spoke his thoughts. "I'm sorry that I simply did not instruct Kerry to monitor your progress or speak to your doctor about your recovery. That was my lapse. In my need to address some issues from last February, I took it upon myself to personally take part in your struggles, at work and for that I'm sorry."
Romano gazed at Carter intently, his face a chiseled look of seriousness. "And if for some reason that Dr. Logan slips through the cracks of justice, then you can hold be responsible for any of the trauma that you have endured this week."
Silence permutated the room and Carter was too shocked to respond even if he had not been receiving the breathing therapy. He had stopped sucking in the medicine halfway through Romano's speech, too stunned to speak. He opened his mouth to say something, anything but was wracked with coughs from the therapy treatment. He clutched at his chest in the same way he did after every treatment, riding out the streaks of pain that lanced through his body.
"And another thing, I heard it was your bright idea to be moved to a standard room, Dr. Carter. Do me a favor and don't suggest something so stupid again, okay? It's bad enough that Peter is chomping at the bit concerning that bastard, and I don't need him even more grouchy than usual because he's more concerned about your transfer down here than your stay in the ICU."
A repository therapist entered the room, and Romano turned to her, a perfect reflection of his authoritative self.
"Dr. Carter still needs about fifteen more minutes on his treatment. Now, I have some administrative duties to attend to." With that Romano left as quickly as he entered.
Carter was still too surprised to react to the Chief's lecture, let alone his words of apology. He was even more upset that he was causing Dr. Benton more undue tension concerning his room change.
Carter did not have time to ponder the course of events. After his breathing treatment and a half hour bout of coughing, he was once again exhausted, and he fell into a fitful sleep.
Carter never noticed Peter walking in to check his vitals first hand, and to flip through his chart. The surgeon then stood there in the room for a moment, watching Carter's chest rise and fall ever so slowly.
Carter didn't need to see how tired Peter felt, or even know that he was unable to even take a nap because he was always jerked awake by the sound of a cardiac monitor's steady drone of an absent heartbeat. Satisfied that all appeared normal, Peter silently left, with Carter none the wiser, just like Peter wanted.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The sensation of being watched was something that was hard to describe. It was a tingling sensation that tickled the mind and a paranoid sensation all at the same time. Carter woke up suddenly and bolted straight up in the bed. That was a bad idea as his back protested the movement and strained muscles caused him to gasp. He closed his dry eyes and rubbed his eyelids using his sleeve. He searched the room for the source of awareness and was greeted by an empty room.
He tried to fight an overwhelming desire to be anywhere but flat on his back. Carter internally grimaced at the thought of more sermons, but he felt extremely uncomfortable and vulnerable. Slowly, he slid his legs off the bed, and he sat there a few seconds, letting his feet hit the ground. He took the robe off the corner of his little table and put it on, then took the cell phone from under his pillow and slipped it into one of the pockets, resting it beside the tape recorder he had left there. Carter willed his body to move and he carefully stood up. He kept his hand on the railing just in case he felt dizzy, but he experienced only some slight light-headedness and it quickly dissipated.
Carter then methodically took a step and followed it with another and shuffled his way to the chair next to the bed. He was in the process of settling himself into the seat when a familiar voice rang though the air.
"You're looking well, Dr. Carter. Now don't feel you have to stand on my account." Logan's icy voice echoed from the bathroom.
Startled, Carter griped his IV pole and steadied himself as he was determined to remain standing. His body slightly trembled, but he fought the weakness and stared at Logan undaunted.
"I'm here, John, now would you mind telling me what it is that you think can possible motivate me to give you money?" Logan asked calmly, a smirk upon his face.
Carter dug his hand into the pocket of his robe and clicked on the tape recorder. He brought his hand nonchalantly out of his robe and grabbed hold of the pole again when he wavered. Slowly he slid his mask off.
"I know you set Grady on fire and I can prove it." Carter shuddered, and took a shallow breath freely. "And you're going to pay for my silence."
next
Logan strode over to Carter and stood merely inches from the man. He said nothing, remaining motionless and clearly enjoying the impact of his presence upon Carter. The Chief of Staff let his eyes wander around the room as if to assure himself that they were indeed the only two people present.
Logan watched Carter's chest heave in an obvious effort to control his nervous breathing. For Carter's part, he remained standing, tightening his grip on the IV pole. 'Slow and easy breaths,' quickly became his mantra. His legs protested at the strain of being on his feet for so long, and small tremors shook him slightly. He ignored it all, though, shielding his pain and reflecting only a mask of calmness and control.
"As Chief, you have control over all supply orders," Carter announced and sucked in another shallow breath.
Logan raised his eyebrows in amusement and chuckled. "Dr. Carter, I'm a bit too busy with hospital business to keep up with supply orders. All of that is handled through the proper channels; that I never see. A Chief of Staff would, how should I say? Never go near something so mundane." Logan dramatically sighed and his smiled broadened. "However, dear doctor, entertain me."
"As chief you can arrange," he paused, "for things such as Benzene to..." Carter unsuccessfully tried to draw in more air. "To be stored wherever you want without question."
Logan admired his manicured fingernails, completely ignoring the person struggling to breathe in front of him.
"I bet when we recover equipment logs, we'll find-" deep gasp, "your signature on a purchase order...for four extra containers of Benzene." Carter's voice became scratchy and his throat felt parched. He swallowed uneasily and tried valiantly to refrain from swaying. He felt slightly lightheaded, but he continued his speech. Carter saw Logan's expression twitch slightly, but it remained cool and composed.
"Wouldn't want to raise suspicions among the staff if," a pause, "some of the normal supply...had some missing," Carter managed to say in between labored breaths.
Logan turned to pace along the side of the gurney, his back to Cater. The doctor took advantage of this and took in a puff of oxygen from his mask. The perimeters of his vision started to become blurry and he was having trouble focusing.
The Chief of Staff walked along to the other side of the gurney, a smug look on his face and strode back to his original position. He toyed with the tubing of Carter's oxygen and smiled at the younger man as he let it slip back down. "Oh, sorry, I was distracted, go on," Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Carter felt he did not have time to bait the man as carefully as he had originally planned; he needed to attack his weakness and strike quickly. "So, where were you during the fire?" he asked, switching tactics.
Logan glanced up the doctor and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. "I was eating lunch across the street. Told those detectives this as well, they seemed satisfied," he replied.
"Anyone verify that?" Carter asked. He shifted his weight when he felt his left leg shake slightly, the once-slight tremors increasing in frequency and persistence. Before Logan could respond, Carter pressed on. "I think you were," gasp, "busy turning on the air conditioning." Carter's chest hitched slightly as he struggled for air. He fought off several coughs and cleared his throat.
Logan laughed out loud and stepped closer to Carter, invading the resident's personal space. His intrusion caused Carter to back up against the wall where he unconsciously leaned his weight for support. This did not escape Logan, neither did the death grip the younger man had on his IV pole. It appeared as if he wouldn't remain on his feet for very long. Logan just inched closer, his hot breath blowing in Carter's face.
Carter felt his heart race and his head began to pound. "I think...the police...might...want to dust...the circuit breakers...for your prints," He panted, then swallowed again. "Since...the Chief...wouldn't ever...go down there. Kind of ...beneath your position."
Logan's eyes peered into Carter's. "Sorry, doc doesn't prove a thing." Logan turned and headed for the door.
Carter was furious, but he channeled the energy towards his deteriorating voice. He stepped away from the wall and grabbed the railing of the bed. He dragged himself painfully after Logan, stumbling a bit, but persistently heading after him. He grabbed the mask that hung around his neck and took in a deep breath, knowing that it wouldn't replenish his draining energy.
"You failed, Dr. Logan!" Carter's rough, gravely voice yelled.
Logan froze in his tracks. Feeling the tide change, Carter mustered a taunting tone. "You failed as a chief, you failed to keep your own hospital open, you failed to burn it all down--you let--" Carter placed both hands on the bed to keep himself upright watching Logan, seeing his hands clench into a fist. "You let...let a cripple... ruin your plans." Carter clutched at the pain in his chest, certainly from oxygen depravation. "You're pathetic, a complete failure," Carter mustered a bit of pity in his voice. How the mighty reacted to the sting of shame.
Logan spun around, the veins on his forehead prominent from the rage welling from within. Carter smiled and nearly laughed at the site in front of him. Button after button being pushed, just how Logan had done to him a few days earlier.
"You. Little. Son of a Bitch." Logan spat his words venomously. His face was a shade of red that Carter didn't know existed. "I burned that place down with ease. Those fucks on the Board thought they could close MY hospital down!" Logan exclaimed.
