Lessons Learned
Part Eleven
By Kristen
kdarganin@hotmail.com

Archive: Yes, just let me know.
Disclamier: I do now own the characters of ER I am just borrowing them for fun.

Note: This chapter would not have been possible without the help of Debbie who answered in my time of need with wonderful brilliance. Thank you so much Debbie! I am not a doctor, so the medical situations might not be totally accurate, but I do some research into the matter. This is fanfiction.

Warning: This contains some serious angst.

Category: Story/Angst (JC/PB/LK/RR)

Notes: Thank you Jackie for all of your wonderful advice and editing!

Comments: Of course! Kdarganin@hotmail.com

It took a lot of persuasion and assurances, but Carter was certain that his plan withstood a chance of working. He felt guilty about keeping Peter out of it, but if he knew anything for certain, it was that Peter Benton would kill him for what he was about to do. As it was, it took quite a bit of orchestrating and pleading on his part to get Luka to help him out with his plan. Carter did admit that it stood a huge chance of not succeeding, or even putting himself in a risky situation, but if it nailed Dr. Logan then it was worth a shot.

Carter laid in bed in a sitting up position. His back ached from moving around, but he didn't take any extra dosages of pain medication. He wasn't stupid, he accepted his normal morphine drip, but he couldn't afford an extra dosage if he wanted to remain alert and somewhat mobile.

Carter kept a few small things from Luka, knowing he would not approve of certain aspects, but Carter had to take a chance. He looked up when Luka walked into the room. He did not look very comfortable, but he handed Carter the tape recorder.

"Here it is. I hope it is small enough," Luka said, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Carter took the device and put it under the sheets. "Were you able to get the other items?" Carter questioned the man.

Luka seemed reluctant to produce the things that Carter had requested, but he took them out of his lab coat. "Yeah. I am still very concerned about this. I know Dr. Benton would be very displeased that I aided you in this plan of yours," Luka told him glumly.

Carter took the cell phone and a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "Thank you. I can do this, Dr. Kovac, and it will work. I just need you to grab me a pair of sweatpants for me; I hate being in this hospital gown," Carter told him.

"Planning on going somewhere?" Luka asked suspiciously.

"I don't think I could if I wanted to, I just want a little dignity." Carter replied with a hint of his humor in his voice.

"Okay, I'll find you a pair, but I'll help you put them on," Luka replied.

"Sure," Carter replied with the mask on.

Luka retreated from the room, but he wanted Carter to understand something before he left. "I'm only doing this for justice's sake. Benton will kill me if anything happens or this backfires. I've seen too many crimes go unpunished, but I can live with that if I knew this might get you hurt, Carter."

"It won't, Dr. Kovac," Carter replied with confidence.

Luka left and Carter dialed the number on the scrap of paper, waiting for someone to pick up on the other end of the line. He willed his hands to stop shaking and inhaled as much as he could when he heard the voice on the other end.

"Hello," it said.

"Yeah, this is Dr. John Carter."

There was a pause and Carter took the opportunity to breathe from his mask that he held in his hand.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Carter," it replied.

"Actually, there is something that you can help me with," Carter said. He breathed in more oxygen and placed the phone back to his mouth.

"I want $100,000 dollars for my silence," Carter explained.

"Silence for what?" The voice scoffed.

"$100,000 that I don't tell the cops my side of things and not the story you told me when you payed me that little visit."

Another pause, another breath from the mask.

"What makes you think your story matters?" came the annoyed reply.

"You can't take the chance that it could. So far you have gotten away scott free, and well, I could really throw a wrench in things." Carter mustered the strength for two complete sentences.

Another wave of silence.

"You know that there is no way I can talk to you with guards outside your door, Dr. Carter, even if I choose to do so," the voice replied.

"Well, since no one could prove you tried to harm me, there won't be any guards at the door," Carter said smoothly, knowing that it was all too true.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Carter, I would never wish poor health on anyone. In fact, I don't think there is any need for a visit, perhaps I'll send you some flowers instead."

