The Man Who Held Her Heart, Part 7
By Cathy Roberts
glroberts@bigfoot.com
A John Carter story, rated PG15

Last episode seen was "Great Expectations", although
this is an Alternate Universe story. It contains no
spoilers for Season Six.

"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.

I would like to take the opportunity to send a big thank you
to Melissa who edits my ramblings, and to Amanda, who
encouraged me to write a sequel to this story.



John struggled to keep from crying during Bobby's funeral.
It wasn't easy because crying people surrounded him.
His grandmothers were crying, his mother was crying. Barbara
was crying. Everyone was crying. Everyone that was, except
for him and his father. It surprised John that his grandfather
Carter was crying. He had been sure the man had a heart of
stone, but then, Bobby had been his favorite anyway. Just as
he had been their Dad's favorite. While John couldn't seem
to ever do anything right, Bobby had been unable to do anything
wrong. A perfect child. A good brother. And now he was
dead. When his parents had hung their heads over Bobby and
wondered why him, he had known they had meant, why not
John? He had often wondered that himself.

At the cemetery, John found himself staring at Bobby's casket
and wondering who was going to watch over him now that Bobby
was dead. He then thought that maybe things would be
different now that Bobby's suffering was over. His Dad
certainly wouldn't be as upset, right? Maybe there would be
no more beatings, no more pain. He became lost in that
daydream and unaware that everyone else was returning to the
limousines that had brought them here.

"John? It's time to go, son."

John looked up at his grandfather Truman. The man reached
out to take John's good hand and they walked to the cars.
John glanced down at the cast covering his left arm. According
to his doctor, the broken arm was almost healed and would be
coming out of the cast soon. It would be nice to have full
use of both arms again, he happily thought. But his happiness
quickly returned to sadness as he remembered that there wasn't
anyone to play with anymore. Bobby wouldn't be there to play
catch with him. Bobby wouldn't be there to do anything with
him anymore. He stumbled as tears filled his eyes and blocked
his vision, but his grandfather gently kept him on his feet.

"Whoa, there, Johnny. We don't want you breaking your other
arm, do we?"

"No, sir." John never wanted to feel anything like that again.
Deep down inside, he knew that his Dad had not meant to break
his arm. He had just twisted too hard or something when he
was pulling John away from Bobby's bedside. John knew he had
been wrong to have gone to Bobby's room. The rules for
visiting had been told to him. No one under twelve allowed
in the rooms at any time. Bobby's doctors had often waived
that rule before, mainly because Bobby would insist that
John stay with him. Not this time though, and John worried
for his brother as he sat in the waiting room with his
family. His mother wouldn't stop crying and neither would
Barbara. John knew that meant things were really bad this
time. So, he had sneaked away and found Bobby.

Bobby had his eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep. He was
even glad to see John there. They didn't talk much because
Bobby was so tired. Not that they ever needed to talk. It
was enough to just be there with each other. Eventually, Bobby
fell asleep and John continued to sit there, watching him,
hoping for a miracle.

Then his Dad had come into the room. He was clearly angry
and he told John that he had been looking all over for him.
He grabbed him roughly by the right arm and jerked him away
from the bed, but John didn't want to leave Bobby and he held
onto the bedrail with his left hand. That angered his Dad
even further and he pried John's fingers lose, then yanked on
his arm.

"I'll teach you to never disobey the rules," his father hissed
as he twisted John's arm.

A sharp pain shot up his arm as John heard a snap. He looked
down at his arm, knowing that it shouldn't be looking like
that. A boy at school had fallen from the top of the slide
and broke his arm. It had been angled just like John's was.