He took several steps closer, his hands waving in the air uncontrollably. "I ran Grady with an iron fist, and if she was going to be closed then I would turn her into ashes and your bumbling ass happened to get in the way. I'm sorry you and that old bitch didn't burn in the fire so that at least, people would learn a thing or two about hand holding fucking cripples. I'm glad that you were injured back in February. I think the only thing keeping this world from being perfect was that freak didn't do the job right." Logan's rage was unwavering, he bored a hole into the shaking resident with the evil in his eyes. He smiled when he saw Carter flounder and kept himself from falling by grabbing the small table beside him.
After catching himself, he heard a clanking sound echo on the tile as his tape recorder fell out of the pocket of his robe. It landed by his feet and Carter fearfully stole a glance at Logan. The Chief was, by all accounts, shocked at the site of the recording device. He saw the man's expression change from surprise, to fear, to intense hatred.
"Fucking bastard!" Logan screamed as he lunged for the device.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Peter Benton tiredly walked down the hallway. He had notes to take on several patients in recovery, but he wanted to stop by to see Carter. He knew he was a bit hard on the doctor, but the wall was back up and he didn't feel the need to coddle him. He wanted Carter to recover fully this time, but he was just so damned worried. Benton would not allow himself to be caught off guard again along Carter's road back to good health. Dr. Kovac's speech still ran through his head. Carter was independent, and it seemed he hated to be perceived any differently. He always just wanted to be treated with respect by his peers and desperately sought it from him.
Peter Benton did not have friends. He knew co-workers; he had his sister, and his wonderful son. Never did he try nor want any friends. That required effort, time, and somewhat who gave a damn. His life had changed when his son was born; it was given new meaning and perspective. There was more to life then cutting open patients and fixing them. He listened to patients more, and he even struggled to be somewhat sensitive. Maybe it was time to invest time with others to realize the bonds of friendship. Maybe.
It might, possibly...it could be fun. Peter grimaced slightly at the thought. All right maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He wouldn't advertise the fact or anything. Carter's parents were too busy to appreciate their son, which was sad. Both of Benton's own parents were dead, and what he wouldn't give to have any of that time back. How could two people care so little about there son? Why did it take Carter's near death experience for Peter to realize he cared, or even have the desire to express the fact?
`Guilt, guilt never accomplished anything,' Peter thought. Words were never his strong point, but he would change that with action and practice. He would just start anew, nothing sweeping. He wasn't going to have a movie night or anything, but maybe he should start being involved in other interests beside his own. Maybe he could be a better friend. Peter smiled inwardly as he approached Carter's room.
"Dr. Benton," a nerve-grating voice stopped Peter.
Peter lowered his head in exasperation, wondering what he had done to deserve to be Rocket Romano's personal pet project of annoyance.
"Yeah, Robert?" Peter asked.
"Come on, we need to go downstairs to speak with a contact of mine in the D.A's office." Romano gestured for Peter to follow.
"Come on, we don't have all day, and Dr. Carter isn't going anywhere," Romano told the surgeon impatiently.
Grudgingly, Peter turned and followed his boss, pondering what the first step would be with his newfound outlook on his life.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Carter had enough sense to kick the recorder under the bed as Logan made a violent grab for it. Logan growled menacingly when the device disappeared beneath the gurney. His nostrils flaring and riding on a wave of pure rage, Logan grabbed Carter by his robe and shook him hard.
"You stupid son of a bitch!" Logan hissed into Carter's face and dug his thumb into the younger man's throat. He pressed hard on the windpipe, as Carter struggled to pry it off, as what little air he was able to take in was being cut off.
Logan continued to compress his throat, effectively dropping Carter to his knees, and watched as his left arm weakly lashed out.
Knowing he was suffocating, Carter balled his right fist, and with all his remaining strength, drove it into his assailant's groin. Logan screamed in pain as a piercing fire shot through him. Out of desperation, he fumbled with the oxygen line, snapping it off as he tumbled to the ground, bringing Carter crashing down on top of him.
Carter crumbled and landed painfully. His throat throbbed, his back seized into an uncontrollable spasm, he desperately gasped for breath, only able to inhale inadequate amounts of air. He cried out as he scrambled off of the man clutching at his groin in pain. Carter crawled agonizingly on the floor in search of his mask. He felt like he had been kicked in hard in the groin himself, and saw little droplets of blood on the floor; he had pulled the catheter out in the fall.
Logan, in obvious agony, pulled himself to his hands and knees and inched by the edge of the bed. He searched for the elusive tape recorder, and his fingers slipped around the device upon discovery.
Carter clutched at the head of the bed and tried to pull himself up, as Logan used the middle of the gurney and gingerly gathered himself into a standing position. Logan maintained a fierce grip on the tape recorder, and mercilessly brought it down on the younger doctor's skull, slamming the small device onto the side of Carter's head, cracking it in the process.
Carter felt the tape recorder smash over his head and a sharp pain rocketed through his skull. It toppled him onto the bed and he felt blood trickling down the side of his face. Carter saw Logan's hand out of the corner of his eye, ready to bring the broken device down on him once more. Unwilling to continue to be pummeled, Carter reached out towards the only object in reach, the IV pole. He twisted around excruciatingly, but with both hands slammed the metal rod over Logan's own head. The upper hooks of the IV stand connected squarely with Logan's forehead.
Logan collapsed to the ground, dropping the now-useless tape recorder. The force of the blow appeared to have knocked him out cold, and Carter collapsed to the floor in relief, his body unable to continue functioning with lack of oxygen. He lay helpless on the floor, fighting for air, his lungs still too injured to take in the adequate amounts. He was too weak, but thankfully unable to register all the pain he was feeling. Using his fingers, Carter unsuccessfully tried to drag himself over to where the oxygen mask lay, just out of reach. His hands shook and his chest burned, but he couldn't move across the floor fast enough.
He imagined himself as a fish out of water, gasping loudly, unable to breathe at all. The room began to spin and his head felt like it was about to explode. The last thing he heard clearly was a loud exclamation of a male voice, followed by a series of shouts.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Luka found every excuse in the book to wander over to Carter's room. He would stop momentarily and listen for any disturbances, shouts, alarms, anything. The same thing, silence, already greeted him. 'This was good,' he reasoned. It meant that there wasn't any trouble; there wasn't any need for concern. The doctor would stroll over to the nurse's station, casually inquiring about other patients and would happen to ask about Carter. He always got the same answer: he was doing fine, no new visitors, and then Luka would leave to cover the ER.
He was nervous, but Carter had insisted that he should avoid the area just in case he spooked Logan away or was spotted. Luka did not know what to worry about more, the possibility of Dr. Logan having made it over to County, or whether Peter Benton would figure out what was going on. In the latter case, Luka knew that both he and Carter would soon know the true definition of wrath. The Croatian knew that Carter was going to confront the Chief with his theories and evidence, in hopes of intimidating a confession, but he was still suspicious. The resident was keeping something from him, and now he was going out of his mind with worry and unease.
Luka had had it. Deciding it was time to check up on him, he spotted a fatigued Peter walking in his direction, his mind obviously elsewhere. He didn't notice him standing there.
"I was just heading over to his room," Luka stated to get the surgeon's attention.
Peter glanced over at him and walked with Luka towards their mutual destination. "Same here."
Luka thought it odd that he need not mention the patient's name in question, but was a bit reassured that the other doctor did not have the same demeanor towards him as he did earlier. Both men were nearing the room when they heard a crash and the sounds of a struggle.
As soon as it seemed that something very wrong was happening, Peter ran to the room and swung the door open violently. He didn't even pause, but barged into he room and yelled as he entered.
"Get security in here, now!" Peter screamed upon seeing two bodies on the floor. At first, Benton didn't know how to react, so he simply followed his instinct.
He ran over to Carter, who lay sprawled on the floor, his arm weakly reaching for something out of view. Peter checked to see that Luka Kovac was attending to the other man on the floor so he wouldn't have to worry about pounding the doctor. Peter noticed Carter's desperate gasps for air and the blood running down his face. He ran over to the head of the bed. He gently pulled Carter into a sitting position and leaned over to grab an additional line. He bent down and quickly placed the mask over Carter's face.
Carter drew in breath after shuddering breath, unable to control his rapid respirations. His body felt as if it could not inhale in the oxygen fast enough, causing him to cough violently.
Peter wrapped his left arm around John's shoulder. "Calm down, man, slow deep breaths," Benton encouraged him in hushed tones. "Don't hyperventilate." He wrapped his arm around Carter's shoulder, subconsciously encouraging the man to relax against him.
