Homeless Once More, Part Eight
By Cathy Roberts
glroberts@bigfoot.com
A John Carter story, rated M15+ for scenes depicting the
aftermath of an attempted sexual assault.

"ER" and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No
infringement of their copyright is intended. This story
was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and
may be downloaded for your own pleasure. However this
story may not be used, distributed or archived without the
permission of the author.

Thanks to Melissa, my editor, who is so patient with my
punctuation errors and is always there to guide me in the
right direction. I may not always take her advice, but it
is invaluable to me and I appreciate all her help.



Peter Benton was as shocked as everyone else when he arrived
to work and heard that John Carter had disappeared from the
hospital the night before. By the time he made it to the
surgical floor, he had already heard that the police were
looking for Carter, that Anspaugh had suspended all the nurses
who had been on the floor when Carter disappeared, and how
Carter's family was going to sue the hospital for allowing
him to get out. The only story that he believed was the one
about the police looking for him.

He looked at the board, noting when he was scheduled to
operate. Litvak had an interesting surgery scheduled for
nine and Benton wondered if he could get in on that one.
He could do that and be done before he was needed for his
scheduled operation.

Litvak was nothing short of punctual in the morning. Most
mornings, he had already read several reports and made up
the schedule for the next day's surgeries: all before six.
As Benton headed for Litvak's office, he hoped this morning
was no exception.

He nodded to Litvak's secretary, "Is he in yet?"

"I haven't spoken to him, but I heard him moving around in
there. Just go on in", she advised him.

Benton opened the door and walked in. He saw the empty desk
at the same time he saw something quickly move behind him and
to his left and the flash of something metal in the early
morning sunlight. He twirled around, his right arm outstretched,
grabbing for the metal, managing to stop the scalpel when it
was just inches from his body. He didn't know which was more
surprising: that someone had just tried to stab him with a
scalpel or that the someone was John Carter. He kept a tight
grasp on Carter's wrist, holding his hand and the scalpel
away from his body. Carter was shaking, either from cold
or from fear, he couldn't tell which. His skin was pale,
his black eye and the other bruises on his face making a horrible
contrast with his white skin. His dark eyes were overly bright.

"Give me the scalpel, Carter", Benton evenly said.

Carter shook his head. "No", he softly said.

"Give me the scalpel, Carter, before someone gets hurt."

Again, Carter shook his head, "I can't. I have to make sure
that he doesn't hurt me again."

"Litvak?"

"Yes."

"I won't allow him to touch you again, John. Give me the
scalpel."

"You can't stop him. No one can stop him. I couldn't stop
him. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't stop him",
Carter rambled.

"I can stop him. John, I swear to you that I will not
allow him to touch you again." As he spoke, Benton brought
his other hand up and he began to loosen Carter's fingers
from around the scalpel. Carter abruptly let go and Benton
tossed the scalpel to the desk, then led Carter to the
nearest chair and sat him down.

"Anne, call Psych and tell them that we have John Carter here.
Then get me a blanket and a wheelchair", he called out to
the secretary.

She came to the door, her mouth open in surprise. "Has he
been here the whole time? Where's Dr. Litvak?"

"I told you to call Psych. Do it now!" The tone of his
voice made it very clear that he wasn't to be disobeyed.

"Yes, sir." She returned to her desk and dialed downstairs.

Benton took off his lab coat and draped it around Carter's
shoulders, wondering if he had spent all night in Litvak's
office. He knelt by the chair, concerned for his former student.
Carter was absent-mindedly rubbing his injured shoulder and
was still shivering.

Carter said something, his voice so low that Benton didn't
catch what he said.

"What?", he asked.

"He hurt me", Carter drew in a shaky breath, "He told me
that if someone knew how to do a shoulder reduction, then
that person would also know how to dislocate a shoulder.
He was right."

"Carter...John, he won't get a chance to hurt you again.
You have to believe me when I tell you that."

Carter shook his head, "You can't stop him. He's too strong
and too evil. God knows I tried to stop him, but I couldn't.
I really tried." Carter began to cry. "I swear to you that
I tried to stop him. I didn't want him kissing me or
touching me or..." his body convulsed in sobs.

Benton did the same thing that he did when Reese wouldn't
stop crying. He gently pulled Carter to his chest and
held him while he cried. "I know that you tried. No one
believes that you didn't fight back."

Without warning, Carter shoved Benton backwards, knocking
him off balance and to the ground. He had reached the
desk and the scalpel before Benton could get to his feet.

"Stay away from me. I don't want you touching me again",
Carter told him, his voice shaky.

"John, do you know who I am?", Benton asked, afraid that
Carter was flashing back to the attack and confusing him
with Dan Litvak.

