Title: When the World Stops
Summary: What does it feel like to have the world collapse around you with the events of one horrible incident?
Rating:PG-13, for language and serious violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except people you don't recognize.
Author's note: I'm sorry it's so long, but just bear with me. I think you'll like it.
Carter allowed himself a small sigh as he opened the door to his jeep and stepped into the chilly air of Chicago's winter. He was on an early shift today, and chances are, he would stay well past his hours. It was just how things went for him. He had a feeling that Romano was going to be on his back today, too, for no reason other than to annoy him to death.
"Oh yeah," he whispered to himself as he grabbed his bag, "this is going to be buckets of fun."
He hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights, and that made for exhausting days in the ER and possibly fatal mistakes. Of course, Carter knew that he always tried his best, but he often worried about just how much better he could do if he weren't walking around in a sleepy daze all the time, trying to find a quiet examination room to sleep in between cases.
He passed Deb just as he was coming in, and she gave him a quick smile and a playful push, "Hey you."
"Hey yourself," he slowed and turned to face her, "busy today?"
Deb shook her head, "Nope. The only cases we've had are a few minor scrapes and flu bugs, nothing else."
Carter smiled at her, "So are we talking wheelchair hockey?" he hopped up and down a few times to humor her, and Deb laughed.
"Sorry. Weaver's here. She's been breathing down everybody's back all day, including mine," her smile quickly faded into a frown, "no surprise there," she muttered.
Carter sighed as he hung his coat up, "You can't show her that she bothers you, Deb. It'll just make it worse."
She didn't even react to his use of her other name. He guessed that she had finally realized that he wasn't calling her anything else, "It's just that every time she comes near me or even walks into the same room as me, the atmosphere just freezes up. Believe me," she said, shaking her head, "nothing needs to be said. We hate each other without saying a word."
Carter gave her a pat on the shoulder before heading off to the lounge, "Trust me, Deb. She's not as bad as you think."
He left her standing there as he hurried to put his stuff up and clock in. If there was anything Kerry hated, it was tardiness. As he pulled on his lab coat and put his things up, he hummed tunelessly to a song he didn't even know the words to. All he could remember was the upbeat rhythm, and it was stuck for good in his head.
"Whatever you do, Dr. Carter," came a stern voice from behind him, "please don't hum like that. You'll scare the patients."
Startled, Carter spun to see Romano leaning against the table, a smirk on his face. he thought as he gave the older man a tight smile, "Sorry. I'll try to hold it back."
"You do that," Romano answered, before grabbing the newspaper, what he had obviously come for, and walking out slowly.
Carter shrugged to himself as he followed him. That was Romano for you.
He stepped outside into the hallway, only to hear Malik's voice echoing down the hallway, "Head's up!"
Without thinking, Carter caught the small elastic ball, aptly titled, the "Wacky Bouncy Ball" in his left hand with a smile. He fingered the small yellow ball a moment before walking towards the reception desk where Malik stood and tossed it back to him, "Here you go, Malik."
"Thanks, Doc." he answered as he bounced it on the floor a few times.
"No problem." he turned towards the charts and looked for any new patients. What stared back at him was a small assortment of names matched with different complaints, all taken care of but one. An older woman, Gladys Narret. Complaining of sharp pains in the side.
He found her in Exam 2, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he entered, "Mrs. Narret?"
She nodded.
"I'm Dr. Carter," he introduced himself, and she smiled weakly. Her green eyes were tired and dull, and her gray hair was a matted mess, "what seems to be the problem here?"
"Well, I'm not exactly sure," she said softly, so softly that Carter had to lean forward to hear, "I woke up this morning and could barely move because of the awful pain I had in my side. It's faded a bit since I've been up, but it's still there." she touched the spot that the pain seemed to be emanating from, and Carter nodded.
"Do you have any illnesses or diseases, Mrs. Narret?"
She shook her head, "Goodness, no. The only ailment I have is a slight bit of arthritis in my right hand."
"Really?" Carter studied her lined, anxious face, "have you had your appendix removed?"
The woman thought a moment, "No...no, I can't say that I have."
Carter nodded, "Alright. That's more than likely the source of your pain. It's nothing bad, just normal. It's a simple procedure that will only have you in bed a few days." he gave her hand a gentle pat.
She nodded, somewhat nervously, and managed a thank you as Carter made his way out of the room.
"If you'll wait a few minutes, there will be someone in here to schedule your operation."
Again, she nodded, and Carter moved toward the patient list, wondering if any new patients had come in. It was his nature to stay busy, and when he wasn't, he felt as if he would go crazy from the boredom. It looked as if he would have to get used to it, though. It was going to be a very slow day.
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Chico Navarrez gave his padre a little nod as they pulled up in front of the house of two of the biggest gang leaders of the Insane Popes. A few younger guys, one white, two Latinos, wondered around outside in the yard, not even knowing what was about to go down.
"Alright, my man," Chico said quietly as Breno watched him, "you know what goes down. No matter what, you make sure you get two, just like they got Anna and Martinez."
Breno pulled the sawed-off shotgun from under his seat, "You got it, Chico."