His body exhausted, Carter sagged onto Peter's side as he slowed his breathing down. He tried not to gulp down the oxygen as he battled the pain in his chest. His body did not react well to being deprived of air and then hyperventilation. He began to relax, and closed his eyes. Once his immediate concern had been attended to, his temple began to throb, a reminder of the violent blow it received.
Peter took his eyes off Carter for a second and observed Luka's ministrations of his friend's attacker. His anger was palpable as his mind flared with violent thoughts. When he first saw the blood on Carter's face, the rational, physician side of him that wanted to help his friend battled with his need to beat the hell out of Logan.
Luka glanced up at the surgeon. "He's semi-conscious, but his vitals are stable." The doctor pushed the IV stand away that lay strewn on the floor. "Looks like Carter hit him with the pole."
"Good," was Peter's only response.
Luka looked at him with surprise and slowly accepted the anger and hurt behind the words. Security quickly arrived with Mark Greene and Malik.
"What the hell happened?" Mark asked upon seeing both Dr. Logan and Carter visibly injured.
"I don't know, Mark, but we need you, please," Luka beseeched and moved around so that the doctor could help him lift Logan onto the stretcher.
Peter ignored Mark and Malik as they hurried in, and with the help of the guards, placed Logan on a backboard. The surgeon gently prodded the side of Carter's head to survey the extent of the gash and bleeding.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Peter asked his friend as he took his pulse along side Carter's neck.
Carter shook his head and grimaced as it aggravated his headache.
Peter watched as Malik, Greene, and Luka situated their new patient, and noticed that the man was waking up. Unable to contain his rage, he yelled. "You weren't satisfied at falsifying charts, so you came in here to finish the job?" Peter bellowed at Logan.
Logan held onto his head as spoke, ignoring the watchful eyes of two security officers. "This son of a bitch tried to threaten me and I defended myself against his attack."
"Yeah, Carter is real violent man," Mark replied sarcastically. "Luka, you want to take him? I think Dave is available for an assist."
"Dr. Greene," Luka said getting the senior doctor's attention.
Mark looked at him, and spotted the broken tape recorder on the floor. The attending bent down and retrieved the shattered device. He pried open the part that held tape in and a cassette fell out. Mark pondered the object, as it was clear it was still in perfect condition. He shared a meaningful glance with Luka, and eyed Carter with a curious stare.
The younger man looked back with a hint of a victorious expression, and gasped, "Proof," before he began another coughing fit.
Mark saw Benton's eyebrows rise in interest and he heard Logan start cussing away as he was hauled into the hallway. "That's my fucking tape, give it back!" Mark smiled when he heard the guards intervene to quiet the man down as he was taken away to be treated.
Mark cleared away the IV pole and spotted a small trickle of blood on the floor. He walked over to Peter and crouched down with the both of them. "Carter, do you know where this blood is from?"
Peter, who had been busy trying to console the young man, eyed the drops of blood with concern. "He should be moved and examined. He needs to be sutured and I want a CT of his head," Peter decided.
Mark peered down at Carter. "Are you experiencing any pain elsewhere?" Carter nodded in his response and Mark squeezed his hand. "All right we'll get you thoroughly checked out. Did he hit you anywhere else?" Mark asked trying to rule out injuries. Carter responded by shaking his head again.
"Okay, we need to move you to the bed, so I'm going to help you stand up. Now, I know you probably strained you back, so I'll be as gentle as possible," Mark explained.
"No, I want a backboard, I don't think it is a good idea to move him," Peter interjected.
Mark locked eyes with the surgeon and decided to overrule him. "Peter, we can look at him in here. I don't want to cause more drama by moving him back out into the ER where he might encounter a little more stress." Mark looked at Peter, hoping the man would understand that the last thing that Carter needed was to be the center of attention in this situation. They could use the bed in the room to wheel him to any tests, and Mark was pretty certain that Carter had been knocked around, but not seriously hurt.
Peter relented after a good deal of consideration. He didn't want to deal with the police, or Logan, or anybody at this point and time.
Mark took a few steps back, but remained close to assist the surgeon. Peter slowly stood, pulling Carter up from behind. He let the doctor lean against him and supported him from underneath his arms. Slowly he helped him walk a few steps to the bed where he was lowered down again. Peter spotted a few traces of blood staining his sweatpants and concluded that his catheter had been pulled out in the struggle. Once he was settled down, Mark did a cursory examination. He used his penlight and observed Carter's pupils, while Peter hooked up a blood pressure cuff.
"Heart rate and BP are normal," Peter announced.
Carter lay quietly as both doctors prodded him and continued to ask yes and no questions. Malik had wandered in as a crowd gathered at the door. The male nurse scattered the worried staff after receiving "the stare" from both doctors. Peter had placed a bandage on the side of Carter's head and was applying pressure to it.
"All right, let's get him prepped for a head CT, and I want to make sure nothing happened as a result of the dramatic foley removal. Then, after the tests, I'll suture him," Peter informed Malik. Peter peered down at his patient, who had remained silent during both doctor's ministrations.
"Then, Carter, I want you to tell me what the hell happened and how the hell you got a hold of a cassette recorder." There was no room for argument in that tone.
Carter actually felt bad enough to look a bit sheepish at the disapproving look he was receiving from both co-workers. He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Mark, and shrugged when the attending gave him a curious stare.
"I don't even want to know," Mark said as Peter sighed heavily.
next
Mark shared a glance with Peter and indicated that the matter should be discussed later. The attending watched Peter's lips twitch, but he silently agreed. Mark shoved the cell phone into his lab coat and glanced behind him, seeing that the crowd at the door had left, at least for now. Malik was still standing in the room just in case he was needed, and probably in order to get first hand information to relay to the rest of the staff.
Peter continued his examination of Carter, prodding for any hidden injuries by testing for tenderness along Carter's abdomen and side. He didn't want to be persuaded by Carter's insistence that he wasn't punched in the stomach or kicked when he was on the floor. It would be just like the younger doctor to continue to shy away or be less than specific when it came to his own discomfort.
As he felt along Carter's ribcage, he noticed how unaffected the man was to his probing. "Carter, man, I know you'll give me this silent stuff until you explain to me this little incident, but I need you to let me know if there is any pain."
Upon receiving no response, Peter shook Carter's shoulder lightly. "Carter." After several more seconds of silence, Peter tensed, and called his name louder as Mark took out his penlight again.
"Carter...Carter!" Peter's voice grew louder in worry rose half an octave, as his friend remained motionless on the bed.
Malik rushed to the gurney as he realized something wasn't right. He had remained at a discreet distance, but was alarmed by the sudden activity. Or Carter's lack of it. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Sudden loss of consciousness," was Benton's frantic reply.
Peter lowered the bedrail to gain easier access and felt for a pulse. "Pulse has increased...it's 110, from 90 just a few minutes ago." Peter grabbed the blood pressure cuff from the table behind him, where he had discarded it seemingly moments ago.
Mark lifted each of Carter's eyelids, shining the light into each. "Pupils are unequal, but reactive." Mark said, keeping his voice calm for the benefit of the other doctor.
"You want me to call for more help?" Malik asked nervously.
Peter fastened the blood pressure cuff around Carter's limp arm. "No, just make sure you get a room set up for a head CT, now!" Peter shouted, startling the nurse as he ran out.
"He was just fine a minute ago," Peter mumbled to himself. "BP is 140/110." Peter quickly released the cuff. "I want to elevate him to reduce any potential swelling, can you grab some pillows?"
Mark nodded, and gathered two pillows from the nearby closet and brought them over to the bed. Peter placed one hand under Carter's head and the other behind his neck, carefully lifted him up. Mark slid one pillow beneath the man's shoulders and one underneath his head.
"I want an MRI as well," Peter spoke, and locked a gaze with another worried set of eyes.
"We'll do everything thoroughly, Peter," Mark told him.
"He could be hemorrhaging, or have a clot or--" Peter was cut off by a the sudden placement of a hand on his shoulder.
"Peter, look at me," Mark commanded, his hand remaining in contact.
Benton glanced up, but could not help but gaze back down at the unconscious figure in front of him. After a moment, he stared up at Mark.
"He probably has a concussion, but we will rule out anything else," Mark told him pointedly. Any confidence he could relay to Benton at this point would be desperately needed. "I hate to tell you this, Peter, but you are still covering the ER. Why don't you go check on things down there, and you can view the test results when I get them back."
"I'll walk with you there and check the board," Peter answered gruffly, obviously reluctant to leave.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Luka Kovac was sitting in the lounge in the darkest corner he could find. It had taken every reasonable and rational bone in his body to properly treat Logan for his head injury. Dave had been helpful, but even the young resident could not control his distaste for whom they were helping. After surveying and assisting in the examination, Luka left when Kerry came in to finish with the sutures.
