Homeless Once More, Part Ten
By Cathy Roberts
glroberts@bigfoot.com

Hugh McIntyre glanced down at his watch.  It was 3:30 in the afternoon and he was going to be able to get back home.  He had been awake since he had been called the night before.  It had been the attending on the psychiatric floor, frantic because John Carter had left his room and was no where to be found.  So much had happened since that call.  John had been found in Dan Litvak's office by Peter Benton.  It appeared that John was there to kill Litvak because Litvak had been the person who had attacked him the night before.  Exhausted and suffering from many physical injuries, including two separate blows to the head, John was anything but stable as he waited in Litvak's office with Dr. Benton and McIntyre for the news that Litvak had been arrested.  At one point, he had even cut himself several times.  Further injury had been prevented when Dr. Benton had intervened and taken the scalpel away from John.  McIntyre should have seen then that the news that Dan Litvak was dead would send John over the edge, but he had not foreseen that possibility, so he was surprised at John's reaction to the news.  They had been forced to sedate John in order to get him back to the psychiatric floor.  Even then he was not cooperative.  Kerry Weaver had brought in clothing for him and McIntyre instructed the nurses to change him into the pajamas that Weaver had brought.  You would have thought that the women were trying to skin him alive by his reaction.  Finally, Peter Benton promised John that he would not leave him alone, that he would stay with him the rest of the day unless he received a page regarding his own son.  After that John had calmed down and he allowed the nurses to dress him.  Then he had fallen asleep.

It had been around noon when John awoke and he seemed to be less confused than he had earlier that day.  McIntyre knew the rest had done him some good but he wasn't as sure as John was that speaking with the police today would be a good thing.  Still, John had insisted that he could handle giving the police a statement, so McIntyre had called them to make the arrangements for the officers to come to the hospital.  Once they arrived, McIntyre discovered that he had no need to worry.  John had handled the meeting very well.  The officers only needed for him to identify Dan Litvak as his attacker and they declined to ask him any further questions regarding the attack.

At John's request, McIntyre had telephoned Mark Greene to ask him if he would act as John's physician while the young man was in the hospital.  Dr. Greene had readily agreed and the two of them ran the idea past Dr. Anspaugh who approved it.  Greene had come in early for his shift and he was examining John now.  Just as soon as Greene had apprised him of John's condition and he himself saw John one more time, he was going home.  If he was lucky, he would get a chance to have dinner with his wife and children before he passed out from lack of sleep.

He could hear the voices raised in anger before he had a chance to enter the code in the locked door.  He hurried through, then came to a quick stop as he saw who the two combatants were; Mark Greene and Peter Benton.  They were both angry and Benton had a tight grip on a chart, which Greene was trying to get.

"Doctors!  I should not have to remind you that this is a hospital.  Come with me right now."  McIntyre headed back down the hall, trusting that the two men were following him.  As he punched in the code, he could hear their footsteps.  He shook his head.  He didn't need this.  All he wanted was to go home, get a good meal, and go to bed.  He didn't want to play referee or counselor.

Peter and Mark followed McIntyre down to his office.  Even though they were both quiet, McIntyre could feel the hostility in the air.

"I want to know just what the two of you thought you were doing arguing in the hallway like that?  There are patients on this floor who do not need that kind of disturbance."  McIntyre sat down behind his desk and waited for one of them to begin.

"I apologize, Dr. McIntyre.  I was merely trying to retrieve Carter's chart," Mark said.

Peter glared at him, then looked to McIntyre.  "I also apologize for my behavior.  I was merely trying to see how Carter was doing and Mark became angry the minute he saw me looking at his chart."

"Carter is my patient, Peter.  Not yours.  I'm sorry if your ego can't handle the fact that he asked for me, but you'll just have to live with that fact.  You have no right to be snooping around in his chart."

"I am on record as being one of physicians who treated him when he was brought in last night and that gives me the right to look at his chart, Mark.  And it's a good thing I did, too.  Are you aware that some of the paperwork from the lab is missing?"

"You must be mistaken," Mark said, knowing full well that Peter was not in error.

"Look for yourself."  Peter opened the chart to the lab report, then handed it to Mark.  "The last page clearly indicates that at least one more page should follow.  There isn't another page.  I looked through the entire chart.  It's obvious that the lab made a mistake."

"I'm sure that it's nothing to worry about, Dr. Benton," McIntyre said.  "I often find that the last page is just a summary of what went before."

