Lessons Learned
Part Twelve
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

As soon as Luka exited room 111, the doctor next to him grabbed his arm to get his attention. Startled by the rough action, Luka pulled back and fixed Peter Benton with the same fiery stare as he was receiving at the moment from the man.

"What the hell were you trying to do back there, Dr, Kovac!" Peter demanded of the doctor.

Peter was more than furious, he was outright steaming mad. It was hard enough to be Carter's primary physician and having to force him to follow his strict orders. He didn't need now to have Luka Kovac to undermining his instructions. Carter was stubborn and it was hard enough to get him to cooperate as it was. Peter wanted the younger man to stay put, under many watchfully eyes, for his own safety. Peter continued to face the other doctor down; disgruntled that he had not received a prompt answer.

Luka rubbed his hand over his jaw. "I don't know what your problem is, Dr. Benton.

He's stable enough to be transferred to a standard room. His blood pressure and heart rate are good and the Benzene is dropping to minimal levels."

Peter shook his head as the other physician spoke to him, not wanting to trust such an optimistic picture.

"Yeah and his pulse ox is till unacceptable and his respirations are far below normal levels."

"All of which can be treated with oxygen and further Abertrol treatments. It does not dictate a stay in the ICU," Luka interrupted.

"What about the fact that he can be monitored closely by a few select people?

In his weakened condition he's going to have to stay here for at least a week until his lungs heal and he's able to have a normal range of mobility," Peter retorted.

Luka understood where Peter was coming from. The staff was wary from what had transpired in the ICU, and despite a heightened state of awareness no one could keep an eye on Carter all the time.

Luka had also played a part in Carter's plan to outwit Logan. He knew despite all the steps that could be taken by the police and the staff at County that there were still two problems.

Logan was allowed to walk away escaping prosecution and he posed a decent threat to Carter unless the young man could do something about it. Luka was apprehensive about Carter's new found idea he was some sort of detective now, but if the police were unable to gather evidence Carter thought it was up to him to get solid proof the man's guilt.

Luka choose his next words carefully. "I really think that Carter can receive a proper level of care in a normal room. There is no medical reason for him to remain in the ICU.

The guards will have to leave today now that the investigation into his doctored chart is on hold till those handwriting experts take a look at things."

Peter was still very unhappy, even if Luka's words did ring true. Carter could be transferred it was just too soon after he had been in such critical condition a few days before. The dreadful memory in the ER was still ingrained in his head, a vivid image that kept him from getting any decent sleep the last two days. As a doctor, he knew that it was a daily occurrence for patients that were so extremely critical one day to be transferred to a normal room mere days later. It was just that this particular patient was not just a name on a chart. Peter was paranoid over the way trouble seemed to be hunting Carter down as of late and he felt that his former student needed some extra looking after.

He made certain promises and assurances and they were now completely out of reach. His word was going to fall short and Peter felt very uneasy at lacking any kind of control over the situation. Peter bit down on his lip and dug his hands into the pockets of his scrubs.

"I think that I know what is best for my patient," Peter said gruffly.

"And I think Carter would appreciate it, if for once, we trusted him." Gaining an unyielding look, Luka continued, "John Carter is a grown man capable of making decisions for himself. If we hover around him, he is just going to push harder to appear normal, no?"

"Dr. Kovac, I am not hovering." Peter's emphasis on his words told Luka how offended the man was over the accusation.

"What do you call it, then?" Luka stabbed back. Sighing. a bit Luka relented.

Inside he was chastising himself. For what he could tell, Peter Benton was acting like someone who was concerned for another, admitting in his own little way a friendship for a colleague and Luka didn't want to ruin such progress.

"Fine." Peter scrunched up his face and look away. "We'll transfer him after one more examination. Once I'm satisfied that he's stable enough then we'll move him."

Peter headed for the door and halted for a moment. "By the way, Dr. Kovac, I've known Carter a little longer then you have. I don't need a lecture concerning what's best for him."

Peter brushed past the other doctor and re-entered Carter's room. When he walked in, he saw the empty chair and a very winded man, half sprawled on a bed, vainly trying to not fall off.

"Carter what the Hell are you doing?"

Peter exclaimed, as he carefully put his hand on Carter's back to keep him from slipping from the gurney while at the same time grabbing a hold of his sweatpants to pull his uncooperative legs onto bed.

Carter settled onto his back, still wheezing slightly from the effort, and trying to ignore Benton's thunderous gaze.

When Carter heard the door open, he quickly stuffed the phone under the blankets, hoping he had not been completely caught. He turned his head, already thinking about what to say to avoid another lecture.

