Fluency 


AUTHOR: Kacey Linden
EMAIL: entenebris@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: JC/PB
RATING: G
SPOILERS: None
DISCLAIMER: "ER" and its characters do not belong to me, they belong to Warner Bros. If they belonged to me, I wouldn't be here, I'd be doing unspeakable things in Exam 2 with Carter.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: In my own little time-line, this takes place after "Getting Blood from a Rock", "All Evil Chances" and "Coping With All" and before "That Kind of Day".
SUMMARY: Set after the events in "All Evil Chances", Benton brings Carter home from the hospital. 



"Would you sit down?" demanded Benton, exasperated. 

"I'm fine," Carter insisted, rummaging through his kitchen cupboard for a glass. "They wouldn't have let me come home if I weren't all better, would they?" 

The surgeon, knowing exactly how recovered Carter was and how much further he had to go, decided not to deign that query with a direct answer. "Your grandmother asked me to bring you home to make sure you wouldn't overdo things." 

"So? Don't tell me you're scared of Gamma," Carter grinned at his former teacher. 

"I am not scared of your grandmother," Benton denied instantly. 

"You should be. She's made meaner people than you quake with fear." 

"And exactly who is meaner than I am?" asked Benton, with a slight smile. 

"My grandfather." Carter's answer was flippant, despite its fundamental truth. 

Sensing this, Benton shook his head. With a solemn look on his face, he stated, "I could take your grandfather, Carter." 

Carter laughed, extracting a tall glass from the behind all his coffee mugs. "Maybe." 

"Definitely. Now sit down," Benton ordered. 

"I told you, I feel fine! In fact, I feel great. And I can get myself a glass of water, thanks." Carter completely ignored the surgeon's command, slowly making his way to the refrigerator. Benton monitored his progress, half-irritated, half-concerned. 

"Okay, but can you get it sometime today?" 

"You know, it's not nice to tease people who are recovering from gunshot wounds," Carter grumbled. His back was to the surgeon, so he missed the look of guilt that flickered across Benton's face. 

"Stop quarrelling," Millicent Carter chastised them from the kitchen doorway. The identical expressions of shock on their faces made her smile. She could almost see John replaying the last few minutes in his head, trying to figure out what she might have heard, and if he needed to apologize for anything. Peter Benton just looked pained. 

She came into the room, giving her grandson a squeeze on the arm and a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, John. Why don't you sit down, sweetheart?" she asked, taking the glass from his hand. 

John reached for it again. "Really, Gamma, I can - " 

"Sit!" she commanded. 

Without further objections, Carter walked to the table and lowered himself into a chair, shrugging when Benton glared at him. 

"Hello, Peter," Millicent greeted the surgeon with a warm smile. "Thank you so much for bringing John home." 

"Sure, it wasn't a problem," Benton accepted her thanks easily. He might not have been entirely comfortable with the Carter matriarch yet, but they had spent some time together during John's stay at the hospital. Her appearance no longer radiated only power and money at him; she was genuinely and deeply concerned for her grandson, and that made her accessible to Benton. 

"Although I would have preferred not to find the front door wide open," Millicent added, placing the water-filled glass in front of John. 

Carter and Benton exchanged a look. 

"I thought you were going to get that," Carter said. 

Benton glowered at the resident. "Oh really? What about 'Dr Benton, I think I can shut a door by myself'? I quite distinctly remember hearing that." 

"But then you said, 'You're not supposed to do anything but relax, so sit down, Carter', remember?" 

"I was practically in your bedroom when I said that, Carter. I assumed you wouldn't listen to me. God knows, you haven't listened to anything I've said since then," Benton scowled. 

"I'm not an invalid, Dr Benton. I can do things myself," Carter protested. 

"But you couldn't shut the door?" asked Benton. 

"Obviously I thought you were going to do it!" 

"When? The two seconds I had between dropping your clothes in your room and coming in here?" 