"Sometimes that's true.  But not all the time.  I'm going to call the lab and have them re-print the report."  Peter reached for McIntyre's telephone.

"Peter, don't," Mark reached out a hand to stop him.  "The lab didn't misplace the rest of the report.  I removed it."

"You did what?  Mark, what on earth would possess you to do something like that?"

Mark sat down and took off his glasses so he could rub his eyes.  There was no easy way to say what he had to say.  "The page that is missing confirms something that I suspected during the exam.  Something that as far as I can tell, Carter doesn't remember.  I felt it would be better for him if it wasn't in his chart."

"Mark, you aren't making any sense to me."

"It was the results from the swabs."

"But, you said there was no penetra..." Peter's voice trailed off as he suddenly realized what Mark meant.  He looked over at McIntyre and saw by the look on the doctor's face that he had also known about the test results.

"So you took it upon yourself to keep this information secret?"  Peter asked.

"Yes.  I know that what I did was wrong, but Peter, I honestly don't think that it needs to be in there.  Especially since Dan Litvak is dead.  Anyone who is employed by this hospital can theoretically get their hands on that chart.  I did not think that he would be all right with the idea of someone, anyone, being able to read that particular report."

"Hell, you may be right.  I don't know.  Fine.  I won't have the lab reprint the report.  But, what will you do if he remembers what happened?"

"I'll deal with that when and if it happens," McIntyre replied.

Peter nodded, not really liking the deception, but realizing that it was in Carter's best interest.  "There's also a question regarding the level of morphine in his system.  It seems as if he was prescribed a high dosage.  Why?  And who prescribed it for him?"

"I don't know the answers to that, Peter.  But, I do have my suspicions.  I'll talk to some people down in the E.R. tonight and see what I can find out."

"Good enough."

"Well, since we're all here together, can you tell me how John is doing?" McIntyre asked.

"Well, the swelling around his eye seems to be about as bad as it will get.  From now on it should start to recede.  I had the nurse change the dressings on his cuts and there's no sign of infection.  Aside from a headache, he has no physical complaints other than being sore.  Either he's lying to me about that or he just isn't feeling much pain.  I offered him a mild painkiller, but he refused.  His hydration level isn't great, but he assured me that he will increase his fluid intake.  I ordered the nurse to make sure that he has plenty of juice and water available.  The vision in his right eye is slightly blurry, but that's to be expected.  I won't worry about that unless it's the same way in the morning.  His blood pressure is low, but not bad overall.  His pulse is strong.  His breathing is shallow, but again, considering his fractured
ribs, not unexpected."

"Did he ask you about how long he would have to remain in the hospital?" McIntyre asked.

"No.  I'm concerned about making sure that there's no damage to his left eye.  Once he's given a green light on that, then I don't see any physical reason why he can't be discharged.  He was very coherent with me and his questions seemed reasonable.  The question is, how is he emotionally and mentally?"

"I guess I'll be trying to get those answers tomorrow.  Thank you for coming in early to examine him.  I appreciate it."

"No problem.  If you'll excuse me, I told his parents that I would let them know the results of the exam.  Peter, I'll see you around."

"Sure."

"I'll walk out with you.  I want to check on John one more time before I go home.  Dr. Benton?"

"I'll be right there."

Mark and McIntyre left and Benton sat down in a chair to think.  He had never thought of himself as a dishonest person.  He hated the idea of lying to a patient, even if it appeared to be in the best interest of the patient.  He didn't like the idea of removing any of Carter's records, no matter what the reason.  He didn't understand why McIntyre was going along with the idea.  Had he not assured him that he felt he needed to be honest at all times?  He must be really concerned about Carter's mental and emotional well-being if he felt it necessary to keep this information out of the records.  Peter shuddered as he thought about what someone like Dale Edson would do or say if he had his hands on that information.  Maybe McIntyre and Mark were right about this.  He just didn't know.  He hated not being sure about things.  Life would be so much easier if all of the decisions were clear-cut.  With a sigh he got up and left McIntyre's office, heading back to Carter's room and the one sure thing he knew right now: John needed him and felt safe while he was around, and there was no way that he was going to let John down this time.