"Well then, I guess an injured invalid might just have to teach you a lesson, Dr. Logan," Carter said through clenched teeth, his voice rising.

"Don't play around with me, kid. I tell you what, let's just discuss the matter a bit more tomorrow, whenever I feel like showing up. You make sure you're out of the ICU and in a standard room and I'll speak with you. It'll be best to wait a day for tempers to cool over there," Logan replied smoothly.

"Fine by me." Carter heard the click of the phone, and tossed it in front of him. He took another shaky breath and contemplated what he had just done. He checked the voice recorder once more and bit his lip. He prayed he hadn't just done the stupidest thing in his life.

His eyes burned. That was the sensation that kept him from drowning in a million twisted thoughts of his own creation. He rubbed at them in his sleep, looking for some form of relief, and retained absolutely no comfort. The haze of the smoke in his dream was engulfing him as he ran down a hallway that never ended. His hand remained wrapped around a smaller, elderly one and he, and Mrs. Cobb navigated blinded through the corridor of dense smoke that was choking them both. As they dodged falling debris and wrestled with declining air, Carter glanced behind his shoulder to see the flames chasing them down unmercifully, but when he looked back to see if Mrs. Cobb was all right, he ended up staring into the frightened face of Lucy Knight.

"Do you know the way out?" She asked.

"Lucy?" Carter asked in a quivering voice, confused and full of sadness.

"We have to get away, Dr. Carter." She implored.

Feelings of paranoia swept through his mind as they valiantly maneuvered through the burning building. He kept a tight grip on Lucy's hand so he wouldn't get lost in the confusion of chaos. But, his eyes burned and the hallway began to spin, he felt Lucy's hand slip from his grasp and Carter stumbled forward as his disorientation grew from the oxygen deprivation.

He looked back over his shoulder at the flames and saw Paul Sobrieki behind him with the butcher knife. Carter screamed as he tried to escape from the man hidden within the shadows and dust clouds. He began to suffocate on the fumes, and could not keep on his feet. He tripped over something and crashed to the floor. Too overcome to bring get to his feet, he dragged himself along the floor to the object that had caused him to fall. Beside him lay Mrs. Cobb and Lucy, helpless on the floor and both dying before his eyes."

As he pulled his body along the floor he touched Mrs. Cobb's lifeless face. He wrung his hand through her long silver hair as he heard Paul creep up behind him.

"There's nothing you can do to redeem yourself, Dr. Carter." A voice said.

Carter looked up at the face peering down at him and saw that it was Dr. Logan with the butcher knife in his hand.

Instead of plunging the blade into his back, Dr. Logan simply laughed at him. His cackling filled the hallway and overcame the thunderous noise of the roof collapsing overhead.

"You're not going to get away with this!" Carter screamed through the black smoke.

Carter bolted up in bed and soon regretted the action. He gritted his teeth as the pain engulfed his left side. He scrunched up his burning eyes and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. After taking a second to compose himself, he turned his head to see Luka watching him.

"You okay now?" The doctor asked.

Carter laughed under his mask at the rhetorical question. He fitfully rubbed his dry eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Luka felt foolish for asking such a naïve thing, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He recognized the signs of a nightmare and wanted to console the young man if he wanted him to. Noticing his discomfort, Luka searched the contents of his lab coat and pulled out a bottle of eye drops.

"Thought you might be needing these." He said, handing them to Carter.

Carter took them gratefully and answered, "Thanks" as he squeezed the medicine into the source of agitation.

"What to talk about it?" Luka asked sincerely.

"Not really", Carter replied. He took a second to take stock in his current situation.

He was still in the ICU, he was still struggling to breathe at a normal level and he was in the mists of carrying out the craziest thing He had ever done. 'Well not as crazy as going into a burning building,' he mused. He looked back at the Croatian doctor and realized he had never taken the time to thank the man for helping him out of the fiery hellhole and for his actions in the ER.