Only three days ago, the Insane Popes had done a drive-by on one of the streets of the Two-Sixers' territory and killed two of Chico's closest. Anna, who had only been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, she had been killed by the shot to the head. Chico held back the urge to scream as he thought of her face, covered in blood. They were supposed to get married someday. Now...
Chico slammed his fist into the dash, and Breno jumped beside him, "Keep it down, man," Breno said as he threw a nervous glance to the house, "we don't want them to know we're here."
Chico didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He wanted revenge. And he would have it. Not only for Anna, but for Martinez, his closest padre in the family. It had almost destroyed him, seeing him lying there, dying, not knowing what to do. Now, he knew exactly what to do. Hit them where it hurt the most. Right on their own turf.
Chico nodded to show he was ready as he readied his own gun, a machine gun that Martinez had given him as a gift. Breno drove slowly past the house, and Chico could've sworn he could hear the guy's heart pumping a thousand times per second. It was when they were right in front of the house that Chico let loose on the guys in the yard. His gun jerked with every rapid fire, but Chico didn't worry. He was a good shot. Beside him, Breno took down his own guy with one blast.
What was left were three bodies lying on the dirty ground, and Chico yelled at Breno to floor it as the rest of the Insane Popes flooded the yard. They would be home free if they made if around the block. Chico stared behind him as Breno sped crazily, and it was when they turned several corners that he could relax.
"Yeah," Chico whispered, "that was for you, Anna." he smiled lazily, pleased with himself. Nero would be glad to hear that the punishment had been given for the death of some of their family.
Beside him, Breno let out a sigh, "Chico, man," his voice was nervous and quiet, and Chico's adrenaline high began to fade.
"What, man?"
"I-I didn't kill the white one, man."
Chico felt his anger rise, "What?" he turned to glare at the younger gang member, "you didn't get him?"
"Sorry, man. I was driving at the same time, and I missed his chest, man," Breno slowed the car, "I got his leg."
Chico almost hit the stupid, ignorant kid sitting beside him. Instead, he chose to punch the dashboard again, "Dammitt!" he screamed, "go back. We're finishing him off."
"Are you crazy, amigo? That's suicide!" Breno argued.
Chico almost strangled him, "We ain't leaving one alive, man. It's not the way to go."
The sounds of ambulance sirens made both men stop, and Breno turned to him, "We got to roll, Chico. Cops are gonna be all over this in a minute."
"No," Chico glared at him, "we gonna finish him off, Breno, like good little boys."
"How?"
Chico allowed the smile to form on his grimy, knife-scarred face, "We follow him to the hospital, man. We can be in and out in seconds."
Breno looked like he was about to protest, but Chico cut him off with another glare, "You rather face Nero and say we left one, man?"
Breno shook his head reluctantly, "No."
"Then we follow," Chico put the gun in the floorboard as Breno turned the corner to head back another way to avoid any cops, "now where's the nearest hospital?"
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Haleh sighed as she headed down the hall toward the lingering doctors, "Stupid kids," she muttered as she clamped her hands around her mouth, "we got a GSW coming in! Kid's barely hanging on!"
Automatically, the ER came alive with nurses hurrying to prepare the equipment and doctors rushing toward the ambulance bay. As Dr. Chen sprinted by, she gave Haleh a tight smile, "So much for a slow day."
"You said it," Haleh answered as she joined the others in preparing the ER.
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Carter was among the waiting doctors standing outside in the cold, nothing to protect themselves with but the flimsy white coats that they had come to get used to. The temperature was well below thirty, and Carter shivered as he pulled the thin material closer to his body.
Just then, the ambulance pulled up to the bay, and Carter hurried towards the stretcher that was already being lifted out, "What have we got?"
"GSW to the upper leg, shotgun. Victim was conscious at the scene, but he's going in and out. BP is 80 over 40 and still dropping."
"I got it," Carter looked down at the pained, pale face of a kid who looked to be no more than eighteen. There was a black and blue bandanna around his head, and Carter guessed this had been gang-related, "can you tell me your name?"
The kid's eyelids fluttered, "Ah, it hurts, man," he wheezed painfully.
"I know, "Carter nodded, "what's your name?"
"Paco-,"
"No, I mean your real name."
The kid looked like he wanted to protest, but he glanced at Carter's stern face and thought otherwise, "Daniel. Daniel Tambort."
"Daniel," Carter addressed him, and the kid gazed up at him through slitted eyelids, "I need you to stay with me, okay? Whatever you do, try to stay awake."
Daniel's eyelids drooped, and he began to lose consciousness. Carter cursed as he led the stretcher into the nearest waiting room, "Let's move people, he's lost consciousness."
Deb was beside Carter in an instant, "Let's get an EKG in here, check for any problems in the chest."
"Breath is shallow, but it's there," Carter announced as he removed the stethoscope from Daniel's bare chest, "no need to intubate right now."
Deb only nodded as she began to examine the wound. It was deep, and it had hit a major artery. They would have to stop the flow of the blood in the next minute or so, or there would be no chance, "Stupid kids," she hissed, "why do they do this?"
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Chico made sure that the gun was hidden beneath his jacket as he entered the ER with Breno beside him, hiding his own weapon. No one even glanced at them as they walked past the admissions desk. Chico thought hatefully.
