A/N: Ah, the plot thickens! Okay, here we go! I just wanna thank all you
guys who have been reading and reviewing. You're keeping me going with
this! NOW FOR A LOT OF OVERDUE THANK-YOU'S! Thanks for all the help again,
Dark Sparrow. Shutupandlisten: I'm hurrying for ya. Hyperpiper: I'm still
going. Nurse Mandi: Thanks! Carbytrekie02: Yes! He dreamt! Yay!
IdontWriteIJustRead: Here's a little angst for you (. MommiesGirl: It's not
over yet! Abby Lockheart: Yea. CARTERJOHN: Thanks for keeping my hopes up!
Higherbeingfriendsfan: I updated, now you update! I love your story, too!
Okay, here it goes!
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
CHAPTER SIX
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
"Carter," a soft voice said in the distance. "Carter, you okay?" It rang from far away, but he could hear it. "Carter," the voice continued.
"What?" he tried to say unsuccessfully. He felt his shoulder shake without his permission.
"John!" the voice called, now less faded and closer to him.
"What?" he said, successfully this time at hearing his own first name, a frequently undone task. He opened his eyes, straining to see in the sudden light. Abby had been calling him and shaking his shoulder.
"Oh good, I was worried that you might have had a concussion or something," she said, exhaling in pure relief.
"No, I'm just a heavy sleeper. I'm surprised I slept that well, actually. You know, considering..." he cut himself off. Abby didn't need an explanation now. She had previously had a rooftop explanation, and that was good enough for her.
She nodded. "Yea, I know. So, how's your, uh... battle wound?" She smiled.
"You mean my self-inflicted mark of idiocy?" That made Abby laugh. "It's pretty good," Carter said, reaching to the moist gauze. He felt around for the ice pack that now lay in his lap. As he touched the gauze, he realized that it was not nearly as good as he had assumed. He inhaled through gritted teeth at the stinging pain in his forehead. "Okay, maybe not. I must've caught a piece of glass or something."
"There was nothing in there, I swear it," Abby pleaded.
"Oh, I know that. You did your job, and very nicely I might add, but I still think I caught a piece of glass from that damn door!" He inhaled through gritted teeth again as he gently took the pressure of his hand away from his head.
"Let me see it," Abby commanded.
"No, it's fine."
"No, I don't think it is. Now let me see it," she commanded again, reaching for the gauze as Carter pulled away like a small child with a brush burn. He dodged from her hand as she reached for the bandage. "Come on, you big baby! Let me see it!" Carter winced as her struggling hand collided with his head.
"Ow! What was that for?" he cried.
"Oh my God, it was an accident! I'm so sorry!"
"Owies," Carter complained for the second time that day.
"Well, you deserved it. Now let... me... see," she insisted sternly.
"Fine," Carter said, reverting back to that child with a brush burn.
Abby removed the bandage to find nothing much but a small scabbed bruise. She smiled at his childishness as she began to change the gauze. "I can't believe it, you really are a big baby."
"What?" Carter asked playfully. "No child in you?"
"That's not true," she said defensively.
"Whatever you say." Carter involuntarily began pushing her tolerance.
"No, really. That's not true," she repeated. "I'm not a baby like you, but I do have that morale left in me."
"Yea, right. Show it to me!" he teased.
"If I did that and neglected your masochism, you'd wind up with an infected head... if you haven't got that already."
"Hey, that wasn't nice."
"Well you're not exactly the pinnacle of kindness yourself," Abby pointed out.
"How so?"
"Well, for one, you don't like to listen."
"I was just kidding around."
"Well look where that got you, another few brain cells lost."
"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you weren't laughing."
It was true. Abby had been laughing while struggling to get to Carter's "battle scar". She only smiled in response.
"Thanks again," Carter said. "I really owe you now, don't I?"
"Yea, you betcha," Abby agreed.
"I could buy you something, you know... like maybe lunch tomorrow?" Carter coaxed.
"No, I think I'm coming on a little late for lunch," she said with a frown.
"All right," he moaned. "Try to repay the favor, get turned down... I see how it is."
"Oh, now that... that is NOT true!" Abby laughed again.
Carter gave her that I'm-just-kidding look. He also laughed, listening to her. After a while, they had not an idea as to why they were laughing, but they were. Nobody knew why. But they must have looked like a bunch of nut jobs walking out of a hospital room and laughing like they had just gotten into some nitrous oxide. Carter liked laughing again.