Carter suddenly laughed, remembering all too clearly the way
Lucy had questioned him after he dislocated his shoulder the
first time. "Are you okay? Can you tell me your name? Do
you know who you are?", he mimicked. "Yes, Lucy, I know who
I am."

Feeling more than a little scared, Benton replied, "I didn't
ask if you knew who you were. I asked if you knew who I was.
Tell me my name."

"You are Peter Benton, surgeon extraordinaire and one arrogant
bastard. You don't give a damn about anyone else but yourself
and most of the time you can't even be bothered to think about
anyone else."

"I guess you do know who I am, even if you are wrong about the
rest of it. I am not Dan Litvak. I did not hurt you and I
will not hurt you. Now, put the scalpel down."

Carter shook his head, "No."

Benton knew that someone else was approaching the door because
Carter's attention was suddenly diverted from him to whatever
was going on behind him. He debated about rushing him, but
he had assured him that he would not hurt him and he knew that
any action such as that would be seen as a betrayal.

"John Carter, put that scalpel down right now!", Hugh McIntyre
said from behind Benton.

"No."

"You have to. We're going back to your room and you can't
take it with you."

"I'm staying here. Litvak will come to his office sometime
today."

"And what do you intend to do when he does?", McIntyre asked.

"I'll stop him this time."

McIntyre walked past Benton and up to Carter, "John, you
already have stopped him. By telling us that he's the one
who attacked you, we can have the police arrest him and
lock him away where he can't hurt you or anyone else again."

He held out his hand, waiting for Carter to hand over the scalpel.

"Has he been arrested yet?"

"No. But, I'll call the police as soon as you're back in
your room."

Carter chewed on his lower lip as he thought about what
McIntyre had said. You can't trust him, the voice said.
He'll tell you any lie to get you off guard. Just like
Litvak did. You can't trust anyone.

"Call them now", Carter said.

"I don't have the name of the officer who is investigating
the case."

"You were planning to call someone once we were back to my
room, or was that just a lie?"

"Your father has a business card from the officer. I was
going to get the card from your father and call."

"Dad's here?"

"He and your mother are downstairs, where they've waiting
for the past three hours. Your disappearance last night
upset a lot of people, John. They've been worried about you."

Carter shook his head, "You can call downstairs to get the name.
I will not leave here until I know that Dan Litvak has been
arrested." He rested against the edge of the desk, waiting for
an answer.

"Fine." As Hugh circled around to the back of the desk, he
noticed a nurse heading for the office with a wheelchair and
a small crowd of people behind her. The last thing they
needed was an audience. He didn't think that Carter was a
danger to himself or to either him or Peter Benton.
That could change very quickly, but with his injuries, he
was bound to be more of a danger to himself than to anyone
else. "Dr. Benton, would you please close and lock the door
on your way out?"

"Of course", he turned and saw why McIntyre wanted the door
closed. He turned the lock and was just about to step through
the doorway when he heard Carter softly address him.

"I knew you were lying to me."

He looked back at him, not really sure what he was referring
to this time. Carter looked lost standing there in nothing
but a hospital gown and Benton's lab coat draped over his
shoulders. For the first time, Benton noticed a bruise on
the inside of Carter's right elbow and he wondered if there
any other undiscovered injuries courtesy of Litvak.

"I don't know what you mean", he answered.

"You said that you would see to it that Litvak didn't hurt
me again. Your exact words were 'I can stop him. John, I
swear to you that I will not allow him to touch you again.'
I knew you were lying to me." Carter shook his head.

"I wasn't lying to you, John."

"Then why are you leaving me alone? I can't be safe if I'm
alone."

"You aren't alone. McIntyre is right here."

"And I wasn't alone when Litvak was in the apartment. He
was there. Stay or go. I don't care what you do." Carter
threw his words back at him.

Benton clearly remembered saying those words and how he had
regretted saying the minute he spoke them well over a year ago.
Maybe someday he would understand why he felt compelled to make
people keep away. There had been many times when he had said
or done something to hurt John Carter, to make him keep his
distance. To keep from feeling anything remotely like friendship
for the younger man. And after each time, Carter kept coming
back. Offering his hand in friendship only to have Benton slap
it away. Well, his hand certainly wasn't out right now, but
this was probably the time when he needed friendship the most.

Without looking behind him, Benton shoved the door closed,
then he took a seat in the chair closest to the door.

"You might as well sit down", he told Carter. "This could
take a while."

Carter hooked the leg of the nearest chair with his foot and
dragged it back a little, making sure he was away from
Benton and McIntyre. Then he sat down.

McIntyre hung up. "Your father is calling the police. He'll
call back up here in a few minutes to tell you what they had
to say."

