Lessons Learned
Part Fourteen
By Kristen
kdarganin@hotmail.com

Archive: Go Ahead.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, but it just happens, the next part will be here quickly! I want to thank everyone for their encouragement! Thank you Jackie for all of your help, it is always wonderful!

Last time on Lessons Learned...
John confronted Logan with his evidence over the fire and when the Chief of Staff did not confess, John egged him on to ignite his temper. In his anger Logan confessed, but Carter, weak from his injuries struggled to stay standing and the tape recorder, Luka had given him fell out. A struggle ensued and John eventually clobbered Logan with the IV pole, not before Logan hit him hard with the tape recorder. Peter and Mark came in and took Logan away. While Mark and Peter examined Carter he lost consciousness and had suffered from a concussion. Peter was outraged when he found out Carter’s scheme, but was more concerned by the fact that Carter's cranial bleeding would take him off his breathing treatments and pain medication. When Mark and Peter left, the cell phone rang ending the mystery for the doctor's about who the possible owner was.

Peter turned and squared his shoulders to look as intimidating as possible. "So, who the hell does the phone belong to?" He demanded.

"Peter, I want you to calm down." Mark asked.

"Just tell me who they were asking for, Dr. Greene." Peter insisted impatiently.

Mark looked down at the floor and answered, "Luka Kovac."

Peter surprisingly grabbed Mark's lab coat pocket and pulled out the incriminating cell phone. "I'll kill him," he said and brushed past Mark on his was to the admitting area.

Luka Kovac had retreated to the confines of the lounge. His shift had ended an hour ago, but he remained there in order to do some intensive reading. He did not want to go back to the ICU when he knew both Mark and Peter were there attending to Carter's new complications. He would confront the two physicians when tensions were not so high. Luka cursed himself for letting any of this transpire. He allowed Carter to convince him of the worthiness of the deed and talk him into believing that it would be somewhat safe.

Carter was a smart man, he conned him into retrieving the phone and the recorder by insisting that it was the only way to bring Logan to justice. There were other reasons for the risk that Luka had noted, even if Carter did not say it out loud, or consciously realized it. John was trying to protect more then self interests and Luka knew that the young resident did not need to endure anymore emotional stress or guilt.

So, he took the chance, and in Luka's mind, he lost. Frustrated, the Croatian gave the nurse his medical I.D. and after many rounds of self-assurances was able to get a copy of John's chart. The doctor had spent the remaining hours combing through John's medical history and making notations of his current stay. Too many smaller injuries were mounting, creating a slower recovery than normal. He had violated the physician's code, so it didn't matter whether Benton, Greene, or anyone would ever accept what he did; Luka knew he would never be able to condone his own actions.

Luka placed the folder on his lap and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. His head hurt and he was exhausted, but he knew sleep would not come for him tonight, or any time soon for that matter. He stretched his back and stared at the ceiling. The slamming and then locking of the lounge door quickly eroded his distracted focus on the tiles. Knowing what was about to transpire, Luka took a deep breath and stood up to face the overly aggressive and protective surgeon.

It was a wonder that the cell phone Peter was holding had not cracked under the pressure of his intense grip. He shook the device as he spoke; each word was barely audible from the battle between control and fury.

"You gave a very sick patient a telephone to call a man that we had guards posted outside the door to keep from coming in and then you convinced me to have him transferred so that same individual could gain access to him?" Peter asked incredulously.

Luka would not deny it, so he simply answered, "Yes."

Peter stepped closer as he tried to comprehend things as he was discussing them. "What did you think he was going to do with the tape recorder? Dictate his thoughts?" Peter asked angrily.

"No, I knew he was going to ask Logan some things in order to get a confession out of him, I did not know he was going to taunt him into giving one." Luka explained trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well Logan also used it to bash his head in just like this!" Peter took Luka's cell phone and slammed it onto the counter and the device seemed to explode, sending little plastic pieces everywhere.

Breathing hard from releasing just some of his anger, Peter stood still only a moment before tearing back into the doctor. "He has a concussion because of you!" Peter pointed his finger at Luka as he continued releasing his fury at the other doctor. "Do you have any idea what kind of set back you have caused? Not only do we have to take him off his breathing treatment for his seared lungs, he's off his morphine!"

Peter approached Luka; his breath coming in and out in short bursts. "Any complications from here on out are result of your ethical violations as a doctor and I place you personally responsible for every extra minute he is in pain." Peter waited for a reaction, for anything.

Luka watched the surgeon twitch with uncontrolled emotion; the other doctor wanted any excuse to rip into him. "Do you want to hit me Dr. Benton? Would that make you feel better? Will that make Carter recover any faster?" Luka asked, his accent thicker from the stress.

Peter considered the idea for a second. He was correct, all he wanted to do right now was beat the hell out of the him, but his better half that was overwhelmed by his inability to express himself was keeping him from acting according to his intentions.

