Peter Benton did not love easily. If his co-workers were consulted, most would say he is incapable of feeling love. In truth, it was a front he put on because sometimes he cared too much.

"Dr. Benton?" Carter's gentle voice broke through the haze surrounding his mind. "What are you doing up here?"

It wasn't until his eyes focused on Carter's face that Peter even realized they were on the roof. "I… don't know," he answered lamely, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

"Sir?" Carter approached him, kneeling so that he was at eye level with the surgeon.

It was then that Benton realized he had slid down the wall and was sitting in a pile of snow. For some reason, though, he couldn't feel the cold. He couldn't feel anything.

Carter's rich brown eyes hovered in front of him, giving him something to focus on and keep his mind from sliding back into the fog that was hovering near the edges of his consciousness. John Carter, the most annoying, frustrating med student he'd ever had to deal with. Carter, who was always prying into his private business, trying to scrub in on cases he wasn't wanted or needed for, and throwing him surprise birthday parties when it wasn't his birthday. It was Carter whose hand was now resting on his lower arm, squeezing gently and sending a feeling of warmth throughout his body from the point of contact.

"Dr. Benton!" Carter's worried voice broke through his musings. "Are you in shock?"

"No," he tried to reassure his worried student. "I was just thinking." He covered Carter's hand with his cold one, his fingers warming from the contact.

"You're going to freeze out here, doing all that thinking," Carter chided, lifting his free hand to Peter's face, his thumb tenderly stroking the older man's cheek.

Peter leaned into the touch, rolling his eyes at Carter's worrying. "Yes, mother," he sighed.

The sarcasm brought a small smile to Carter's face. Sliding his hand from Peter's face to the back of his neck, he rubbed at the tense muscles, dropping a soft kiss to his forehead. "C'mon, let's get you inside," he whispered against Peter's ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin and causing the older man to shiver.

"I lost that little girl," Peter whispered, his face buried against Carter's shoulder. "I did everything I could, but somehow…" he trailed off.

"I know," Carter pulled the older man closer, wrapping his arms around Peter's wide shoulders. "I know."

"She died on the table," he mumbled, his entire body shaking in Carter's arms.

"Inside," Carter repeated, pulling the older man to his feet without lessening his grip.

"Mmmhmm," Peter muttered incoherently against his shoulder, allowing himself to be led across the cold roof and into the relative warmth of the hospital.

Carter led him into an unused exam room, pushing him down onto the mattress and pulling his wet scrub pants from his body.

"Carter?" he reached out for the smaller man, "Please stay?"

"Of course," Carter replied, toeing his shoes off before crawling into the bed next to Benton. He pulled the blanket to waist level and settled himself against the quickly-warming body, resting his head on Benton's shoulder and letting the sound of his heartbeat lull him to sleep. "Of course."