"How did I get here..." It was all that John Carter could think. The thoughts had been flying through his head since the incident: What if I had just checked earlier? If only psych would've responded. What would've happened if Lucy was here now? What would've happen if I would have dealt with it earlier?

He squinted and felt the pain in his chest take over his body. This is what happened when he thought of the ordeal; he got butterflies deep down in his chest, his heart beat rapidly, and seemed to travel deep down in his chest, and he had to take deep breaths to sustain himself. Carter knew it wasn't a heart attack; just the overwhelming anxiety that he had been facing.

Carter sat down on the table in the empty trauma room, swaying back and forth, trying to get rid of it. He leaned forward to breath, and back to exhale.

But this time was worse than any before. "Why won't it go away..." Carter could feel a migraine taking over. "Think of something else... concentrate on something else..." The incident kept flashing in his mind: the bloody picture of Lucy on the ground, her hair mopping up the blood, her wide eyes looking at Carter, searching for help. Carter threw up.

The pain was too much for him. The image in his mind tortured him, and he looked for an alternative. Dr. Carter's eyes shot wildly everywhere, until he saw it: a set of pain killers and different types of fentanyl and morphine. Carter got up, bumping into a table and almost knocking it over. Quickly, he grabbed the edge before it lost its balance. He put a hand to head, trying to soothe the headache.

Making it to the counter, he wasted no time sorting out the drugs. He picked up the lightest dose of fentanyl and inserted it into the needle. Looking behind him to make sure no one was there, he pulled up his white sleeve. Shakily, Carter held the needle above his vein, and inserting the needle, injected himself with the fentanyl.

In moments, the pain and anguish had vanished. "Ah ha.. the world is as it should be." Carter shook his head and cleaned up the drugs. As if he had felt nothing, he shook it off, and walked out of the trauma room.




"Anyone here seen Dr. Carter?" Dr. Greene came into the admit area.

"He was just on, there's a trauma in three. Check in there." Chuny put a clipboard into the holder. "Aren't you supposed to be off, Dr. Greene?"

Mark Greene searched his mind for an excuse. "Actually, I... just forgot something I needed to speak to Carter about." He quickly dismissed himself from admit and left for the trauma room.


"Alright, give him six of morphine. Page me when he comes to." Carter ripped off his bloody gloves.

Carol Hathaway looked at Carter and raised an eyebrow. "Did you just say 'comes to'?"

Carter grinned and nodded. "Why, I believe I did." Carol helped push the IV out of the room, looking narrowly at Carter behind her. He just smiled. Carter turned around and started writing on the clipboard on the counter.

"Dr. Carter?" Carter jumped and turned around.

"Oh, Dr. Greene. You scared me. Can I... hey, aren't you off?" Carter put his pen down on the table.

"Yeah, actually I just wanted to stop in and talk to you." Dr. Greene entered the room slowly. "Are you..." Dr. Greene took off his glasses.

"Am I?..." Carter just gave a typical Carter smile. Dr. Greene was amazed at Carter's one hour makeover. John Carter looked like the old John Carter. His smile seemed to be back, his voice didn't sag at the end of his speech, and more importantly his eyes seemed to be more alert and alive.

Mark sighed. "You're okay, right Carter?"

John Carter laughed. "Of course I'm okay. You came all the way back to ask me if I was okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Mark laughed and looked at the floor. He put back on his glasses and turned to leave.

"Is that all, Dr. Greene?" Dr. Carter asked, still smiling.

"Yes, Carter, it is." He made it through the doorway, before turning around and looking at Carter. "Hey Carter?"

"Yeah Dr. Greene?"

"You've got your laugh back." Dr. Greene smiled a heartwarming smile.

As he left, Carter could feel the emptiness taking over again, the emptiness of knowing he wasn't really back, and that his character was based solely on a dose of fentanyl. "It's not me, Dr. Greene..." He sighed. "It's not my laugh..."