TITLE: Kidnapped – Part 3
AUTHOR: Lynne Facella
CATEGORY: JC, PB
SPOILERS: Episodes through All in the Family
ARCHIVE: Sure, just ask so I know where it is going.
EMAIL: Mulderette@aol.com or Lynne1919@aol.com
DISCLAIMER: All ER characters are the property of Warner Brothers, NBC, etc., etc. (The bad guys are mine).

Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback people have written me. It is very much appreciated :)



After the cell door closed Carter and Benton stood silently mesmerized by the golden flicker of the candle, the only spot of light in the room. After a few moments Benton's voice pierced the stillness of the cell. "Hey man, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." Carter's voice was subdued. "Are you okay? That guy punched you pretty hard."

"I'm fine," Benton stated. He bent down and picked up another of the candles, lighting it from the flame of the first and then did the same with a third candle. The added light of the additional candles illuminated the whole cell, not that there was much to see. In the corner there was a tattered old blanket. Some tiny scraps of paper littered the floor. It was exceedingly dismal.

Benton glanced at Carter noting that he didn't look particularly well. "Carter…why don't you sit down before you fall down."

Carter shook his head.

Benton sighed. "Come on," he said more insistently.

Carter stared at Benton for a moment, opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it and slid down to the floor, his back against the wall and his knees hugged against his chest.

Benton knelt down next to him and handed him the container of water. "Here, why don't you drink some of this."

Once again Carter shook his head. His stomach was in knots and he felt like he wouldn't be able to keep it down.

Benton shut his eyes, trying to fight against the aggravation he could feel setting in, not so much against Carter but rather the whole situation. Carter definitely wasn't helping matters right now though.

"Carter will you please drink the damn water?"

Carter put his head down against his knees. "I don't want any," he said, his voice muffled but persistent.

Benton had no idea why Carter was being so stubborn. He seemed to want to fight against everything Benton suggested. He raised the jug of water to his own lips and took a couple of long swallows. The water was deliciously cool as it slid down his parched throat. He closed the lid and settled down next to Carter. He decided a change in subject might at least get the younger man talking. "So…," he began. "Do you have any bright ideas of how we're going to get out of this mess?"

"No," replied Carter without raising his head.

"You're feeling pretty lousy, aren't you," Benton commented.

"I'm fine."

"Well Carter, I don't think you're fine if you don't even have enough strength to lift your head up," Benton said with a hint of sarcasm.

Carter lifted up his head but didn't look at Benton. His face was flushed and dotted with droplets of sweat. Carter ran his hand through his hair brushing the limp strands away from his forehead. His eyes were glazed and without even touching him, Benton knew he was running a fever.

"I'm sorry about this," Carter said, his face plainly miserable.

"Huh?" Benton looked at Carter with confusion for a few seconds but then realization set in as to what Carter was saying. "Carter…this isn't your fault."

"Yeah and Romano's a real pussycat," replied Carter.

Benton smirked but then his face turned serious again. "Listen Carter. It's not your fault that you were born with money and it certainly isn't your fault that these guys have decided to try to capitalize on that fact. We have enough to worry about without you beating yourself up about something that you can't change. We have to keep our heads on straight if we're going to get out of this."

Carter nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said. He knew that what Benton was saying was true.

Once again Benton reached for the container of water and held it out to Carter. "Please?" he asked.

Carter relented as he took the container from Benton and drank some of the water. He winced as the water first hit his throat which was very sore. After he drank he carefully wiped the bottle with the bottom of his T-shirt. "I hope you don't get sick too."

"I won't."

They sat in silence for a while just watching the candles. Then Benton spoke again. "I wonder how much money these guys are looking for?"

"I don't know," Carter shook his head slowly. "They know my family is loaded. I'd say its quite a bit."

Benton chuckled. "I hope that they're including me in your deal. If they go to my family I think I'm up a creek."

Carter smiled. "I'm sure my family can come up with enough for the two of us."

"Yeah well…" Whatever Benton was about to say was lost as they heard the sound of someone fiddling with the lock outside the door. Both men tensed as they waited for the door to open.