Now, he had gone over the line. There was no turning back, and he knew it. So did Breno, who was sweating and glancing back and forth nervously. It was time they showed them that they meant business, that they would have their revenge for the murders of Anna and Martinez. He threw a look at Breno to get it across that he was in charge of this little operation, and Breno nodded jerkily.
With every step Chico made, he saw Martinez lying there beside Anna, both too far gone, both taken too early. As their faces swirled in his mind, he began to get angrier and angrier, until he was fighting the urge to whip his gun out and start shooting everything. But no, that wouldn't do. He had come for one person, and he was going to get him.
Chico heard a doctor yelling orders down the hallway as he passed the ambulance bay, and he followed the voice, almost certain he would find the dude there. Breno fell into step behind him, obviously beginning to chicken out, but Chico didn't care. All that mattered now was revenge, and he knew that Breno would have to face the consequences for wimping out when this was over.
Chico shook his head to clear his mind as he drew closer to the sounds of the emergency. He knew he may not get out of this alive, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like he had anything to live for now that Anna and Martinez were gone.
He was in the doorway now, and he paused, surveyed what was going down. There was the bloody form of the Insane Pope lying there, out of it. Above him, a young doctor who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties was scrambling to save his life, along with a pretty Asian doctor who kept glancing around nervously. It was obvious that these were good docs, and the kid, who looked no more than eighteen, had a real chance.
Chico thought, chuckling to himself as he raised the gun.
The Asian doctor saw it first, and her eyes widened in fear and disbelief, "Get down!" she screamed, and the whole room reacted. Everyone dropped as Chico let loose, only aiming at the body. If someone happened to get caught in the crossfire, that was too bad for them.
The kid's body jerked and spasmed as the bullets hit, and Chico was overwhelmed by a sense of satisfaction and glee at what he was accomplishing. All he could hear were the bullets, the screaming. All he could feel was the justice he was serving for their taking of his loved ones.
The clip was spent too quickly, and Chico lowered his gun and stared at the figure that now lay dead on the table. He had done what he'd come for. Blood was all over the room, on him, on the walls, even on the nurses.
"That's for you, Anna and Martinez," Chico muttered.
His eyes roamed the room to the nurses as they rose, and the Asian doctor who had screamed the warning. They hadn't been hit. There was one missing, however. The guy doctor. He hadn't stood up.
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Carter could barely register what was going on around him. All he could see was the redness. All he could feel...was the pain. The incredible pain that had exploded in his chest only a second after Deb had screamed the warning. He had ducked too slowly, favoring his back that had been smarting a little that day. Now, he was on the cold floor, in a puddle of something warm and sticky. It matched the rest of the red. Was the red around him his red?
He heard the voices above him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, but they closed on their own, until all he could think was the red. All over everything. So hard to get out of clothes. So hard to get out of the mind.
Carter was beginning to lose consciousness, and his mind drifted slowly as the sounds of the chaos above him faded.
the image of Lucy, dying, with the stab wound in her throat, popped into Carter's wandering, barely conscious mind. There had been red there. All over her, all over the floor. The red had been hers, and there had been too much of it.
Now, the red was his.
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Deb couldn't stop the tears from coursing down her face as she knelt beside the fallen body of her best friend. There was a bullet wound to his chest, and the blood had already began spilling onto the floor, spreading...
She didn't even care about the guy with the gun now. All that mattered was John, who was unconscious and dying right in front of her.
"Oh, God, John, please!" she choked out.
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Chico only stared at the scene. The nurses, scrambling around the crumpled doctor, the blood...the Asian doctor, who looked like her own heart had been wounded, not the guy's. He noticed the tears running down her face. He noticed the pure fear. It was what he had shown only a few days earlier.
He knew what it was like. Standing by, not being able to do a thing as the life of a loved one drained right in front of you. He had done the same thing...cried, screamed. But it had not brought them back, only left him with no one. Just the feeling of revenge.
Chico felt the overwhelming guilt of what he had just brought down upon the unsuspecting people here. It was a feeling he'd never received before, but it was there, growing worse with every breath he took. He knew it wouldn't go away. The revenge had done nothing, only made it worse.
With a sigh, Chico looked to Breno, who was staring with wide eyes at the activity. He knew what had to be done.
Without hesitating, he grabbed his padre's shotgun, the weapon that had put the kid in the hospital, and put it to his head, "I'm sorry, man." Chico whispered to Breno, who yelled and lunged toward him.
"Chico, no!"
But it was too late. Chico pulled the trigger, and all he heard was the blast, the thunder beside his head, then the intense pain as the bullet entered...
And nothing.
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"Oh God!" Cleo couldn't believe it. She had come down from the OR to assist with the kid who had come in, only to witness the scene of a guy who wore a black and tan bandanna around his head kill himself with a shotgun. The blast was imprinted into her mind, and the sight of the lifeless body flopping to the floor. He was dead. There was nothing that could be done.
She saw Dr. Weaver struggling to get around the body and into the room, moving faster than she ever had before. There was something seriously wrong in that room.
Cleo moved closer, afraid of what she would see, then gasped, appalled at what lay before her. The entire room was in shambles, bullet holes were everywhere. Blood was everywhere, from the body of the kid she'd been paged to help out with, who had been dead for several minutes.
