Lessons Learned
Part Eight
By Kristen
kdarganin@hotmail.com

Archive: Yes, just let me know.
Disclamier: I do now own the characters of ER I am just borrowing them for fun.

Note: This chapter would not have been possible without the help of Debbie who answered in my time of need with wonderful brilliance. Thank you so much Debbie! I am not a doctor, so the medical situations might not be totally accurate, but I do some research into the matter. This is fanfiction.

Warning: This contains some serious angst.

Category: Story/Angst (JC/PB/LK/RR)

Notes: Thank you Jackie for all of your wonderful advice and editing!

Comments: Of course! Kdarganin@hotmail.com

Time is the space that events take place in. Memories are what fill in those gaps and tend to remind us about the most trivial and the most dramatic events. Sometimes it is those conversations that make up our memories that can haunt us later on.

"Dr. Benton, hang on a second, I want to talk to you." Carter yelled.

"Not now, Carter," Peter replied in a hurry.

"No, wait," Carter told him forcefully. "You know, for a longtime, I bought into your abuse and humiliation because I thought I was learning something."

"You were," Benton replied while walking.

"No--but--okay, even if there was a point to it then, there's no point to it now," Carter told him.

"Good night, Carter." Peter hurried along the El.

"You know, I'm really tired of you blowing me off. You're going to have to talk to me!" Carter shouted.

"You want to talk now?" the surgeon replied, annoyed.

"Right now," the other man insisted.

"No," Benton told him as he tried to avoid the younger man. "Carter, move--!"

"No!" Carter would not get out of Peter's path.

"Carter, move!" Benton demanded angrily.

"No." Insistent as ever.

"Carter, get out--"

"You're not going anywhere," Carter said as he grabbed Peter's shoulder.

"Get off me!" Peter shouted as he pushed Carter to the sidewalk.

"You okay?" Peter asked, embarrassed that he pushed Carter down.

Carter slapped Benton's outstretched hand away. "What, do you care?"

"Carter, what the hell is your problem?"

"You know, I'm not your student any more--"

"I know that -" Peter tried to answer.

"Then you could treat me like any other colleague!" Carter yelled, visibly upset.

"You're not a colleague, you're an intern!" Peter's voice matched Carter's tone.

"For three years I did everything you asked of me and more. I deserve your respect because I earned it!" Carter shouted angrily.

"And you threw it away!"

"Why, because I don't want to be like you?" Carter demanded.

"No, because you wasted my time."

"This isn't about your time, it's about your egotism." Carter replied, touching a nerve.

"Yeah, right, Carter. I'm egotistical. I got a lot of people that worked damn hard to make sure I am where I am, and for them I've got to be self-centered. I don't take time for anything. But you, man...man, I did for you, Carter. I did, man. You decided you don't want to be a surgeon, you don't come to me, you go to Anspaugh," Peter fired back.

"Well, I was afraid you'd talk me out of it," Carter answered honestly.

"I wish I'd had the chance to try."

"Hey. You're right. I'm sorry." Knowing he did not have a real answer.

"Can I go home now?" Peter asked tiredly.

"Yeah."

"You know Carter? You don't want to be treated like my student? Stop seeking my approval," Peter told his former student, and left without waiting for a response.

Peter Benton sat motionless in his chair. He was like a statue caught forever in a memory, his eyes lost in scene that repeated in his head. It was like a bad dream that played continuously, like the rewind button on a VCR. Of all the memories, times, and conversations in his life, the only one that he could remember in every vivid detail was one from a couple years ago. All his frustration, all of his disappointment came out in one onslaught in that very moment. The one thing tugging at his heart now was the fact that he couldn't think of any other memories to replace it. There were better times, but with a mind so totally focused on regret, it was hard to conjure any of those precious retrospectives at the very moment.

How many times did he tell the Carter that he never gave him a second thought? How many moments did he lament, regretting that he couldn't show a little more thought, a bit more emotion, towards anybody? Why did he guard his heart so fiercely and dish out dissatisfaction so easily? Peter let his eyes wander over the various machines and tubes that were connected to his colleague. The vent was the only thing to break up the silence of the room, a slow 'whoosh' every five seconds, forcing air into a body that could not take in any on its own. Carter looked frail, his skin pale, and his eyes closed. The sight of eyes that were so over-dilated still haunted Peter's mind. It was the fact that eyes that once gleamed with jovial enthusiasm were reduced to pupils that were void of any sign of life.

Peter blinked suddenly from an intense wave of emotion, and his body slightly shivered as his hands nervously played with the sheet covering the patient in the bed. Very slowly, Peter inched up towards the gurney and leaned in close. His hand hovered above the sleeping form and gradually descended to Carter's limp arm. Peter wrapped his fingers around Carter's wrist, careful of the IV, and squeezed it.