Bill and Frank entered the cell with their guns drawn. "You just stay sitting," said Frank to Benton who had started to rise to his feet. He sat back down reluctantly watching the men guardedly.

"You. Get up," Bill ordered waving his gun at Carter. He warily got to his feet fighting back a slight wave of dizziness. "Come on, move," he said as he shoved Carter towards the door.

"What's going on?" asked Benton, a worried expression on his face. "Where are you taking him?"

"Now don't you worry about a thing, doc," said Frank, an ugly sneer on his face. "If he does what we tell him, no one will get hurt." He slammed the door and locked it leaving an anxious Benton behind.



The three men went up the stairs to the main part of the building. Tony was waiting, lazily leafing through the Chicago Sun Times. "Hey those White Sox have been on a tear lately," he said. "I'm gonna have to get some bets going on them."

"Well, we should have plenty of money for that soon enough, said Frank with a grin. He reached into a cooler and pulled out a beer.

Bill ignored the two men, preferring to get right down to business. "Okay doc, here's the deal," began Bill handing Carter a sheet of paper. "I want you to read this into the tape recorder and try to sound convincing. I'd have you call your family but we are too far out for a cell phone. Please don't screw around or change any words or you and your friend will be very sorry."

"That's right doc," said Frank, laughing, a beer in one hand and his gun in the other. He playfully aimed the gun at Carter's head and then abruptly jerked it away, shooting the gun out an open window. "You'll get a bullet in your brain if you mess with us!"

Carter jumped as the gun exploded. This guy was definitely not to be messed with. He had a crazed look about him and Carter had no doubt that he would think nothing of shooting them.

"What the hell are you doing, Frank?" asked Bill, angered. He glared at Tony. "I thought you said this guy was good."

"Aw loosen up Bill," said Tony. "He's just letting off a little steam. Anyhow, it will give his buddy something to think about."

Bill sighed. It seemed that Tony had changed a lot in the years Bill had spent in prison. He was beginning to think he should have been more careful in his choice of partners but it was too late now. He would just have to make due with what he had. He handed the microphone of the recorder to Carter. "You're on. Make it good."

Carter cleared his throat and started to read. "Hi, it's John. I'm not sure where I am but it's impossible to reach you by phone. Dr. Benton and I are being held for ransom. These men want fifteen million dollars. I truly believe if you do what they want that Dr. Benton and I will be released unharmed. If you contact the police or refuse to pay," he paused for a moment before continuing, "they will kill us both."

"Very, very good, Dr. Carter," said Bill, a wide grin on his face. "You got it on the first try. Just for that you're going to get a reward." He grabbed a large black duffel bag that was lying on the floor. "Frank, will you grab a couple more jugs of water?"

"Let's get going," Bill said to Carter. "Your pal must be worried."



Down in the cell Benton was practically out of his head with worry. He had heard the gunshot and his mind and his heart were racing. Had those bastards ruthlessly killed Carter in cold blood? Had they wounded him? Were they coming back to kill him too or were they just going to leave him here to rot. Frankly he would rather be shot too if those were his only options. He frantically paced back and forth like a caged animal, then stopped short, his body filled with tension as he heard the lock being opened.

Frank stepped into the cell holding two jugs of water in one hand and the guy in the other. "We're baaaack," he said in a singsong voice, as he shoved the water at Benton. "Take these."

Benton took the two containers of water and put them on the floor beside the other one. He then breathed a sigh of relief as an apparently unscathed Carter reentered the cell with Bill behind him.

"What's up doc," cackled Frank. "Did we scare you? Did you think your little buddy was dead?"

Benton grabbed Carter by the arm and pulled him protectively away from the two men. "I heard a shot. Did they hurt you?"

Carter shook his head. "No they were just messing with us," he said in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

"Relax, Dr. Benton," said Bill. "He did very, very well. He even earned the two of you a reward. You would have been very proud of him." He tossed the duffel bag he was carrying over near the water jugs.

"Well, I guess we'll be off," he said. "We'll be collecting our money and with any luck we won't be seeing you two again in this lifetime."