He had been panicked when he entered the room, discovering that sonofabitch had attacked Carter, and he could not help but feel responsible for anything that happened to the young man. Luka knew that brooding was not going to do anyone any good, so he sucked in a deep breath and headed back out to confess his role in Carter's scheme. He wanted to let everyone know, so they would not bother Carter about it. Luka just wanted the resident to recover in peace, without any additional stress caused by having to explain his actions to the staff, and namely, to Peter Benton.
Luka was making his way back when he saw Peter storming into the admit area. Luka noticed how much the staff kept their distance from the surgeon, and Malik had a rather "deer caught in the headlights" expression on his face. The Croatian crept over to the male nurse and asked him in a hushed tone, "Is there something else wrong?"
Malik watched Peter erase several names off the board and turned to respond, keeping his voice low. "Dr. Carter might have a head injury. He lost consciousness a few minutes after you left. Dr. Greene felt it was better for Dr. Benton to cover the ER until the tests came back."
Luka closed his eyes in despair. He rubbed at his temples, as the migraine he felt coming on took over his head in full force. As he was massaging his aching head, he heard a commotion and opened his eyes to see Peter staring at him. Upset was not the word to describe the other man's demeanor. It was more like a volcano waiting to explode.
Peter pointed his finger at Luka's chest and spoke, barely keeping the animosity from his voice. "I told you I wanted him to remain in the ICU under close supervision. That is the last time I let you persuade me or I let you question my decisions." Peter bit his lip to keep from continuing, and slammed one of the charts in his hand onto the. "I have no more patients here. Page me if I'm needed," Peter spoke to Randi, ignoring Luka, and stormed away.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Peter stepped slowly into the room, making sure he was quiet and unobtrusive. He surveyed the scene before him, his conscious weighing heavier then it had a few hours before. Logan was not seriously hurt, and was immediately transferred to the local jail. He had an appointment with the D.A, who had still been in the hospital at the time. Peter was on his way back to Carter's room when Mark found him and thought he should listen to the tape left in the recorder before handing it over to the police. They went to the lounge where Mark inserted the tape in a waiting cassette player.
Benton listened to the conversation with a vacant stare, while his imagination took over his mind. At first he was slightly proud when he heard the younger man ask some very interesting questions, obviously piecing together parts of a puzzle that others had not considered. As he heard these little tidbits of information, it occurred to him what exactly Carter was hoping to accomplish.
So, he figured out some things. Why didn't he point these out to detectives who did not know anything about medicine or hospital policy? As the semi-interrogation continued, he could hear the difficulty that his friend was having and the toll such confirmation was exacting on his health. Then the questioning transformed to taunting and the mental game that Carter was waging, ever so slowly trying to rattle the other man. Carter was trying to piss off the quick-to-anger bastard, and it was working. Then he did it; Logan confessed, and all hell broke loose. It was hard to tell, but a violent struggle apparently broke out, and the result almost had almost exacted terrible price on them all.
Having heard more than enough, Benton retreated to the ICU. Carter was back on that floor at his insistence. Peter gazed at the monitors connected to Carter, hoping for some improvement.
The surgeon heard the door open, and Romano walked in ever so quietly, his expression somber and his voice surprisingly sympathetic. "We should be getting the test results in a few minutes."
Peter simply nodded.
Romano stood near the edge of the bed, at a loss of what to do or to say to the other doctor. "What are his vitals?" Romano rolled his eyes at such a horrible attempt at conversation, but realized that Peter was too tired to even recognize the lame attempt at small talk.
"His temp has increased to 100.2, his BP and heart rate have increased also." Peter paused to rub at his chin and continued in a mechanical tone of voice. "He can't have any stimulants, so we were forced to take him off the steroids for his lungs, which only serves to complicate his recovery. Mark said he woke up once for a few minutes during his MRI, but he lost consciousness again. When he wakes up he will not be given any sedatives, so that means he'll be in pain from his strained back and they'll be nothing that can be done about it."
Romano was not the consoling type, so he had nothing to add to Peter's disparaging words. All in all, the young man was not in critical shape but Robert knew that Peter was upset because of his inability to keep what he feared from happening, so he remained silent, knowing that platitudes would only come across as insulting. Carter was hooked up to an oxygen mask, his face looked slightly flushed, but these were typical symptoms from a blow to the head. Robert heard the door squeak and saw Mark Greene standing on the outskirts of the room with test films in his hand. Not wanting to be left out, Robert told himself to screw the rules and signaled for the attending to come in.
Mark had already viewed the tests and had consulted others concerning the results. He was prepared for doubts and second opinions, but agreed with the diagnosis. "His head CT did reveal a small clot and some cerebral irritation, but the head of Neuro is very confident that is will resolve itself. It's very small and there is no need for surgery," Mark added while he handing the films to Peter, knowing the man would not be satisfied until he reviewed them himself.
"Well that's good enough for me, keep me posted. I'm going down to the station to make sure our interests are being looked after correctly this time. Despite what happened, I have to say I'm a bit surprised at our dear Dr. Carter's inventiveness for pursuing his own cause. I wouldn't put it past him to have a secret decoder ring hidden somewhere." Romano looked around and noticed that his co- workers didn't appreciate his sense of humor, so he grunted and made his way out of the room.
Mark gave the retreating Chief a perplexed look, and noted how unamused his colleague was. Mark shook his head and began to reason with the unhappy surgeon the brighter outlook of things. "Peter, he doesn't have a skull fracture or--"
"I know all the pros and cons of this diagnosis, Mark," Peter interrupted him.
While the two doctors continued to debate the issue, they did not notice the patient in question slowly coming around. Carter opened his eyes and squinted from the low amount of light in the room. His head pounded, and it felt like his skull was on fire from the inside. He weakly felt the side of his skull, noticing a new row of neatly sewn stitches beneath his fingertips. Touching the area where he was clobbered only sent new sensations of pain through his head and waves of nausea through his stomach.
He shifted unsuccessfully in the bed, catching the attention of the bickering doctors in the room. Both Mark and Peter leaned over him, causing him to feel somewhat smothered. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to disengage the feeling of being suddenly claustrophobic. His stomached churned and all the punishment his body had endured the past few days assaulted him all at once with a million dull aches and sharp pains.
Peter took out a penlight and tested Carter's pupils, receiving a sharp intake of breath in response that only caused his patient to cough violently. The surgeon looked on helplessly as his friend tried to control the coughing while struggling with his intake of oxygen. After the fit had subsided, Peter observed Carter cradle his head.
"You need to lay still and quietly. That means no getting up, no moving around, and no physical activity of any kind," Peter grilled Carter with an expression that meant his orders would be followed to the letter.
For his part, Carter silently accepted the Benton doctrine and grimaced, as the pain in his head only seemed to increase every minute he was awake. He felt restless and was sweating, which only served to make feel even more miserable. "Its hot in here." he said under the mask, his voice conveying his exhaustion.
"You shouldn't talk, Carter." Mark advised him.
"You have a fever, from what I can not determine. It could be from a possible infection from the dramatic foley removal, or from your injured lungs, or from the concussion..." Peter's voice was getting louder and louder from the fear and anger he had been feeling.
"I'm sorry," Carter said weakly.
"Back off, Peter," Mark warned him by placing his hand on the surgeon's shoulder.
Peter bowed his head in remorse. He didn't want to upset John, he just had to vent his feelings at someone. Carter had placed his life in danger to coax a confession out of a violent man, and he had done it with some kind of help. Patience was not one of his strong suits, and he did not know whether he had should wait for Carter to inform him about what transpired earlier in the day.
Carter wet his dry lips under the mask and grimaced again at feelings of lightheadedness. Before he had a chance to inquire about the specifics of his injury, his stomach finally rebelled against him. "I'm going to be sick," he managed to say.
Peter quickly snatched an emesis bowl and held it under John's mouth, while placing a hand under his head. Mark removed the oxygen mask and both men were situated to help as Carter retched in the bowl, but he ended up only coughing up bile since he had been off solid food for days now. His stomach muscles screamed and his chest burned, as he was sick for what seemed like hours. When the nausea pasted, he was gently placed back against his pillow.
Peter thought his friend looked awful, his face was flushed, and he was developing dark circles under his eyes. Mark left and returned with a wet washcloth, which he handed to the surgeon. Peter placed the moist cloth against John's forehead and bathed his neck. Peter clenched his teeth when he noted the bruising around Carter's windpipe, but kept himself from asking the man if toying with Logan was worth being nearly strangled.