"I have to do this more often," Carter told Abby through a laugh.
"What, give yourself head trauma of some kind? Because I don't think I can handle that," Abby laughed.
"No, not that. I meant laughing," Carter said, smiling a toothy smile. Abby smiled back.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
Finally. A break. Abby had not one break the entire day, and it was going on nine o'clock. She went back to the break room, where now, instead of glass stood a custodian next to a plastic sheet that was duct-taped onto what was a makeshift window.
"Carter feels really bad, you know," Abby said to Kerri Weaver as she entered the room. She figured that Weaver should know this fact.
"Physically?" she teased.
"Yes, but I think he wanted you to know that he felt really bad about breaking the door."
"No, just the window," Elizabeth said from the background. Abby hadn't seen her, considering she was behind the refrigerator door.
"He really meant it when he said he would pay it back in full, Kerri," Abby reassured her.
"I hope so," Weaver said jokingly. "Well, I have to go monitor the ER again. Jing-Mei should be in here in a while, so you can tell her about the door prophecies. She doesn't know yet."
"Ooh, sounds like good fun to me!" Elizabeth put in.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
Carter walked down the hall to see three women staggering in front of him and laughing hysterically.
"What's so funny, you guys?" he asked the hilarious-looking trio of positives.
Jing-Mei looked Carter in his chestnut eyes, then switched her gaze to his red forehead, tears almost running down her cheeks. She couldn't hold it in any longer.
"YOU!" she laughed, as the three walked away, leaving Carter to stare into space with a look of utter confusion on his face.
"You confused?" Mark asked as he walked by him, with no response to let him know.
"Huh?" Carter said blankly once again, simply making Mark laugh and walk away.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
"Trauma, room two! Carter, we need you!" Mark called from down the hall.
"I'm on it," Carter said as he got himself a translucent jacket. He walked down the hall, one of the nurses trailing behind him to tie the loose strands in the back. She kept up with him just enough to get gloves on him as well.
"What's up, guys?" Carter said as he entered the room. Mark had a look of apology on his face as he rang out the situation to Carter... this was the second time he was going to have to say this, and it was not going to be easy.
"Forty-year-old male, stab wound to the chest, vitals are low. Down for twenty." It was with a heavy heart that Mark Greene said this, for he knew that it was not liable that the man was going to live.
Carter looked down at the man. He struggled to breathe, and with every heaving breath, a bit of his brown-black hair moistened. The more he tried to breathe, the more the blackening strands held fast to his face with sweat. His dark brown eyes met Carter's, then went back to focusing on his eyelids as they closed.
"Name?" Carter inquired.
"We're not sure, we just know that it starts with a J. The police arrived on the scene from an anonymous tip, and when they asked for his name, that's all they got," Mark answered.
"Thanks." He turned to the almost anonymous man. "I'm going to help you as much as I can, Jay, I promise. Don't you worry." He knew that "Jay" had heard him when he nodded his head in thanks.
Carter, Mark, and the trauma team toiled over the matter at hand, every minute becoming more valuable, every second becoming the thin lines between life and death. But Carter wasn't about to let death become of this man. He had helped to resuscitate, helped to breathe overall, helped to keep him alive for just a little longer with every step they took. Two times Jay had crashed, and two times they had revived him. But as they say, third time's a charm.
"V-FIB again!" Jing-Mei called from behind the other side of the gurney. It grew more monotonous every time she said it. Once more, the out of rhythm, shrill alarm filled the room as Jay crashed once again. This time, Carter took the internal paddles into his own two hands.
"Charge to three-sixty!" he ordered. The cart beeped to signify its readiness. "CLEAR!" There was no sign of things getting better. Carter glanced at the clock, then quickly shook his head. Mark looked at him, as if to say that there was nothing more to do. "There's still an unsteady rhythm. Charge to three-seventy!" The nurse did as he asked. "CLEAR!" he yelled, with more stress in his voice than ever. Nothing. Now Carter's voice changed to a saddened, shaky call. "Charge it to three-eighty."
The nurse simply looked at him.
"Charge it to three-eighty!" he yelled again.
"Carter, it's hopeless. He's been down for almost fifty minutes now," Mark said sadly.
"There's always hope, Mark. Charge it to three-eighty!"
The nurse did as she was told again. Carter shocked him, praying for life. Nothing.