A growing sense of dread came over Carter as Bill's words registered. "What? You're just going to leave us locked down here?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Benton started to move towards the men angrily. "You can't just leave us here, its inhuman!"

"Back off doc," Bill said as both men raised their guns. "If everything goes as planned the next face you see will be whoever comes to rescue you. Once we collect our money and are on our way, we'll contact someone and let them know where you are."

"No wait!," shouted Carter, becoming more and more panicked. "You won't be able to reach my parents. They're out of the country. I don't know when they'll be back. You can't just leave us here!"

Frank's eyes filled with rage at Carter's words. "Out of the country?!" he bellowed. "Why you little punk!" Before anybody had a chance to react he raised his gun at Carter and pulled the trigger.

The impact of the bullet threw Carter against the wall as it entered his left shoulder.

"You idiot!" Bill screamed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You heard him," yelled Frank angrily. "His parents are out of the country! We won't get squat for this. It was just a big waste of time. I'll kill him. I'll kill them both!"

"Shut up! You're not going to kill anybody." Bill said vehemently. "I knew his parents were out of the country," he said slowly emphasizing each word. "If you had bothered to ask me I could have told you that we were going to his grandparents for the money."

Benton debated making some kind of move while the two men were quarreling but decided it would be futile. He turned his attention to Carter who was leaning against the wall, a dazed look on his face, his blood quickly changing the whiteness of his T-shirt to red.

"Carter, come on, lay down," Benton gently helped Carter to the floor.

Carter's face was deathly white as he tried to ignore the hot pain that was igniting his shoulder. He closed his eyes, as he listened to the sound of Benton ripping his shirt in order to better examine him.

"No exit wound. The bullet is still in there," murmured Benton. He quickly took off his own shirt pulling off his t-shirt underneath and carefully folding it into a pad. He then used this to apply pressure on the wound in order to try to stop the bleeding. Carter remained silent, trying to make his mind a blank although it was difficult. He was starting to feel very sleepy and could feel himself drifting off.

"Carter come on man, stay with me," Those words jarred Carter back into alertness. They were the same words Benton had used when he had been on his way up to the OR after having been stabbed by Paul Sobricki.

"You're always saving my ass, aren't you," he said.

"Yeah well you're always getting yourself into these scrapes," replied Benton trying to keep his tone light. "Someone has got to get you out of them."

Bill walked over, a look of concern on his face. "How is he?" he asked.

"He needs some proper medical attention," said Benton.

"You're a doctor aren't you?" said Frank snidely from across the room.

"I don't have anything to take care of this here," said Benton. "He needs surgery to get this bullet out of his shoulder. He needs bandages and antibiotics. He can't stay here. We have to get him to a hospital."

"I'm very sorry this happened," said Bill quietly. "I didn't mean for anybody to get hurt."

"Well, if you're really sorry," said Benton, "You'll let us go so I can get him some help."

"There's some stuff you will need in the bag," said Bill as he started to back away towards the door. "Blankets and food…We'll send help. I promise."

"What? No!" Benton said, an incredulous look on his face. He got up and started to sprint across the room after Bill. The door was slammed before he reached it. Benton pounded on the door in frustration. "You can't leave us in here!" he hollered. "At least let us out of the cell! Damn you! Give us some kind of a chance!" Benton's urgent pleas were met with only the gradually fading footsteps of the two men as they ascended up the stairs and then silence. He bowed his head in dismay and then headed back to try to help Carter as best he could.



End of Part 3

Title: Kidnapped - Part 4
Author: Lynne Facella
Email address: Mulderette@aol.com or Lynne1919@aol.com
Rating: PG
Keywords: Angst
Spoilers: Episodes through All in the Family
Archive: Sure, just ask so I know where it is going.
Disclaimer: All ER characters are the property of Warner Brothers, NBC, etc., etc. (The bad guys are mine).
Summary: Dr. Carter is held for ransom and an unwitting Dr. Benton gets dragged along for the ride.
Author's notes: Thanks to the following: To Kristen for all the support you have given this series, to the members of the ERFFCC for your comments and editing help, and to all the people who have written feedback. It is very much appreciated.