When Peter recognized the signs of another explanation, he cut the man short. "I don't want to hear any excuses right now, Carter. I don't think you could come up with a satisfying reason as to why you decided to return to bed unaided."

Peter did not know what made him more angry, the fact that Carter was disregarding his orders or the fact the man was ignoring his tirade. "Fine, Carter, you want to move to a normal room, try acting like a normal patient.

You're a fine doctor in the ER, but you are under my care now. If you don't want your every step monitored then stop garnering such attention." Peter finished his speech and checked all the machines in the room. After getting satisfactory readings, he walked away, spouting off orders as he retreated. "You can examine him, Dr. Kovac. If you deem him fit for a transfer, then go ahead and arrange it."

Carter watched in disappointment as Peter left the room, leaving him alone with Luka. He swallowed painfully and gazed at the ceiling already knowing how many tiles were there. He had somehow disappointed his mentor and now was going ahead with a plan that was bound to infuriate Benton.

At the same time, Carter could not help thinking this was the only way to put This tragedy behind him, and release Peter from a promise he could not fulfill.

"Carter, you doing all right?" Luka asked, squeezing the younger man's shoulder.

All he got was unconvincing nod. "You couldn't just wait for us to come back?" Luka asked with a hint of unbridled humor.

Carter answered his question by pulling out the phone and looking him in the eyes while adjusting his mask.

"I see. Got a phone call, did you?" Again, Carter remained withdrawn and simply repeated his last gesture.

"So, I guess everything is set up then?" Luka asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Carter rasped under the mask.

"You can still change your mind. I could go get Dr. Benton." Luka tried to reason with him."

"No!" Carter forcibly refused.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to convince him otherwise, Luka wordlessly completed Carter's examination.

Next Day 8:00 am

The transfer had gone smoothly, and now Carter lay in bed, staring up at similar, but still boring, ceiling tiles. This time the oxygen was being administered from behind him and he was still hooked up to an IV and catheter, but he at least had lost the central line. His pulse ox had not improved enough to go on a regular nasal canal, and the annoying mask was still necessary to provide oxygen to his weakened lungs.

Carter ran his hand along his face, noticing with annoyance the stubble that had began to grow. He wished that could shave himself. But after noting how shaky his hands were, he guessed that he had better wait, or let someone else handle the task.

The guilt of keeping Peter in the dark about his scheming was still grating at his thoughts, but he was tired of being manipulated by things that were out of his control, and for once he was going to have a hand in how things played out.

His chest still ached from labored breathing and he once again traced his fingers where two paddles had sent jolt of electrical shock through just three days earlier. His heart had stopped beating, his life had ceased to be, and all of it was returned to him by electric current and drug stimulants.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the dreadful images that must have been ingrained in the minds of his friends and the old familiar feeling of guilt gnawed away at him.

"No, not again." He muffled through the mask.

"No, not what again, Dr. Carter?" Romano asked, strolling in with an Abertrol treatment in his hands.

"Dr. Romano, what are you doing here?' Carter asked, startled through his mask.

"Dr. Carter, you shouldn't be speaking. I saw you were on this floor and thought I'd personally bring you your breathing treatment. You know, let the therapist take a break," Romano said in his usual falsely cheerful voice.

Carter sat up straight as Romano brought him the device to breathe. He slipped his mask off and sucked on the tube to breath in the fumes that Were designed to heal his lungs even though they made him cough uncontrollably, and in turn, cause him a great deal of pain.

While Carter took on the tedious job, Romano took it upon himself to speak to the doctor while he was unable to respond. "Now, Dr. Carter, I just wanted to let you know we are doing everything within our power to make sure that the investigation doesn't go the way of the Dodo."

Carter weakly nodded as he struggled on the spirameter thatnow was causing his lungs to seize up on him.

"I wanted to let you personally know that I'll be contacting some important people in the D.A's office about how inadequate those detectives have been." Romano paused to make sure the other doctor was listening to him. "I also want you to know that I sent you to Grady to keep an eye on you."

Romano's voice quivered only so slightly. He looked away as he spoke his thoughts. "I'm sorry that I simply did not instruct Kerry to monitor your progress or speak to your doctor about your recovery. That was my lapse. In my need to address some issues from last February, I took it upon myself to personally take part in your struggles, at work and for that I'm sorry."

Romano gazed at Carter intently, his face a chiseled look of seriousness. "And if for some reason that Dr. Logan slips through the cracks of justice, then you can hold be responsible for any of the trauma that you have endured this week."