Peter placed the washcloth on the table, and rested his hand on the bed, leaning his head against it. Carter had fallen asleep. If Peter could not control that Carter's nausea, then his patient would be in danger of further weakening and dehydration. He would make sure that his antibiotics were monitored closely, and he would give him Compazine. Peter felt a bit flustered after momentarily forgetting he was not alone in the room. Slowly he stood up and took the films with him.
Both men left the room in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Peter wanted to make damn sure that there would be no other mistakes made regarding Carter's health. He would consult with the head of neurology about the clots and confirm that the medical course of treatment was the safest and most effective. Benton leaned against the wall of the hallway, pondering on how he could determine who Carter's helper had been in all of the recent madness. It had to be someone he could convince or bribe. It could have been a member of the nursing staff, Carter could have just ordered them around, or even paid off in order to get the recorder and phone.
Mark watched his co-worker's expression transform with each flickering thought. He was at a loss as to how their patient could have gotten a hold of things so easily. `Didn't whoever Carter conned into helping him know the extent of the danger they were placing the younger man in?' Mark wondered. The ringing of a phone interrupted his random musing. Startled, Mark looked over at Peter who was staring back at him.
It took a moment before Mark realized the ringing was coming from the cell phone in his lab coat. He pulled it out cautiously, as if it were a ticking bomb. He hit the talk key and spoke into it. "Hello?"
Peter watched intently as Mark talked to the person on the only line. The attending's eyes widened during the caller's portion of the conversation.
"No, this is not he," Mark replied, his face taking on a shade of red.
"Yes, I'll be sure to tell him you called." Mark punched the end button on the phone and placed it back in his lab coat. He looked up at Peter, his expression dumbfounded.
Peter turned and squared his shoulders in order to look as intimidating as possible. "So, who the hell does the phone belong to?" he demanded.
"Peter, I want you to calm down," Mark asked.
"Just tell me who they were asking for, Mark," Peter insisted impatiently.
Mark looked down at the floor and answered, "Luka Kovac."
Peter grabbed Mark's lab coat pocket and pulled out the incriminating cell phone. "I'll kill him," he said, and violently brushed past Mark on his was to the admitting area.
Luka Kovac had retreated to the confines of the lounge. His shift had ended an hour ago, but he remained there in order to do some intensive reading. He did not want to go back to the ICU when he knew both Mark and Peter were there attending to Carter's new complications. He would confront the two physicians when tensions were not so high. Luka cursed himself for letting any of this transpire. He allowed Carter to convince him of the worthiness of the deed and talk him into believing that it would be somewhat safe.
Carter was a smart man, he conned him into retrieving the phone and the recorder by insisting that it was the only way to bring Logan to justice. There were other reasons for the risk that Luka had noted, even if Carter did not say it out loud, or consciously realized it. John was trying to protect more then self interests and Luka knew that the young resident did not need to endure anymore emotional stress or guilt.
So, he took the chance, and in Luka's mind, he lost. Frustrated, the Croatian gave the nurse his medical I.D. and after many rounds of self-assurances was able to get a copy of John's chart. The doctor had spent the remaining hours combing through John's medical history and making notations of his current stay. Too many smaller injuries were mounting, creating a slower recovery than normal. He had violated the physician's code, so it didn't matter whether Benton, Greene, or anyone would ever accept what he did; Luka knew he would never be able to condone his own actions.
Luka placed the folder on his lap and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. His head hurt and he was exhausted, but he knew sleep would not come for him tonight, or any time soon for that matter. He stretched his back and stared at the ceiling. The slamming and then locking of the lounge door quickly eroded his distracted focus on the tiles. Knowing what was about to transpire, Luka took a deep breath and stood up to face the overly aggressive and protective surgeon.
It was a wonder that the cell phone Peter was holding had not cracked under the pressure of his intense grip. He shook the device as he spoke; each word was barely audible from the battle between control and fury.
"You gave a very sick patient a telephone to call a man that we had guards posted outside the door to keep from coming in and then you convinced me to have him transferred so that same individual could gain access to him?" Peter asked incredulously.
Luka would not deny it, so he simply answered, "Yes."
Peter stepped closer as he tried to comprehend things as he was discussing them. "What did you think he was going to do with the tape recorder? Dictate his thoughts?" Peter asked angrily.
"No, I knew he was going to ask Logan some things in order to get a confession out of him, I did not know he was going to taunt him into giving one." Luka explained trying to keep his voice calm.
"Well Logan also used it to bash his head in just like this!" Peter took Luka's cell phone and slammed it onto the counter and the device seemed to explode, sending little plastic pieces everywhere.
Breathing hard from releasing just some of his anger, Peter stood still only a moment before tearing back into the doctor. "He has a concussion because of you!" Peter pointed his finger at Luka as he continued releasing his fury at the other doctor. "Do you have any idea what kind of set back you have caused? Not only do we have to take him off his breathing treatment for his seared lungs, he's off his morphine!"
Peter approached Luka; his breath coming in and out in short bursts. "Any complications from here on out are result of your ethical violations as a doctor and I place you personally responsible for every extra minute he is in pain." Peter waited for a reaction, for anything.
Luka watched the surgeon twitch with uncontrolled emotion; the other doctor wanted any excuse to rip into him. "Do you want to hit me Dr. Benton? Would that make you feel better? Will that make Carter recover any faster?" Luka asked, his accent thicker from the stress.
Peter considered the idea for a second. He was correct, all he wanted to do right now was beat the hell out of the him, but his better half that was overwhelmed by his inability to express himself was keeping him from acting according to his intentions.
"What I want from you is the reason you aided Carter in this ridiculous plan. Cut all the bullshit about seeking justice, because I don't want to hear it," the surgeon growled.
Luka looked away and muttered quietly. "I thought he could handle it."
"He couldn't even walk!" Peter yelled in a quivering voice.
Luka spun to face him and he stared at him, eye to eye. "I took the chance that he could fix one thing...one thing that was out of his control." Luka's voice rose as he spoke, all of his feelings coming out in one large flourish of emotion. "You're right, I don't know Carter as well as you do, but I know how to speak to people."
Luka began to pace around the room gesturing wildly as he talked. Peter stood there stunned, just listening. "He coaxed that confession for you! Carter doesn't want the extra burden of knowing you could not deliver on your promise that Logan would be arrested. You assured him that somehow you would make sure that he was arrested and convicted even though you had no control over such things. How dare you make such promises! You...you don't know how to speak with words, you show people how you feel with actions. Carter knows this, you taught him this way of communicating!"
Luka stopped only to catch his breath and face the angry doctor. "Carter wanted to reassure himself that he could take command of his own life and do it for himself. Carter can't bring back Lucy, he can't show Romano that he's 100 percent, so he's left with one thing he can make amends with. He felt he could get the proof needed to arrest Logan, a person responsible for his hospitalization, and release you from some sort of debt."
"So somehow this is my fault?" Peter questioned.
"No, no, no, there is no fault!" Luka implored. He continued to walk around the room. "Yes, I'm to blame." Luka faced the surgeon. "So blame me! I did it! He confided to me what he wanted to do." Luka placed his hands on his hips, his voice taking an exasperated tone. "He's very persuasive when he wants to be."
Peter avoided eye contact with the foreign doctor, his mind reeling with all this new information. "You should have told someone. You had an obligation to keep a patient in a serious state of ill health from a dangerous situation, no matter how good your intentions." Peter said bitterly.
Luka nodded. "I know, and I was wrong. I'll never forgive myself."
Peter stalked over to Luka, grabbing the lapels of the doctor's lab coat. "That's not good enough. Where was your guilt when Logan was trying to strangle him, huh?" Peter shook Luka and the other doctor let him.
Both doctors heard loud tapping on the glass window of the door to the lounge. Peter felt his anger swell and willed himself to calm down. He let go of Luka and spoke to him, his voice threatening. "You stay away from my patient, I don't want to catch you near him."
Luka understood why Peter was feeling this way, but he felt the other doctor did not have the right to keep him away from anyone. "I want to know how's he doing. I want to know what you're doing for the cranial bleeding."
Peter shook his head. "You want to know, here." The surgeon took out a several sheets of paper, and flipped through them, stopping on a desired page. He ripped it away and flung it at the other doctor. "You can read a copy of how I'm treating these new sets of complications."
Without a second thought, Peter unlocked the lounge door and scattered the crowd whom had been eavesdropping on the heated argument. Luka picked up the sheet of paper off the floor and sat down wearily to read it.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
John decided that counting ceiling tiles had lost its appeal days ago. Staring at them for long periods of time did not distract him; it did not make him sleepy, in fact the idea of any form of mathematics only increased the pain in his head. He was exhausted, miserable, and hot. It was impossible to stay still, but the slightest movement only caused his stomach to roll or his head to pound.