"Hey man, how are you doing?" Benton asked as he knelt down next to Carter. Carter's face was very pale and soaked with sweat. Benton went back to putting pressure on the wound, hoping to get the bleeding to stop. He knew that he shouldn't have stopped the pressure in the first place, but he had just been so frantic when those jerks had left, that he hadn't been thinking clearly.

Carter silently watched Benton, trying not to think about the pain he was in, the blood gushing from his shoulder, and the fact that those men had left them here, most likely to die. He tried to think of something pleasant but found that he couldn't. The only thoughts that came into his head were dark and dismal.

"Great the bleeding has stopped." Benton's relieved voice interrupted Carter's morbid thoughts. At least something had gone right. He grabbed the remaining section of the T-shirt and tightly bandaged Carter's shoulder. "You still with me?"

"Yeah. I'm all right." Carter replied unconvincingly. He actually felt horrible. The pain in his shoulder was much worse than the pounding headache and sore throat, but they were still persistent reminders in the background. He longed for a drug-induced oblivion.

"Sure you are," Benton said as he gently patted Carter's good shoulder. He was really at a loss as to what he could say that could be of comfort at this point. Then he remembered the duffel bag and Bill's babbling about Carter's reward. "Hey, let's see if they gave us anything useful." He dragged the duffel bag across the floor so that Carter could see its contents also.

"What if there's a bomb?" asked Carter warily.

His words stopped Benton short. He looked at Carter uncertainly. "A bomb?" He never would have thought of a bomb, but then again, nothing would surprise him at this point.

"Yeah, a bomb," said Carter as he started laughing hysterically. "You know, BOOM!" He didn't know why he was laughing, but he couldn't seem to stop; maybe it was just to keep from crying.

"Carter, CARTER!" Benton said, clearly rattled by Carter's uncharacteristic behavior. "We're going to get out of this. Don't worry."

As fast as his laughter had started, it stopped. Carter looked at Benton with pain and fear in his eyes. "You really think that?"

"Yeah I do," Benton replied. "I don't know how, but I do believe we will be okay. You have to believe it, too."

"Sure, yeah, okay," Carter said weakly shaking his head in the process. It was a characteristic that Benton had noticed in Carter in the past. He would verbally agree with whatever someone was saying to him but would unconsciously be shaking his head negatively. Not that Benton blamed him for being discouraged. He knew he was feeling like crap and there wasn't a heck of a lot that Benton could do to make him feel better. He did know that it was up to him to be the strong one. He would have to keep Carter's spirits up the best that he could.

Benton cautiously unzipped the duffel bag and peered at its contents. "No ticking," he said with a grin, which was met with a stony look from Carter. Benton shrugged and started pulling the objects out one by one. Two blankets, a flashlight with batteries, a box of crackers, six beef jerky sticks, a small stack of Styrofoam cups, six Hershey bars, and a bottle of Advil.

"That's an odd assortment of stuff," Carter commented eying the Advil yearningly. "Maybe they robbed a 7-11 before they went on to bigger things."

"Yeah well at least they left us something to live on," replied Benton, noting Carter's intense focus on the Advil. He took the Advil bottle, which was about half full and counted out 22 tablets. "Okay, Carter. You know better than I do just how bad you're feeling right now. We don't know how long we're going to be stuck here. Do you want to try to ration these, start with only two pills or do you want three or four?

Carter pondered for a few seconds before murmuring "I'll try two for now." At the moment he would be grateful for any relief he could get.

Benton poured some water into one of the cups and helped support Carter's head to he could take the pills. Carter thirstily gulped down the water. "Come on man, slow down," Benton admonished gently. "You don't want to upset your stomach."

Carter obediently drank the remainder of the water slowly.

"More?" Benton asked when Carter had drained the cup.

"No thanks, I've had enough." He involuntarily shivered as a chill run through him.

Benton studied Carter thoughtfully for a few moments. He took hold of one of the blankets and spread it out over the floor. "Come on," he said as he carefully helped Carter onto the blanket. "Let's get you off of this cold floor."