"Well, how long does it take you to close a door?" 

"That's enough arguing!" Millicent interrupted them forcefully but with amusement. "Honestly, you two bicker like an old married couple." 

"Sorry, Gamma." Carter appeared duly chastened. Benton said nothing, looking vaguely horrified at the implication of her observation. 

There was a short silence, then Millicent continued, "I just wanted to make sure that you were settling in comfortably." 

Carter nodded. "Can't get much more comfortable than home." 

"You know you could come back to the house, John." 

Carter cast an uneasy look at Benton, who had yet to alter his stricken expression. "I'd rather not right now, Gamma." 

Millicent clasped her grandson's hand across the table. "He's leaving soon, John. Please consider it; I would feel much better if you were home." 

"I'm okay here, really." 

She agreed reluctantly, "All right. I guess I should go and let you rest, then. But first, I brought you something." Carter looked at her inquisitively. She placed a car key on the table. 

Carter regarded it mutely for a minute. Then he shook his head. "I can't accept this, Gamma." 

Millicent didn't look surprised, only disappointed. "John, please take it. I know the police never found your car. You need some kind of transportation." 

Carter continued to shake his head. "I'll buy my own car later. Besides, Jeeps really haven't been all that lucky for me. Maybe I'll get... a Volvo. Those are supposed to be pretty safe, right?" he asked, glancing at Benton. 

The surgeon suddenly found both Carters looking at him. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"Never mind," Carter smiled, returning his attention to his grandmother. "I don't need this, Gamma." 

"John, you're in no condition to go hunting for a car," Millicent was beginning to exert her considerable grandparental force. "Now I know you've turned down the family money, but this is different. I want you to have this." 

"Gamma, please understand - " 

"No, I'm sorry, John, but I don't understand. Do you really hate us so much that you won't even accept a small welcome home present?" 

"No, it's not that!" Of all his family, he thought Gamma would understand his need for independence. The car was not a 'small present', not even to his family. It was... an obligation at best, ammunition at worst. It was something his grandfather would hold over him the next time they met and something his father would comment on every time he came into town. 

"Look, Mrs Carter, John isn't going anywhere for a while," Benton said in a hasty effort to rescue the younger man. "For the next week, he's going just to sit here in his apartment and behave, right?" Benton glanced at Carter, recognizing and ignoring the resident's evident surprise at his intervention in the family argument. 

"Um. Yes." 

"Well, that might be fine for this week, Peter. But after that - " 

"I'll take him," Benton said simply. 

Carter seemed a little stunned by the suggestion; Millicent merely shook her head. "That's not reasonable." 

Benton's tone was irrefutably reasonable. "We can arrange it at the hospital so that our shifts coincide, and I'm sure anything else can be taken care of either before or after work." 

"And there's always the El," Carter pointed out. He didn't want to sound completely dependent on the surgeon. 

"No, not yet," Benton disagreed, thinking that Carter had gotten tired just walking from the car to his apartment. 

Millicent's frown had not disappeared, but it had abated slightly. "Are you really sure you don't want it, John?" 

Carter shook his head regretfully, knowing that his rejection hurt her. "Thanks, Gamma, but - " 

"You'll be okay," she finished for him with a sigh. She turned her eyes to Benton with a grim, sad smile. "I'm leaving him to you, then, Peter." 

Benton nodded. "I'll take care of him," he told her, again earning an astonished look from Carter and again ignoring it. 

"See that you do." Millicent held his gaze a moment longer, then she removed the key from the table. "I had best leave now, I think." 

"Gamma, please don't be mad," John pleaded. 

Millicent shook her head, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm not. Not really. Good for you, sweetheart. You do what you want to do - don't give in to us Carters, all right?" He nodded, kissing her back. "Okay, I really do have to go." She stood; both men did as well, though she waved them down. 