Then, she heard the words she had never hoped to hear in her life again, ever since the day Lucy had gotten killed, "Stay with me John! Don't leave us now!" Weaver yelled, panic evident in her usually controlled voice.
And there, laying behind the table, was Dr. Carter. The wound in his chest was pumping more blood hat joined the kid's on the floor. Beside him was Dr. Chen, crying and screaming.
For Cleo, it was as if the world had stopped. And she feared that for Carter, it had for good.
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It was happening again. Almost exactly the same. There was Carter, pale and barely alive, lying on the operating table. His life lay in Peter Benton's hands. Again.
"Let's move people!" he yelled, not able to hide the emotional hitch in his voice.
But it was happening again, and this time, Carter was even closer to death than ever before. A gunshot wound to the chest. The chest. Just like a stab wound in the chest, like Lucy, who had died.
Benton shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Right now, all that mattered was bringing Carter back.
Beside him, Kerry was already examining the wound, "Oh God," she whispered, and Benton's pulse rose even more, "the bullet...," she grabbed the suction tube, "there's pericardial effusion."
"Centesis," Benton ordered as he checked Carter's weak, but steady, pulse.
Kerry began clearing the chest cavity of the blood that had flowed from an as-of-yet unknown ruptured artery, "Clear, but it's still coming."
Benton stuck his finger into Carter's open wound and pinched the leaking artery closed, "We need a vessel suture here," he snapped, and Kerry was there in an instant.
The atmosphere in the room seemed to relax a bit as the steady beep-beep of Carter's pulse droned on. No one talked, just worked desperately to save the young doctor.
Of course, it was that moment when the monitor went crazy, and the beeps changed to a steady whine as Carter's heartbeat was lost completely, "Paddles!" Benton roared, more scared than he had ever been in his life.
"Paddles." Chuny's voice.
"Charge to 150." he choked out.
"Charging."
"Clear!"
A shock, and Carter's body was lifted off the operating table for a moment. Benton paused, praying to a God that had already taken so many in this building, and cursed when there was no response.
"Charge to 200!"
"Charging!" Chuny yelled, panic creeping into her voice.
Benton closed his eyes a moment, hoping against hope that he wouldn't lose one of the best men he'd ever known tonight, "Clear!"
A shock, a jerk, and still no response.
For the first time in his life, Benton began to cry over the operating table.
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Carter opened his eyes slowly, wincing against the bright light that shone in his eyes. It was pure and white, and painful to his vision. He was lying on a stark-white floor, with nothing to be seen except for white walls, unmarked and unmarred, around him. All there was, was white.
"Where-?" he rose slowly as he studied his strange surroundings, "where am I?"
He felt something warm and sticky on the front of his shirt, and Carter looked down to see the bloody wound in his chest . He gasped, terrified. He knew that he shouldn't be there, that he was actually still in Cook County, lying on the operating table.
No, he couldn't be. There was no way...
Carter heard a sound to his right, and he whirled around to see a very tall man standing there. He was taller than Carter himself, who stood at least six-foot two, and his mop of dark curls almost hid his eyes, his hair was so long. The man only stared at Carter, his hands jammed into the pockets of the long dark trench coat he was wearing.
Unnerved by the guy's behavior, Carter gulped, "Uh...can you tell me where I am?"
"You're no where," the guy's voice came at him from all different directions, bared down on him with the power of a higher being, and Carter fought the urge to cower, "you're waiting."
"Waiting?"
The man nodded, "To make a decision. You must choose."
"Choose what?" Carter questioned, but the man simply vanished in front of him. Shocked, he blinked, but the man didn't return. He was alone.
"Choose what?" he asked again, "choose to live?" as soon as the words left his mouth, Carter shivered, suddenly scared. So he was hovering on the brink of death right now. Dr. Benton was probably fighting to save him, but until Carter himself chose...
Carter saw an image of his parents, staring at him disdainfully as he told them that he wanted to become a doctor instead of going into the family business. He could still remember the look of utter and complete disappointment on his father's face, and the cold, impassive behavior he had gotten from them ever since. They hadn't seemed to realize that going into medical school was the only thing he had wanted to do, that being a doctor was something he did well. It was what he had been born to do.
Now, a series of operations that had taken place in the ER flashed into Carter's mind. He had been the head doctor, and with every memory, a feeling of success came to him, and Carter allowed himself a small smile.
But as soon as he thought of those, more emergencies were remembered, this time ones that had failed. he could remember every mother's face, every father's and sibling's face, as he told them the news. he could still remember the complete feeling of inadequacy. Like he didn't belong there, with every lost victim. Those days were always the hardest, and they made for many sleepless nights, no matter how many times he had been told that it wasn't his fault.
Carter's smile had long since faded, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wanted, more than anything, to stop this, because he knew what would be coming.
And it was there. Her face. Lucy, covered in blood, lying on the floor.
"Lucy...," Carter whispered brokenly as the memories of that night came flooding back, worse than ever. They were so strong that Carter had to fall to one knee because of the pain that exploded in his back, as if he had just been stabbed again. Carter groaned painfully and clamped his eyes shut, but she was still there. Staring at him.