He draped the other half of the blanket over Carter and put the other blanket over him too. Then he took the duffle bag and folded it up as best he could and put it under Carter's head. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you," replied Carter but looked at Benton questioningly. "What about you? Aren't you cold?"

Benton shook his head. "No. I'm comfortable. It's probably hot as Hell outside."

"Yeah, probably…" Considerably warmer and more comfortable, Carter felt his eyelids becoming heavier. He struggled to keep them open.

"Come on man, don't fight it," Benton said softly. "Just go to sleep for a little while. Maybe you'll feel better."

"I'm….not….really….sleepy….." Carter managed to get out before surrendering to sleep.

Benton sat silently watching Carter as he slept. He cursed that they didn't even have a watch. They had no idea how much time was passing by down here. He couldn't imagine being a prisoner in this place for a long period of time; he wouldn't be able to stand it. He paced around the cell for a bit and tried unsuccessfully to open the door. He didn't think there was any possibility of them getting out of here on their own. His stomach growled and Benton opened the box of crackers and munched on a couple. Not exactly gourmet dining, but it was certainly better than nothing. He thought about eating one of the beef jerky sticks but decided not to just yet. He looked over at Carter again and was thankful that he still seemed to be resting easily. He decided he might as well try to catch a little shut eye also, and a short while later, he too was fast asleep.



August 25, 2000, 9 a.m. - The Carter Estate


Tony whistled softly in awe as he drove the van up the winding road towards the Carter mansion. "Wow, that kid really does come from a mega bucks family," he said.

"No shit!" exclaimed Frank. "I'm surprised they don't have a gatekeeper to keep riff raff like us out."

Bill remained silent. His heart was beating in anticipation of closing in on his life's goal. He just hoped nothing else would go wrong. Frank had acted very recklessly when he had shot young Carter. It was very regrettable but Bill had come too far to stop now. He had spent too much time planning this and it was a one shot deal. At least the kid was with a doctor. Although Benton's appearance had initially seemed like it could throw a hitch into their plans, it had actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Hopefully he would be able to keep him alive. Bill really wanted the money, but he did not condone murder and had had no intentions of anybody getting hurt.

"Okay, you two wait here, I'm going to go in alone," Bill said as Tony pulled up in front of the house.

"Why can't we come too?" Frank asked belligerently.

"Because we don't need any more screw ups like you shooting Carter," Bill replied angrily. "And I'm the one in charge here. You're getting paid to follow orders and keep your mouth shut."

Bill grabbed the tape recorder and slammed out of the van.

"Touchy…" Frank murmured as he and Tony watched Bill walking up the stairs to the front door.

"He's smart though," said Tony with clear admiration. "Billy's always thinking. If anybody can get us this payoff, he can."

Bill got to the front door, took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He listened to the chimes from within but nobody came to the door. He rang it two more times. Finally, after an interminable wait a smartly dressed butler came to the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked looking at Bill with obvious distaste.

"I'm hear to see Mr. Carter," Bill replied, meeting the butler's gaze head on. Who was he to be looking down on him? He was a butler for crying out loud.

"Mr. Carter is out of the country on business," replied the butler who then started to close the door.

"Wait!" said Bill frantically. "Mrs. Carter then, is she here?"

"Madame does not see anybody without any appointment. You'll have to come back some other time."

"The Hell I will," Bill said, trying not to lose his temper. "This is important. I'm sure she will want to see me."

"I sincerely doubt that," the butler said making no attempt to disguise his contempt for the man in front of him, as he once again attempted to close the door.

"Goddamn, you!" Bill roared as he stuck his body halfway into the house. "I need to see Mrs. Carter."

The butler was a large formidable man who took his job very seriously. "You will leave the premises at once or I will have you removed." He stated firmly, his body blocking Bill from further entry into the house.

"Charles… Charles what on earth is going on?" came a female voice from inside the house. A moment later Millicent Carter appeared at the door. "Who are you and what do you want?" she demanded.