No reaction, no movement.

Peter gazed at the cardiac leads on Carter's chest, then to IV and central line, followed by the intubation tube going down his throat and to the pulse ox clip on his right finger. Peter moved his hand down and slid it into Carter's. He held on to it, hoping that he would feel a twitch, a change, anything. Peter stared at his hand clasping his former student's.

"You don't need my approval because you earned it a long time ago, Carter. I-I should have told you. I'm sorry," Peter spoke softly.

Still no reaction.

Peter squeezed the unanimated hand harder and with more persistence.

"What the hell happened in there, man?" Peter asked the unconscious figure. "What do you think you were doing?" His voice growing louder. Benton's anger was increasing, the frustration of the traumatic events replaying in his head. The thought that the current situation could have been avoided gnawed at Peter's conscience.

"Benzene! God damn it, you know better! What were you trying to prove in there? Who were you trying impress?" Peter shouted, his voice echoing inside the ICU.

"You flatlined for Christ's sake, Carter! I had to restart your heart! All because of what, because of what, Carter?" Peter continued to yell, his body trembled from stress, and his voice became hoarse. "Do you know what that did to me?" Peter mumbled to himself.

Realizing that he was shouting to a person who could not respond or defend himself, Peter ended his tirade. Frustration, that was always the term he used to identify his emotions in regards to Carter.`It was never friendship, never,' Peter thought. Yet, here he was, sitting across from the other man, lecturing him for putting his life in danger. He was venting his hostility at Carter because he cared. Peter Benton was throwing away the rulebook in regards to speaking with the unconscious. He was exasperating at Carter, hoping the man would once again try to prove him wrong, and then Peter would be satisfied. Peter Benton would feel better because Carter would be looking at him, alive and not flatlining on the table where Peter had to will his hands not to shake as he applied 300 Jules of electricity to the man's chest.

"You didn't come back on your own, Carter." Peter paused, squeezing the hand again. "You needed my help, and it was the scariest thing that I have ever done," Peter whispered, his voice once again failing him.

"Dr. Benton."

Peter swung around when he heard a voice from behind him. Peter let go of Carter's hand and it fell absently on the bed. Peter turned his head, startled to see the concerned eyes of Luka Kovac staring back at him. Before Luka could say anything, Peter carefully placed Carter's hand gently next to the man's still side.

Luka watched the other doctor try to compose himself, wiping at his face. The room was too dimly lit to tell if Peter was crying or not. Luka didn't have to guess the way Peter turned around startled and the slight tremble that was evident in his hand was enough for him to know what the other doctor was feeling.

Peter faced Luka, his hand never leaving the bed, it remained on top of the blanket next to Carter' hand. That very gesture touched Luka very much.

"How is he?" he asked softly.

Peter looked at the monitors again, noting that nothing had changed since the first time he had entered the room.

"His pulse ox is 84, he's still tachy, and his B/P is still low, 90/60. It's to be expected with the Benzene in his system. We'll start treating him with an Intal nebulizer, and I've already got him on Cefteim and Vancomycin for any infection." Peter's voice faltered slightly when he realized he was rattling off statistics as if he was any other patient.

Peter sighed heavily and looked the other way staring at the wall, gazing at anything other the man in the bed and the doctor in front of him. Peter's wall of subtle indifference and detachment was failing him now. He was embarrassed that his voice cracked over giving a simple summary of Carter's vitals.

Luka didn't wish to make Peter uncomfortable, but he had things to do.

"The others are involved with something and sent me up here. We didn't wash out his eyes when he was in the ER." Luka explained, his voice soft and apologetic.

"I'll do it," Peter said, turning to take the saline solution out of Luka's hands.

"I thought I should do it," Luka paused for a second, trying to find the words needed to tell the doctor the other reason he was here.

Impatient Peter sighed, "What is it Dr. Kovac?"

"You need to go back down to the ER. The technician that Carter saved says he has something very important to tell you." Luka chose his words carefully.

"I'm a bit busy here," Peter replied, again trying to take the eye wash equipment.

"Dr. Benton, it's very urgent that you speak with him," Luka responded more forcibly.

"Why? What is it?" Peter asked, agitated.

Luka could sense Peter's refusal to leave. "Taylor Evans says the fire wasn't an accident, and he will only explain things if you come down and talk with him."

Peter walked away from the bed and went up to Luka. "What do you mean it wasn't an accident?"

"I don't know Dr. Benton, he apparently told Dr. Romano some things and when he stormed off the tech was afraid to tell anybody else unless you were there with him," Luka said, raising his hands out in a calming gesture.