/Help me./
Those ice-blue eyes, so wide and dull, nothing like they usually were.../Help me./
Carter felt a tear course down his cheek, and he felt all the strength leave his body. He fell the rest of the way to the floor, not moving, just remembering.
He shouldn't have acted the way he did. So arrogant. he should've realized her instincts. But no, he had stayed blind to the hints, to the symptoms of Paul's sickness...until it had been too late.
/Help me./
Carter put his head in his hands and began to cry softly, "I can't," he whispered miserably, "why would you ever trust me?"
/Help me./
That voice. Always pleading, always trusting, only to be let down by the one person she looked up to the most.
Full of despair and loathing, Carter shook his head, not wanting to see any more.
And for a moment, everything was quiet. No more images of a dying Lucy, no more pain. Just peace.
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Benton's voice was raised to fever pitch as he rubbed the paddles together again, "Charge to 300!"
"Dr. Benton."
"Clear!" he didn't think. All he did, was react on instinct. Just keep going. He'd come back. He'd come back...
"Dr. Benton." Chuny's voice broke through his thoughts, and he finally lowered the paddles.
He looked at each face in the room. Kerry, who was crying silently, wouldn't look up. She looked as if she would collapse in the next few moments, and Peter felt the same way.
Chuny was staring at him, her hands on his own larger ones. She gently took the paddles away and put them on a table, and he didn't protest. All he could do was stare at Carter's pale, lifeless face. He was gone, away from the ones who loved him.
He heard Cleo's voice, full of anger and sadness at the same time, but he couldn't bring himself to react to her words, "Time of death...," she was calling it, because he couldn't, "1:06 PM." the last of her sentence was nothing but a choked sob.
No one moved. No one could. It was devastating. For one long, wretched moment, Benton felt the whole hospital come to a grinding halt. Everything grew quiet, nothing moved, no one spoke or even dared to breath. Operations were suddenly frozen for a second in time.
Because Cook County general had just lost one of the best doctors to ever walk through it's doors.
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"Please, just... let me go," Carter pleaded to no one. The silence of the huge room was deafening to him, strangely enough. And with every heartbeat, the memories of Lucy flashed through his tired mind.
"Why can't I just stop thinking about her?" he asked himself brokenly.
It was then that another image formed in his mind, but it wasn't Lucy. Instead, it was Doug, smiling and telling a great joke, as usual. He had been one of his first real friends in the ER. Then, an image of Dr. Benton, snapping at him angrily for something he had done wrong again. Then, he saw himself, on the night that Kerry and the others had approached him about his drug problem, crying against Dr. Benton's shoulder. He had never seen his mentor's face, until now. It was a look of complete concern and caring for him. It was a look only fathers gave their children.
Next, he saw Abby, rushing to attend to a patient, but stopping just long enough to give someone a little wave and a smile. That was her, always ready with a smile, even if she wasn't exactly having a great day. Chances were, she was waving at him.
And Susan...she always hit a certain chord in him, and as of yet, he still hadn't figured out what it was. Maybe he would, someday.
Carter watched his own memories fly by in rapid succession...Finding out about Dr. Greene's tumor on the basketball court during a break...bickering with Randi over a little something she had skipped over again. He even remembered the day he had woken up to find a cast on his leg, compliments of Dave and a few of his friends. That had been something he hadn't lived down for months.
And Deb, possibly one of his best friends he'd known. In this memory, she was laughing at a joke she had just heard. She was one of the most selfless, generous people Carter knew, even to a fault. He admired her greatly for that. And no matter how many times she had told him to call her Jing-Mei, he had simply stuck with Deb, much to her frustrations. Still, he knew she didn't mind, just because it was him.
Carter recalled the day he had helped her deliver the baby. What she had gone through...so much emotional agony over a mother's want and a baby's needs. He remembered how he had wished so badly that her pain be taken away, to be put onto him. If it would only relieve her for a short while...
Carter found himself smiling at the fond memories he had of all his friends at the ER. Even the worst days and the most depressing couldn't stop him from being a staff member there, just because of the great people that worked there with him.
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Jing-Mei, known to Carter as Deb, slid down the wall of the ER, not able to support herself anymore. He was gone. There would be no more conversations with him, no more advice given to one another, no more jokes that only they laughed at.
There was no more Carter.
Deb couldn't hold back the sobs that escaped her body, the bone-wracking, wrenching sobs that left her feeling weak. It was as if the whole world had collapsed down upon her and it would never better itself. It couldn't, with the one person she cared about the most gone.
Feeling the most vulnerable than she ever had, Deb wrapped her arms around her body and drew her knees up to her chest as she trembled and sniffled. He was gone.
She felt a presence above her, and Deb glanced up to see Kerry standing there, flushed and teary-eyed. It was at that moment that both women forgot everything they hated the other for and stood on common ground. The loss of a dear one. Without hesitating, Kerry was beside her on the floor, and both women were hugging. Deb began to cry into Kerry's shoulder, and the older woman simply held her tightly, as an anchor.
"He knows we loved him," Kerry tried to say, but her words were cut off by more tears that fell down her cheeks.
Deb didn't answer, just cried against Kerry's shoulder.
