Ruthless Rush

The ER was hectic as usual; doctors, nurses, and patients crowding the hallways, jamming Chairs, thronging by the admin desk. Phones rang continuously, anxious patients called for doctors, a GSW victim was rushed into Trauma 3. The chaotic scene was all too familiar at County General. The inner city ER always seemed like Grand Central Station, what with its hordes of people cramming every inch of the place. Frequented by the homeless, depended upon by the injured, there was never a dull moment at County. And today was no different, not perceptibly different, at least. But it seemed that the general mood of the ER had been so altered by recent events, that everything was different. The death of a greatly loved friend and leader had hindered the entire staff. And the rush of the hospital- that on any other day would have phased no one- was today, not well received.

While the mayhem of the ER carried on, a certain doctor John Carter had managed to take refuge in the lounge, where he could clear his head of all conscious troubles during a much-needed break.

With the lights dimmed, Carter was left to his own thoughts as he leaned back on the worn, black couch.

In the past months- in Mark's absence- Carter had become ER chief resident, donning the late-doctor's signature green scrubs, and acquiring all the further responsibilities of his position. John Carter was now in charge, and any error or quandary at County General ER fell burden to him.

Just now, the doctor's brow was furrowed; he was clearly entranced in some disconcerting thought; eyes closed, his head rested in his hands.

Nine years.

Nine lengthy, grudging years he had worked in County General, once just an obsequious and unassuming med-student, unaware of what his life had in store for him. Throughout those years, he had at times been so lost and confused. But somehow he had managed to find his place here in the ER, and in that time he'd grown emotionally and physically. But it seemed that in all after all that time, he had yet to convince himself of his own maturity and capability, so that he could fully accomplish all that was expected of him.

But somehow, he knew that subconsciously he was striving for something impossible. He was attempting to forget his predecessor and beloved friend by not only taking his place, but by molding to his very image. Essentially, he was trying to become Mark Greene, and in doing so he was trying to erase the memory of the man whom all had grown to love and respect.

Well he could never be Mark Greene. And he would have to accept that, despite what others expected.

Now, the door stood ajar, and a stream of light, accompanied by a whirl of clangorous noise, brought Carter back to his senses. Someone had just entered the lounge, but his eyes had yet to adjust to the brightness of the room and he had could not identify who it was.

"Carter?"

He recognized Abby's voice.

"Yea."

He stood and brushed his eyes of their repose. "What time is it?"

He wasn't aware of exactly how long he'd been sitting there, entranced in the dark room.

"It's almost nine." Abby said, glancing at her watch, "When are you off?"

He thought a moment, squinting his eyes as if searching for the answer in the air in front of him, "An hour."

Abby was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and offered some to Carter. He waved his hand "no thanks" and turned towards the door.

"Want to grab a bite at Doc Magoo's after your shift?" Abby offered skeptically at the sight of Carter's fatigued expression.

"Nah. I'm exhausted." The weariness was evident in his voice, but he managed a smile as he glanced back towards Abby. "I'll see you at home."