Chapter 2: Same day, NOON, Ambulance Bay (John Carter's Point of View):
It's nice to have a break from all of the death and suffering, even if it is only for fifteen minutes. It's enough time to have a cigarette or two if I need it. And this was one of the best cigarettes I have ever had. Marlboro sure knows how to make them. Gamma doesn't approve of my smoking so I told her I quit. That was when I was still living with her after the attack. But late at night and at work I still would light up often. I have cut back though. A month ago I was going through two packs a day. Now it's closer to one. I hear someone walking up behind me.
"Isn't it funny how so many doctors smoke? You'd think we of all people would know better."
I turned. It is Mark Greene. He gives me this speech every time he sees me smoking. Why can't he mind his own damn business? I just say, "Yup," and nod as he sits next to me.
"I thought you told me you quit?"
"I did, but you remember how hard it was for you?"
"Yeah," Mark chuckled to himself, "I couldn't have been easy to deal with. But it feels so nice to be free of addiction."
I can feel myself tense up at that word "addiction." Was Mark implying something? "No," I tell myself, "stop being so paranoid." "I bet," I finally reply to Mark.
"Are you feeling ok, Carter?"
"Yeah," I take a long drag, "Why do you ask?"
"You just seem withdrawn.in pain."
"Nope, my back is fine.the meds are doing their magic." And now for the fake grin. I smile at Mark.
"I didn't really mean your back, although that is good to hear. I meant, well," Mark was never good at dealings with emotions, "If you ever need someone to talk to, I mean besides a shrink, I'm here."
"Thanks, Dr. Greene. That's comforting." I turn my attention back to my cigarette.
Mark sighs. "What time are you on again?" he asks.
"Five minutes."
"Ok, I'll see you in there." Mark stands up.
"Yep. Bye."
It's nice to have a break from all of the death and suffering, even if it is only for fifteen minutes. It's enough time to have a cigarette or two if I need it. And this was one of the best cigarettes I have ever had. Marlboro sure knows how to make them. Gamma doesn't approve of my smoking so I told her I quit. That was when I was still living with her after the attack. But late at night and at work I still would light up often. I have cut back though. A month ago I was going through two packs a day. Now it's closer to one. I hear someone walking up behind me.
"Isn't it funny how so many doctors smoke? You'd think we of all people would know better."
I turned. It is Mark Greene. He gives me this speech every time he sees me smoking. Why can't he mind his own damn business? I just say, "Yup," and nod as he sits next to me.
"I thought you told me you quit?"
"I did, but you remember how hard it was for you?"
"Yeah," Mark chuckled to himself, "I couldn't have been easy to deal with. But it feels so nice to be free of addiction."
I can feel myself tense up at that word "addiction." Was Mark implying something? "No," I tell myself, "stop being so paranoid." "I bet," I finally reply to Mark.
"Are you feeling ok, Carter?"
"Yeah," I take a long drag, "Why do you ask?"
"You just seem withdrawn.in pain."
"Nope, my back is fine.the meds are doing their magic." And now for the fake grin. I smile at Mark.
"I didn't really mean your back, although that is good to hear. I meant, well," Mark was never good at dealings with emotions, "If you ever need someone to talk to, I mean besides a shrink, I'm here."
"Thanks, Dr. Greene. That's comforting." I turn my attention back to my cigarette.
Mark sighs. "What time are you on again?" he asks.
"Five minutes."
"Ok, I'll see you in there." Mark stands up.
"Yep. Bye."