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"Why are they crying?" Carter asked no one as he watched Kerry draw Deb into one of the tightest hugs he'd ever seen. As he observed what was unfolding before him, Deb began to sob into Kerry's shoulder, and Kerry herself began to cry as well, "what happened?" it was strange enough that the two were even in the same area as the other, much less that they were comforting each other.
he thought, since there was no one to hear his answers.
Suddenly, an idea began to dawn in Carter's mind, and he shook his head disbelievingly, "No."
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Cleo rested her head against Peter's shoulder, exhausted in every way possible. Beside her, peter took a shuddering breath, and she glanced up into his drawn, shocked face.
"Why did it have to be him?" he asked dully, staring at a point only he could see, "he was such a great doctor, so much ahead of him...it should've been me."
Cleo frowned, "No, Peter. Don't say that."
"It should've been me." was all he said as an answer.
"Someone should call Dr. Lewis and the others."
Peter sighed, emotionally numb. The realization of what had just happened hadn't yet set in, but he knew it would. It looked like he would be the one to deliver the devastating news.
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Completely at a loss for words, Susan could only listen to Dr. Benton's tired voice coming from Cook County General. It couldn't be. There was just no way. She had seen him just yesterday, looking just as hurried and kind at the same time, just as he always had.
No.
"Is-is this a sick joke?" she asked incredulously, reacting the only way she could, in anger.
On the other end, Benton sighed, "I wish to God, more than anything, that it were."
"Oh God," suddenly feeling very queasy, Susan slumped to the floor, all strength completely gone from her body.
"No. This is not happening." she whispered, utterly falling apart inside.
And, with Dr. Benton as her witness to her pain, Susan began to weep.
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"I'm not dead," Carter gritted out as he rose, "I'm not dead, dammitt! Send me back! I don't wanna die now!" He was screaming at nothing, yet he hoped, more than anything, that someone would hear and grant one man's wish.
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"What? Oh my God," Elizabeth Corday breathed into the phone. Sensing her distress, Mark Greene looked up from feeding Ella and did a double take when he saw the tears in her eyes. There was something horribly wrong.
She put a hand to her forehead and leaned against the doorway weakly, "I don't believe it. How?" she paused, then sighed deeply, and Mark rose, worried, "Alright. I...alright." she said, then hung up.
"What?" Mark asked, dreading what she was about to say.
Elizabeth turned toward him and bit her lip, "It's Carter. He's dead."
"What?" the room suddenly began to spin, and he handed Elizabeth Ella before leaning against the wall for support, "dead?" he sighed, "what about his parents?"
"They're out of the country." she answered as she began to cry silently, and Mark enveloped her in a hug, Ella between them. So he was forgotten by his own parents, but not by the ones who knew him best.
They stayed like that for hours, not moving. Just remembering the man that was John Carter.
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Carter couldn't bear to see this anymore. Every person he knew at the hospital was grieving for him, and he wanted more than anything to not see it anymore. But everywhere he turned his head, the images were there, torturing him. He hated to see them in such pain. All because of him.
He felt the tears slide down his cheeks as an image of Abby popped up, and Carter tried to prepare himself as best he could with what was to come next.
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Abby just stood there, deathly still, alone in her apartment. She had been getting ready for her shift, when the phone call had come. It had been Dr. Benton, giving her the worst news she had ever heard in her life. Now, she could only stare at nothing, completely numb from the knowledge of Carter's untimely death.
"Why?" she whispered to herself. She hoped an answer would come from somewhere unknown, if only to give her some peace, but when it didn't, she closed her eyes and began to cry tears of anger and loss.
She dropped her head in her hands, not wanting to see the rest of the world around her staying the same, moving on with one major detail missing. He was gone for good, and it was killing her to know that the world was continuing on it's own regular schedule. It just wasn't fair.
"No." she muttered, suddenly more angry than she had ever been, "No!"
Without thinking, Abby threw the phone she was still holding across the room. It hit the wall hard and broke into two pieces, but she didn't care. She was angry at everyone end everything, and she welcomed the pain as she swept her arm across the dining room table. The plates and cluttered objects hit the floor with a crash, but it was music to her ears. She turned, grabbed a vase, and hurled it against the wall. She was out of control now, and each thing she threw or broke, she wanted more.
"No!" she was screaming at everything even as she cried. It was when she ran out of things to break that Abby finally allowed herself to fall to the floor among scattered pieces of broken objects everywhere. They were evidence to her rage.
"Why?" she asked, as she began to rock back and forth slowly, brokenly, "why did you leave, Carter?" she wondered if he heard her, and she glanced skyward, "why did you leave me?"
Feeling more alone and abandoned than Abby had ever felt in her life, she began to cry.
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Carter shook his head, "I didn't want to leave you." he whispered as Abby, small, and fragile, began to sob in her apartment. There were broken things everywhere, but she looked like she didn't care, "I'm so sorry, Abby." he said.
And he truly was.
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Romano almost started screaming at every single person in the ER wing. No one was working, and patients were beginning to pile up in the waiting room. What the Hell was going on? Why was everyone looking like someone had just died?
"Chuny," he hissed, and the nurse hurried over. If not for his anger at the complete incompetence of the staff, he may have noticed that she had been crying, "why is no one working? Do they not realize that they're getting paid?"
