Burden of Guilt 




PREVIOUSLY:
"I--I know. I-I-I j-just wanted your--friendship." Carter couldn't hold out anymore, finally letting the agony win him over. He groaned as the double images inside the car blurred into an unrecognizable montage of color. Then he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him. 

His hand slipped from Benton's arm and fell unceremoniously to the side. Peter was overwhelmed with an intense fear, and grabbed Carter's wrist to check his pulse. Relief flooded him when he felt it, weak but steady. He moved his hand to grasp the younger man's. He held it tenderly in his own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Carefully gathering the unconscious man in his arms, he gently embraced him. His face moist, Peter whispered in his ear, "I've always been your friend." 

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Not wanting to aggravate the younger man's broken bones, Peter gently lowered him to a prone position on the floor. He let his hand linger on Carter's shoulder, for his own comfort. Benton sat quietly, staring into the emptiness of the van, every once in a while checking Carter's pulse to reassure himself of its steady rhythm. The vehicle was be silent, but filled with the pounding of the storm outside. The rain was so heavy that it was hard for Benton to hear Carter's shallow breathing. He was alone, he realized nervously, without anywhere to go. 

Peter glanced down at his former student and wondered if that was how he had felt these past few months: in the midst of chaos, but trapped by a cruel reality. The world continued on its track, oblivious to the drama inside the van. Benton looked toward the back door, hoping Mark would come in with a solution to their situation. The surgeon tried to recall little things he should have noticed, things he'd missed these past months. He'd seen Carter in the halls or during traumas. Of course, he wasn't looking for anything. Things were back to normal, the staff had to move on with their lives, and he had his budding relationship with Cleo. Benton knew that when you weren't looking for something, you didn't usually find anything. John Carter was a doctor, a grown man. Peter had done his job, taught him what was required. Sure, he considered him a friend, but he also didn't seek him out to talk to or go out for a drink with. The hospital was his home, but he had his son and Carla. It wasn't a substitute family for him, as it was for others. Like it was for the Carter, he thought. 

Peter was trying to understand why he never let down his wall for Carter, when he heard the faint sounds of footsteps over the pounding of the rain. "Hey, Carter, you hear that man? That's Mark and I know help's going to be here soon. You got to wake up now, this isn't the time to take a nap." Peter tried shaking his left shoulder gently, but there was no response. He was still attempting to wake the younger man, when the back door opened and a wave of cold air rolled through the vehicle. 

"Mark, shut the door! It's finally warm in here," Peter said crabbily, adjusting Carter's suit jacket. He ignored Mark as he settled down on the opposite side of their friend. 

"I was able to get a signal out. What happened?" He gestured to Carter. "Is he stable, Peter?" He whipped out his penlight and bent over to examine Carter's pupils once more. 

"He's unconscious. What does it look like?" Peter grumbled. "When's help going to arrive? We need a CT to rule out a subdural hematoma." 

"Pupils still even, very sluggish, though. God, I wish we could get a BP." Mark tucked his penlight back into the pocket of his soaked through shirt. 

"Mark, who did you reach?" Peter asked impatiently, unable to wait any longer for news. 

"I got in touch with a fire station. I couldn't get through to a hospital. They're going to send a couple of their EMT's when they can clear the roads. There are many trees down..." 

"How long, Mark?" Peter interrupted. 

"They said an hour or two," Mark responded, eyes downcast. He didn't lookup, feeling Peter's angry glare. 

"Damn it! We can't wait that long! He needs x-rays, a possible ex- lap, he could have re-injured..." 

"Peter! Stop it!" Mark cut him off. "We can't do anything right now. We have to accept that. You don't think I'm worried? You don't think I feel just a little bit responsible for what happened tonight?" Mark calmed down when he saw Peter listening. "I'm the one that made the arrangements for him to go to Atlanta." Mark held up one finger. "I'm the one who didn't think the idea out enough. I was just going to hand him a ticket and hope for the best." Mark held up a second finger. "I'm the one who thought that driving at night and in the rain was a bright idea." Mark held a third finger. He wasn't looking for forgiveness; he just needed to let Peter know that he felt terribly guilty. 

