Lessons Learned





Logan strode over to Carter and stood merely inches from the man. He said nothing, remaining motionless and clearly enjoying the impact of his presence upon Carter. The Chief of Staff let his eyes wander around the room as if to assure himself that they were indeed the only two people present. 

Logan watched Carter's chest heave in an obvious effort to control his nervous breathing. For Carter's part, he remained standing, tightening his grip on the IV pole. 'Slow and easy breaths,' quickly became his mantra. His legs protested at the strain of being on his feet for so long, and small tremors shook him slightly. He ignored it all, though, shielding his pain and reflecting only a mask of calmness and control. 

"As Chief, you have control over all supply orders," Carter announced and sucked in another shallow breath. 

Logan raised his eyebrows in amusement and chuckled. "Dr. Carter, I'm a bit too busy with hospital business to keep up with supply orders. All of that is handled through the proper channels; that I never see. A Chief of Staff would, how should I say? Never go near something so mundane." Logan dramatically sighed and his smiled broadened. "However, dear doctor, entertain me." 

"As chief you can arrange," he paused, "for things such as Benzene to..." Carter unsuccessfully tried to draw in more air. "To be stored wherever you want without question." 

Logan admired his manicured fingernails, completely ignoring the person struggling to breathe in front of him. 

"I bet when we recover equipment logs, we'll find—" deep gasp, "your signature on a purchase order...for four extra containers of Benzene." Carter's voice became scratchy and his throat felt parched. He swallowed uneasily and tried valiantly to refrain from swaying. He felt slightly lightheaded, but he continued his speech. Carter saw Logan's expression twitch slightly, but it remained cool and composed. 

"Wouldn't want to raise suspicions among the staff if," a pause, "some of the normal supply...had some missing," Carter managed to say in between labored breaths. 

Logan turned to pace along the side of the gurney, his back to Carter. The doctor took advantage of this and took in a puff of oxygen from his mask. The perimeters of his vision started to become blurry and he was having trouble focusing. 

The Chief of Staff walked along to the other side of the gurney, a smug look on his face and strode back to his original position. He toyed with the tubing of Carter's oxygen and smiled at the younger man as he let it slip back down. "Oh, sorry, I was distracted, go on," Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Carter felt he did not have time to bait the man as carefully as he had originally planned; he needed to attack his weakness and strike quickly. "So, where were you during the fire?" he asked, switching tactics. 

Logan glanced up the doctor and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. "I was eating lunch across the street. Told those detectives this as well, they seemed satisfied," he replied. 

"Anyone verify that?" Carter asked. He shifted his weight when he felt his left leg shake slightly, the once-slight tremors increasing in frequency and persistence. Before Logan could respond, Carter pressed on. "I think you were," gasp, "busy turning on the air conditioning." Carter's chest hitched slightly as he struggled for air. He fought off several coughs and cleared his throat. 

Logan laughed out loud and stepped closer to Carter, invading the resident's personal space. His intrusion caused Carter to back up against the wall where he unconsciously leaned his weight for support. This did not escape Logan, neither did the death grip the younger man had on his IV pole. It appeared as if he wouldn't remain on his feet for very long. Logan just inched closer, his hot breath blowing in Carter's face. 

Carter felt his heart race and his head began to pound. "I think...the police...might...want to dust...the circuit breakers...for your prints," He panted, then swallowed again. "Since...the Chief...wouldn't ever...go down there. Kind of ...beneath your position." 

Logan's eyes peered into Carter's. "Sorry, doc doesn't prove a thing." Logan turned and headed for the door. 

Carter was furious, but he channeled the energy towards his deteriorating voice. He stepped away from the wall and grabbed the railing of the bed. He dragged himself painfully after Logan, stumbling a bit, but persistently heading after him. He grabbed the mask that hung around his neck and took in a deep breath, knowing that it wouldn't replenish his draining energy. 

"You failed, Dr. Logan!" Carter's rough, gravely voice yelled. 

Logan froze in his tracks. Feeling the tide change, Carter mustered a taunting tone. "You failed as a chief, you failed to keep your own hospital open, you failed to burn it all down--you let--" Carter placed both hands on the bed to keep himself upright watching Logan, seeing his hands clench into a fist. "You let...let a cripple... ruin your plans." Carter clutched at the pain in his chest, certainly from oxygen depravation. "You're pathetic, a complete failure," Carter mustered a bit of pity in his voice. How the mighty reacted to the sting of shame. 

Logan spun around, the veins on his forehead prominent from the rage welling from within. Carter smiled and nearly laughed at the site in front of him. Button after button being pushed, just how Logan had done to him a few days earlier. 

"You. Little. Son of a Bitch." Logan spat his words venomously. His face was a shade of red that Carter didn't know existed. "I burned that place down with ease. Those fucks on the Board thought they could close MY hospital down!" Logan exclaimed. 