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Your father stopped Litvak and he was here for almost the entire
night. He only left long enough to get his car and drive back
here. John, your father was there for you when you needed
him."

"There's a first time for everything, isn't there?", Carter
replied. He was tired. He didn't want to talk to anyone.
Especially his father. He also didn't want to talk to McIntyre.

"I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"If that's what you want, John", McIntyre sat down in
Litvak's chair and looked over at Benton, wondering why
the surgeon had stayed in the office and not left when
he had the chance. It was plainly obvious from the look
in his eyes that he was concerned about Carter, but why? He
could understand why the E.R. staff had been concerned.
They worked with Carter every day and knew him. Benton had
remained in the E.R. until all of Carter's test results were
back. He didn't have to do that. Once it had been
determined that a trauma surgeon was not going to be needed, he
could have left. As it was, from what McIntyre had heard,
Benton's shift had ended before Carter was brought to the
hospital. Maybe he could get some answers later.

McIntyre looked over at his patient, wondering how much of
his actions were being governed by his concussion and how
much were due to the stress caused as a result of the attack.
At least he seemed calm, and that was a big plus. Benton
was also calm. If it became necessary, McIntyre knew he
and Benton could easily overpower Carter without anyone
getting hurt. He had not mentioned the scalpel to Roland
Carter, not wanting to take the risk that the police would
get involved, harming Carter in the end.

All three men jumped when the phone rang and McIntyre quickly
answered.

"McIntyre here. No, everything's fine in here, Dr. Anspaugh.
We just need a little privacy, that's why the door is closed.

I appreciate your concern, but I want to keep this line free.
Yes, sir." He replaced the receiver and addressed Benton.
"As you heard, that was Dr. Anspaugh. He was concerned
because you closed the door."

"You should have told him to make sure that everyone out
there gets back to work.", Benton replied.

"From what I've seen of Donald Anspaugh, I'm sure they are.
You aren't missing anything important, are you?"

"Just rounds. What about you?"

"No. The only person on my agenda for this morning is John.
You know, I wonder if we can get something sent up from the
cafeteria? I didn't get a chance to eat breakfast. Are
you hungry?"

"I had breakfast, but juice would be nice."

"I wonder if John's hungry."

"You could ask me", Carter snapped.

"You didn't want me talking to you."

"You have that backwards. I didn't want to talk to you!"

"Oh. Sorry. Well?"

"What?"

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"You should eat something anyway", Benton told him.

"I don't want anything."

The phone rang again. This time it was Roland Carter,
informing McIntyre that the police had issued a warrant for
Litvak's arrest and were headed over to his apartment to pick
him up. McIntyre asked for him to call back as soon as he had
word that Litvak was in custody, then he hung up.

"The police are on their way to his apartment now. Hopefully,
he'll be there and they can arrest him. Now, I'm calling to
see if we can get some food in here."



Roland Carter powered off his cell phone, frowning. What
would the police find at Litvak's apartment? He had trusted
his associate to handle the matter of Litvak's body and never
thought to ask what would happen to it. What if the body was
never discovered? His son needed to know that Litvak was
never going to hurt him again. If he had been the only
person involved, then he could go to John and tell him that
Litvak was dead. But, it wasn't just his neck on the block
here. Adam and Kerry Weaver were accessories. Hell, it had
been Kerry Weaver's idea to hide the body in the first place.

Jenny approached him, carrying two cups of coffee. He
pocketed his phone and took his cup from her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. What did the police have to say?" She
sat down beside him. They were in the only waiting room
on the psychiatric floor and, so far, they were the only
people waiting in there. Then again, they had been there
together since Roland had been called her after John
disappeared in the middle of the night.

"A warrant is being issued for his arrest and they're going
over to his apartment to see if he's there. I think that some
officers are being sent over here just in case he's already on
his way to work."

"That's not a bad idea. What if he's already here? John
managed to spend all night here without being found, why
can't someone else do that?"

"I suppose it's possible. We know at least one thing, Litvak's
not hiding in his own office."

"Good morning", Kerry said as she entered the waiting room.
"The grapevine is moving slowly this morning. I just now
heard that they found Carter in Dan Litvak's office. Is
that true?" She sat down.

"That's right. John has identified him as his attacker",
Roland said.

"He's talking then?"

"Apparently", Jenny said, "I suppose this must come as a
shock for you to discover that one of your colleagues is
capable of doing what Litvak did."

"Yes, it is a shock. I thought that John would be down
here by now."

"Our stubborn son refuses to leave Litvak's office until he
knows for sure that Litvak has been arrested", Roland told her.

"Oh, really? What if the police don't find him?", Kerry asked.