"I'm not going to defend you in anyway, Mark. You're right. I think the whole intervention was poorly done. I don't think he was monitored properly when he returned to the hospital. He was overworked and he had no one to turn to. So, he turned to his pain medication." Peter's voice competed with the booming sound of the thunderstorm raging outside. 

"There is plenty of blame to go around, Peter. I had no idea he was in that much pain. Did you? Hell, you were his surgeon! Then you turned over his care to someone else. Why did you do that, huh, Peter?" 

The veins on Benton's face stood out, an indication of the rage he was holding back. He took a deep breath, and slowly answered the other doctor. "I thought it was for the best to transfer his care to someone else. I kept tabs on him." He sat there in the thick, heavy silence, hoping his last statement would justify his actions. 

"Why did you go after him in the parking lot, Peter?" Mark asked pointedly. 

Taken aback, Benton let out an exaggerated sigh. "Because I could talk some sense into him." 

"Because he respects you?" Mark pressed. 

"Yeah, I guess," he replied tersely. 

"Because you were his teacher," Mark said matter-of-factly. 

Aggravated Peter said, "Yes, I was his teacher for three years. 

Mark shook his head as if disappointed with a child. "You can't admit it, canyou?" 

Benton didn't reply. He rolled his eyes, and tried to distract himself by adjusting Carter's suit jacket. Again. 

"Peter, you are an extremely gifted surgeon. You always seek out a challenge and you never back down from an argument. But you can't handle something as simple as accepting or admitting friendship?" 

"How I deal with people, Dr. Greene, is none of your business. Carter knows where he stand with me. He doesn't need to be coddled. We've had our differences in the past, but he understands." 

"Maybe. Maybe not. I've learned that if you open up to people then they'll open up to you. When..." Mark wasn't allowed to finish. 

"Dr. Greene, save your lectures for your own conscience, mine is fine," Peter told him firmly, without flinching. 

"You could have fooled me, Peter. Mine is quite burdened right now, its downright driving me crazy. I was Carter's direct supervisor, and I failed to do my job. I missed the signs. I approached him, but I didn't force the issue. Maybe..." 

"M-m-maybes don't get you anywhere, D-D-Dr. Greene." Carter's voice startled both of them, and they turned to hover over their patient. 

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"You were out there for a few minutes, Carter," Peter told the younger man. In a softer voice he added, "You had me worried." Benton glanced down at him and once again, a silent communication passed between the two. 

Carter glanced up from his prone position on the floor. Both doctors seemed to be trying to keep something from him. The tension in the van was almost as uncomfortable as breathing had become, and Carter wondered if there was something else going on. The double images were gone, enabling him to focus more clearly on his companions' faces. The unmerciful pounding in his skull was playing havoc with his stomach, but he was able to keep the nausea at bay. It was his chest and back that kept him from the confines of a deep, relaxing sleep. He wished he were back in the silence of that void. 

"G-g-god, I thought the p-p-pain was bad when I was t-t-hrown off that gurney," Carter groaned, as he tried-and failed-to take a deep breath. The pain rippling through his chest admonished him for his bad idea. And all he could do was lie in agony, resuming the fruitless position of wrapping his arms around his broken ribs. 

"What are you talking about? When were you thrown?" Peter asked, upset that he was unaware of this little event. 

Mark answered for the injured man, since he felt it wasn't a good idea for Carter to strain himself. "I told you about it, Peter." Mark wanted to keep the conversation between him and the surgeon private. "Carter was pummeled off a gurney while doing a hip reduction." 

"Yeah, well why was he allowed to do such a procedure in the first place? Who was supervising him?" Peter was outraged that Carter was participating in procedures that his body was not ready for. He knew that, so why hadn't anyone else understood the terms of his recovery? 

"Kerry was there, but Carter insisted he was fine, Peter," Mark said defending his colleague. 

Carter closed his eyes while the doctors continued their argument. They were discussing him as if he wasn't there. Making decisions and voicing opinions on things that he took great measures to avoid. He had spent so much energy gaining acceptance and proving himself, yet there were still people doubting his choices. 

