Burden Of Guilt
Part Five
By Kristen
kdarganin@hotmail.com

JC/PB/MG friendship

Last eppy seen "May Day" takes place afterwards with a few minor adjustments.

DISCLAIMOR: I don't own them, please don't sue.

ARCHIVE: Anywhere as long as my name is attached and you tell me.

NOTES: This story would not be possible with the help of my supper editors Lyss and Megan. They have provided me with a wealth of help and suggestions. Special thanks for her wonderful medical knowledge to Debbie. Also, to Sharon, Debbie, Cathy and to everyone who has supported me.

SUMMARY: Things don't go as planned on the way to Atlanta.

Mark decided to let the surgeon be and went to find a phone to alert Kerry of their current situation. Once that difficult job was complete, Mark realized that it was necessary to find accommodations for the night. He quickly dismissed the idea of going back out to his car. After locating a motel down the road, Mark journeyed back to the ER for an update on Carter. As he headed to the admit desk, he glimpsed Dr. West coming his way. The doctor was very confused about their current situation, but seemed to take it in stride.

"Dr. Benton has been lurking outside the radiology room; he doesn't seem to understand that we do know how to do our jobs around here." Dr. West looked at Mark pointedly.

"I'm sorry about that. It's been an extremely-long day. How is Carter?" Mark asked, trying valiantly to keep the exhaustion from his voice.

Dr. West sensed his companion's weariness, and his tone grew sympathetic. "Dr. Carter has a severe concussion, but we ruled out any bleeding or permanent damage. He'll have quite a headache for a while, and will continue to suffer from episodes of blurred vision, but he'll be fine in about four or five days. I want to keep him here for at least three."

Mark shook his head in relief, but immediately grew anxious at the stern look he was receiving from the other doctor. "What's wrong, Dr. West?" Mark asked.

"Look, I examined his MRI, and even I can tell that there's still some inflamed tissue from his previous injury. I know he should still be on some form of prescribed medication. So why is it that he refuses to take any for a painful sternal fracture, Dr. Greene?" Dr. West questioned, annoyance creeping into his calm voice. Mark was at a loss for words, unsure of how to handle this issue. Dr. West answered his own question.

"Dr. Greene, I think I know what the refusal is all about. It can happen. However, I think it presents a problem for a full recovery. You know there is a chance he could develop pneumonia if he can't properly maintain some normal respiration, which is problematic with broken ribs and a fractured sternum."

"I know," Mark responded, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Convince him to take some meds. I'll lower the dose, but do it." Before Mark could argue or agree, Dr. West picked up a chart and walked towards another exam room. Mark looked around for any sign of Peter. He stopped searching when his tired eyes landed on their goal. Peter Benton was with "his" patient. Great, Mark thought, leaning against the wall. How do I tell the Berlin wall that it's time to come down?

Peter Benton entered Carter's room. The lights that normally shone brightly were dimmed to accommodate the extreme headache of the occupant. Peter found a chair and sat down heavily. The room was filled with the steady sound of the cardiac monitor. He sat quietly for a long time, staring with resignation at the unused PFC machine next to Carter's IV. The patient was not resting comfortably, like he should have been. Like he needed to, Peter thought angrily. In fact, Carter looked terrible. His face was pale, his body tense, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Noting that Carter was awake he spoke quietly.

"You know, Carter, you can stop being so damn stubborn. You're not proving anything to anybody."

Carter opened his eyes, his expression weary. "I'm not proving anything," he whispered in a soft, raspy voice. "I don't want to go down that road again." Carter put his hand up to his head in a futile attempt to rub his forehead. He dug his thumb into the side of his skull in an effort to rub some of the pain away. The end result was only an agonizing wince after he raised his arm above his head.

"If you would act reasonably, you would be sleeping now. Or did you forget that rest is what helps heal the body?" Peter asked sarcastically.

"I haven't had any real sleep in months and that was on my prescription,"

Carter answered resignedly.

"That's your line, huh? You're just going to hide behind that BS forever?" Peter snapped.

Carter looked visible upset, almost confused by the conversation. Then his face resumed an offended, stone like appearance. "BS? Have you forgotten why this whole thing happened tonight? What I've been through these past months? I thought...I thought."

This time, Peter didn't let him continue. "You thought wrong, Carter. You have for a long time. You thought you could endure things all my yourself. You thought it was okay to lie about how you were feeling, and how much pain you've been in. You thought you could somehow self medicate without consequences. Well, Carter, you know better!" Peter leaned into Carter's private space, not allowing him to look away during this tirade. Carter seemed to crumble before Peter's eyes. His expression melted into one of despair and disappointment. Peter pressed on, since all that greeted his ears was the steady beep of the heart monitor.

"However, your biggest mistake was thinking that you couldn't turn to anyone for help," Peter said, his voice even and clam.

John rubbed his eyes absently and grunted an empty laugh. "Yeah, you think so? Do you really think I could unburden my conscience to someone? I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to be a pitiful person who everyone could just feel sympathy for. I just wanted things to be..." He trailed off.

"Carter, your life is going to change, and that's normal. You have to accept that as a reality," Benton chided him softly.

"I couldn't let anyone in the ER know. I needed to work, who could have helped me objectively?" Carter asked sincerely.

"You could have asked me," Peter said, as if it was an obvious answer.

Carter grew quiet for a moment, studiously examining the area where the IV was inserted in his wrist. "You?" he said, surprised. The very idea dumbfounded him.

"Yeah. We could have, uh, talked," Peter said uneasily.