He took several steps closer, his hands waving in the air uncontrollably. "I ran Grady with an iron fist, and if she was going to be closed then I would turn her into ashes and your bumbling ass happened to get in the way. I'm sorry you and that old bitch didn't burn in the fire so that at least, people would learn a thing or two about hand holding fucking cripples. I'm glad that you were injured back in February. I think the only thing keeping this world from being perfect was that freak didn't do the job right." Logan's rage was unwavering, he bored a hole into the shaking resident with the evil in his eyes. He smiled when he saw Carter flounder and kept himself from falling by grabbing the small table beside him. 

After catching himself, he heard a clanking sound echo on the tile as his tape recorder fell out of the pocket of his robe. It landed by his feet and Carter fearfully stole a glance at Logan. The Chief was, by all accounts, shocked at the site of the recording device. He saw the man's expression change from surprise, to fear, to intense hatred. 

"Fucking bastard!" Logan screamed as he lunged for the device. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Peter Benton tiredly walked down the hallway. He had notes to take on several patients in recovery, but he wanted to stop by to see Carter. He knew he was a bit hard on the doctor, but the wall was back up and he didn't feel the need to coddle him. He wanted Carter to recover fully this time, but he was just so damned worried. Benton would not allow himself to be caught off guard again along Carter's road back to good health. Dr. Kovac's speech still ran through his head. Carter was independent, and it seemed he hated to be perceived any differently. He always just wanted to be treated with respect by his peers and desperately sought it from him. 

Peter Benton did not have friends. He knew co-workers; he had his sister, and his wonderful son. Never did he try nor want any friends. That required effort, time, and somewhat who gave a damn. His life had changed when his son was born; it was given new meaning and perspective. There was more to life then cutting open patients and fixing them. He listened to patients more, and he even struggled to be somewhat sensitive. Maybe it was time to invest time with others to realize the bonds of friendship. Maybe. 

It might, possibly...it could be fun. Peter grimaced slightly at the thought. All right maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He wouldn't advertise the fact or anything. Carter's parents were too busy to appreciate their son, which was sad. Both of Benton's own parents were dead, and what he wouldn't give to have any of that time back. How could two people care so little about there son? Why did it take Carter's near death experience for Peter to realize he cared, or even have the desire to express the fact? 

`Guilt, guilt never accomplished anything,' Peter thought. Words were never his strong point, but he would change that with action and practice. He would just start anew, nothing sweeping. He wasn't going to have a movie night or anything, but maybe he should start being involved in other interests beside his own. Maybe he could be a better friend. Peter smiled inwardly as he approached Carter's room. 

"Dr. Benton," a nerve-grating voice stopped Peter. 

Peter lowered his head in exasperation, wondering what he had done to deserve to be Rocket Romano's personal pet project of annoyance. 

"Yeah, Robert?" Peter asked. 

"Come on, we need to go downstairs to speak with a contact of mine in the D.A's office." Romano gestured for Peter to follow. 

"Come on, we don't have all day, and Dr. Carter isn't going anywhere," Romano told the surgeon impatiently. 

Grudgingly, Peter turned and followed his boss, pondering what the first step would be with his newfound outlook on his life. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Carter had enough sense to kick the recorder under the bed as Logan made a violent grab for it. Logan growled menacingly when the device disappeared beneath the gurney. His nostrils flaring and riding on a wave of pure rage, Logan grabbed Carter by his robe and shook him hard. 

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Logan hissed into Carter's face and dug his thumb into the younger man's throat. He pressed hard on the windpipe, as Carter struggled to pry it off, as what little air he was able to take in was being cut off. 

Logan continued to compress his throat, effectively dropping Carter to his knees, and watched as his left arm weakly lashed out. 

Knowing he was suffocating, Carter balled his right fist, and with all his remaining strength, drove it into his assailant's groin. Logan screamed in pain as a piercing fire shot through him. Out of desperation, he fumbled with the oxygen line, snapping it off as he tumbled to the ground, bringing Carter crashing down on top of him. 

Carter crumbled and landed painfully. His throat throbbed, his back seized into an uncontrollable spasm, he desperately gasped for breath, only able to inhale inadequate amounts of air. He cried out as he scrambled off of the man clutching at his groin in pain. Carter crawled agonizingly on the floor in search of his mask. He felt like he had been kicked in hard in the groin himself, and saw little droplets of blood on the floor; he had pulled the catheter out in the fall. 

Logan, in obvious agony, pulled himself to his hands and knees and inched by the edge of the bed. He searched for the elusive tape recorder, and his fingers slipped around the device upon discovery. 