John's head pulsed with pain with every breath he took.  Still, he was reluctant to ask for anything to dull the pain.  At least the pain told him that he had not gone completely numb.  He was tired, but every time he tried to get some sleep he just couldn't.  Either people kept coming in and out of his room or he found himself unable to sleep because he kept asking himself questions.  Questions such as why he had opened the apartment door in the first place.  Or wasn't there something, anything that he could have done to have prevented the attack.  He was glad the police officer had not asked too many questions.  Still, giving his statement had been tougher than he had expected.  Telling the officer that Litvak had been his attacker had been the easy part, it was seeing the way the officer looked at him that had been hard to handle.  He knew what the officer was thinking, it was plain as day.  'This isn't a small guy, how could he let something like this happen?'  The same question that John kept asking himself.  In a way, he was glad to be on the locked end of the ward because he wasn't placed at the mercy of any and all who wanted to visit him.  He didn't want visitors in his room giving him those pitying looks.  It was bad enough having his parents there feeling sorry for him.  He certainly didn't need to have anyone else feeling sorry for him.  Or feeling that maybe he had finally received his just punishment for what he had done to Chase.  He sometimes thought that maybe this was God's punishment for all his sins.  He knew he deserved to be punished for all the wrong he had done.  He had hurt a lot of people.  Dennis.  Chase.  Even Roxanne.  Just today he had hurt his sister.  Barbara had called their father on his cell phone to say that she had finally gotten a flight to the states and would be there before too long.  John wouldn't even speak to his sister.  He simply told his father to tell her not to bother.  That he didn't want or need her there.  John could tell by the look on his father's face that Barb had heard what he had said and was upset by it.  His dad then went to the other side of the room to finish the conversation.  To calm Barb down and explain to her how John just wasn't himself and didn't mean what he had said.  He was getting tired of having people treat him as if he were a child who needed to be spoken to in short and simple sentences because he was confused by anything else.

In John's eyes, his parents were the worst offenders.  If they weren't looking at him as if he were going to fall apart, they were constantly reassuring him that they loved him and were there for him.  And how could he complain about that?  It was, after all, what he had said he wanted.  And now he had it.  'Be careful what you wish for,' he thought.  The catch was that he had wanted them to stay around because they wanted to be in Chicago with him and not because they felt obligated to be there for him.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to deal with them again until the morning.  They had gone home for the night, mainly because McIntyre came close to throwing them out.  He really did like Hugh McIntyre, especially when he wasn't asking him questions, but instead was dealing with those around him.  McIntyre had suggested that his parents leave because John didn't need to be entertaining visitors all day and into the night.  His parents had insisted on staying, his father pointing out that since Benton wasn't a relative, he should be the one to leave.  Well, his father didn't say it in those exact words, but the meaning was the same.  Peter had just sat there quietly, letting McIntyre handle his parents.  After that McIntyre had insisted that they leave and not return until visiting hours began at ten the next morning.  His dad was angry over that, but his mom calmed him down and then they left.  McIntyre then said his good-byes, telling John that he would see him first thing in the morning.  That left him alone with Peter, who sat still and quiet in the chair by the window.  At least Peter didn't expect any conversation.  Still, John wanted to be alone.  Just how long did Peter plan to say?  He had mentioned all day at one point.  Well, the day was nearly over.  Maybe he would leave early?  It wouldn't hurt to ask.

John cleared his throat.  "You don't have to stay."

"I promised you that I would."

"Don't feel obligated to keep me company."

"I don't.  I wouldn't have made you a promise like that if I didn't want to stay.  It's not an obligation, Carter."

"Well, I won't hold you to that promise.  You have better things to do with your life."

"I'll stay.  It's really not a problem.  As a matter of fact, it's been nice having an entire day with nothing to do."

"Look, I really do appreciate that you stayed and got a day's vacation out of it, but right now I'd really like to be alone, okay?"

Peter gazed at him steadily.  "Not really.  I don't feel that you should be left alone."

"It's not as if something bad can happen to me in here."  John waved his hand, to show he meant the room.

"Something did happen the last time you were left alone."

John was momentarily confused, then he remembered the incident in the bathroom after lunch.  He thought that Peter was referring to that and not to when Litvak had attacked him.  At least he hoped that was what Peter meant.

"I didn't need the I.V. any longer and it was bothering me, so I removed it.  It wasn't a big deal."

"I wasn't talking about the I.V.  You know I was talking about what else happened in the bathroom."

"It still isn't necessary for you to stay.  All I'm going to do is sleep."

"Are you?  From what I've noticed, you haven't slept much today.  You've pretended to sleep quite a bit, though."

"And just what does that have to do with you leaving?" John angrily asked.

"You really want me to go, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I'll leave after you eat dinner."