"Three-ninety!" he shouted, desperation filling his voice. The nurse gave him a look to tell him he was insane. "I know, just do it. Please! THREE- NINETY!" There was a flat line on the EKG ringing in the background. Carter could not bear to hear it. "I promised you, now come on, Jay. CLEAR!" There was still nothing.
"Call it," Mark said, trying not to demand anything.
"We can go to four hundred," Carter insisted, his face reddening with fear that the man would be lost from his grip.
"Call it," Mark said again, this time sternly.
"No, I promised him I would help him as much as I could!" Carter yelled.
"And you kept your promise, you can't do any more!" Mark said back to him. "Now call it."
"I... I can't." Carter said, his hands, now empty, shaking.
"You were in charge at the time," Mark said, realizing all too late that that was the wrong thing to say. "Just call it."
Carter's heart sank as he looked at the clock. "Time of..." he couldn't say it. His head dropped. He couldn't bring himself to say the word.
"Time of death," Mark said for him.
Carter breathed slowly. "Time of," he gulped "death, 22:11." He looked at the lifeless man he had called Jay. He took off his gloves and scrub jacket, threw them aside, and leaned next to him.
"I'm sorry," he said with clenched fists. "Goodbye Jay."
"It's okay, Carter," Mark said to try and calm him down.
Carter sighed and walked out of the room.
When he had made himself a little bit comfortable, leaning against the wall, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands.
"God forgive me. I couldn't keep my promise." He then dropped his hands and left his eyes closed.
"What's wrong?" A voice said to him, very softly.
"Abby?" He opened his eyes and shook his head.
"You know you can tell me anything," she reassured him.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said to her.
"You sure?" She had no idea about the trauma.
"Abby, now's not the time, okay?" he said sternly.
"What did I do?"
"Nothing, just leave me alone," he said, still stern.
"Okay..." she agreed, but didn't move. She wanted to change the topic.
"Could you stop being so damn nosey?" he nearly shouted to her.
Abby stepped back, and looked him in the eyes. They were welling with tears. She didn't know what she had done, but she had triggered something.
"Leave me alone!" Carter said once more, enunciating each word. He put his head back on the wall, closing his eyes. He heard her feet pad away, then looked at her. She walked away with a very sadly confused look on her face.
She sat behind the front desk, looking very depressed that she had just caused Carter to yell out, something he rarely ever does, but she didn't know why.
His eyes met hers from down the hall, but she quickly looked away, turning her head completely to somebody else. Carter knew she was afraid to look at him.
"What have I done?" Carter whispered.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
CHAPTER SIX
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
"Carter," a soft voice said in the distance. "Carter, you okay?" It rang from far away, but he could hear it. "Carter," the voice continued.
"What?" he tried to say unsuccessfully. He felt his shoulder shake without his permission.
"John!" the voice called, now less faded and closer to him.
"What?" he said, successfully this time at hearing his own first name, a frequently undone task. He opened his eyes, straining to see in the sudden light. Abby had been calling him and shaking his shoulder.
"Oh good, I was worried that you might have had a concussion or something," she said, exhaling in pure relief.
"No, I'm just a heavy sleeper. I'm surprised I slept that well, actually. You know, considering..." he cut himself off. Abby didn't need an explanation now. She had previously had a rooftop explanation, and that was good enough for her.
She nodded. "Yea, I know. So, how's your, uh... battle wound?" She smiled.
"You mean my self-inflicted mark of idiocy?" That made Abby laugh. "It's pretty good," Carter said, reaching to the moist gauze. He felt around for the ice pack that now lay in his lap. As he touched the gauze, he realized that it was not nearly as good as he had assumed. He inhaled through gritted teeth at the stinging pain in his forehead. "Okay, maybe not. I must've caught a piece of glass or something."
"There was nothing in there, I swear it," Abby pleaded.
"Oh, I know that. You did your job, and very nicely I might add, but I still think I caught a piece of glass from that damn door!" He inhaled through gritted teeth again as he gently took the pressure of his hand away from his head.
"Let me see it," Abby commanded.
"No, it's fine."
"No, I don't think it is. Now let me see it," she commanded again, reaching for the gauze as Carter pulled away like a small child with a brush burn. He dodged from her hand as she reached for the bandage. "Come on, you big baby! Let me see it!" Carter winced as her struggling hand collided with his head.