Carter clutched at the head of the bed and tried to pull himself up, as Logan used the middle of the gurney and gingerly gathered himself into a standing position. Logan maintained a fierce grip on the tape recorder, and mercilessly brought it down on the younger doctor's skull, slamming the small device onto the side of Carter's head, cracking it in the process. 

Carter felt the tape recorder smash over his head and a sharp pain rocketed through his skull. It toppled him onto the bed and he felt blood trickling down the side of his face. Carter saw Logan's hand out of the corner of his eye, ready to bring the broken device down on him once more. Unwilling to continue to be pummeled, Carter reached out towards the only object in reach, the IV pole. He twisted around excruciatingly, but with both hands slammed the metal rod over Logan's own head. The upper hooks of the IV stand connected squarely with Logan's forehead. 

Logan collapsed to the ground, dropping the now-useless tape recorder. The force of the blow appeared to have knocked him out cold, and Carter collapsed to the floor in relief, his body unable to continue functioning with lack of oxygen. He lay helpless on the floor, fighting for air, his lungs still too injured to take in the adequate amounts. He was too weak, but thankfully unable to register all the pain he was feeling. Using his fingers, Carter unsuccessfully tried to drag himself over to where the oxygen mask lay, just out of reach. His hands shook and his chest burned, but he couldn't move across the floor fast enough. 

He imagined himself as a fish out of water, gasping loudly, unable to breathe at all. The room began to spin and his head felt like it was about to explode. The last thing he heard clearly was a loud exclamation of a male voice, followed by a series of shouts. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Luka found every excuse in the book to wander over to Carter's room. He would stop momentarily and listen for any disturbances, shouts, alarms, anything. The same thing, silence, already greeted him. 'This was good,' he reasoned. It meant that there wasn't any trouble; there wasn't any need for concern. The doctor would stroll over to the nurse's station, casually inquiring about other patients and would happen to ask about Carter. He always got the same answer: he was doing fine, no new visitors, and then Luka would leave to cover the ER. 

He was nervous, but Carter had insisted that he should avoid the area just in case he spooked Logan away or was spotted. Luka did not know what to worry about more, the possibility of Dr. Logan having made it over to County, or whether Peter Benton would figure out what was going on. In the latter case, Luka knew that both he and Carter would soon know the true definition of wrath. The Croatian knew that Carter was going to confront the Chief with his theories and evidence, in hopes of intimidating a confession, but he was still suspicious. The resident was keeping something from him, and now he was going out of his mind with worry and unease. 

Luka had had it. Deciding it was time to check up on him, he spotted a fatigued Peter walking in his direction, his mind obviously elsewhere. He didn't notice him standing there. 

"I was just heading over to his room," Luka stated to get the surgeon's attention. 

Peter glanced over at him and walked with Luka towards their mutual destination. "Same here." 

Luka thought it odd that he need not mention the patient's name in question, but was a bit reassured that the other doctor did not have the same demeanor towards him as he did earlier. Both men were nearing the room when they heard a crash and the sounds of a struggle. 

As soon as it seemed that something very wrong was happening, Peter ran to the room and swung the door open violently. He didn't even pause, but barged into he room and yelled as he entered. 

"Get security in here, now!" Peter screamed upon seeing two bodies on the floor. At first, Benton didn't know how to react, so he simply followed his instinct. 

He ran over to Carter, who lay sprawled on the floor, his arm weakly reaching for something out of view. Peter checked to see that Luka Kovac was attending to the other man on the floor so he wouldn't have to worry about pounding the doctor. Peter noticed Carter's desperate gasps for air and the blood running down his face. He ran over to the head of the bed. He gently pulled Carter into a sitting position and leaned over to grab an additional line. He bent down and quickly placed the mask over Carter's face. 

Carter drew in breath after shuddering breath, unable to control his rapid respirations. His body felt as if it could not inhale in the oxygen fast enough, causing him to cough violently. 

Peter wrapped his left arm around John's shoulder. "Calm down, man, slow deep breaths," Benton encouraged him in hushed tones. "Don't hyperventilate." He wrapped his arm around Carter's shoulder, subconsciously encouraging the man to relax against him. 

His body exhausted, Carter sagged onto Peter's side as he slowed his breathing down. He tried not to gulp down the oxygen as he battled the pain in his chest. His body did not react well to being deprived of air and then hyperventilation. He began to relax, and closed his eyes. Once his immediate concern had been attended to, his temple began to throb, a reminder of the violent blow it received. 

Peter took his eyes off Carter for a second and observed Luka's ministrations of his friend's attacker. His anger was palpable as his mind flared with violent thoughts. When he first saw the blood on Carter's face, the rational, physician side of him that wanted to help his friend battled with his need to beat the hell out of Logan. 

Luka glanced up at the surgeon. "He's semi-conscious, but his vitals are stable." The doctor pushed the IV stand away that lay strewn on the floor. "Looks like Carter hit him with the pole." 