She looked shocked for a moment, "Dr. Romano...you didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Dr. Carter. He's dead." her voice trembled a bit as she returned to the admissions desk.
Romano stared after her, dumbfounded. Carter was dead. That was why the staff was acting this way.
Suddenly incredibly sad that a great doctor had just been lost, Romano shook his head as he headed to the lounge. The patients could wait.
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Luka stared at Benton as he registered what he had just heard. The other man was looking at the ground lifelessly, and Luka found himself wondering just how much this had effected Benton, since Dr. Carter had been his student from the beginning.
"He was shot." Luka repeated slowly, still thinking that any moment now, he would awaken from this nightmare that had gripped him so forcefully.
Benton nodded, "Yeah. He was trying to save a gang member. I guess they broughtthe fight to the hospital."
Suddenly not able to move, Luka only stood there. Carter was gone for good. The man who he had been so scared would steal Abby away from him someday, the man who he had not really even liked from the get-go...he was gone.
Luka was suddenly overcome with waves of guilt about how bad he and Carter had gotten along. Truth was, Luka respected Dr. Carter greatly for the things he did in the ER and how well he did them. He had been a fantastic doctor all the way around, and Luka knew there was no denying it.
"We'll miss you, Dr. carter," he whispered to no one, as he turned and headed toward the desk, feeling as if he'd just had the weight of the world put on him.
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Carter stared dully at the white walls surrounding him. The visions and memories had long since subsided, and now he simply sat on the stark white floor, not wanting to move. If this was purgatory, it certainly seemed more torturous than Hell itself.
Was this something that everyone went through?
Sighing, Carter fell back onto the floor and laid there. He wished more tha anything...more than life itself, or heaven, for that matter, that he could be down there with them. He wished that he could suddenly appear out of nowhere and take away all the pain he had caused them.
"I don't care if I go to heaven," he told the walls that had already heard his previous confessions and fears, "all I want is to be back there. it's my life." he muttered as he closed his eyes slowly.
There was the slight sound of a breeze flowing through the room, and Carter looked around him cautiously. Even though he could see nothing but the whiteness, he had the strangest feeling that something was there with him.
"Please," he begged whatever it was, "please...just let me go back. I don't want to die now. I want to be down there, saving other people. it's what I live...," he paused, "lived for."
"Don't take that away from me now."
The breeze picked up slightly, and Carter squinted his eyes against the cold wind that blew all around him. Something was happening, and he knew that this was his only chance, "I have good things going for me," he said, a little louder now, "and good people that help me through the bad things." he sat up as his hope began to rise. Maybe this wasn't the end of him.
"Those are people that don't deserve to go through what they're going through now," Carter continued, "I know what it's like, the guilt, and every single one of them are feeling it right now," Carter looked down slowly as he began to cry, "and I don't want that for them at all."
The wind was stronger now, and it pushed at him from all directions as Carter continued to plead with whatever was holding him here, "Please send me back."
For the first time in his entire life, Carter knew he was at the complete mercy of whatever had brought him here, whether it be God or something else. He knew it held his fate in it's hands, and he feared what may come. It didn't mater, however, for Carter stood up, struggling against the gale-force winds, and threw his arms wide. He knew that he was allowing something to happen to him, and he had no idea what.
And strangely enough, Carter trusted it with every fiber of his soul.
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In Cook County ER, everything seemed to pause for just a moment. The whole hospital was locked in utter silence. Kerry Weaver, pulled away from Jing-Mei and stared disbelievingly as a strange calmness took her over, and she felt totally at peace with herself. Beside her, Jing-Mei breathed in a sigh of contentment.
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Luka Kovac looked up from the chart he was reading, curious as to why the hospital had grown so quiet. It was then that the guilt he had been feeling the last half-hour was suddenly gone, replaced by a complete feeling of tranquility that he hadn't felt in a long time. He couldn't bring himself to speak, all he could do was stand there and feel wave after wave of the strange emotion wash over him.
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In her apartment, Susan gasped as her tears ceased, and her body was overtaken by such a feeling of serenity that she felt as if all was right with the world, as if nothing had happened to steal such a close friend away from her. Despite the strangeness, she couldn't help but smile at the pure contentment she was feeling.
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Abby rose slowly as the gently breeze blew through her ransacked apartment. It was a strange wind that held something sacred in it that she couldn't recognize. She lifted her head towards the sky as the breeze caressed her cheeks, and she began to weep tears of wonder. Something was happening.
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Romano looked around crazily as the hospital grew deathly still, anxious at what was happening. He headed towards the door of the lounge, curious, but his steps were halted when he was overcome by a feeling of quiet happiness that he knew wasn't coming from him. It's whereabouts seemed to be from a higher level, and Romano glanced towards the ceiling, waiting for the next moment.
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Ella's cries were suddenly gone, and Elizabeth looked down to see her baby staring in wonder at something she couldn't see. It was as if Ella had suddenly become happy.
"Mark-?" Elizabeth began, turning toward her husband, only to hesitate as a strange feeling of harmony was felt from deep within her, and she saw Mark was smiling, obviously also feeling whatever it was that had taken it's effect on Ella as well. It was so hard to describe. It was so many things at once that Elizabeth felt the tears spring to her eyes, she was so immersed in complete peace and joy at the same time. She watched as Mark closed his eyes, savoring the strange moment. It was definitely something God-sent.