He slid his mask down to the dismay of the doctor and took a second to collect his voice. "I never properly thanked you for all that you did." Carter told him quietly.

"I did what was needed to be done." Luka replied calmly. Seeing that his answer did not sit well with the man in the bed, Luka decided to elaborate.

He shifted slightly in his chair and looked at the wall before setting his gaze at his colleague.

"I hate fires. Back home, I encountered many blazing businesses, and homes like it was a normal routine. Bombings, shelling, vandals. As the months passed, so did many of the oldest parts of Croatia. My favorite bridge, which had withstood the damage of World War II, does not exist anymore."

Luka stood and leaned his weight on the railing of Carter's bed. "Sometimes one side would start a fire on their own people and then blame it on the enemy to fuel the desire for revenge and death. I tried to save a young girl trapped in a floor above me when I worked in triage and was sent into the field. I didn't save her in time." Luka's grip on the bedrail tightened as he relived the memory.

"Later, I found out it was her neighbor who had set a kerosene bomb in the basement so that he could gain support from the local militia during one the countless peace talks. The fighting began the next day." Luka turned his impassive face to Carter, holding back the depths of sadness and fury that were barely beneath the surface. "No one was ever held accountable for all the countless lives that were lost."

Carter withdrew the mask one more time and stared intently at Luka. "Then help me get out of this room so I can make sure that that someone else doesn't escape prosecution." Carter implored and took another shaky breath.

Luka shook himself from his memory and absorbed Carter' request. "Out of the ICU?" Luka asked with dismay. "You've only been in here for two days."

Carter nodded his head negatively. "I'm out of danger."

"Your stats haven't climbed above 93." Luka challenged.

"My vitals are stable." Carter spoke under the oxygen.

"You're on oxygen, a foley, and we are monitoring your inputs and outputs for a Benzene level." Luka retorted.

Carter slipped the mask down once more. "All of that can done in a normal room.," he argued.

Luka slipped the mask back on and gave Carter a warning stare. Carter ran his hand through his hair wondering if Peter had taught the Luka the unapproving stare of gloom. Not wanting to continue the argument, Carter eyed the brown paper bag with curiosity that was lying next to Luka's feet. He then looked at the doctor expectantion.

Luka had forgotten about his supplies and pulled out a pair of gray Sweatpants and a hospital robe. He couldn't help but chuckle at how large Carter's eyes got at the sight. "I brought these for you, but the deal is that I help you put them on and you walk over and sit in that chair for another half hour." Luka explained as he pushed the railing down.

Carter nodded excitedly, especially at the prospect of getting out of his hospital gown. He pushed the blanket aside and slowly swung his legs around. Luka stood beside him as he carefully put his weight on both feet and gingerly stood, grabbing Luka's shoulder to steady himself.

Luka, mindful of Carter leaning on him, took out the sweat pants and held them open for him. The younger doctor weakly lifted his left leg up and slid it into pants. He then tightened his grip on Luka's shoulder and the other man grabbed Carter's left elbow as he put all his weight on his weak left leg and inserted his right leg into the pants.

His body trembled, but both legs were on the ground now. Before pulling the sweats up, Luka taped the foley to Carter's leg then pulled the material to the man's waist. Luka wheeled the IV stand after securing the oxygen tank to the bottom the pole as the other man moved slowly towards the chair. He kept his hand on Luka's shoulder and the foreign doctor kept his right hand under Carter's left elbow. Luka noticed how changing into his new attire had tired his friend, but he seemed determined to reach the chair. Gently Luka lowered him into his seat, and Carter breathed heavily into the mask.

"Hmmm, maybe another day before switching rooms, no?" Luka questioned the wheezing patient.

"No!" Carter adamantly replied.

Luka rubbed his chin absently and slowly understood Carter's mood. "You spoke to him, didn't you?" He asked. When Carter looked way, Luka knew his answer. "He wants you to transfer to a more secluded location."

"Its hard to be...secluded in...a hospital." Carter retorted.

Luka shook his head. "I don't like it, and Dr. Benton will never agree with it", he stated.