Silence permutated the room and Carter was too shocked to respond even if he had not been receiving the breathing therapy. He had stopped sucking in the medicine halfway through Romano's speech, too stunned to speak. He opened his mouth to say something, anything but was wracked with coughs from the therapy treatment. He clutched at his chest in the same way he did after every treatment, riding out the streaks of pain that lanced through his body.

"And another thing, I heard it was your bright idea to be moved to a standard room, Dr. Carter. Do me a favor and don't suggest something so stupid again, okay? It's bad enough that Peter is chomping at the bit concerning that bastard, and I don't need him even more grouchy than usual because he's more concerned about your transfer down here than your stay in the ICU."

A repository therapist entered the room, and Romano turned to her, a perfect reflection of his authoritative self.

"Dr. Carter still needs about fifteen more minutes on his treatment. Now, I have some administrative duties to attend to." With that Romano left as quickly as he entered.

Carter was still too surprised to react to the Chief's lecture, let alone his words of apology. He was even more upset that he was causing Dr. Benton more undue tension concerning his room change.

Carter did not have time to ponder the course of events. After his breathing treatment and a half hour bout of coughing, he was once again exhausted, and he fell into a fitful sleep.

Carter never noticed Peter walking in to check his vitals first hand, and to flip through his chart. The surgeon then stood there in the room for a moment, watching Carter's chest rise and fall ever so slowly.

Carter didn't need to see how tired Peter felt, or even know that he was unable to even take a nap because he was always jerked awake by the sound of a cardiac monitor's steady drone of an absent heartbeat. Satisfied that all appeared normal, Peter silently left, with Carter none the wiser, just like Peter wanted.

The sensation of being watched was something that was hard to describe. It was a tingling sensation that tickled the mind and a paranoid sensation all at the same time. Carter woke up suddenly and bolted straight up in the bed. That was a bad idea as his back protested the movement and strained muscles caused him to gasp. He closed his dry eyes and rubbed his eyelids using his sleeve. He searched the room for the source of awareness and was greeted by an empty room.

He tried to fight an overwhelming desire to be anywhere but flat on his back. Carter internally grimaced at the thought of more sermons, but he felt extremely uncomfortable and vulnerable. Slowly, he slid his legs off the bed, and he sat there a few seconds, letting his feet hit the ground. He took the robe off the corner of his little table and put it on, then took the cell phone from under his pillow and slipped it into one of the pockets, resting it beside the tape recorder he had left there. Carter willed his body to move and he carefully stood up. He kept his hand on the railing just in case he felt dizzy, but he experienced only some slight light-headedness and it quickly dissipated.

Carter then methodically took a step and followed it with another and shuffled his way to the chair next to the bed. He was in the process of settling himself into the seat when a familiar voice rang though the air.

"You're looking well, Dr. Carter. Now don't feel you have to stand on my account." Logan's icy voice echoed from the bathroom.

Startled, Carter griped his IV pole and steadied himself as he was determined to remain standing. His body slightly trembled, but he fought the weakness and stared at Logan undaunted.

"I'm here, John, now would you mind telling me what it is that you think can possible motivate me to give you money?" Logan asked calmly, a smirk upon his face.

Carter dug his hand into the pocket of his robe and clicked on the tape recorder. He brought his hand nonchalantly out of his robe and grabbed hold of the pole again when he wavered. Slowly he slid his mask off.

"I know you set Grady on fire and I can prove it." Carter shuddered, and took a shallow breath freely. "And you're going to pay for my silence."

Logan strode over to Carter and stood merely inches from the man. He said nothing, remaining motionless and clearly enjoying the impact of his presence upon Carter. The Chief of Staff let his eyes wander around the room as if to assure himself that they were indeed the only two people present.

Logan watched Carter's chest heave in an obvious effort to control his nervous breathing. For Carter's part, he remained standing, tightening his grip on the IV pole. 'Slow and easy breaths,' quickly became his mantra. His legs protested at the strain of being on his feet for so long, and small tremors shook him slightly. He ignored it all, though, shielding his pain and reflecting only a mask of calmness and control.

"As Chief, you have control over all supply orders," Carter announced and sucked in another shallow breath.

Logan raised his eyebrows in amusement and chuckled. "Dr. Carter, I'm a bit too busy with hospital business to keep up with supply orders. All of that is handled through the proper channels; that I never see. A Chief of Staff would, how should I say? Never go near something so mundane." Logan dramatically sighed and his smiled broadened. "However, dear doctor, entertain me."

"As chief you can arrange," he paused, "for things such as Benzene to..." Carter unsuccessfully tried to draw in more air. "To be stored wherever you want without question."

