After Carter was dressed Peter helped him into the car. They drove in silence as Carter was too tired, and not feeling very good, and didn't feel like making conversation. They arrived outside Carter's place, and together they went up to his apartment. The keys had been retrieved from the clothes Carter was wearing the night of the accident. As they entered they were greeted by a musty smell, and the air was thick as a result of windows not being opened in days.

"This is your place. Does it ring any bells?" Peter asked hopefully.

Carter spent a few moments looking around before he answered. "Sorry, nothing looks familiar," he said as he wandered around the room. He went over to a table beside the couch to look at the pictures.

"Carter, we don't have time to look around. We've gotta get your stuff then go back to my place."

"Just a sec." Something small, yellowish and wrinkled sat in a jar of what he guessed was some kind of preserving fluid. "What the heck is this?"

Peter did a double take when he saw it. Surely he hadn't been serious all those years ago. Had he?

"Ah, that's an appendix. Probably mine."

"Yours? Why's it here? That's kind of a strange thing to keep."

"I had appendicitis a few years ago. You did the operation. I didn't think you were serious when you said you had it on your mantle," Peter said with a small smile.

"I can't believe I was serious either." His focus moved over to a framed photo of him and a black guy who looked to be about his age. They had their arms around each others shoulders, were smiling happily, and were each holding a beer. It looked like they had been close friends. For some reason he got a sad feeling looking at the photo.

"Who's this with me?"

Peter felt his stomach clench as he saw the photo. "That's Dennis Gant. You were roommates and surgical interns together."

"Were?"

"He died a few years back. He was hit by the El-train."

That's why he got a bad feeling looking at the photo. "Why was he hit? Did he trip, or was he pushed?"

"The police said he tripped. You didn't believe them. You thought he jumped."

"Jumped?!"

"He was depressed." Peter was starting to get uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "Come on, Carter, get a move on. We've got to go."

Reluctantly, Carter found the bedroom and quickly put some clothes into a duffel bag. On the ride to Benton's place he found his mind straying back to the photo. He wished with all his might that his memory would come back. Looking at the photo of Dennis had left him feeling disconcerted. He had gotten a sad feeling while looking at the photo, but just couldn't remember why. He knew the memories were there, he just couldn't access them. It was getting frustrating.

Benton noticed Carter was getting a little agitated.

"Carter? What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Carter replied.
"I know you Carter. Spit it out."

Carter had learned enough about Benton in the past three days to know that he wouldn't relent until he had answered truthfully.

"Why isn't my memory coming back? It's getting so damn frustrating. I've waited days now. I know the memories are there; I just can't get to them," Carter confessed. He needed to hear some form of reassurance.

"It's normal for a person's memory to take this long to return. It can take five minutes or five days. Just give it time."

Carter didn't find that terribly reassuring, but he'd come to expect that from Benton. As they pulled up infront of Peter's house Carter saw a blue car parked across the street from the house with someone sitting in the front seat.

"The guard I take it?" he said.

"Yeah. Let's go talk to him. Come on grab your bag," Peter said as he got out of the car.

Together they walked over to the car. Carter was still sore and stiff, but he was covering it up pretty well, Benton noticed. The man got out of the car to greet them.

"You must be Dr.'s Benton and Carter. I'm Dave McGuinty," he greeted them as he reached out to shake their hands.

"So did Dr. Weaver fill you in on what's going on?" Benton inquired.

"Yes, she did. Kind of a nasty situation isn't it? So from what I understand you want me to watch your house and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Right?"

"Yeah. At the first signs of anything suspicious, let us know. Understand?"

"Gotcha. It was a pleasure meeting you two. I'll let you get back on with your business," McGuinty said as he turned back to his car.

As Carter and Benton headed toward the house Peter noticed Carter was having trouble carrying the bag. He offered to carry it for him, but Carter said he could manage. Still stubborn as always, Benton thought.

Once inside, Benton showed Carter to his room and helped him get settled. Carter told Benton he'd like to rest in his room till dinner was ready. Of course by rest Carter meant he'd lay down, but not let himself fall asleep. Whatever it took.

Benton searched his kitchen for something easy to prepare for dinner. He decided on the canned soup. It should be pretty easy for Carter to handle. Peter was interrupted in his preparations by the ringing of the telephone.

"Hello?"

"Peter? Good. It's Mark. I was just calling to see how Carter was making out."

"He's resting now. He seems pretty on edge though. Disturbed that his memory isn't coming back."

"Yeah. How's the private duty cop working out?" Mark asked.

"So far so good. I just hope that this Mr. McGuinty knows what he's doing, and will be able to do his job if Vollmer goes after Carter again."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Peter. I'm sure he knows what he's doing. Listen, a trauma just came in. I've gotta go."
Carter could hear Benton's voice as he talked on the phone. The comforting sound was starting to lull him to sleep. He tried to fight it, but eventually exhaustion won. He could still hear Peter's voice as he drifted off to sleep.