"What I want from you is the reason you aided Carter in this ridiculous plan. Cut all the bullshit about seeking justice, because I don't want to hear it," the surgeon growled.

Luka looked away and muttered quietly. "I thought he could handle it."

"He couldn't even walk!" Peter yelled in a quivering voice.

Luka spun to face him and he stared at him, eye to eye. "I took the chance that he could fix one thing...one thing that was out of his control." Luka's voice rose as he spoke, all of his feelings coming out in one large flourish of emotion. "You're right, I don't know Carter as well as you do, but I know how to speak to people."

Luka began to pace around the room gesturing wildly as he talked. Peter stood there stunned, just listening. "He coaxed that confession for you! Carter doesn't want the extra burden of knowing you could not deliver on your promise that Logan would be arrested. You assured him that somehow you would make sure that he was arrested and convicted even though you had no control over such things. How dare you make such promises! You...you don't know how to speak with words, you show people how you feel with actions. Carter knows this, you taught him this way of communicating!"

Luka stopped only to catch his breath and face the angry doctor. "Carter wanted to reassure himself that he could take command of his own life and do it for himself. Carter can't bring back Lucy, he can't show Romano that he's 100 percent, so he's left with one thing he can make amends with. He felt he could get the proof needed to arrest Logan, a person responsible for his hospitalization, and release you from some sort of debt."

"So somehow this is my fault?" Peter questioned.

"No, no, no, there is no fault!" Luka implored. He continued to walk around the room. "Yes, I'm to blame." Luka faced the surgeon. "So blame me! I did it! He confided to me what he wanted to do." Luka placed his hands on his hips, his voice taking an exasperated tone. "He's very persuasive when he wants to be."

Peter avoided eye contact with the foreign doctor, his mind reeling with all this new information. "You should have told someone. You had an obligation to keep a patient in a serious state of ill health from a dangerous situation, no matter how good your intentions." Peter said bitterly.

Luka nodded. "I know, and I was wrong. I'll never forgive myself."

Peter stalked over to Luka, grabbing the lapels of the doctor's lab coat. "That's not good enough. Where was your guilt when Logan was trying to strangle him, huh?" Peter shook Luka and the other doctor let him.

Both doctors heard loud tapping on the glass window of the door to the lounge. Peter felt his anger swell and willed himself to calm down. He let go of Luka and spoke to him, his voice threatening. "You stay away from my patient, I don't want to catch you near him."

Luka understood why Peter was feeling this way, but he felt the other doctor did not have the right to keep him away from anyone. "I want to know how's he doing. I want to know what you're doing for the cranial bleeding."

Peter shook his head. "You want to know, here." The surgeon took out a several sheets of paper, and flipped through them, stopping on a desired page. He ripped it away and flung it at the other doctor. "You can read a copy of how I'm treating these new sets of complications."

Without a second thought, Peter unlocked the lounge door and scattered the crowd whom had been eavesdropping on the heated argument. Luka picked up the sheet of paper off the floor and sat down wearily to read it.



John decided that counting ceiling tiles had lost its appeal days ago. Staring at them for long periods of time did not distract him; it did not make him sleepy, in fact the idea of any form of mathematics only increased the pain in his head. He was exhausted, miserable, and hot. It was impossible to stay still, but the slightest movement only caused his stomach to roll or his head to pound.

Mark Greene watched the restless resident from the corner of the room. He did not want to disturb him and the attending was impatiently waiting for Peter to return to administer the medications that their patient needed. Peter had been terse and to the point. While he was present, he would be the only one to inject medications or sign orders for procedures. Mark moved aside when he saw the door open and Benton enter the room.

"How's he been?" Peter asked in a hushed tone.

"His nausea has increased and he's been restless." Mark turned to look at the other man. "I heard through the grapevine you had somewhat of a confrontation earlier, I'm glad you didn't do anything foolish."

Peter grunted his dissatisfaction and made his way to the bed. His patient faced him, trying to hide the grimace his movement caused.

"Guess that's," pause, "the last time I do something so," small gasp, "stupid." Carter said.

"You're right, it was stupid thing to do, and one I'll never understand." Peter responded while checking Carter's vitals. The surgeon frowned.

"Been sick several times?" Peter asked.

Carter merely nodded and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable with so many extra pillows shoved behind him for elevation. "Everyone thinks I'm deaf, but I'm not."

Another shuddering breath. "Don't blame Dr. Kovac for what happened." Carter continued to speak under the mask, knowing that his friend could understand him after several days of communicating this way. "I made him do it." Carter closed his eyes, willing the pain away.