"Good."  John rolled over to his right side, intending to try to sleep again.  He frowned as he realized that he was looking straight at Peter.

"Do you have to sit there?"

"The chairs are on this side of the room, Carter.  Where else should I sit?"

"You can move to the other side of the room."

Peter calmly picked up the chair and moved it to the other side of John's bed, then he sat back down.  "Is that better?"

"Yes."

"Good.  Go to sleep."

Damn him.  Why couldn't he just go as he asked?  Litvak wouldn't leave when he asked him to, now Peter wouldn't leave.  That dreaded feeling of helplessness hit him again and he felt a tear slip down his cheek.  He hated feeling as if no one was listening to him or that they didn't care what he wanted.  Sleep eluded him as he lay there quietly crying, his doubts and frustrations swirling around in his head.

Peter couldn't hear any noise coming from the other side of the bed, but he knew that Carter was crying and not sleeping.  Maybe he should have left.  He wasn't sure about that.  But he couldn't forget how Carter had looked earlier in the bathroom when he had his flashback to the attack.  Peter knew he didn't want to leave him to face something like that alone.  Again.  He glanced at his watch, noting that it would be less than hour before the dinner trays were brought around.  He would stay to make sure that Carter ate, then he would go home.  He wanted to go by Carla's to pick up Reese and spend some time alone with his son.  He had done a lot of thinking about fatherhood today and all the responsibilities that came with it.  Sure, it lit up his life when Reese smiled the minute he saw him.  Reese obviously loved him and knew him as his daddy.  That couldn't help but make his heart swell.  But, what had happened to Carter had made him see that there was so much out there that could harm his own son.  And seeing Carter 's parents had made him realize that sometimes parents can harm their own children without meaning to.  The Carters had done that and now they were almost desperate in their efforts to undo that harm.  Peter hoped that they weren't too late.


The E.R. had been steadily busy ever since Mark had reported early for work.  He had felt that the cases would never stop, but they had finally slacked off and after taking a short coffee break, he was hoping to have a chance to speak with
Kerry about Carter.  He was pouring himself a cup of coffee when the door opened and Kerry entered the lounge.

"Can I pour you a cup?" he asked.

"That would be nice."  Kerry wearily sat down on the couch.

"You look worn out, Kerry."  Mark handed her the coffee, then sat down beside her.

"I am.  I didn't get much sleep last night.  I was surprised when you showed up early.  I thought that you would want to get as much rest as possible since you pulled two shifts yesterday."

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, so I figured that I would come on in.  Dr. McIntyre called me to ask if I would be Carter 's physician while he's in the hospital."

"So you've seen Carter then?  How is he?"

Mark nodded, "He seems to be doing fine physically, even though he looks like death warmed over."

"You didn't look so good yourself after you were beaten."

"I don't need to be reminded of that, Kerry," he snapped.  He could remember all too well the horror he had felt when he had looked in the mirror after his beating.  It had been a shock to see the bruises and cuts.  It had been even harder to see the haunted look which had been in his eyes.  The same haunted look had been in Carter 's eyes also.

"I'm sorry.  I imagine that this is bringing back some bad memories for you."

"Yeah, it is."  Mark stared down at the coffee cup cradled in his hands.  "It is.  But, right now I can't take the time to worry about that.  I wanted to ask you if you knew who had prescribed the pain killers to Carter?"

"I think it was Maggie Doyle.  Why?"

"He had traces of morphine in his system when he was brought in here last night.  More than he should have if he took the medication when you think he did."

"Dr. Lee has already rearranged the schedules since we're one doctor short now, and I think that Doyle will be coming on at six.  You can ask her about it then.  I am pretty sure that he took something before I left for work yesterday morning.  We talked about it and he indicated to me that he was going to take something.  I fail to see why you think there's a problem though.  It isn't really that unusual for traces of an opiate to show up later."

"That would depend on the dosage of the pills she prescribed for him, wouldn't it?"

"You're thinking that Carter took more than was prescribed?"

Mark nodded.  "That was my first thought.  I know that after he found out how Corinna Nelson was doing he seemed depressed.  He wasn't around when I left to go home so we never had a chance to talk about it.  I'm afraid that he might not have been as far out of his depression as we thought he was.  I haven't said anything to Dr. McIntyre about it, but if it turns out that Carter took more than Doyle prescribed then I will speak to Dr. McIntyre.  If Carter was already depressed when Litvak attacked him then there's no telling what the attack might do to him emotionally."

"You're afraid he might try to kill himself?"