"Ow! What was that for?" he cried.
"Oh my God, it was an accident! I'm so sorry!"
"Owies," Carter complained for the second time that day.
"Well, you deserved it. Now let... me... see," she insisted sternly.
"Fine," Carter said, reverting back to that child with a brush burn.
Abby removed the bandage to find nothing much but a small scabbed bruise. She smiled at his childishness as she began to change the gauze. "I can't believe it, you really are a big baby."
"What?" Carter asked playfully. "No child in you?"
"That's not true," she said defensively.
"Whatever you say." Carter involuntarily began pushing her tolerance.
"No, really. That's not true," she repeated. "I'm not a baby like you, but I do have that morale left in me."
"Yea, right. Show it to me!" he teased.
"If I did that and neglected your masochism, you'd wind up with an infected head... if you haven't got that already."
"Hey, that wasn't nice."
"Well you're not exactly the pinnacle of kindness yourself," Abby pointed out.
"How so?"
"Well, for one, you don't like to listen."
"I was just kidding around."
"Well look where that got you, another few brain cells lost."
"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you weren't laughing."
It was true. Abby had been laughing while struggling to get to Carter's "battle scar". She only smiled in response.
"Thanks again," Carter said. "I really owe you now, don't I?"
"Yea, you betcha," Abby agreed.
"I could buy you something, you know... like maybe lunch tomorrow?" Carter coaxed.
"No, I think I'm coming on a little late for lunch," she said with a frown.
"All right," he moaned. "Try to repay the favor, get turned down... I see how it is."
"Oh, now that... that is NOT true!" Abby laughed again.
Carter gave her that I'm-just-kidding look. He also laughed, listening to her. After a while, they had not an idea as to why they were laughing, but they were. Nobody knew why. But they must have looked like a bunch of nut jobs walking out of a hospital room and laughing like they had just gotten into some nitrous oxide. Carter liked laughing again.
"I have to do this more often," Carter told Abby through a laugh.
"What, give yourself head trauma of some kind? Because I don't think I can handle that," Abby laughed.
"No, not that. I meant laughing," Carter said, smiling a toothy smile. Abby smiled back.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
Finally. A break. Abby had not one break the entire day, and it was going on nine o'clock. She went back to the break room, where now, instead of glass stood a custodian next to a plastic sheet that was duct-taped onto what was a makeshift window.
"Carter feels really bad, you know," Abby said to Kerri Weaver as she entered the room. She figured that Weaver should know this fact.
"Physically?" she teased.
"Yes, but I think he wanted you to know that he felt really bad about breaking the door."
"No, just the window," Elizabeth said from the background. Abby hadn't seen her, considering she was behind the refrigerator door.
"He really meant it when he said he would pay it back in full, Kerri," Abby reassured her.
"I hope so," Weaver said jokingly. "Well, I have to go monitor the ER again. Jing-Mei should be in here in a while, so you can tell her about the door prophecies. She doesn't know yet."
"Ooh, sounds like good fun to me!" Elizabeth put in.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
Carter walked down the hall to see three women staggering in front of him and laughing hysterically.
"What's so funny, you guys?" he asked the hilarious-looking trio of positives.
Jing-Mei looked Carter in his chestnut eyes, then switched her gaze to his red forehead, tears almost running down her cheeks. She couldn't hold it in any longer.
"YOU!" she laughed, as the three walked away, leaving Carter to stare into space with a look of utter confusion on his face.
"You confused?" Mark asked as he walked by him, with no response to let him know.
"Huh?" Carter said blankly once again, simply making Mark laugh and walk away.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:
"Trauma, room two! Carter, we need you!" Mark called from down the hall.
"I'm on it," Carter said as he got himself a translucent jacket. He walked down the hall, one of the nurses trailing behind him to tie the loose strands in the back. She kept up with him just enough to get gloves on him as well.
"What's up, guys?" Carter said as he entered the room. Mark had a look of apology on his face as he rang out the situation to Carter... this was the second time he was going to have to say this, and it was not going to be easy.
"Forty-year-old male, stab wound to the chest, vitals are low. Down for twenty." It was with a heavy heart that Mark Greene said this, for he knew that it was not liable that the man was going to live.
Carter looked down at the man. He struggled to breathe, and with every heaving breath, a bit of his brown-black hair moistened. The more he tried to breathe, the more the blackening strands held fast to his face with sweat. His dark brown eyes met Carter's, then went back to focusing on his eyelids as they closed.