Peter chose to ignore him as he proceeded to look at equipment readouts. "I examined your CT and MRI results and I'm pretty certain we can avoid surgery at this point. I think the medication will reduce the clotting, but it'll be a few days before we can resume the Abertrol treatments. I'll be monitoring your pulse ox and resps really closely, so this means no talking."

"I don't care," was John's weak reply.

Peter began to change the burn dressings on his chest. "These don't look too bad, when you get home be sure to keep changing them and I'll doubt there will be any scarring," Peter went on, his voice and demeanor monotone.

John took his hand and placed it on the surgeon's to stop his ministrations. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice still very raspy.

"I want you to care, damn it!" Peter shouted. The surgeon could sense Mark's gaze at him from the corner but he chose to ignore him. "You ran into a burning building twice, you lied to me about how you were feeling in the hallway, and you placed yourself in a situation that resulted in your stay here!" Peter indicated the ICU room.

"I also placed an maniac in jail and saved you the torture of a guilty conscious!" John wheezed back. The effort of yelling only resulted with a bout of coughing that he couldn't control. He couldn't stop his lungs from seizing and his chest burned ferociously. He couldn't catch his breath and he panicked.

Peter quickly reacted by increasing the oxygen to 10 liters and placed his arm around Carter's back. The younger man grabbed the railing as he rode the coughing fit out and sagged against Peter's side. Peter rubbed his hand up and down the doctor's arm, trying to calm him down.

"I'm sorry," Carter muttered between gasps. "I just wanted to fix things," he said, choking on the words.

Peter saw Mark approach the bed and the surgeon warned him away with a stare. "It's okay man, it's all over." John seemed to break down in the bed, a wave of emotions exploding. "You didn't have to do that alone, you could of told me." Peter responded in a softer voice.

John shook his head, "You'd talk ...me out...of it."

"Yeah, you're probably right, there could have been safer ways. I hope next time when you're faced with such a stressful choice you might...share it with me." Peter struggled to find the words to express himself.

"Maybe."

"You better." Peter replied in an insincerely forceful voice.

The surgeon overruled his inner voices and embraced the other doctor in a quick hug.

John appreciated the gesture and relaxed back into the bed. "It's been... so hard... lately. I... thought I could... handle things alone. I... think... I need to work... some things out." He inhaled deeply from his mask. "I... I might talk to someone about... it."

Peter patted him on the shoulder. "That might be a good idea, Carter." Not used to displays of emotion, Peter smoothed out his unwrinkled scrubs "When you're feeling better, I can arrange for someone to come down and talk to you."

The older doctor studied his patient, taking in his grayish pallor. "Okay, let's take care of the nausea and keep you hydrated." Peter injected the Compazine into one of the IV ports. "I'm increasing your dosages of widespread antibiotics for the fever," Peter said, changing one of the bags of solutions.

John closed his eyes while he was given the different medications. He chastised himself for his previous actions, thinking at the time it was worth the trouble. John did not know if he could count on anyone else's support, in a weird way he was glad that he had misjudged others. Too bad it took getting the sense knocked into him to make such a realization.

John couldn't let Peter leave without at least trying to change his mind about Luka. "Dr. Benton, please give...Dr. Kovac a chance--"

"Carter, be quiet." Peter tried to keep his patient from wearing himself out.

"Please, Dr. Benton...he was helping me--"

Peter placed his hand on John's chest to indicate that it was time finish talking." He used bad judgment and that's the last time I'll speak about it."

Realizing he had just spoken to his friend like a child, Peter amended his words. "He made a hasty decision about a patient's care, yours," Peter said pointedly to John, "and I don't trust his medical opinion."

Peter gathered the medical waste and disposed of it in one of the receptacles. "Now, try to relax and I'll be back in a while." Peter joined Mark walking out the door.

Mark remained silent, not wanting to comment on any part of the exchange he overheard. He was just relieved that this day was coming to an end, and that their patient was doing better and a certain surgeon did not punch out one of his co-workers.

They rounded the corner and Mark's peace of mind became short-lived when he saw Luka running down the hall out of breath. The attending stole a glance at Peter, seeing his jaw was set and his posture straightened. 'This was not the time for this,' Mark thought.

Luka's expression was urgent and he gestured with his hand for both men to stop.

"Dr. Benton, you need to go back in there and take him off the Compazine!" Luka said breathlessly.

Peter had definitely had enough of Luka Kovac for one day. "I told you to stay away--"

"Peter, be quiet! Did you give him Compazine or not?" Luka was directly in Peter's face.

Mark intervened by grabbing Luka and pulling him away from the surgeon who was about to lose his fleeting cool.

"Yes, I gave him Compazine for his nausea!" Peter hollered back, his patience depleted.

"Take him off it now!" Luka shouted and tried to get past both doctors blocking his way.

"What the hell are you babbling about, Kovac?" Peter asked, his voice rising.