Mark Greene watched the restless resident from the corner of the room. He did not want to disturb him and the attending was impatiently waiting for Peter to return to administer the medications that their patient needed. Peter had been terse and to the point. While he was present, he would be the only one to inject medications or sign orders for procedures. Mark moved aside when he saw the door open and Benton enter the room.
"How's he been?" Peter asked in a hushed tone.
"His nausea has increased and he's been restless." Mark turned to look at the other man. "I heard through the grapevine you had somewhat of a confrontation earlier, I'm glad you didn't do anything foolish."
Peter grunted his dissatisfaction and made his way to the bed. His patient faced him, trying to hide the grimace his movement caused.
"Guess that's," pause, "the last time I do something so," small gasp, "stupid." Carter said.
"You're right, it was stupid thing to do, and one I'll never understand." Peter responded while checking Carter's vitals. The surgeon frowned.
"Been sick several times?" Peter asked.
Carter merely nodded and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable with so many extra pillows shoved behind him for elevation. "Everyone thinks I'm deaf, but I'm not."
Another shuddering breath. "Don't blame Dr. Kovac for what happened." Carter continued to speak under the mask, knowing that his friend could understand him after several days of communicating this way. "I made him do it." Carter closed his eyes, willing the pain away.
Peter chose to ignore him as he proceeded to look at equipment readouts. "I examined your CT and MRI results and I'm pretty certain we can avoid surgery at this point. I think the medication will reduce the clotting, but it'll be a few days before we can resume the Abertrol treatments. I'll be monitoring your pulse ox and resps really closely, so this means no talking."
"I don't care," was John's weak reply.
Peter began to change the burn dressings on his chest. "These don't look too bad, when you get home be sure to keep changing them and I'll doubt there will be any scarring," Peter went on, his voice and demeanor monotone.
John took his hand and placed it on the surgeon's to stop his ministrations. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice still very raspy.
"I want you to care, damn it!" Peter shouted. The surgeon could sense Mark's gaze at him from the corner but he chose to ignore him. "You ran into a burning building twice, you lied to me about how you were feeling in the hallway, and you placed yourself in a situation that resulted in your stay here!" Peter indicated the ICU room.
"I also placed an maniac in jail and saved you the torture of a guilty conscious!" John wheezed back. The effort of yelling only resulted with a bout of coughing that he couldn't control. He couldn't stop his lungs from seizing and his chest burned ferociously. He couldn't catch his breath and he panicked.
Peter quickly reacted by increasing the oxygen to 10 liters and placed his arm around Carter's back. The younger man grabbed the railing as he rode the coughing fit out and sagged against Peter's side. Peter rubbed his hand up and down the doctor's arm, trying to calm him down.
"I'm sorry," Carter muttered between gasps. "I just wanted to fix things," he said, choking on the words.
Peter saw Mark approach the bed and the surgeon warned him away with a stare. "It's okay man, it's all over." John seemed to break down in the bed, a wave of emotions exploding. "You didn't have to do that alone, you could of told me." Peter responded in a softer voice.
John shook his head, "You'd talk ...me out...of it."
"Yeah, you're probably right, there could have been safer ways. I hope next time when you're faced with such a stressful choice you might...share it with me." Peter struggled to find the words to express himself.
"Maybe."
"You better." Peter replied in an insincerely forceful voice.
The surgeon overruled his inner voices and embraced the other doctor in a quick hug.
John appreciated the gesture and relaxed back into the bed. "It's been...so hard...lately. I...thought I could...handle things alone. I... think...I need to work...some things out." He inhaled deeply from his mask. "I...I might talk to someone about...it."
Peter patted him on the shoulder. "That might be a good idea, Carter." Not used to displays of emotion, Peter smoothed out his unwrinkled scrubs "When you're feeling better, I can arrange for someone to come down and talk to you."
The older doctor studied his patient, taking in his grayish pallor. "Okay, let's take care of the nausea and keep you hydrated." Peter injected the Compazine into one of the IV ports. "I'm increasing your dosages of widespread antibiotics for the fever," Peter said, changing one of the bags of solutions.
John closed his eyes while he was given the different medications. He chastised himself for his previous actions, thinking at the time it was worth the trouble. John did not know if he could count on anyone else's support, in a weird way he was glad that he had misjudged others. Too bad it took getting the sense knocked into him to make such a realization.
John couldn't let Peter leave without at least trying to change his mind about Luka. "Dr. Benton, please give...Dr. Kovac a chance--"
"Carter, be quiet." Peter tried to keep his patient from wearing himself out.
"Please, Dr. Benton...he was helping me--"
Peter placed his hand on John's chest to indicate that it was time finish talking." He used bad judgment and that's the last time I'll speak about it."
Realizing he had just spoken to his friend like a child, Peter amended his words. "He made a hasty decision about a patient's care, yours," Peter said pointedly to John, "and I don't trust his medical opinion."
Peter gathered the medical waste and disposed of it in one of the receptacles. "Now, try to relax and I'll be back in a while." Peter joined Mark walking out the door.
Mark remained silent, not wanting to comment on any part of the exchange he overheard. He was just relieved that this day was coming to an end, and that their patient was doing better and a certain surgeon did not punch out one of his co-workers.
They rounded the corner and Mark's peace of mind became short-lived when he saw Luka running down the hall out of breath. The attending stole a glance at Peter, seeing his jaw was set and his posture straightened. 'This was not the time for this,' Mark thought.
Luka's expression was urgent and he gestured with his hand for both men to stop.
"Dr. Benton, you need to go back in there and take him off the Compazine!" Luka said breathlessly.
Peter had definitely had enough of Luka Kovac for one day. "I told you to stay away--"
"Peter, be quiet! Did you give him Compazine or not?" Luka was directly in Peter's face.
Mark intervened by grabbing Luka and pulling him away from the surgeon who was about to lose his fleeting cool.
"Yes, I gave him Compazine for his nausea!" Peter hollered back, his patience depleted.
"Take him off it now!" Luka shouted and tried to get past both doctors blocking his way.
"What the hell are you babbling about, Kovac?" Peter asked, his voice rising.
"Enough! Both of you!" Mark shouted as he struggled to keep Luka and Benton away from each other.
"I've been reading his medical history. He's allergic to Compazine!" Luka said urgently.
Peter's eyes grew large in horror. "Damn it!" He barreled down the hallway and busted through the ICU room.
John woke up startled as Peter came charging in. Without warning, the other doctor ripped out his IV.
"Ouch! What did you do that for, Dr. Benton?" John asked as the surgeon placed his hand on the source of the bleeding.
"Nothing, nothing," Peter muttered as he searched for a bandage. He found one, and applied it to the IV site and taped it down. "I'll start another one," Peter said, his voice slightly uneasy.
"Why did you tear out the one I had?" John looked at his mentor with bewilderment.
"I...I gave you Compazine and I didn't know you were allergic to it," Peter explained while keeping his voice soft.
John knew that voice, the one that could not admit to a mistake. John watched somewhat fascinated as the doctor silently attached a new IV to his arm. His face was impassive except for a slight twitch. John remained silent himself, not wanting to disturb Peter in the midst of self-doubt.
Peter finished cleaning the mess made and glanced up almost sheepishly. "Feeling any odd effects? I mean, you shouldn't, since there shouldn't be much in your system," Peter's words were spoken quickly.
John just shook his head no. He wasn't worried about the mistake and he wasn't about to complain. Peter was giving himself a hard enough time as it was.
"Good, then I need to go."
Peter left in a hurry of embarrassment or shame, Carter wasn't sure which. The thought of his muscles stiffening and the feeling of having a stroke that the Compazine would have made him experience was not something he wanted to go through again. The one time Dennis Gant had given him some was one too many times for him. It scared him for a moment, the prospect of such a reaction in his medical condition, but it didn't happen.
It was time to count sheep now, he mused, as he tried to drift off to sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The Next Day
Robert folded his hands on the front of his oak desk. In his office he felt like the king and as the domineer, overlooking a disgruntled subject, only made him smile. Yes, he smirked, something he worked very hard to obtain. The matter before him was serious and that was the reason why his smile was a facade. He wasn't as cold hearted as everyone presumed, but the less they knew the better.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Peter. Didn't you learn to check case histories when administering drugs to a patient?" Robert knew his question was rhetorical, but he enjoyed rattling people's cages, especially Peter's. It was so much fun to watch him react.
"Well, are you going to answer me or continue your impersonation of a statue?" he asked condescended.
Peter looked away briefly, but brought his eyes back to the person in front of him. He held his hands in the air and brought them down in a quick, jerky expression. "I missed it."