As John began to cry from the pain, his father shoved him to
the floor, then went to get a nurse. When help came, John
heard his father telling the nurse that John had slipped and
injured his arm. The lady gently examined his arm, pronounced
it broken and assured them both that it would be all right.
She told them that he was lucky to have hurt himself in the
hospital because they could help him right away. Then she
whisked him away with his father in tow. Poor Bobby had been
so weak that he didn't wake up while all of that was happening.
It had been scary at first, going into the x-ray room. But, the
Nurse, doctor and technician were nice to him. It wasn't until
he was having the cast put on his arm that he knew something was
wrong. The nurse was still being nice to him, but when she spoke
to his father her voice was angry. He had heard anger enough to
recognize it in anyone. By the time he was ready to go home, his
grandfather was there, telling his father that he had sent Laura
and Barbara home with his grandmother. He was also asking what
was taking so long. Then the nurse told Roland that the doctor
needed to speak with him alone. As she led John away, they passed
the doctor in the hallway. There was a police officer with him
and someone else who looked important. They smiled at John and
asked him how he was feeling, then they asked the nurse where his
father could be found. She pointed back down the hall and John
looked back just in time to see his father's face clouding over
with anger. And his grandfather's as well. He didn't know what
he had done wrong, but he knew he was going to be in big trouble
once he got home.

Sitting in the lounge with the nurse, John could hear his grandfather
yelling at the doctor and the policeman. He didn't realize that he
was crying again until the nurse gently wiped his cheek with a
tissue and told him that everything was going to be all right now.
That he wasn't going to be getting hurt any more. He became afraid
then, not sure what was going on. He hadn't told anyone except
Bobby about the fact that their father hit him, so how could they
know? Before he could worry too much about it, the door burst open
and his father rushed inside, grabbing John out of the chair and
holding him close. "No one is going to take my son away from me.
Do you hear me?" Roland was shouting at the police officer.
John's grandfather was there as well, telling the police officer
that if he arrested Roland then it would be the biggest mistake of
his career. Then he went over to the telephone and called someone,
a smug look on his face. The look that told John that the police
officer was really in trouble now.

"Mr. Carter, put John down. We can discuss this in another room,"
the doctor said.

"You plan to take him from me, and I won't allow that. John
belongs to me. I told the nurse what happened to his arm. It's
not my fault that she doesn't believe me."

"Mr. Carter, the x-ray that was taken of his arm is proof that he
didn't just fall and get hurt. And the bruises on his body are
far too numerous to be the result of normal play," the doctor said.
"Put John down before he gets hurt again."

"How dare you accuse my son of harming John?" John's grandfather
asked, his phone conversation over. "His oldest son is laying in
a bed upstairs dying from leukemia and you're making such cruel
and vile accusations. Roland loves all of his children and would
never do such a thing." Robert stood in front of Roland and John,
looking directly at John. "Did your father hurt you today? Did he
break your arm?"

John looked down at the floor, his father's arms squeezing his
body. He shook his head. "It was my own fault, sir. I slipped."

Robert turned around. "See? It was just an accident."

The police officer's radio crackled to life and he frowned as he
was given orders to call police headquarters. He quickly used
the phone in the lounge, then frowned even more as he stared at
Roland.

"I've been assured that Mr. Carter is incapable of child abuse and
that if I arrest him then I will risk being fired. It looks as if
you win this time, Mr. Carter, but if I ever hear of your son being
brought into this or any other hospital in the Chicago area for any
reason, then I'll be at your front door with an arrest warrant."

One by one, Roland's accusers left the lounge, with the nice nurse
being the last one to leave. She gently caressed John's cheek, then
glared at Roland and Robert. "Take care, John. Everything's going
to be okay." Then she left.

"Let's get home. I've had about enough of this place, Roland.
Imagine the nerve of those people to accuse you of such a vile act."

"It's over now, father. But, I think that tomorrow I'm going to
make arrangements to have Bobby brought home. He doesn't want to
die in a hospital anyway."

John didn't like hearing his father talk about Bobby dying. He
didn't want to think about what things would be like once Bobby
was gone.



John slowly opened his eyes as his willed away the memory
of the dream. His room was dark, as was the entire apartment.
He took a deep breath and was immediately assault with Anna's
scent. She was laying on the bed with him, snuggled next to
his body. She had been so considerate to him while he was
crying. She never asked him what was wrong. She simply held
him and let him cry. He supposed that he must have fallen
asleep in her arms. While the image of falling asleep because
he was worn out by his crying didn't thrill him, the image of
falling asleep in Anna's arms held a lot of interest. As his
body registered the fact that she was practically on top of him,
it responded. What he wouldn't do to be able to reach out and
touch her. To be able to lean over and softly kiss her
slightly parted lips. Would she kiss him back or push him
away? Would he slip up and tell her that he loved her only
to have her tell him that she still wasn't over Max Rosher?
He knew he couldn't handle hearing that again. But, she didn't
leave Chicago with Max. She had remained here. Here in his
apartment.