"Then I guess they'll be in there for a very long time",
Roland replied.

"Who's with him?", she asked.

"Well, Dr. Benton found John in there. I don't know if he's
still there or not. Dr. McIntyre called me from there to tell
me about Litvak."

"I'm surprised that security never found John last night.
Well, I take that back. I'm not all that surprised. Security
is never there when we need them in the E.R. And they never
noticed that John was living out of his Jeep in the parking
garage."

"When was he doing that?", Roland asked.

"After he lost his job as a Resident Advisor. We all just
assumed that he was living at home or had quickly found
another place. I think we all took it for granted that
John would land on his feet as usual. It shook us up when
we found out where he had been staying and how he had been
living. I didn't realize how much he needed a paycheck."

Roland and Jenny looked puzzled at that last remark. "Why
would you assume that he didn't need a paycheck? It was his
only source of income", Roland said.

"When John asked to switch to trauma, the only way we were
able to get him on board was because he was willing to work
without pay. I knew that he came from a wealthy family, so
I didn't question it when he told me that he didn't need to
be paid. Even when he accepted the position as a Resident
Advisor, it still didn't register with me that he was having
financial difficulties. I did put the paperwork in motion
for him to get paid, but not because I thought he needed it.
I just thought it would reflect better on the E.R. and on
him if he was paid for his services."

"John was receiving money from a trust fund, but he gave that
up. He seemed to be quite proud of the fact that he was paying
his own way now. I don't see how he could have been doing
that if he wasn't being paid. He certainly never asked me
for any help. Jenny, did he ask you for help?"

She shook her head, "No. He never mentioned that he wasn't
being paid. But, I know that John had some money saved and
invested. He was probably living off of that."

"All he had to do was tell us and we would have helped him
out", Roland said.

"At what price?", Jenny softly asked.

"What?", he looked puzzled.

"At what price, Roland? After we helped him out, what would
our bill be?", she asked. "Would we ask him to do as his
grandfather wishes and give up his medical career to be a
businessman? What price would we ask of him?"

"Are you implying that I would treat him in the same manner
that Father treated me?", he asked, not sure if he was really
hearing her correctly.

"Yes, I am. Roland, you and your father are not different
from one another. I see you doing the same things to John
that your father did to you."

"That's not true. I don't make the demands that my father
made. I have always supported John's decisions. I don't
understand how you could put me the same category as Father."

"Roland, you supported John's decision to become a doctor
because it made your father angry. I don't think you ever
for one minute cared about the fact that John wanted to be
a doctor. I don't recall you ever asking him why he wanted
to go into medicine. You just put your rubber stamp on his
request, told him that he would make an excellent surgeon
and sent him on his way. You never asked if he wanted to
be a surgeon. It was just something you assumed. It was
something I allowed you to assume. Just as I allow you to
assume so much else", Jenny got up and threw away her
coffee cup. "Dr. Weaver, I'm sorry for discussing a topic
that would make you feel uncomfortable. If you'll excuse
me, I need to go outside for some fresh air."

Roland didn't speak for several minutes after his wife left
the room. He just shook his head, wondering if his wife was
beginning to fall apart from the stress.

"Dr. Weaver, I apologize for that scene. Jenny is very upset
over all that's going on with John right now."

"Mr. Carter, I know that your personal life isn't any of my
business, but it didn't seem to me as if she was upset."

"Jenny keeps her emotions under very tight control, Dr.
Weaver. I can assure you that she is very upset right now.
I just hope that she doesn't get overwhelmed by all of this."

"Well, you are her husband and obviously know her far better
than I do."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"How is it that John ended up living with you?"

Kerry found herself telling him about all that had happened
on that fateful day, including what she had personally observed
when Litvak had approached Carter.

"He was adamant about not wanting to stay overnight here, so
the only alternative was to take him home with me. He needed
a warm meal and a real bed. In short, Mr. Carter, he needed
someone to take care of him and I was available."

"I don't understand why he didn't go to my parents' house.
He's stayed with them often enough in his life to know that
he wouldn't be in the way there. For that matter, he knew
we were out of the country. He could have gone to our house.
Even if he doesn't like it there", he said, remembering
John's comments about how he had never felt at home in that
house. About how much he hated the place. Roland realized
that his son had found a haven with Kerry Weaver, but now
his haven was destroyed.

"Where will he go now?", he asked.

"I have an appointment this evening with my realtor. I had
been looking for a house a few months ago and I want to see
if any of the ones I liked then are still available. I don't
think I can continue to live in the apartment now. Not after
all that happened there. Carter will be more than welcome to
accompany me to any place I find."

"As a friend or as something else, Dr. Weaver? I know that
I'm getting personal here, but as his father, I feel I have
the right to know just what your intentions are where he's
concerned. Especially now."