"He's already tried once, Kerry."  Mark frowned, remembering how withdrawn Carter had looked that day on the roof.  So small and forlorn.

"He's been in therapy since then, Mark.  He seems fine at home."

"He injured himself this morning," Mark said.

Kerry looked shocked, "What?  How?"

"He cut himself with a scalpel while waiting for news about Litvak's arrest.  He wasn't trying to kill himself or anything like that.  He just ended up cutting himself in several places.  The majority of the cuts aren't serious, only two of them needed stitches.  Still, there's no ignoring the fact that he did it."

"Mark, he has a concussion and was probably confused and disoriented.  I don't think that you can connect what happened this morning with the chance that he might try to kill himself."

"I hope you're right, Kerry."  Mark stood and put his cup on the counter.  "I really hope you're right."

Kerry watched him leave, hoping the same thing.  She could remember all too well the terrible feelings of helplessness and despair that had surrounded her after she had been raped.  Some of those feelings were there because of the physical damage that had been done, but most of them were from the attack itself.  It had taken a long time for her to feel safe once more.  There were times when she still felt uneasy at the prospect of being alone somewhere.  That was one of the reasons that in the past she had always had roommates.  Until she moved to Chicago to be an intern.  She had been a stranger to the city and didn't know anyone.  Her need to succeed at all costs despite her physical handicap made her seem hard and cold.  No one seemed too interested in being her friend.  Well, one person had, but she had thought that her fellow intern was only after sex.  After all, she had heard Doug Ross boasting to one of the other men that he would bed all the female interns at the hospital before the year was out.  After hearing him say that, how could she accept his overtures of friendship?  She had been extra cold to him and after a while, he stopped asking if she wanted to join him for coffee.  In a way, it was a shame, because she had genuinely liked Doug when she first met him.  Looking back, Kerry could see that overhearing that conversation had been a big turning point in how she saw Doug.  She wondered if things would have been different if he had never said those words or if she had never overheard him.  Not that it made any difference.  It was obvious that he and Carol Hathaway were made for each other.  Maybe she could concede the fact that Doug Ross had grown up a lot since his days as an intern.  Maybe.  He still had that small problem with authority though.  Not at all like John.  John listened to his supervisors.  Sure, there were times when he disagreed with what they had to say.  When that happened, he somehow managed to sneak around the one whose opinion he didn't agree with.  She smiled as she remembered how carefully he had manipulated her into bringing him onto the trauma staff.  He had been smooth about that.  So smooth that she was shocked when Anspaugh had exploded at her when she spoke to him about it.  She had never seen Don Anspaugh that angry and hoped she never would again.  He had told her in no uncertain terms that John Carter would not leave surgery for trauma and that if he ever heard her mention it to him again that he would make sure she and John never had a chance to see each other again, that he would bury John on the night shift for the rest of his internship and possibly even his entire residency.  When she had confronted John about it, John had confessed that he had hoped she would be able to convince Anspaugh that he should be allowed to switch.  She had been angry with him.  Not as angry as Anspaugh had been with her, but she let John know that she did not appreciate being used that way.  She smiled as she remembered how surprised she had been the next afternoon when Anspaugh called her and Mark into his office and told them that John was switching to trauma from surgery.  Somehow, someway, John Carter had maneuvered his way into the position he wanted.  She still wasn't sure how he had pulled that one off.  But he had.  Couldn't get himself out of having to do another internship though.  He had tried his best to get out of that, but he hadn't found a way.  John had stuck it out and he had been an excellent student.  He was a quick learner and she really did enjoy working with him.

Now he was faced with another situation not to his liking and she wondered how he was going to react once he realized that this was another one of those times that he couldn't fix things to suit his own needs.  That was the worst feeling, she remembered.  The knowledge that you had no control over what happened to you.  It had taken her a long time to feel as if she was back in control of her life.  Every now and then she would get the sinking feeling that she wasn't really in control, that it was all just a lie and her life was going to slip through her fingers.  Time had helped to heal her and she prayed that time would help to heal John as well.  She wanted him to feel in control of his life once more.  She wanted him to feel safe and secure.  That reminded her of her appointment with her realtor.  She would need to leave work early in order to meet the woman at the house she wanted to look at.  Kerry put her cup on the counter, then went in search of Amanda Lee to let her know she was leaving early.  Maybe if luck was on her side she could find a house quickly and get out of that apartment.

Chapter Eleven

Return to Story Index

Return to Main Page

Return to FanFiction Page