His stomach growled and he felt Anna stir.

"I'm sorry. I forgot all about the pizza," she said as she
sat up.

"That's okay. We both fell asleep. Why don't you order it
now?"

Anna switched on the light and they both squinted at the
sudden glare. Their eyes met and locked, each one thinking
that the other looked rather appealing rumpled from a nap.

"I had been coming back to ask what kind of crust you prefer?
I'm partial to hand-tossed."

"That works for me."

She nodded. "Do you need help with anything before I call?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine for now. Unless you want to
help me get into the wheelchair?"

"I can do that."

She helped him get into the chair, wheeled him out into the
living room, then called to order their pizza.

"Doug and Carol said that they had a nice visit with you
earlier," Anna commented as she set the table for them.

John nodded. "Yeah, it was a nice visit. Dad brought some
work here with him, so he kept busy with that. Dawes and I
sat around and watched videos."

"Oh really? Anything good?"

John grinned. "It wasn't porn, if that's what you're thinking.
Just old Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn movies. They
were a great couple."

"I liked them together," she agreed. "You said videos. Does
that mean they're still here?"

"Sure. Dawes brought a bunch of them over. We didn't get to
see them all. Want to watch one?"

"That would be nice. Where are they?"

"The ones we didn't see are beside the VCR. The others
are in a bag beside the entertainment center. I won't mind
it if you want to watch one of those."

"John, are you always this agreeable? Whatever toppings I
wanted on the pizza were fine, whatever I want to watch is
fine. Doesn't anything bother you?"

"No. But, I don't think that pizza toppings and videos are
anything to get bothered over."

"You don't like it when people get upset with you, do you?"

"Not really. Why? Is it a crime for me to want people to be
happy with me?"

"I don't know," she thoughtfully replied. "I guess that all
depends on why you want them to be happy with you."

"You're a pedes doc, Anna, not a shrink. I don't need to be
analyzed," he snapped.

Anna couldn't keep from grinning. John did have a bite. She
just wished he would assert himself more. She busied herself
with looking through the tapes, then selected one for them to
watch after they ate.

Anna set the VCR to rewind the movie, then began to clear away
their supper dishes. The pizza had been good and so had the movie.
All in all, she would describe it as a good evening. If not for
the fact that she knew John was hurting inside.

"Why don't you just leave the dishes for now?" John called out to
her.

Thinking that they could wait, Anna returned to the living room
and her chair. She liked sitting there since it was the closest
she could get to John. Maybe once he was on crutches, they would
be able to sit on the sofa together. Remembering how nice it had
been to cuddle beside him, she felt herself blushing. If he
noticed, he made no comment.

"So, tell me about your roommate," she said.

"Not much to tell really. Dennis had this place all to himself
and he gave me the chance to move in with him after my apartment
building burned down. He was a good friend to me and a good
roommate. He died unexpectedly, so I ended up having the place
all to myself. I didn't have a problem with the rent until I
lost my trust fund."

"It's a nice place. Dennis was lucky to find a place like this.
The best part is that it's not far from the hospital."

"The best part is the fireplace," he grinned.

"That is nice, too. Do you want a fire tonight?"

"No. I'm not cold."

"So, did Dennis work at the hospital?"

"He was a surgical intern. We both worked under Benton. Dennis
was having a rough time of it. His girlfriend was seeing someone
else. I guess that Monique was tired of trying to have a long
distance relationship with Dennis. And Benton was always giving
him a hard time. They got into it the night before Dennis died."

"How did he die?"

"He was hit by an El train. The police ruled it an accidental
death."

"But, you don't believe that, do you?" she softly asked. She
could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn't.