Carter couldn't help but laugh. "You can't even discuss this now, Dr. Benton." Carter paused and searched Peter's face, seeing resignation and despair replacing his usual calm countenance. "Patient doctor counseling was never you strong point," Carter told the surgeon in a light tone.

Peter looked away and sighed. "Carter," he started to say.

"Dr. Benton," Carter interrupted. "I didn't expect it. I mean, it's alright, I know you feel uncomfortable in these situations." Carter really had not expected this conversation.

Benton leaned closer to Carter, resting his hands on the bedrail. "That's the point. You never considered talking to me, because of the way I am. And that's my own fault."

Realization began to dawn on Carter and it threw him for a loop. "You don't really blame yourself for any of this, do you, Dr. Benton?" Carter asked incredulously. It didn't make sense that Peter would think his actions or inactions were in any way responsible for my problems, Carter thought. The whole notion was completely ridiculous.

"Carter, you know I've had lapses in judgment before. In fact, I know you were thrilled when I admitted them before," he said ruefully. "You were my patient and I didn't follow up. I didn't want to get too close so I assigned you another doctor. I didn't want my emotions clouding my decisions regarding your care, like they did in the OR." Peter stared at the wall, unable to look Carter in the eye.

John knew what Peter was saying and, more importantly, what he was implying. A few days after surgery he had told him about the problems with keeping the bleeding under control and how Benton opted to take out his kidney. Carter had never considered the other implications.

After a moment of silence, Peter managed to continue. "I shouldn't have transferred you to another physician." Peter looked Carter in the eye. "And I'm sorry for that." Peter leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He waited anxiously for a reply, but was greeted by a thick, heavy silence, only interrupted by the constant beeping sound of the heart monitor.

Carter didn't quite know how to respond. The emotions he was experiencing were overwhelming; they had even managed to distract him from the pain in his body. Instead, it was replaced by an ache in his heart, and a feeling of tremendous relief: he did have someone to turn to. "Why are you telling me this now?" Carter whispered.

"I don't want past regrets to hurt you in the future. Our past mistakes shouldn't be allowed to haunt us forever, Carter. I think you should listen to me, and to yourself. I think we both know that it is in your best interests to let Dr. West give you some morphine." Peter took his hand and placed it on Carter's arm when the other man began to rub his temple again.

"I know what you're thinking. I thought that instead of it being in your control, one of the nurses could administer it. I'm only talking about one and a half milligrams every four hours, man. This way you could get the rest you need and the peace of mind that you are not making any medication decisions." Peter was sure it sounded like a reasonable argument.

"I don't know what to do," Carter said dejectedly. The pain of his chest was excruciating, but he didn't want to touch anymore narcotics. It was just too much for him to handle.

"Hey," Peter said. "I'm suggesting this as your doctor and ...as your friend."

Carter tried to breathe deeply, a reflex when he was frustrated and forced to make a tough choice. The lancing pain reminded him of why Benton was so concerned about the issue and as a doctor, he knew all the reasons why he should accept the offer. "I trust you. Tell Dr. West to administer the smaller dosage." Carter saw the look of contentment on Dr. Benton's face, and knew he'd done the right thing.

"Well, good," Peter said, as he got up and headed for the door. "I knew that bump on your head didn't knock that much sense out of you."

"Dr. Benton," Carter called.

Peter turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," Carter said quietly.

Peter lingered in the doorway for a moment. "Thank you, for pushing me out of the way back there."

"You're welcome," Carter replied, a small smile lighting up his face.

Peter left to find Dr. West, knowing that nothing more needed to be said. Plenty had been communicated without actually being spoken. Then again, that was the way things had always been between the two of them, Peter thought. This time, he had made sure Carter got the message.

EPILOGUE

The accommodations at the Cozy Night Inn were not quite as "spacious" and "luxurious" as the manager had promised. After locating Peter in the waiting area the surgeon informed him that Carter had changed his mind. Dr. West was given the news and had ordered the needed medication and assigned a nurse with the special instructions that Peter had wanted.

Mark had hailed a cab, and both men had gotten a somewhat decent night's sleep. Mark had made arrangements for a tow truck, and his van was at a local shop. At noon, Mark was just finishing a phone call when Peter walked in. He looks sunny as usual, Mark thought, toying with the receiver.

"When's the van going to be ready?" Peter asked in his usual restless tone.

"In about two hours. I just got off the phone with the clinic in Atlanta, and they said they'd appoint a special doctor for Carter when he arrives there next week. He won't miss the program and have to wait until next month."

Peter stopped pacing and nodded. "That's good."

Figuring that was the only response he was going to get out of Peter, Mark decided to take the opportunity to praise him. "It was a good thing, what you did back at the hospital. I'm glad that you persuaded Carter to accept some pain medication."

"He just needed to convince himself," Peter said confidently.

"Well, it was what he needed to do."

"I would have supported him either way, Dr. Greene," Peter explained.

"Look, Peter, I know that we both have regrets about these past few months and about last night. I think it would be a good idea if we just got past them," Mark said reasonably.

"Yeah, okay. I think you're right, Mark."

"About what?" Mark asked, confused. Was this the right Peter Benton? He'd expected a fight.

"Actions sometimes speak louder then words. Come on, I'll buy you lunch." Peter did not wait for Mark to agree, pushing open the door.

Mark went outside after him, noting what a beautiful day it was. The sun was shining, and there was a pleasant breeze blowing. It was a complete contrast to the turbulent weather of the previous night. "I think Carter is going to be fine when he returns," Mark told his companion.

"He will. He's going to have all the support of his friends when he gets back."

Peter was right, as usual, Mark realized. There was no worry or concern. Carter had taken the first steps back, and both men had taken their own steps to assure that Carter would never feel alone again.