"Good," was Peter's only response. 

Luka looked at him with surprise and slowly accepted the anger and hurt behind the words. Security quickly arrived with Mark Greene and Malik. 

"What the hell happened?" Mark asked upon seeing both Dr. Logan and Carter visibly injured. 

"I don't know, Mark, but we need you, please," Luka beseeched and moved around so that the doctor could help him lift Logan onto the stretcher. 

Peter ignored Mark and Malik as they hurried in, and with the help of the guards, placed Logan on a backboard. The surgeon gently prodded the side of Carter's head to survey the extent of the gash and bleeding. 

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Peter asked his friend as he took his pulse along side Carter's neck. 

Carter shook his head and grimaced as it aggravated his headache. 

Peter watched as Malik, Greene, and Luka situated their new patient, and noticed that the man was waking up. Unable to contain his rage, he yelled. "You weren't satisfied at falsifying charts, so you came in here to finish the job?" Peter bellowed at Logan. 

Logan held onto his head as spoke, ignoring the watchful eyes of two security officers. "This son of a bitch tried to threaten me and I defended myself against his attack." 

"Yeah, Carter is real violent man," Mark replied sarcastically. "Luka, you want to take him? I think Dave is available for an assist." 

"Dr. Greene," Luka said getting the senior doctor's attention. 

Mark looked at him, and spotted the broken tape recorder on the floor. The attending bent down and retrieved the shattered device. He pried open the part that held tape in and a cassette fell out. Mark pondered the object, as it was clear it was still in perfect condition. He shared a meaningful glance with Luka, and eyed Carter with a curious stare. 

The younger man looked back with a hint of a victorious expression, and gasped, "Proof," before he began another coughing fit. 

Mark saw Benton's eyebrows rise in interest and he heard Logan start cussing away as he was hauled into the hallway. "That's my fucking tape, give it back!" Mark smiled when he heard the guards intervene to quiet the man down as he was taken away to be treated. 

Mark cleared away the IV pole and spotted a small trickle of blood on the floor. He walked over to Peter and crouched down with the both of them. "Carter, do you know where this blood is from?" 

Peter, who had been busy trying to console the young man, eyed the drops of blood with concern. "He should be moved and examined. He needs to be sutured and I want a CT of his head," Peter decided. 

Mark peered down at Carter. "Are you experiencing any pain elsewhere?" Carter nodded in his response and Mark squeezed his hand. "All right we'll get you thoroughly checked out. Did he hit you anywhere else?" Mark asked trying to rule out injuries. Carter responded by shaking his head again. 

"Okay, we need to move you to the bed, so I'm going to help you stand up. Now, I know you probably strained you back, so I'll be as gentle as possible," Mark explained. 

"No, I want a backboard, I don't think it is a good idea to move him," Peter interjected. 

Mark locked eyes with the surgeon and decided to overrule him. "Peter, we can look at him in here. I don't want to cause more drama by moving him back out into the ER where he might encounter a little more stress." Mark looked at Peter, hoping the man would understand that the last thing that Carter needed was to be the center of attention in this situation. They could use the bed in the room to wheel him to any tests, and Mark was pretty certain that Carter had been knocked around, but not seriously hurt. 

Peter relented after a good deal of consideration. He didn't want to deal with the police, or Logan, or anybody at this point and time. 

Mark took a few steps back, but remained close to assist the surgeon. Peter slowly stood, pulling Carter up from behind. He let the doctor lean against him and supported him from underneath his arms. Slowly he helped him walk a few steps to the bed where he was lowered down again. Peter spotted a few traces of blood staining his sweatpants and concluded that his catheter had been pulled out in the struggle. Once he was settled down, Mark did a cursory examination. He used his penlight and observed Carter's pupils, while Peter hooked up a blood pressure cuff. 

"Heart rate and BP are normal," Peter announced. 

Carter lay quietly as both doctors prodded him and continued to ask yes and no questions. Malik had wandered in as a crowd gathered at the door. The male nurse scattered the worried staff after receiving "the stare" from both doctors. Peter had placed a bandage on the side of Carter's head and was applying pressure to it. 

"All right, let's get him prepped for a head CT, and I want to make sure nothing happened as a result of the dramatic foley removal. Then, after the tests, I'll suture him," Peter informed Malik. Peter peered down at his patient, who had remained silent during both doctor's ministrations. 

"Then, Carter, I want you to tell me what the hell happened and how the hell you got a hold of a cassette recorder." There was no room for argument in that tone. 

Carter actually felt bad enough to look a bit sheepish at the disapproving look he was receiving from both co-workers. He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Mark, and shrugged when the attending gave him a curious stare. 

"I don't even want to know," Mark said as Peter sighed heavily. 



Part 13 
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