"John is a very sweet and dear person who I would love to
have as a friend. He and my brother are about the same age
and I find it very easy to relate to him. I'm not looking
for a boyfriend or a husband."

"Thank you for answering me", he told her.

He lowered his head, resting it in his hands, "Oh God, what
will I do if they don't find Litvak?"

"Mr. Carter, we should try to not worry about that now.
Let's just see what happens this morning", she suggested.

He nodded, "You're right. I just wish that I could tell him
the truth. Reassure him."

"I know. Last night I wanted so much to shout out that
Litvak had done this, but I couldn't. Maybe what I suggested
was wrong. Maybe John could have handled everything. I
don't know."

"We're in too deep now to turn back, Dr. Weaver."

"Mr. Carter, we were in too deep the minute I told you and
Adam to hide the body. At the time, I thought it was the
best course of action. People who know me, know to stay out
of my way when I'm thinking like that. Now, if you'll excuse
me, I really need to get back to work. Dr. Greene stayed
all night after working twelve hours and I should let him
get home to get some sleep."

He stood and walked her to the door, "I think I'll see if
I can find my wife outside. I'll let you know as soon as
hear anything from the police."

"We would all appreciate that."

They were silent in the elevator and went their separate ways
once the doors opened on the main floor. Kerry headed for
work, praying that the police would soon call to say that
they had found Litvak's body. That would put an end to some
of the worry.



Roland Carter walked outside, looking for his wife. He was
scared to death that she was going to lose touch with reality
and try something desperate. Again. Ever since John had
stormed off the boat, he had been feeling increasingly helpless.
To him, it felt as if everything he held dear was slipping
away from him and he was unable to keep a firm grasp on them.
His son. His wife. His future. He had killed a man last
night. It had been an accident, but, God knew the man deserved
it. However, as bad as that was to deal with, he knew that it
would be even worse if Litvak had not died. A flurry of
images from last night assaulted him. His horror and rage
at seeing what Litvak was doing to John. John's still and
quiet form. It was almost as if John were dead. When he
had gathered him into his arms that had been his first fear.
He had been so still and his eyes were unfocused. Then he
had felt his heartbeat and a great relief swept through him.
Strange, to feel relief when your son had just been attacked,
but it was there. John was not dead. John was alive.
There would not be another tombstone beside Bobby's. He had
come too close to having that happen when Jenny had tried to
kill herself. Over and over again. All because he had
failed her. Was he failing his son as well? Just as he was
helpless to keep Bobby from dying and helpless to make Jenny
want to live, he was helpless to help John. Well, his best
intentions had not kept Bobby alive, but he had given Jenny
what she needed to get well. It still hurt him to know that
he had not been what she needed, but he was so grateful that
she was alive today and still with him. He would make sure
that John got the help he needed. Didn't that prove he wasn't
anything like his father? His father would only ensure
that John got the help he wanted him to have and not what he
needed. How could Jenny even remotely think that he was like
his father? The biggest difference was that he loved his
children, while he was sure that his own father didn't love
him. All that he wanted were Carter heirs to carry on after
he had gone. What love he had ever received had come from
his mother. Millicent Carter was the glue that held the
family together, not his father.

His spirits lifted a little as he turned the corner and saw
Jenny walking toward him. She smiled at him and he rushed to
her, holding her tightly against the chilly November air.

He gently kissed her, hoping that she knew just how much he
needed and loved her. Then, arms wrapped around each other,
they returned to the hospital to wait for word from the police.



Not being hungry, Carter had tuned out McIntyre's phone call
to order breakfast. If McIntyre had really called his Dad
and his Dad had really called the police, then why weren't
they getting any news back informing them that Litvak had
been arrested? Maybe he didn't really call his Dad. Maybe
he didn't really call for breakfast? He's setting you up,
the voice told him. Using you. Telling you what you want
to hear. Anything to make you leave here with him. But,
McIntyre wasn't a danger to him. He had never treated him
unkindly or acted strangely around him. He's been waiting for
when you're weak, like now. Just like Litvak had done.
Carter shook his head, not wanting to believe the voice.
You know it's true, it whispered. He just isn't doing
anything now because Benton is here and he knows that
Benton promised to keep you safe. Safe from Litvak. Not
safe from anyone else. He wants to keep you safe for himself.
No. That can't be right. Benton is my friend. You must be
delirious, he has never been your friend. He doesn't even
like you. He's here for me. He's here because you tried
to kill him. You should have killed him when you had the
chance.

"No!", Carter loudly said, getting the attention of both men.