John shook his head. "Dennis was supposed to be covering the
E.R., but he left the hospital. Why would he do that? I know
that I can't be responsible for what someone else does, but I've
felt guilty about his death. He needed someone to talk with that
night, and I just wasn't there for him. I hadn't been there for
him for quite some time. Mainly because I was involved with
someone. She was leaving the area and we didn't have much time
left to spend together. I decided I would rather spend my time
with her as opposed to listening to Dennis complain about Benton
and his girlfriend. I was selfish and in the end, I paid for
my selfishness by losing my best friend. I should have learned
by now that my actions will harm others if I'm not careful. That
my happiness will only result in someone else being unhappy."

"That's not true, John. You can't hold yourself responsible for
the happiness of those around you. Each of us makes our own
decisions and we all have to live with the consequences of
those decisions."

"I know that," he snapped. "But, we also have to live with
that fact that sometimes those consequences hurt other people."

"Who do you think you've hurt? Aside from Dennis?"

"A lot of people. Too many to count."

"John, I know you think I'm judging you family, but I'm not.
However, I think it's very obvious that you've been hurt by
your father. Badly hurt."

"I told you before that I don't want to talk about that, Anna."

"I know. But, I think you need to talk about it, John.
Especially tonight. You spent all day with your father. That
had to have been emotionally rough for you."

"I survived it, Anna. I always do."

"Do you?"

He glared at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that not so long ago you were crying you heart out
on my shoulder. It wasn't just from frustration at being
injured, either."

"I thought you weren't going to play shrink anymore."

"I never said that. I care about you, John, and it hurts me to
see you hurting. I know that you're finding it difficult to
trust me right now, and I can understand the reasons why. But,
you need a friend. Someone you can talk with. Share your
thoughts with. I'm willing to listen if you're willing to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Isn't there?"



"John! Chase! You children get inside right now!"

Chase looked back at the house as he heard his grandfather
call for him and John. "We had better get back inside. Grandfather
sounds angry."

"Grandfather always sounds angry, Chase. Isn't it wonderful
out here?" John spread out his arms, delighting in the feel
of the wind against his skin. He looked up at the clouds in
their dark blue, almost purplish splendor. A bolt of lightning
split the sky and John knew it was going to be a spectacular
storm. He could barely hear his grandfather's voice over the
thunder, not that it mattered. He didn't want to go inside now.

"Well, I'm going in. You should come in, too, Scooter." Chase
looked warily up at the sky, jumping as lightning cracked
through the sky once more. "It's dangerous out here."

"I'm okay."

John didn't even notice when Chase ran inside. Or if he did
notice, it didn't matter. All that mattered was being out
here. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky as
the rain began to pelt him. He longed to be one with the wind
and just blow away from here - to dance in the air like the
leaves that the wind had ripped from the trees. To be blown
to a place where he wouldn't feel any more pain. He opened his
eyes just in time to see a bolt of lightning hit one of the
trees in the woods that surrounded the expansive lawn which
circled the house. Then strong arms grabbed him up and he
found himself being carried back to the house.

He was set down in the sitting room and his grandfather was
looming over him. Around him, people were scurrying around.
His grandmother was closing the French doors that led to the
patio and Dawes was trying to get close enough to John to
dry his hair with a towel.

"Damn you, child, I told you to come inside. You could have
been killed out there," his grandfather raged at him.

As the man approached him, John shrank back suddenly fearful
as he saw the same look in his grandfather's eyes that he so
often saw in his fathers'. He was going to hit him, too.

"Please, I'll be good from now on. Please don't hit me. I
promise I'll be good."

His grandfather looked puzzled as he heard John's words. "Boy,
you're always good. No one would ever have a reason to hit you."

"You're angry at me."

"Son, I'm angry because I'm scared. You were out there in
the middle of the lawn and an easy target for lightning. Chase
at least had enough sense to come in when he was called, but
you stayed put. Didn't you see the lightning hit that tree?
It could just as easily have hit you."

John shivered, not so much from his wet clothes as from
how close he had come to getting hit. He knew he deserved
to be punished because his father told him all the time how
bad he acted, how clumsy he was. About what a disappointment
he was turning out to be.

"I think some hot tea would be nice right now," his gamma
said as she took the towel from the butler and continued to
dry John's hair and skin.

"Right away, ma'am." Dawes left the room.