When he saw the doctor stare at him with a mischievous expression, Luka rolled his eyes and grunted. "No. You can't be serious?"

He watched Carter's eyes gleam and he moaned some more. "You want me to convince him?" Luka unhappily asked Carter innocently gazed at Luka and nodded.

"Since when did your name change from Dr. Carter to Detective Carter?" Luka asked humorlessly as the subject of their conversation walked into the room.

"Afternoon, Peter." Luka said as the surgeon grabbed Carter's chart and flipped through it. The Croatian exchanged looks with his patient, 'no Peter's patient' he reminded himself.

"Um, Dr. Benton, Dr. Carter would like to be transferred to a regular room." Luka ventured to say.

Peter stole a look with Luka and gave him an expression of bewilderment then one he gave students when they asked if they could perform a procedure.

"Dr. Carter," Peter glanced over at the man in question, "May what a lot of things, but I'm not here to do only what he likes." He responded stonily.

Carter began to remove his mask, but Peter quickly fastened it back on. "Carter, leave that mask on or I'll put a non-breather on you so fast..."

"Dr. Benton, Carter's vitals are stable, the Benzene is almost out of his system. He doesn't require anything from the ICU room that can't be provided in a standard one." Luka explained.

Peter avoided the resident's eye and stared a hole in the man in the chair who nodded in agreement to every one of Luka's points. "Well, that's all good, Dr. Kovac, but I'm in charge of Carter's care and I don't want to transfer him for another day or so.

"Now if you two are done questioning my orders, I'd lie to examine my patient." Peter grumbled.

Tired of being ignored, Cater voiced his opinion through his breathing device. "I don't want to stay in here, Dr. Benton. Give the bed to someone who needs it."

Peter crossed his arms in his usual defiant manner. "Since when were you put in charge of your own care and in the position to question my orders?" Peter asked his voice cold.

"Maybe Carter's right..." Luka began to say.

Peter whirled around. "Dr. Kovac, outside now!" Peter pointed to the door and watched Luka's face transform from annoyance to anger. He glared at the surgeon and stomped out with Benton hot at his heels.

Carter for his part, felt horrible for putting Luka in such a tough spot. He also regretted causing a bit of friction between himself and Peter. He was partially doing this to let his mentor off the hook, and ease the surgeon's guilt about what happened in the ER by putting the person responsible for their nightmare behind bars. The ringing of his cell phone interrupted Carter's ruminations.

It was laying on the right side of the bed and Carter panicked at the thought that Benton might pick up the phone if he heard it. As quickly as his body would allow, Carter stood up on his own. The phone was still ringing as he scrabbled towards the bed, dragging his stubborn left leg.

His body felt weak and Carter wavered to the right as he struggled to remain upright. It was difficult to move at all, but he dragged the IV pole behind him, then simply stretched all the lines as he reached for the gurney. His left leg gave out under his weight when he collapsed onto the bed. He reached out for the railing on the opposite side ignoring screaming muscles. Carter used the metal bar to pull himself over the mattress as the insistent ringing egged him on. He Pulled his mask off then grabbed the cell phone and flipped it open with his right hand.

"Hello." He wheezed.

"I didn't catch you at a bad time did I, Dr. Carter?" Logan's voice asked.

Carter closed his eyes as he rode the protests of his strained back. "Not at all."

"Good. Did you get yourself transferred?"

"I'm about to." Carter wheezed as he realized both his hands were occupied and he couldn't pull his oxygen back on.

"Can't do anything right, Dr. Carter? Well, what you have to say couldn't possibly be that damaging." Logan's voice taunted.

"Too scared to find out?" Carter rasped.

There was a pause.

Fine, if you're not there tomorrow then I'll take my chances," Logan Replied, then hung up.

Carter clicked the phone off and tried to pull himself up, but was too exhausted to do so. He felt his strength ebb away and was afraid he would fall into a heap on the floor. He simply could not get his muscles to work properly and he sagged against the gurney.