"What's wrong?", Benton asked, then suddenly seeing what was
wrong. Blood was seeping out through the fingers of Carter's
right hand. Fingers that were tightly wrapped around the blade
of the scalpel.

"Let me have a look at your hand", Benton stood and took a step
toward him.

"Stay away from me", Carter warned. "I don't want you
touching me again."

"You're bleeding", Benton informed him, inclining his head
toward Carter's hand.

Carter looked down at the red ooze. He had apparently cut
himself. How strange that it didn't hurt. He squeezed his
hand tighter and more blood seeped out. Still no pain.
Perhaps the scalpel was not as sharp as he had thought when
he selected it. He slid his hand back down to the handle
and quickly slashed the blade against the his left thigh.
It went easily through the fabric and his skin. Blood
appeared instantly. Still no pain. No pain. No gain.
Something had to hurt somewhere. He poked several times
at his leg, bringing forth dots of blood, but no pain.
He raised the scalpel, fascinated by the contrast of bright
red against silver. Too much silver. He could fix that
problem. The blade arced down again. A little more red,
but still not enough. If he couldn't find pain, then he
could find color. Just a few more slashes and there would
be no more silver.

Benton's hands were clenched into fists as he watched Carter
hurt himself. From the corner of his eye, he could see
McIntyre slowly rise from the chair. He was closer to Carter
though. A debate roared inside his head: should he let
Carter alone, watching him to make sure that he didn't slice
open an artery, or should he stop him now, taking the risk
that Carter would view that as a violation of his trust. The
second choice won out. Benton rushed forward, taking Carter's
wrist in a tight grip and pulling the blood slickened scalpel away
with his other hand.

"That's enough, Carter! You don't need to have the scalpel
to force anyone to stay in here with you."

Carter stared at him blankly. What the hell was Benton
talking about?

Benton dropped the scalpel onto the carpet, then grabbed
several tissues from the box on the desk and stuffed them
into Carter's hand, pressing his fist closed. "Keep your
hand tightly closed."

He took several more tissues and reached down to apply
pressure to the cuts on his thigh. Before he could reach
Carter, the younger man stood abruptly, knocking his chair
backwards, fear in his eyes.

"Don't touch me!"

Benton held up his hands and backed up a few steps. "I only
want to stop the bleeding."

"I don't want you touching me. Please don't touch me", his
voice quivered.

"I won't. You should sit back down. Will you at least let
me get the chair upright for you?"

Carter stepped to the left, then backed up into the corner of
the room. When his back felt the bulk of the two walls, he
flashed back to when Litvak had pressed him up against the
kitchen counter.

"Please don't touch me", he whispered, a desperate panic
beginning to rise deep inside.

"I won't. I'm not near you, John.", Benton even took two
steps back to reassure him. McIntyre sat back down. They
both knew that this would be a perfect opportunity in which
to overpower Carter and get him back to his room. They also
both knew that to do so would most likely destroy the little
bit of reason which was left to him right now.

A knock on the door set off a violent shaking of Carter's
body, "Please go away. Leave me alone", he whispered.

"What is it?", Benton leaned against the door to ask.

"It's Elizabeth. I've brought up the food you asked for."

That gave Benton an idea. "John, would you allow Elizabeth
to treat your cuts?"

"Elizabeth?", he asked.

"Dr. Corday. You know her. Would you let her touch your
leg?"

"Why would she want to touch me?"

"You're bleeding and she's a doctor. Doctors help people,
John, they don't harm them."

"Litvak hurt me. He's a doctor."

"Elizabeth Corday is not like Dan Litvak."

Carter closed his eyes. Think, he told himself. He's right.
You know Elizabeth. She's kind and funny. You can't trust
anyone, the voice said. Shut up! I need to think.

"Peter? Should I just leave the tray on the floor?", Elizabeth
asked through the door.

"Just wait a minute, Elizabeth", Benton kept his eyes on
Carter, who was obviously thinking. At least he hoped that's
what all his facial contortions meant.

Carter's eyes opened and he nodded, "Okay."

Benton unlocked the door and opened it enough to take the
tray from Corday.

"John has cut himself in several places. He's willing to
allow you to treat his wounds. Get what you need and come
right back here."

Her eyes questioning, Elizabeth nodded, then turned away to
get the necessary supplies. Benton shut the door and put
the tray on the desk. He didn't even want the juice any
more, but he might be able to get Carter to drink it. In
the short time that it had taken him to speak with Corday,
Carter had sunk to the floor and was curled around himself
in the corner, his eyes tightly closed against the sunlight
shining on him through the windows.

It didn't take long for there to be another knock on the door.

"It's me", said Corday.

Benton opened the door to admit her, then shut and locked
it again.

"Where is he?", she asked.