"Enough! Both of you!" Mark shouted as he struggled to keep Luka and Benton away from each other.

"I've been reading his medical history. He's allergic to Compazine!" Luka said urgently.

Peter's eyes grew large in horror. "Damn it!" He barreled down the hallway and busted through the ICU room.

John woke up startled as Peter came charging in. Without warning, the other doctor ripped out his IV.

"Ouch! What did you do that for, Dr. Benton?" John asked as the surgeon placed his hand on the source of the bleeding.

"Nothing, nothing," Peter muttered as he searched for a bandage. He found one, and applied it to the IV site and taped it down. "I'll start another one," Peter said, his voice slightly uneasy.

"Why did you tear out the one I had?" John looked at his mentor with bewilderment.

"I...I gave you Compazine and I didn't know you were allergic to it," Peter explained while keeping his voice soft.

John knew that voice, the one that could not admit to a mistake. John watched somewhat fascinated as the doctor silently attached a new IV to his arm. His face was impassive except for a slight twitch. John remained silent himself, not wanting to disturb Peter in the midst of self-doubt.

Peter finished cleaning the mess made and glanced up almost sheepishly. "Feeling any odd effects? I mean, you shouldn't, since there shouldn't be much in your system," Peter's words were spoken quickly.

John just shook his head no. He wasn't worried about the mistake and he wasn't about to complain. Peter was giving himself a hard enough time as it was.

"Good, then I need to go."

Peter left in a hurry of embarrassment or shame, Carter wasn't sure which. The thought of his muscles stiffening and the feeling of having a stroke that the Compazine would have made him experience was not something he wanted to go through again. The one time Dennis Gant had given him some was one too many times for him. It scared him for a moment, the prospect of such a reaction in his medical condition, but it didn't happen.

It was time to count sheep now, he mused, as he tried to drift off to sleep.

The Next Day

Robert folded his hands on the front of his oak desk. In his office he felt like the king and as the domineer, overlooking a disgruntled subject, only made him smile. Yes, he smirked, something he worked very hard to obtain. The matter before him was serious and that was the reason why his smile was a facade. He wasn't as cold hearted as everyone presumed, but the less they knew the better.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Peter. Didn't you learn to check case histories when administering drugs to a patient?" Robert knew his question was rhetorical, but he enjoyed rattling people's cages, especially Peter's. It was so much fun to watch him react.

"Well, are you going to answer me or continue your impersonation of a statue?" he asked condescended.

Peter looked away briefly, but brought his eyes back to the person in front of him. He held his hands in the air and brought them down in a quick, jerky expression. "I missed it."

Robert slammed his fist down on his desk. "You missed it, Peter, and the result could have sent the young doctor into shock," Robert said curtly.

"I caught it in time," Peter defended.

"Taking credit from others? Dr. Kovac caught it, you just tore the damn thing out of him." Robert corrected, his tone as chastising as ever.

Peter shifted in his seat and muttered to himself.

"What's that, Peter? I can't hear you," Robert taunted.

"I said none of it would have happened if Kovac had not conspired with Carter to bring Logan into his room, resulting in his current status," Peter replied brusquely.

"We're talking about your mistakes here, Peter, no one else's." Robert eyed him intently.

Peter remained silent, having nothing else to say.

Robert sighed dramatically. "Don't worry there, I already grilled Kovac for his actions and have dealt with him in my own way. You, on the other hand, need to review your medical judgment. Shall we?" Robert rose from his chair and leaned against the edge of the desk.

"Cheer up Peter, I have good news. Seems like good old Chuck is being hung out to dry. When he was confronted with the taped confession, the detectives took a cue from Carter and egged him on. That superiority complex took over damn quickly and he spilled his guts about the whole ordeal. He'll be in prison for a long time."

Peter looked up and felt a sense of relief.

"So, in a roundabout sort of way, Carter is responsible for Logan's arrest. I won't come down too hard on him, I think the whack on the head taught him a thing or two about playing cowboy." Robert rolled his eyes when he saw Peter's scowl at his poor tact.

"Okay, lecture over." Robert stood up. "By the way, try not to be so hard on the foreign guy, he did go after your butt in the fire and if I recall correctly, helped drag everyone out. I think all of us used some bad judgment and I don't know, learned a thing or two."

Peter exited the Chief's office and saw Luka hovering outside.

The other doctor looked up. "He wanted to see me again when you were done," Luka said.

"Yeah, well, glad you caught the allergic reaction in Carter's medical chart," Peter said.

Luka nodded accepting the fact that this was as close he would ever get to making amends with the other doctor. "I'm glad the bleeding was controlled by medication, he should be released in a week or so, no?"

Peter nodded. "He'll resume his treatments for a few days, and once we wean him off oxygen, he'll go home next week."

There was an awkward silence and Luka simply replied, "Good."



To Be contiuned....