"The child needs dry clothes, Millicent. Chase? Do you
have anything clean that John can wear?"

"Yes, sir. I'll go get it." Chase was out the door before
his grandfather could stop him. His intent had been for
John to accompany Chase up to the guest room where Chase
had spent last night and to change in there. Well, John
would just have to change in the downstairs lavatory.

"Let's get that wet shirt off of you," Millicent reached
for the hem of John's shirt, but he quickly squirmed out
of her arms.

"I'm okay," he said. He couldn't let her see his bruises.

"John Truman Carter, you are not okay. You are soaking wet
and I will not allow you to catch pneumonia."

"Gamma, you don't catch pneumonia from being out in the
rain. That's just an old story."

"Your father needs to keep those medical books away from you
before you start to think that you're a doctor," his
grandfather joked.

"I'm going to be a doctor some day." John stated. He knew
that was what he had to be. He wanted so much to help other
people feel better.

"Well, you'll never get to be a doctor if you die from
pneumonia. Now take that wet shirt off so your grandmother
can get you dry." When John didn't move to obey him, his
grandfather gave him a stern look. "That was an order, child."

"Yes, sir." John felt trapped. While his father had told
him to never let anyone see his bruises, his grandfather was
now ordering him to take his shirt off. His Dad had told
him to always obey his grandfather though. John prayed he
was doing the right thing as he pulled the shirt over his
head and went back over to his grandmother so she could dry
him with the towel.

"My God, child, what happened to you?" she asked as she saw
the numerous bruises on his back and chest.

John shrugged. "I guess I run into things a lot when I'm
playing. It's okay. They don't hurt."

He felt her hand gently brush against his back, but he missed
the worried look she had in her eyes as she looked at his
grandfather.

"John, I don't think you got all of these bruises while
playing." His grandfather had come to stand by him. "How
did you get hurt?"

"I'm clumsy, sir."

Chase ran back in, clothing in his arms. He came to an
abrupt stop when he saw John. "How can you be so bruised
now that Bobby's not hitting you anymore?" he blurted out.

Their grandfather looked from John to Chase, then sat down
and beckoned Chase to come to him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Chase looked uncertainly over at his cousin, then
continued, "Bobby used to get upset about not being able to
do what he wanted to do and he would hit Scooter." Then Chase
remembered that their grandfather didn't approve of the use
of nicknames and he quickly amended himself, "I mean, Johnny."

"Is that true, John?" his sharp blue eyes seemed to bore
into his very soul and John knew he would know if he told
him the truth or not. Still, he had no choice but to nod.

"Bobby has been dead for three months, John. There's no
way that any of these bruises were caused by your brother."

"I told you that I'm clumsy, sir."

"So you did. Chase, give John the clothing so he can change.
John, come with me."

John took the clothes from Chase, then followed his grandfather
to the huge downstairs lavatory. It was made entirely out of
marble and reminded John more of a bank lobby than of a place
where a person would go to pee or wash their hands.

"Go on and change, John."

"Can I be alone?" John anxiously asked.

"Not this time. I want to make sure that you don't have
bruises anywhere else on your body."

John pulled on the clean shirt, then pulled off his shorts
and wet underwear, wishing that Chase was bigger so that the
shirt would cover more of him. He could feel his grandfather's
eyes on his body, knew that he was seeing the welts from where
his Dad had spanked him with a belt that morning. Knew he could
see the bruises on his upper thighs. He quickly put on the
dry underpants and shorts, then turned around. He kept his
eyes to the floor and was very grateful when his grandfather
opened the door without a word and led him back to the sitting room.
Dawes was there with the tea service, setting it out on the table.

"I think the boys should take their tea in the kitchen," he
told Millicent.

"Boys, you heard your grandfather. I know that cook has
some cookies for you as well."

Chase rushed off to the kitchen, never noticing the angry look that
was in their grandfather's eyes. But John went more slowly, afraid
that there was going to be a repeat of what had happened when he
had broken his arm at the hospital. John flinched as he
heard his grandfather curse. Then, more quietly, Grandfather
called himself the worst kind of fool. He wanted to stay and
hear more, but Dawes stepped into the Hallway. He took him by
the hand.