"In the corner", McIntyre told her. He had been keeping
silent, seeing that Benton had things under control. Since
Carter was responding to Benton, he didn't want to intrude
unless it became necessary.

Corday slowly approached Carter, stopping while she was still
a few feet from him. She had attended training classes for
dealing with victims of sexual assault while in medical school
in England, so she knew better than to intrude on his personal
space.

"I've been told that you've cut yourself, John. May I have
a look?"

Without opening his eyes, Carter stuck out his right arm and
opened his fist. The bloody balled-up tissues fell to the
floor. Elizabeth stepped forward a bit, then dropped to her
knees and gently took him by the wrist.

"Let's get the blood cleaned away and we'll see how deep the
cuts are."

He tried to pull his hand back, "No."

"John, you agreed to allow Elizabeth to treat you", Benton
firmly said.

"She's not wearing gloves."

"How stupid of me to forget!" She let go of his wrist, then
put on the gloves and took his hand again. This time he
allowed her to proceed.

As Corday worked, she looked at his face from time to time,
worried that he didn't even flinch when she probed his cuts
to see if he needed stitches. Another symptom of the Post
Traumatic Stress that victims of sexual assault often
experienced. Seeing the amount of blood on his gown, it
was probably just as well that he was numb to the sensation
of pain.

"Okay, I'm done with your hand. You're very lucky that you
didn't need stitches."

"That's me. One lucky guy", he softly replied.

"John, I need you to turn to face the other direction so I can
check your leg. I can't reach it now." She backed up on her
knees to give him room to turn around, which he did, oblivious
to the fact that he was clad only in the gown and a lab
coat. Corday looked away, just in case he should open his
eyes and become upset that she was staring.

When he was facing the other way, she moved closer, "Now, just
extend your left leg for me. That's the way. Well, it's a
good thing I brought a suture kit with me because you need
stitches on at least two of these cuts." Corday glanced over her
shoulder at Benton, an anger in her eyes. How could two
physicians just sit there and watch while Carter hurt himself
like this? Peter Benton was certainly going to get a taste
of her anger later, that was for sure. How could they sit
there and act like everything was normal in here? McIntyre
was calmly eating toast and she was sorely tempted to go over
there and shove it down his throat. She returned her attention
to her patient.

"I'm going to give you a shot to numb the area."

His eyes opened and she could see fear there. "I don't want
a shot of anything. No drugs."

"It might hurt. How about a numbing cream?"

"No drugs", he repeated.

Corday nodded, "Okay. No drugs." She began to suture the
longer of the cuts, aware of his scrutiny this time.

Carter watched her for a little bit, then closed his eyes
again. He was tired, but he didn't dare go to sleep. As
long as Corday was between him and the others he could relax
a little. You can never relax again, came the warning. Never.

Benton looked over at McIntyre and softly said, "I know that
look all too well. We're in for it later. At least I am."

"From what I could read into that look, I pray that is only
you in trouble. Want some toast?"

"No. How can you eat now?"

"Dr. Benton, I've been awake since two o'clock this morning,
which is when the attending on the psychiatric floor finally
decided to call to inform me that my patient was missing.
Once things are resolved here, I will most likely be spending
several hours with John. After that, I do have other patients
scheduled. I have no idea when I will get a chance to eat
again. So, despite the fact that my appetite has practically
disappeared, mostly due to the tension of watching him mutilate
himself, I know I have to eat now."

"You could have just said that you were hungry."

"That would have been a lie. Despite what John may think
right now, I do not lie to my patients nor do I lie in front
of my patients."

"I suppose that credibility is important in your field."

"Do you lie to your patients?"

"I try to avoid it whenever possible. Although, I have seen
some instances where a small lie is necessary."

"It's never necessary in my field. By the way, you were
doing an excellent job with John", McIntyre said, keeping
his voice low.

"It didn't feel that way to me."

"Well, you were. If you weren't, I would have jumped right
on in."

The phone rang and McIntyre snatched the receiver off the
Hook. "McIntyre here."

Benton watched him as he listened to the person on the other
end of the line. Hopefully, it was Roland Carter with good news.
He looked over to the corner. Carter had opened his eyes and
was staring at McIntyre, his lips moving in a silent invocation.
Benton gave McIntyre his attention as the man rose to his feet
and carried the telephone over to Carter.

"John, your father is on the phone. I think that you need to
hear what he has to report."

"I don't want to talk to my father."

"You don't have to talk to him, John. Just listen to him."

"Fine." Carter reached across with his good arm and awkwardly
took the receiver from McIntyre. The bandages made it difficult
to hold the phone correctly, but he managed to get it to his ear.

"Yes?"