Robert slammed his fist down on his desk. "You missed it, Peter, and the result could have sent the young doctor into shock," Robert said curtly.
"I caught it in time," Peter defended.
"Taking credit from others? Dr. Kovac caught it, you just tore the damn thing out of him." Robert corrected, his tone as chastising as ever.
Peter shifted in his seat and muttered to himself.
"What's that, Peter? I can't hear you," Robert taunted.
"I said none of it would have happened if Kovac had not conspired with Carter to bring Logan into his room, resulting in his current status," Peter replied brusquely.
"We're talking about your mistakes here, Peter, no one else's." Robert eyed him intently.
Peter remained silent, having nothing else to say.
Robert sighed dramatically. "Don't worry there, I already grilled Kovac for his actions and have dealt with him in my own way. You, on the other hand, need to review your medical judgment. Shall we?" Robert rose from his chair and leaned against the edge of the desk.
"Cheer up Peter, I have good news. Seems like good old Chuck is being hung out to dry. When he was confronted with the taped confession, the detectives took a cue from Carter and egged him on. That superiority complex took over damn quickly and he spilled his guts about the whole ordeal. He'll be in prison for a long time."
Peter looked up and felt a sense of relief.
"So, in a roundabout sort of way, Carter is responsible for Logan's arrest. I won't come down too hard on him, I think the whack on the head taught him a thing or two about playing cowboy." Robert rolled his eyes when he saw Peter's scowl at his poor tact.
"Okay, lecture over." Robert stood up. "By the way, try not to be so hard on the foreign guy, he did go after your butt in the fire and if I recall correctly, helped drag everyone out. I think all of us used some bad judgment and I don't know, learned a thing or two."
Peter exited the Chief's office and saw Luka hovering outside.
The other doctor looked up. "He wanted to see me again when you were done," Luka said.
"Yeah, well, glad you caught the allergic reaction in Carter's medical chart," Peter said.
Luka nodded accepting the fact that this was as close he would ever get to making amends with the other doctor. "I'm glad the bleeding was controlled by medication, he should be released in a week or so, no?"
Peter nodded. "He'll resume his treatments for a few days, and once we wean him off oxygen, he'll go home next week."
There was an awkward silence and Luka simply replied, "Good."
One week later
John hobbled to the door after hearing the persistent knocking. He had just been released from the hospital a couple days ago, and since then phone calls and visitors had barraged him. John was tired, but nothing could destroy the happiness he felt since being released. On his last day at County Judith had called and insisted that John and all of his friends come to her house for a victory dinner. Somehow, the elderly woman pressured Peter into driving him to her home once he was settled.
John was less than thrilled with the prospect and was equally shocked when Peter agreed. He even went as far as checking his IV to make sure no one had slipped him morphine when he wasn't looking. The gesture was not lost on the other doctor, and he had been on a receiving end of another trademark 'I'm not in the mood for this' Benton stare.
The knocking continued and John opened the door to let the surgeon into his apartment. Peter entered, seeming somewhat relaxed instead of his usual abrupt and serious manner. The other doctor watched his friend limp back to his couch and bend down ever so slowly to put his dress shoes on. Peter noticed that the younger doctor had one of his nice dark suits and a gray tie on.
Peter had dressed in one of his own suits as well. He knew it was not a formal affair, but felt the need to dress up, as Carter seemed eager about the invitation. Peter studied the other man carefully with physician's eyes. Carter still moved around gingerly since it would take a while for his strained muscles and inflammation to heal. Peter had arranged for physical therapy to take place three times a week, since even before the fire Carter had still been recovering from his surgery merely ten weeks ago. The younger man still had to visit a respiratory therapist twice a week for his ongoing treatment for the chemical damage to his lungs.
John looked up at Peter and smiled. "Don't worry, Dr. Benton, I'm taking things easy." The younger doctor felt the waves of concern emanating from the man across from him.
Peter shook his head to deny such musings. "I'm not concerned, just making sure I don't have to see your face as a patient anymore," Peter replied nonchalantly.
John grinned, knowing the falsity of the words and stood up. "You ready to go?"
Peter looked around the room. "Yeah, but where's your cane?" The older doctor had sent Carter home with a walking cane because he was still experiencing some left-sided weakness, enough that he could not drive his stick shift yet.
John crossed his arms. "I still have it, but I just don't want to use it over at Mrs. Cobb's house. I don't want to deal with the fuss or the worry." His voice was adamant.
Peter knew that stubborn tone and did not want to argue when his friend was looking forward to the dinner. "Fine, but you use it every other time, you understand, Carter?"
John heard the doctor's voice loud and clear. "I will, Dr. Benton."
John picked up a flower arrangement lying on a table near the door, and both men left for their celebration dinner.
XXXXXXX
Peter pulled into the driveway of a small brick home in the suburbs of Chicago. Both men got of Peter's vehicle and the older doctor noticed the BMW parked next to his. "Looks like Romano is here," he said unhappily.
John looked surprised, he didn't think the Chief of Staff would have accepted Judith's invitation. Judith offered it during her last visit to the hospital. She had come back for an appointment concerning her Bell's Palsy, and brought Carter some books to read for his remaining days in the hospital.
John climbed the stairs, carefully keeping his hand on the railing, well aware of the other doctor's astute observation of his movements. It hurt to scale even the small set of stairs, but he was assured that months of physical therapy was going to rehabilitate his back from both his surgery and his new injuries.
An overjoyed Mrs. Cobb greeted both doctors after they rang the doorbell. The elderly woman gave John a huge hug that he reciprocated, slightly blushing from the exuberance. Judith even went as far as to hug Peter, who, embarrassedly, gave her a small squeeze back and bowed his head when he saw Carter smiling at him. The men were ushered into the living room where they could smell the food baking in the kitchen.
"Dr. Carter, why don't you sit here?" Judith asked, pointing to a large plush chair.
"Thank you, Judith," John replied, settling himself into the comfortable seat.
Peter remained standing and heard clashing noises coming from the kitchen area. He turned in shock to see Robert Romano emerging from the other room with an apron wrapped around his waist. Peter's eyebrows rose as he suppressed any offhand remarks about his boss's odd appearance. He turned sharply when he heard Carter snicker.
Robert eyed the younger doctor with an amused expression. He noted Carter's grin and inability to disguise his reaction. "Laugh it up, Dr. Carter. I'll have you know that I'm a pretty good cook, when I have to be. Especially when I working with such a lovely lady," Robert said, laying the charm on thick.
Peter found an interesting spot on his shoes to admire so he could avoid rolling his eyes at his boss. Judith burst out laughing from her guests' comedic exchanges.
"You dear people really are funny. Now I hope you're hungry, the food will be ready when that other fine doctor arrives," Judith announced as she sat on the edge of the blue couch next to Carter's chair.
Peter took a deep breath, but he wasn't going to spoil anything. He crossed glances with Romano, whose face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Yep, we're all going to be on our best behavior," Romano said cheerily as went back into the kitchen.
"You look much better, Dr. Carter. I mean, John," Judith corrected.
John shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you, I'm feeling a lot better." It dawned on the younger doctor that he left Judith's flowers in the car.
Peter noticed the change of expression on his friend's face and the way he glanced at his hands. "What's the matter, Carter?" he asked.
John began to stand. "I left something in the car."
Peter motioned his friend to remain seated. "I know what it was, just stay put."
John frowned at the unwanted attention, but he sat back down without protest. He and Judith engaged in pleasant conversation as the surgeon walked back to the car. As he retrieved the bouquet, another car pulled in and Luka Kovac exited his Saab.
Both men stood motionless when they saw each other, silence being the only thing exchanged between them. Luka pulled out a bottle of wine from the seat and decided to be the first one to speak. "I was running a little late. Um...is everyone already here?"
Peter looked down as he spoke. "Yeah, we just arrived a few minutes ago. Romano seems like he has been here for a while."
Luka nodded. When nothing else came to mind to say, he started towards the steps. Peter remained stationary for a moment and followed him without a word. Both men entered the living room where Judith met them.
"Dr. Kovac, you look so handsome!" Judith remarked when she saw the doctor's tailored chocolate colored suit.
Peter rolled his eyes and felt the need to get away from such pleasantries. He congratulated himself from not audibly letting Luka know how he felt, and escaped to the kitchen. He would keep things civil for Carter's sake.
John, for his part, was restless from sitting in the chair. When he saw Benton walk in without his flowers, he felt a bit frustrated that Luka's arrival would make him forget the very reason he went to the car in the first place. John slowly stood up, and Luka glanced at him.
"Hey, I see you are doing a lot better than the last time I saw you," Luka remarked with a slight smile.