"Name?" Carter inquired.
"We're not sure, we just know that it starts with a J. The police arrived on the scene from an anonymous tip, and when they asked for his name, that's all they got," Mark answered.
"Thanks." He turned to the almost anonymous man. "I'm going to help you as much as I can, Jay, I promise. Don't you worry." He knew that "Jay" had heard him when he nodded his head in thanks.
Carter, Mark, and the trauma team toiled over the matter at hand, every minute becoming more valuable, every second becoming the thin lines between life and death. But Carter wasn't about to let death become of this man. He had helped to resuscitate, helped to breathe overall, helped to keep him alive for just a little longer with every step they took. Two times Jay had crashed, and two times they had revived him. But as they say, third time's a charm.
"V-FIB again!" Jing-Mei called from behind the other side of the gurney. It grew more monotonous every time she said it. Once more, the out of rhythm, shrill alarm filled the room as Jay crashed once again. This time, Carter took the internal paddles into his own two hands.
"Charge to three-sixty!" he ordered. The cart beeped to signify its readiness. "CLEAR!" There was no sign of things getting better. Carter glanced at the clock, then quickly shook his head. Mark looked at him, as if to say that there was nothing more to do. "There's still an unsteady rhythm. Charge to three-seventy!" The nurse did as he asked. "CLEAR!" he yelled, with more stress in his voice than ever. Nothing. Now Carter's voice changed to a saddened, shaky call. "Charge it to three-eighty."
The nurse simply looked at him.
"Charge it to three-eighty!" he yelled again.
"Carter, it's hopeless. He's been down for almost fifty minutes now," Mark said sadly.
"There's always hope, Mark. Charge it to three-eighty!"
The nurse did as she was told again. Carter shocked him, praying for life. Nothing.
"Three-ninety!" he shouted, desperation filling his voice. The nurse gave him a look to tell him he was insane. "I know, just do it. Please! THREE- NINETY!" There was a flat line on the EKG ringing in the background. Carter could not bear to hear it. "I promised you, now come on, Jay. CLEAR!" There was still nothing.
"Call it," Mark said, trying not to demand anything.
"We can go to four hundred," Carter insisted, his face reddening with fear that the man would be lost from his grip.
"Call it," Mark said again, this time sternly.
"No, I promised him I would help him as much as I could!" Carter yelled.
"And you kept your promise, you can't do any more!" Mark said back to him. "Now call it."
"I... I can't." Carter said, his hands, now empty, shaking.
"You were in charge at the time," Mark said, realizing all too late that that was the wrong thing to say. "Just call it."
Carter's heart sank as he looked at the clock. "Time of..." he couldn't say it. His head dropped. He couldn't bring himself to say the word.
"Time of death," Mark said for him.
Carter breathed slowly. "Time of," he gulped "death, 22:11." He looked at the lifeless man he had called Jay. He took off his gloves and scrub jacket, threw them aside, and leaned next to him.
"I'm sorry," he said with clenched fists. "Goodbye Jay."
"It's okay, Carter," Mark said to try and calm him down.
Carter sighed and walked out of the room.
When he had made himself a little bit comfortable, leaning against the wall, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands.
"God forgive me. I couldn't keep my promise." He then dropped his hands and left his eyes closed.
"What's wrong?" A voice said to him, very softly.
"Abby?" He opened his eyes and shook his head.
"You know you can tell me anything," she reassured him.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said to her.
"You sure?" She had no idea about the trauma.
"Abby, now's not the time, okay?" he said sternly.
"What did I do?"
"Nothing, just leave me alone," he said, still stern.
"Okay..." she agreed, but didn't move. She wanted to change the topic.
"Could you stop being so damn nosey?" he nearly shouted to her.
Abby stepped back, and looked him in the eyes. They were welling with tears. She didn't know what she had done, but she had triggered something.
"Leave me alone!" Carter said once more, enunciating each word. He put his head back on the wall, closing his eyes. He heard her feet pad away, then looked at her. She walked away with a very sadly confused look on her face.
She sat behind the front desk, looking very depressed that she had just caused Carter to yell out, something he rarely ever does, but she didn't know why.
His eyes met hers from down the hall, but she quickly looked away, turning her head completely to somebody else. Carter knew she was afraid to look at him.
"What have I done?" Carter whispered.