"John, the police are here. They went to Dan Litvak's house.
His car was there, but he didn't answer the door when they
rang the bell. They already had a search warrant, so they
entered the house and found him dead at the bottom of the
steps to the upstairs. His neck was broken. They also found
a suitcase on the floor, broken open from the fall as well.
They assume that he was in the process of fleeing when he
tripped or fell down the stairs."

"He's dead?"

"Very much so. He can never hurt anyone again, John."

Carter handed the receiver back to McIntyre and closed his
eyes again. Litvak was dead. He was safe. You're never
going to be safe again, the voice reminded him. He was safe
from Litvak now. But, not from anyone else, it said. You
should know that by now. There will always be another one
waiting for you. Wanting to hurt you. And after that, there
will be another one waiting. Even now, they sit there,
planning to hurt you, planning to touch you.

"No", he shouted, pushing away at the hands that were
touching him. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone, for God's
sake, leave me alone!"

Carter roughly shoved Corday, knocking her aside as he
scrambled to his feet, not noticing that she had been in
the process of doing a suture at the time.

To the trio of physicians, it was as if they had cornered
a wild animal. There was no reason showing in Carter's
eyes, only fear and panic. Corday got to her feet and
stepped behind McIntyre, who had immediately hung up the
phone when Carter had pushed at her.

"If you can hold him still, I can sedate him", she whispered.

He nodded, then motioned with his hand for Benton to approach
Carter with him.

As they approached Carter, McIntyre began to talk to him
calmly, hoping to ease his hysteria without having to resort
to sedation. It didn't work. Carter was shaking and as they
touched him, he let out an agonized scream, then began to
beg for them to let him go, promising not to tell anyone that
they had been there if they would only let him go. They were
able to hold him still long enough for Corday to inject him
with the sedative. By then, he was sobbing uncontrollably.
Once again, Benton held him, rocking him back and forth
until his sobs abated as the sedative took effect. As soon
as his body stilled, Corday quickly finished the suturing
while McIntyre went to get a wheelchair and a blanket to
cover Carter. Benton helped Carter to his feet and sat him
down in the chair, then tucked the blanket in around him.

"I didn't give him enough to put him out", Corday assured
McIntyre. "I remembered that he had a concussion so I made
sure there would be enough to calm him down if the need
should arise."

"That was good thinking on your part, Dr. Corday. Thank you
for your assistance."

"It was the least I could do for him", she icily replied,
making him feel very glad that he had not been on the other
end of her earlier glance.

"I can take him to his room from here", McIntyre told Benton.

Benton shook his head as he stepped behind the wheelchair.
"I made him a promise earlier and I intend to keep it.
Lead the way."

"I'll clean up in here", Corday told them.

"Thank you, Elizabeth", Benton nodded at her.

She gave him a small smile. "We'll talk later, Peter. Go
on and get him to his room."

She waited until they left the office, then she began to
clean up the debris from her treatment of Carter's wounds.
As she worked, she silently prayed that God would look after
John Carter and help to heal all his wounds, the mental and
emotional ones as well as the physical. Especially the
emotional wounds. After her prayer, she reflected how it
was that Peter Benton continued to amaze her. Every time
she thought she had him figured out, thought that she knew
what made him tick, he showed her a different side. Today
it was the caring friend. The promise keeper. The comforter.
Never in a million years would she have imagined Peter Benton
holding another man and comforting him as if he was a child,
but she had just witnessed the very thing. He had been as
gentle with John Carter as he was with Reese, perhaps even
more so. But then, after what she had just witnessed, could
anyone else have behaved in any other way with Carter? As she
stood, she grabbed the last remaining item on the floor - the
bloodied lab coat that had been around Carter's shoulders.
As she folded it, she saw that the words embroidered on the
front were P. Benton, M.D. She smiled sadly, an ache in her
heart for Benton and his apparent inability to allow anyone
to get close. He had so much to offer that it was a shameful
waste for him to deny himself the benefits of friendship.
Maybe God would look after him as well.



In the waiting room, Roland Carter hugged his wife tightly,
feeling very scared for his son. He had hoped that finding
out that Dan Litvak was dead would reassure John, not make
him even more upset. He could still hear his son's wrenching
'No' in his mind. It certainly didn't help matters any that
right after that McIntyre had simply said, "I'll see you later",
then hung up without another word. What was going on in Litvak's
office?

A nurse approached them, "Dr. McIntyre wanted me to let you
know that he and Dr. Benton have your son back in his room.

Dr. McIntyre will be here to speak with you in a few minutes."
"Thank you", Jenny replied, sitting down and reaching for a
tissue as tears of relief began to flow.

Roland sat down beside her and pulled her up against his chest,
his own tears mingling with hers as they waited for word on their
son.