"Hey!" he managed to yell. Carter tried to turn to his side to curl up against the pain lancing across his chest. Peter put his hands on his shoulder to restrain the movement. 

"Don't move, Carter," Benton instructed him, as he tried to keep Carter's fidgeting from adding to his problems. 

Unable to move, Carter practically yelled what was going through his mind."It was my fault. Alright?" He took a shuddering breath and continued. "I-I-I just wanted to be normal. I-I-I wanted everything to be back t-t-t tonormal." Carter gasped in pain, but he wouldn't let them keep him from speaking what was on his mind. Pressing a hand on his chest to subdue some of the anguish, he went on. "It wasn't normal. I-I-I wasn't the same. I did that p-p-procedure just like I-I- I did all the others. In pain. That's why I t-t-took the Fentanyl today. It was the quickest solution. I acted on instinct." 

Carter's voice was shaking, and the other two doctors tried to calm him down. "Carter, its okay, you don't have to explain anything. We had a role in this too. We just don't want to admit it." Mark looked over at Peter who was awkwardly trying to agree by comfortingly squeezing Carter's hand. 

"We look out for each other. We're supposed to. But we failed to do that for you. The rest of us sought some sense of normalcy after the attack. And to do that we had to keep dealing with life. We should have been as involved in all aspects of your recovery. We weren't, and--I'm sorry." Mark felt relieved, as if by telling Carter what he was thinking, a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. 

Carter relaxed at Mark's words, letting them sink in. He didn't think Mark had anything to feel guilty about. "Dr. Greene, there are some things we can't prevent. I--I couldn't s-s-save Lucy. You couldn't h- h-help me Sometimes we need to f-f-orgive ourselves." Carter closed his eyes, trying to come up with the additional energy required to put Mark's mind at ease. 

"I didn't learn that, till now. H-h-hearing you talk, sounded like my conscience. The voice of d-d-doubt eating away at me. I-I-I couldn't do anything to help Lucy. I g-g-guess that's why I just acted without th-th-thinking on the road." Carter slowly and methodically turned his head to look at Benton. 

He waited for the dizziness to subside before he spoke. "That's why I pushed y-y-you out of the way. I-I- could do something in that split second." He took another shallow breath. "I just wasn't fast enough." Carter couldn't help but chuckle at his inadequacies. He was always such a klutz when he was a student. Nice to know that some things never changed. 

Mark looked over at Benton. "That was reflex, Carter. You shouldn't feel guilty for caring about another person. I think actions speak louder then words and we all understand that." 

"Yeah, well I think I owe Dr. Benton one anyway," Carter said turning his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Peter released his grip on Carter's hand. "You didn't owe me anything, Carter. That was a real stupid thing you did." Benton could see his former student flinch at his strong words. "But--thank you." 

Carter was surprised that Peter had actually said the words. So much had changed in such a short period of time. "Dr. Benton, do you think I'll n-n-need another operation?" Carter asked nervously. Both doctors didn't want to raise his hopes, or lie. 

Peter spoke first. "I don't know, Carter. There is some extensive bruising on your right side, where the car hit you. I didn't see enough to indicate any internal bleeding, but you know we need x- rays." 

"I don't want another operation," Carter whispered. He didn't realize he had spoken the words aloud. He didn't see the feelings of remorse and sadness that flitted across his friends' faces. 

He did know one thing for sure, however. "When I go to the hospital, I don't want any pain medication," he said matter-of-factly. 

"Carter, you're in a great deal of pain. I know what you're thinking and I know what you've been through, but..." 

"No more. Dr. Greene, I-I-I don't want any." Carter could see the doubt on Mark's face. Understanding the conflict of emotions, Carter turned to Peter, who he knew would respect his wishes. 

"Dr. Benton, don't let them g-g-give me anything. Please." Carter's voice was faltering. There was a long pause before Peter silently replied. 

"Okay, Carter." Peter nodded his head, not wanting to argue with his friend. He honestly wasn't sure he could keep his promise.