Logan admired his manicured fingernails, completely ignoring the person struggling to breathe in front of him.

"I bet when we recover equipment logs, we'll find-" deep gasp, "your signature on a purchase order...for four extra containers of Benzene." Carter's voice became scratchy and his throat felt parched. He swallowed uneasily and tried valiantly to refrain from swaying. He felt slightly lightheaded, but he continued his speech. Carter saw Logan's expression twitch slightly, but it remained cool and composed.

"Wouldn't want to raise suspicions among the staff if," a pause, "some of the normal supply...had some missing," Carter managed to say in between labored breaths.

Logan turned to pace along the side of the gurney, his back to Carter. The doctor took advantage of this and took in a puff of oxygen from his mask. The perimeters of his vision started to become blurry and he was having trouble focusing.

The Chief of Staff walked along to the other side of the gurney, a smug look on his face and strode back to his original position. He toyed with the tubing of Carter's oxygen and smiled at the younger man as he let it slip back down. "Oh, sorry, I was distracted, go on," Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Carter felt he did not have time to bait the man as carefully as he had originally planned; he needed to attack his weakness and strike quickly. "So, where were you during the fire?" he asked, switching tactics.

Logan glanced up the doctor and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. "I was eating lunch across the street. Told those detectives this as well, they seemed satisfied," he replied.

"Anyone verify that?" Carter asked. He shifted his weight when he felt his left leg shake slightly, the once-slight tremors increasing in frequency and persistence. Before Logan could respond, Carter pressed on. "I think you were," gasp, "busy turning on the air conditioning." Carter's chest hitched slightly as he struggled for air. He fought off several coughs and cleared his throat.

Logan laughed out loud and stepped closer to Carter, invading the resident's personal space. His intrusion caused Carter to back up against the wall where he unconsciously leaned his weight for support. This did not escape Logan, neither did the death grip the younger man had on his IV pole. It appeared as if he wouldn't remain on his feet for very long. Logan just inched closer, his hot breath blowing in Carter's face.

Carter felt his heart race and his head began to pound. "I think...the police...might...want to dust...the circuit breakers...for your prints," He panted, then swallowed again. "Since...the Chief...wouldn't ever...go down there. Kind of ...beneath your position."

Logan's eyes peered into Carter's. "Sorry, doc doesn't prove a thing." Logan turned and headed for the door.

Carter was furious, but he channeled the energy towards his deteriorating voice. He stepped away from the wall and grabbed the railing of the bed. He dragged himself painfully after Logan, stumbling a bit, but persistently heading after him. He grabbed the mask that hung around his neck and took in a deep breath, knowing that it wouldn't replenish his draining energy.

"You failed, Dr. Logan!" Carter's rough, gravely voice yelled.

Logan froze in his tracks. Feeling the tide change, Carter mustered a taunting tone. "You failed as a chief, you failed to keep your own hospital open, you failed to burn it all down--you let--" Carter placed both hands on the bed to keep himself upright watching Logan, seeing his hands clench into a fist. "You let...let a cripple... ruin your plans." Carter clutched at the pain in his chest, certainly from oxygen depravation. "You're pathetic, a complete failure," Carter mustered a bit of pity in his voice. How the mighty reacted to the sting of shame.

Logan spun around, the veins on his forehead prominent from the rage welling from within. Carter smiled and nearly laughed at the site in front of him. Button after button being pushed, just how Logan had done to him a few days earlier.

"You. Little. Son of a Bitch." Logan spat his words venomously. His face was a shade of red that Carter didn't know existed. "I burned that place down with ease. Those fucks on the Board thought they could close MY hospital down!" Logan exclaimed.

He took several steps closer, his hands waving in the air uncontrollably. "I ran Grady with an iron fist, and if she was going to be closed then I would turn her into ashes and your bumbling ass happened to get in the way. I'm sorry you and that old bitch didn't burn in the fire so that at least, people would learn a thing or two about hand holding fucking cripples. I'm glad that you were injured back in February. I think the only thing keeping this world from being perfect was that freak didn't do the job right." Logan's rage was unwavering, he bored a hole into the shaking resident with the evil in his eyes. He smiled when he saw Carter flounder and kept himself from falling by grabbing the small table beside him.

After catching himself, he heard a clanking sound echo on the tile as his tape recorder fell out of the pocket of his robe. It landed by his feet and Carter fearfully stole a glance at Logan. The Chief was, by all accounts, shocked at the site of the recording device. He saw the man's expression change from surprise, to fear, to intense hatred.

"Fucking bastard!" Logan screamed as he lunged for the device.