Peter was confused at first. Then when he managed to process what Luka had told him, all of his fear was re-charged into anger. He didn't have any idea what caused the fire; it was the least of his concerns. Now he was being told that a fire that almost killed four people was the result of something deliberate. It was enough to send Peter over the edge.

Luka didn't know how to pacify the man in front of him, who went from defeated to infuriated in less then a few seconds. However, Luka noticed some slight movement from the patient in the bed.

"I think he's coming around, Peter," Luka told him as he moved to the railing.

Benton was instantly back at Carter's bedside as the younger man began to stir. "Hey, Carter?" Peter whispered.

Carter's eyes opened for a second and quickly squeezed shut. He scrounged up his face and Carter's hands went to wipe at his eyes.

Peter noticed the pulse monitor beeping a bit faster and Peter turned to Luka. "Let me have that saline."Peter took the saline. He pulled Carter's hands away from his face. "Hey, man, it's fine. I'm going to rinse out your eyes so theydon't burn so much," Peter calmly informed the other doctor. The surgeon peeled each eyelid open and washed out each bloodshot eye.

After a few moments, Peter finished cleaning Carter's eyes out. He put the saline on the tray next to him and sat back down on the chair. Luka remained standing keeping a watchful eye on all the monitors.

Carter blinked several times and ran his right hand over his throat. He craned his neck and then pointed at the vent. He looked at Peter, his face betraying his fear.

"The benzene burned the alveolar sacs in your lungs. The tissue will heal though, and we'll do a bronchial wash to clear things out. In an hour we'll use an Intal nebulizer with a blow that will be inserted into the intubation tube," Peter told Carter calmly.

Carter nodded his head and closed his eyes. He put his shaking right hand on his chest and gently rubbed it. He stared at Peter, his eyes giving him a questioning look. Carter's eyes then drifted over to the dressings on his side.

"You only have minor burns, I don't even think they will be permanent. As for your chest, it is probably sore from the decreased lung capacity," Peter lied.

Luka shifted uncomfortably at the other doctor's words, and his eyes drifted over to Carter's. The younger man looked over at him and turned to face wall. Carter traced some imaginable circles on one side of his breastbone and then on his left side.

Peter watched Carter's trembling hands went back to his face. Even though his head was turned away from the two doctors both Luka and Peter could see a tear stream down the side of Carter's face. Peter's throat constricted and his breath hitched inside his chest. The surgeon glanced at Luka, and the other doctor left the room to give them privacy.

Peter walked to the other side of the bed so he was facing Carter. He would not leave him alone again. He went away to give Carter time to compose himself regarding Lucy's death; he wouldn't do that again when the man needed comfort.

Carter draped his left arm over his eyes to hide them from Peter's view.

"Carter," Peter called to him. The man didn't move, so Peter pulled Carter's arm away from his eyes. "Carter, it's going to be all right. I know...I know what you're feeling. I'm the one who had to do it," Peter said in a low voice. The surgeon understood that as a doctor, Carter knew how serious his condition had been that he had to be shocked to re-start his heart. The young man's chest was probably very sore and Carter could tell from that dull ache that he was some point in V-tach.

Carter locked eyes with Peter. His face was sullen, and the fact that he couldn't speak was even more troublesome. He lifted his arm and pointed at the blood pressure reading, which was still low, and he gestured with his hands weakly towards his central line.

"We need to wait for your lung capacity to improve before we take out the tube. You're blood pressure will remain low as long as the benzene depresses your bone marrow and blocks off the red blood cells."

Noticing another look of panic spread on Carter's face, Peter placed one hand on the man's shoulder and the other one in the doctor's grasp.

"I didn't let anything happened to you in the ER, and I'll make sure you get through this just fine." Peter tried to smile reassuringly. "However, I won't promise that I won't kick your ass when you're better for lying to me about your condition back in that hallway.

Carter looked sheepishly at the other doctor and Peter squeezed his hand again. "I'm glad you are going to be all right, Carter."

John stared at him intently.

Peter bent down, his face mere inches from Carter's. "You will be fine, Carter. I'll be back in a few minutes, then I'll walk you down to your MRI, for your back, so I can make sure you didn't destroy all the hard work I did a few months ago."

Carter closed his eyes and Peter glanced at all the monitors one more time. Peter then left the room and rested his back against the wall. Luka got up from his chair and wandered over to the other doctor.

"He's going to be okay, Peter."

Peter didn't look at Luka as he started stalking off towards the elevators. The foreign doctor ran after him. "You are not going to do Carter any good if you go bursting into that room downstairs."

Peter spun around, his face twitching, "If someone started that fire, then there is going to be hell to pay!" Peter gritted his teeth and stormed into the elevator.

A few moments after Peter and Luka left the floor, Dr. Logan came around the corner of the hall. He stared at the elevator, but headed to room 111. He opened the door to Carter's room and stood there, staring at the frail man in the bed.