"Come along Master John. I think that Cook has some of your favorite
cookies on hand."

Not much later, John and Chase could hear shouting coming from
the sitting room. John could make out his father's voice very
clearly.

"Wow, Uncle Roland sure is mad, Scooter," Chase said, letting his
cookie drop to the plate.

John nodded. "I know."

"I wonder what they're arguing about?"

"Me." John softly replied. He pushed his plate of cookies away.
He hadn't wanted them to begin with, and right now he didn't even
want to look at them.

Chase looked around, then turned to John. "Cook and Dawes are busy
and won't notice if we leave. C'mon. I want to hear what they're
saying. There's way too much shouting going on for them to be
arguing about you."

Chase slipped out of his chair and tugged on John's arm, pulling
him with him down the hallway. As they neared the sitting room,
the voices became more distinct.

"I was such a fool at the hospital, son. I believed you when you
said that you would never harm your own son. It was beyond my
comprehension that you would hurt John in such a manner. But, I'm
not blind any longer. I've seen with my own eyes what you've done."

"John has a tendency to lie, father. He's been having problems since
Bobby became ill." Roland had finally quit shouting, but his voice
was still angry. "You don't have to live with him every day, never
knowing what story he'll make up in an effort to get attention."

"John never said a word about his injuries, Roland. I told you that
I saw them with my own eyes. You took a belt to that child. More
than once from the look of things. And I believe now that you did,
indeed, break his arm. I cannot and will not stand by and let this
continue."

"So what do you intend to do? Turn me over to the police for child
abuse? I think not."

"Don't push me, son. Don't ever push me."

"What are you two doing back here?"

Both boys jumped as Dawes' hands came down gently on their shoulders,
turning them around.

"Back to the kitchen with the two of you."

About an hour later, their Gamma came into the kitchen and told John
that he would be staying with them for a little while to keep Chase
company. Robert had gone with his father to get his things.

A week later, John was told that he and Barbara were being
sent to boarding school because their parents were going to be
traveling and couldn't take them along. John sat there, silent
and sad as his sister ranted and raved about the unfairness of
it all. Why couldn't they travel with their parents? Why
couldn't they stay with their grandparents or other relatives?
Barbara did not want to go to boarding school. Deep down,
John was afraid that they were being sent away because his
grandparents had seen his bruises. But, they had never
mentioned that rainy day again, and his father hadn't said
anything to him about it, either. But, he knew they were being
sent away because of him.



And now Anna wanted him to tell her all of that. Why wouldn't
she understand that nothing good would come of him telling
her about his childhood? Why couldn't she see that while he
had been happy to get away from his father, Barbara had been
miserable and made unhappy. And it was all his fault. If she
ever found out the truth -- that he was the reason she had to
go to boarding school, then she would be furious with him.
He knew it. And he didn't want her angry with him.

He shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about, Anna. It's
getting late and I'm getting tired. I'd like to go to bed now."

Anna finally nodded, then got up to take him to this room. "I'll
let you worm your way out of this conversation for now, John.
But, only because you are still recovering. But, as you get
better, I won't be so lenient."

"Anna, I appreciate your concern, I really do. But, it's old
news and not really your business anyway."

"Would you say that if you had a patient that had been previously
abused?"

"I wasn't abused, Anna," he tersely replied.

"What do you call it then? I know you can't call it love. Love
is never like that."

"What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell you that I know
in my heart that my father doesn't love me? That he hates me?
Fine. I know all of that, Anna. God knows, he's told me often
enough. But, it doesn't change the fact that he loved me once and
I want him to love me again. I'll do whatever I can to make that
happen. And telling you about things that happened a lifetime
ago will not do that." He turned his head away, ashamed of the
tears that were welling in his eyes.

"John..."

"I don't want to talk anymore tonight, Anna. If you're my friend,
then you'll respect that."

"You're right. I should respect your feelings about that. I'm
sorry. Let's get you ready for bed." She wheeled him down the
hall, thinking that she would call in to work in the morning to
ask for the day off. It was about time that John had a small break
from his family. He needed rest to be able to heal and he
certainly wasn't getting it with his family, especially his father,
around.

End of Part 7