"Thanks, I guess it was kind of awkward at the hospital for a while. I'm sorry about that," John said, his voice remorseful.
Luka's smile only broadened. "Hey, it's over with, no? You're better and all the things we talked about have been resolved. When will you return to work?"
John scratched his head. "I'm not sure. In a few weeks, I guess. One of the things I came to realize is that I came back a little too early the first time I was hospitalized. I have some therapy to go through and when I resume working, I want to be a 100 percent when treating patients." John said this with no bitterness or resentment.
Luka patted his shoulder. "Well, I think it is best for you, to be completely healthy before trying to heal the world," Luka said, happy that his colleague was not going to repeat the past and over do things again.
John appreciated his friend's understanding and excused himself. "I left something in the car, I'll be right back."
Luka turned his attention back to Mrs. Cobb when she started to speak. "Such a nice and sweet young man, isn't he?"
Luka nodded and extended his arm when she gestured for it. Luka escorted her to the dining room. "Yes, he certainly is."
XXXXXXX
Peter was not thrilled with the idea of interacting with Romano, but in his attempt to create distance between him and Luka he had had no other alternative at the time. He watched Robert chop vegetables with more delight than should be experienced in the kitchen.
"Your buddy must have shown up for you to be hiding out in the kitchen with me," Robert said casually with an inflection of humor.
Peter picked up a carrot and began to chew on it so he would not have to respond.
"That's not polite, Peter." Robert chastised him for eating before dinner was served. "Why don't you help set up the table or something?"
When he received a blank stare, Robert put his hands to his hips. "Come on, now. You can set a table, can't you?"
Peter furrowed his brow, and started picking up plates of food and carried them into the dinning room. He groaned to himself when he interrupted Luka and Judith carrying on and laughing. He placed the plates of vegetables down and turned to retrieve more.
Luka got up from his seat and called out, "Do you need any help, Dr. Benton?"
"I'm handling it just fine, Kovac," he yelled back.
Luka sighed with irritation, and Judith took notice of Luka's expression of frustration. "Why don't you and Dr. Benton get along, dear?"
Luka smiled as he spoke. "Difference of medical opinion."
Peter made two more trips between the kitchen and the dining room. Satisfied that he had kept out of everyone's way, he went back to the living room to keep Carter company. He walked into the living room and noticed that his chair was vacant. Recalling that he didn't notice the younger man with Judith or Luka, he returned to the dining room.
"Where's Carter?" he asked both of them.
Luka looked past Peter to see if he could locate the subject in question. "He went back to the car for something, I think."
Peter rolled his eyes; he had forgotten the flowers after running into Luka. Peter entered the hallway and found Carter leaning against the wall for support with the flowers in his left hand. The door to the outside was ajar and the younger doctor seemed a little winded.
Peter quickly moved towards him, but Carter waved him way with the flowers, which might have been comical if the surgeon had not been so concerned about his friend's health.
"Don't be so stubborn, Carter, have you learned it's okay to ask for help?" Peter said in an annoyed tone.
John relented and Peter led him by his elbow to the plush chair in the living room. He gripped the side of the chair as he lowered himself back into the chair and groaned when his stiff back protested the movement. "I was just a bit short of breath and the muscle relaxers make me tired so..."
"So you didn't take them," Peter finished his sentence for him. "You need to take it easy for a while, no strenuous activities, your lungs are not completely healed."
John just gave him a sheepish grin. Before the other doctor could chastise him, Judith entered the living room. Upon seeing the red roses in John's grasp, she blushed and placed her hands over his face in surprise. "Oh, John, you shouldn't have!"
The lines of discomfort on Carter's face washed away and were replaced with an expression of delight. John handed the flowers to her and she leaned down to give him another hug. His muscles were still tender, but he was so filled with joy that it didn't matter. John gave Judith a giant bear hug that reminded him of the childhood days he spent with his grandmother.
"It's been a long time since a man has given me flowers, and such a good looking man at that! I'm so lucky to be surrounded by all of you handsome doctors." Judith was becoming emotional and felt a slight tear slide down her face. "I still thank the Lord everyday that you came back for me in that building, Dr. Carter. I can't believe anyone would care about a little old lady like that. You're my hero." Judith wiped at her eyes.
Peter continued to look down at the floor, slightly embarrassed to be witnessing such an emotional moment, but Judith's words really made him realize how lucky she was to have a supporter like John Carter. He searched the room to occupy his gaze with something else in order to give the two more privacy, and saw Luka standing on the outside of the room.
John rose from his chair stiffly to hold Judith, as she was overcome by emotion. He stroked her long silver hair, but he was not depressed. He felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment.
Judith composed herself and looked over at both Peter and Luka. "I'm also so relieved to know that John has such good friends and co- workers who came in to help us. If neither of you young men had arrived, I hate to think how John and I would have gotten out."
Luka and Peter exchanged looks and expressions, both slightly self- conscious as well.
"All three of you are brave men, and I'm so happy to have you in my home to share dinner with me." Judith gave each man an embrace. "Now, let's chow down, you look like you need to eat more, John," Judith chiding him gently in a motherly tone.
Peter laughed. "You should see how much he does eat."
Judith led the way into the dinning room with Luka and John behind her. Peter remained behind Carter, just in case he needed assistance. He limped heavily to the dinner table, but made it there without any further difficulties.
Robert Romano had overheard the emotional display and decided to keep his comments to himself. There was a little healing left to be done, but he was relatively assured that some of it had been accomplished this night. He brought with him the lasagna he had helped prepared. The night was not filled with tension; all of it had melted after the shared moments in the living room.
After the meal had been devoured, all four doctors retreated to the living room. Judith brought out her photo album and showed them pictures of her husband and past friends. Romano asked her where her camera was, and went in search of it.
John stifled a yawn after the dinner and decided that instead of hiding his discomfort he would be upfront with it. "I'm feeling a bit worn out, Judith, I think I need to head home soon."
Peter hid his smile and Judith patted him on the knee. "No problem darling, you're still recouping and need lots of sleep to get all better."
Robert returned, camera in hand, with a huge smile plastered over his face. "Mrs. Cobb, I think we need to add another photo to your collection. Okay people, gather around the fireplace."
John and Judith stood next to each other as Peter and Luka created the bookends of the picture. Robert took a couple of shots, and then one of Judith and John together. When all the posing was over with, each person made his or her goodbyes.
Judith gave another round of hugs to the doctors, and even Peter allowed himself to be briefly hugged. Judith took John by the hand and led him over to the corner. "Whenever you need to talk to someone or want the company of an old lady, you just give me a call."
John smiled. "I will, Judith, and I plan on making you dinner next time."
"Now as much as I appreciated what you did for me, please don't do any more heroic stuff for a long time," she said with a hint of humor.
John nodded with a smile. "I'll try." He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
While the younger doctor and Judith conversed, Peter decided it was time to have a word with the Croatian doctor. "I will never condone what you did last week, but I understand why you did it and the kind of position Carter put you in. I think we all have judgment errors, let's just not try to have any more."
Luka nodded and did not push things too far by shaking the surgeon's hands. "I think we all earned a few lessons, including Carter. I just hope we remain more astute about asking and giving our friends' help."
Peter nodded in return, noticing how Romano remained silently during the exchange, but he could tell by his expression that this was all part of a carefully orchestrated plan. John made his way to the hallway and all four doctors made their exits.
Peter drove Carter to his apartment and walked him to his door. He could tell the younger man was exhausted, but he had seemed to regain a certain spark that had been lacking for months. The quiet man turned to Peter. "I made an appointment to see Dr. DeRaad on Thursday, um...do you think you could give me a ride?" John asked hesitantly.
"Sure thing, man," Peter replied.
"I understand a lot about myself, Dr. Benton, that I was pretty confused about. I think it'll take some time to get over what has happened these past few months, but I know that there are people to turn to if I need some support." Carter kept his voice low just in case he had crossed an invisible line with his mentor.
He looked up, afraid to see an expression of uneasiness on Benton's face from such an admission; instead, he saw understanding.
"I'm glad you know that, Carter. If you need anything, just give me a call," he replied.
John smiled. "Thank you, Dr. Benton."
Feeling slightly odd, Peter gave John a quick hug and watched him enter his apartment. "You're going to be all right, Carter," he told the closed the door. For the first time in ages, Peter did not worry for the younger man.
John sat on his couch wearily, but with more confidence than he felt in a long time. He was on his road to recovery, both mentally and physically, and he knew he had the kind of friends that would help him if he needed it. He knew he could ask for assistance when he needed to. Satisfied, he turned on the TV and fell asleep on his couch.
The end
Thanks to all of you for supporting this story!!! There will be another one soon.