John walked her to the door, shutting it tightly behind her. Through the door he could hear her instruct him to lock it. With a smile, he complied. He turned to find Benton standing in his living room, holding his glass of water. 

"The couch would probably be more comfortable than the kitchen chairs," the surgeon explained gruffly, putting the glass down on a side-table. 

Carter nodded, sinking onto the sofa with a sigh. "Thank you," he said. 

"They're your couches, Carter," Benton deliberately misunderstood him. 

"For what you said to Gamma. Thank you," the resident refused to be deflected. 

"I meant it." Benton stared at the carpet pattern. He found it was much easier to say these things if he didn't have to see Carter's earnest reactions. The shock that emanated from the younger man every time he made a friend-like comment or action was a little disheartening. 

"So, did Gamma's comment about us bickering like an old couple bother you?" Carter asked as he reached for his glass of water. 

Benton, seeing Carter wince at the movement, quickly leaned over and pushed the glass closer to the resident. "Why would it bother me?" he questioned, almost defensively. 

Carter gave him a small grin of gratitude. After taking a sip, he went on, "I don't know. You just looked... disturbed, I guess." 

Benton shifted, discomfited. "I wasn't. Disturbed. Exactly." 

Carter watched him with a wary expression. "It did bother you, didn't it? You aren't... I mean, do you want to-" He was pretty sure the surgeon wanted to back up a little, to revoke the friendship to some degree. He knew that Benton really didn't like being close to people. Hell, how long had Benton known Mark Greene and Doug Ross? And they weren't friends. 

"It bothers me because it seems strange being this friendly with you," the surgeon admitted in a rush. Then he hesitated, and amended, "No, it seems strange that it doesn't seem strange. Do you know what I mean?" Benton actually looked uncertain for a second. He couldn't believe he was talking to Carter like this; next they would be hugging or something. Benton suppressed a mental shudder. 

"I think so. But I also think we've... earned it. It's like that 'Simpsons' episode, when Bart goes to France," Carter said. 

Benton blinked at his former student, his expression blank. "What?" 

"You know, Bart goes to France for three months on an exchange program and is made into a servant on this vineyard." Carter paused, noting Benton's eyes were narrowing, and decided to get to the point, "Basically, he doesn't think he's learned French, but then suddenly he discovers that he can understand it and speak it fluently. We've worked on this friendship for a long time, Dr Benton. We just didn't realize it." 

Benton was silent for a moment. Then with a frown, he said, "You mean, I didn't realize it." 

Carter glanced at him, surprised. "No. I mean, if friends aren't supposed to be scared of each other, I didn't really realize it either." 

"You were scared of me?" Benton asked. 

Carter rolled his eyes. "You know I was. You wanted me to be. It was kind of necessary to your teaching style." 

Benton decided not to take offense at the last statement. "But now you're not?" 

"I know you care; that really detracts from your ability to scare me." 

"You know I could take your grandfather, Carter." 

"Sure, but not my grandmother," the resident smiled. 

Benton shook his head at the younger man, noting that he looked tired. He had just gotten released that morning; he was probably exhausted. "Get some rest," Benton ordered. 

"Are you always going to end our conversations like this?" muttered Carter, settling into his comfy couch contentedly. "Ordering me to get some rest?" 

"No. Sometimes I'm going to just tell you to shut up." 

"Okay," said Carter agreeably, closing his eyes. "Just as long as you don't get boring. Because I think-" 

"Carter, shut up and get some sleep!" the surgeon snapped. 

"Ooh, combo." 

Benton rubbed his forehead, wondering what he had agreed to when he told Millicent he'd take care of her grandson. 

"Thanks for being here, Dr Benton," Carter mumbled sleepily. 

Benton gazed down on the now-dozing form for a moment. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he brought a blanket from Carter's room and covered the younger man. "Thank *you* for still being here, Carter," he said quietly. 

Then he moved back to the kitchen and started to make arrangements for the upcoming weeks. 

the end 




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