Bill contemplated the woman in front of him. She had class written all over her. Although dressed very simply, she had that special look that only the very wealthy could achieve. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Carter, but trust me, you will want to hear what I have to say."

"I am a very busy woman whoever you are," she replied impatiently. "Just state your business and be on your way."

"What I have to tell you is private," Bill said looking meaningfully at the butler. "It involves your grandson."

"I am not accustomed to allowing strangers into my home."

"I suggest you make an exception," Bill said allowing a slight threatening tone into his voice.

Millicent contemplated the man and despite her better judgement allowed him to enter the front door. "Fine you have five minutes," she said. He followed her through the parlor into a den.

"Charles, you will wait right here in case I need you," she instructed. The butler did as she asked casting a glare in Bill's direction.

She closed the door behind her and gave Bill her attention. "Well?" she asked in an icy tone.

"I think this is all you are going to need to hear," Bill said as he pressed the play button on the tape recorder.

He watched as Millicent's expression changed from the initial shock of hearing John's voice to shock and fear by the time the message ended.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked in a horrified whisper, her fingers playing with the strand of pearls fastened around her neck. She was terrified at the thought of what could be happening to John.

"I thought your grandson made that plain," Bill replied coldly. "Fifteen million dollars and you get little Johnny back."

Millicent's mind worked rapidly, trying to think of the best way to handle this. "That's a lot of money," she said slowly. "I'll need some time to get it together."

"I wouldn't take too much time if I were you," Bill said. "John wasn't in the best shape of his life when I last saw him."

A shiver ran down Millicent's back at Bill's words. "What did you do to him?" she asked, her voice revealing a slight tremor.

"Nothing that can't be fixed if he is freed soon," Bill replied. "If not, well I'm afraid that Dr. Benton won't even be able to help him."

Millicent thought for a moment. She was having a hard time processing all this information so quickly. Yes, John had mentioned that Dr. Benton was with him in the message. She supposed that was good news for John although admittedly not for Dr. Benton.

"And hey," Bill snapped his fingers in Millicent's face to get her attention. "Do not even think for a minute of calling the cops, the FBI or anybody in law enforcement. If you do….John and Benton are both dead. You will never see your precious grandson again."

"What guarantee do I have that you won't kill John even if I give you the money," Millicent asked, trying desperately to compose herself in front of this madman who was probably a killer.

"I guess you will just have to trust me," Bill said with a frosty smile. "It is John's only chance."

"All right," Millicent replied hesitantly. "I will get you the money." Her husband would never agree with this. He would definitely call the FBI. She didn't know about John's parents but she didn't even know where they were at the moment; somewhere out on the South Seas. They hadn't even made an appearance when their son had been stabbed. She was going to have to deal with this her own way. She knew that her husband would be furious but it was just what she had to do.

"How long will it take to get the money?" asked Bill. "In unmarked bills of course."

"I am not exactly sure," Millicent said. "I will try to get it to you by tomorrow." She would have to contact Henry Wellington, her close friend and financial advisor. She could trust him. He could get access to some of their Swiss accounts or liquidate assets, whatever it took to get the money as quickly as possible.

"Okay then," Bill said, as he grabbed the recorder off the table. "I will contact you tomorrow afternoon. And please, no tricks and no cops. I don't think you want your grandson's blood on your hands." With that, quickly left the den, giving a mock bow to Charles on his way out. "Good day, old chap."

Charles went into the den and could not help but notice Millicent Carter's pale complexion and the almost haunted look in her eyes. "Is everything all right madam?" he asked.

"Yes Charles," Millicent forced a smile, trying to compose herself. "I just need to take care of some business. I will call you if I need you."

Charles nodded and left the room. He knew that something was most definitely wrong but it was not his place to interfere.

Millicent watched Charles leave, closing the door behind him. She sank into an overstuffed chair, finally allowing herself the luxury of tears as she buried her face in her hands. She pulled herself together after only a few minutes though. She knew that she had to be strong for John. With a trembling hand she picked up the phone to dial Henry Wellington's number.


End of Chapter 4.