"Good evening Dr. Carter, I do hope you're feeling better," Logan snarled venomously. He peered over the bed and grabbed Carter's chart, flipping through it.

"Wow, seared lungs, smoke inhalation, says here you went into asystole. I always wanted to know what it was like to have my heart stop. Must have hurt like hell, especially when Peter had to shock you back. No chest burns from the paddles, lucky man, considering how faired skin you are." Logan stared down at Carter, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Chart says you're on Intal for you're breathing. I would have gone with Proventil myself, but who am I to question Dr. Benton." Logan tapped the chart on the bed, looking at the vent. "Well, I can'tstay long, I think a nurse will be coming by with that nebulizer to clear up those lungs."

The monitor's rhythms were steadily increasing and Logan stared at the pulse ox read out. "Low pulse ox, John. You don't mind me calling you that, do you? I mean, since you are the one responsible for my hospital burning down."

Carter placed his hand on his chest as a pain shot though it; he struggled to breathe on the ventilator.

"Hey, hey, Dr. Carter calm down now. I mean, we want you well for that review board. So, this Benzene poisoning you're suffering from must have happened when you knocked down some containers, huh?"

Carter struggled to sit up in the bed, and he grabbed a hold of the railing. He couldn't deny what Logan was saying, he knew he had caused the fire. `Why was the Chief of Staff tormenting him withthe knowledge?' he wondered.

Logan's eyes darted to the source of the increased beeping, and smiled coolly. "No one can blame you for your clumsiness of course, you should have never reported to duty in the first place. I don't understand why good old Romano allows cripples to work in the ER, they don't belong there." Logan placed his hand on Carter's shoulder in a placating manner.

"Poor Dr. Carter, first you misdiagnosed that psyche patient and it cost you dearly, but it really ended up killing Dr. Knight. Man, when you make mistakes you make doozies." Logan ignored Carter as tears ran down his face and he started to gag on the vent.

"However, when you screwed up tonight, you almost killed that patient you were so concerned about. I would really reconsider your choice of profession, so that your mistakes will stop hurting others," Logan said condescendingly.

"Just try to remember how all of this was your fault, young Dr. Carter, and maybe all they will do is take away your license." Logan tapped him on the shoulder. "You get better now."

Logan walked out of the ICU smoothly. Carter lay in his bed, struggling to control his breathing. He angrily swiped at the tears running down his face. The sobbing only hurt his chest, and all he wanted to do was curl up and hide from all the pain he felt and all the torment he caused others.

Dr. Chuck Logan exited room 111, shutting the door very quietly behind him. He examined the hallway, noting the absence of staff members. He rubbed his mustache thoughtfully with his right hand while retrieving Carter's chart, hidden from view, with his left. He studied it for a moment, flipping though several pages of notes. Logan took out a pen and scribbled a few sentences in various areas. He tore out a page, and for the briefest of moments, hesitated, considering his next actions.

Logan glanced around the hospital again, noticing how clean the halls looked and how content the faces of the staff were as they walked past him. His hand wavered slightly, and he shifted his weight to the tips of his toes and back down to his heels. After this brief pondering, Logan regained his strong sense of righteousness and strode over to the ICU desk. The nurse on duty was on the phone and had her back turned to him, as she tried to calm an irate family member.

While she was distracted, Logan placed the chart on the desk and hurried along as he saw another doctor coming towards him. He smiled brightly at the woman and spun around. Logan wiped his brow with his hand, also slick with perspiration. Dismayed at his own temporary self doubt, Logan balled up his fist and shook it angrily by his side. "Get a grip. Got to strike while the iron is hot, Chucky boy," he muttered to himself as he entered the empty elevator.

Dr. Kate Brooks tapped her fingers impatiently on the ICU desk while the nurse behind the counter finished with her phone call. The older nurse smiled apologetically at the doctor. "Sorry about that Dr. Brooks, I had to calm someone down, you how it goes sometimes," the nurse explained.

"Yeah, I understand. So, any new orders for me before I go on break, Mary?"

Mary flipped though several files on her desk, piling them into a neat and orderly stack. She glanced around, then spotting the chart off to the side of the desk. She grabbed it and read the contents of the orders. "Hmmm, yeah, it appears as if Dr. Benton wants the patient in 111 to be extubated. Funny, he didn't say anything to me about it," Mary said as she handed the slip to the doctor.

"Well, I, for one, will not question Dr. Benton's orders. That man can be a real ass when it comes to obeying his word to the letter," Kate replied, accepting the piece of paper. She read scanned the contents. "This guy must have come in when I wasn't on shift. All right, I'll finish with Mr. Carter and then I'm gone for thirty." Kate smiled and headed for room 111.