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Peter Benton stopped in mid sigh, shocked into silence, as the strange feeling of peace came over him. The hospital had grown quiet only moments before, and he realized that whatever this was, it was touching everyone here.
"Carter." he whispered, suddenly realizing that whatever this was, it had something to do with the young doctor.
Beside him, Cleo, drew in a sharp breath, and he felt her body relax completely. Peter closed his eyes slowly as the feelings of stillness increased, grateful beyond belief for the reprieve that had been granted to the grieving staff of Cook County General ER.
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Carter closed his eyes against the blinding white light that bared down on him from all directions. He had no idea where he was, all he knew was that he was traveling somewhere, though not by any conventional means. He was actually floating, speeding through time, and all he could see was the ethereal light that made him shield his eyes from it's purity. Something was happening, something that had been caused by his pleas to be sent back.
As he was hurtled through the light, Carter began to feel heavier and heavier, until he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds. Then, he was overcome by such a feeling of exhaustion, that it was all he could do to close his eyes and drift off to sleep...
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"Carter...Carter," a female's voice from up above him, "come on John, wake up."
Carter groaned as his head suddenly began to pound. It was more than a headache, that much he knew. The pain seemed to be radiating from his temple, and he touched it gingerly without opening his eyes, then winced as the pain exploded from his touch.
He opened his eyes slowly, then squinted against the bright lights of the hospital ceiling. He was lying on the floor of the operating room, and Deb was above him, along with Chuny, Kerry, and Cleo, "What happened?" he wheezed out as he studied each face.
Deb gave him a pat on the shoulder, "You hit your head pretty hard when you ducked."
"The guy with the gun?" he asked.
"No one was hit, just the kid who had come in with the GSW," Deb sighed, "thank God no one had been caught in the crossfire."
"Where is he?"
Deb look away for a moment, "He killed himself."
Carter blinked disbelievingly, "Killed himself?"
She nodded, and Carter started to sit up, only to be hit with such a severe wave of dizziness that he had to close his eyes to keep from throwing up, "Whoa."
Deb pushed him back down to the floor, "Wait for a stretcher. You've probably got a concussion."
"No, I'm-I'm fine." he protested weakly, even though he didn't make a move to rise.
Deb smiled warmly, "You had me scared. I thought you had been shot."
"Nope. Just being my clumsy self again." he smiled back, though painfully.
"Yeah, well, that beats getting shot, Carter," Kerry spoke up as she rose and smiled at him, "welcome back to the real world."
"Hey, I love that show!" Malik's voice floated from the hallway, and despite the pain and the fact that they had lost Daniel, Carter couldn't help but chuckle.
As Carter waited for the stretcher, he couldn't help but feel that he was forgetting something very important, like it was just out of reach of his memory. It was almost like something had happened here, something different, but it had been erased from everyone's memory, even his own.
"Hmmm," he whispered, "strange."
Deb glanced down at him, "What's strange?"
"Nothing." Carter smiled up at her, "just a weird feeling, I guess."
"Oh," she nodded, "probably that concussion working it's magic."
Carter nodded, "That's it," he hesitated as something popped into his mind from nowhere, "and the world didn't stop."
"What?"
Carter gave her a crooked grin, "Nothing."
Nothing at all. And that was as it should be.
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Okay, so that's it! Did you like it? I know it was a lot of angst and stuff, but that's what I do best. If you can, please R/R for me. it makes my day much better!:)
Summary: What does it feel like to have the world collapse around you with the events of one horrible incident?
Rating:PG-13, for language and serious violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except people you don't recognize.
Author's note: I'm sorry it's so long, but just bear with me. I think you'll like it.
Carter allowed himself a small sigh as he opened the door to his jeep and stepped into the chilly air of Chicago's winter. He was on an early shift today, and chances are, he would stay well past his hours. It was just how things went for him. He had a feeling that Romano was going to be on his back today, too, for no reason other than to annoy him to death.
"Oh yeah," he whispered to himself as he grabbed his bag, "this is going to be buckets of fun."
He hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights, and that made for exhausting days in the ER and possibly fatal mistakes. Of course, Carter knew that he always tried his best, but he often worried about just how much better he could do if he weren't walking around in a sleepy daze all the time, trying to find a quiet examination room to sleep in between cases.
He passed Deb just as he was coming in, and she gave him a quick smile and a playful push, "Hey you."
"Hey yourself," he slowed and turned to face her, "busy today?"
Deb shook her head, "Nope. The only cases we've had are a few minor scrapes and flu bugs, nothing else."
Carter smiled at her, "So are we talking wheelchair hockey?" he hopped up and down a few times to humor her, and Deb laughed.
"Sorry. Weaver's here. She's been breathing down everybody's back all day, including mine," her smile quickly faded into a frown, "no surprise there," she muttered.
Carter sighed as he hung his coat up, "You can't show her that she bothers you, Deb. It'll just make it worse."
She didn't even react to his use of her other name. He guessed that she had finally realized that he wasn't calling her anything else, "It's just that every time she comes near me or even walks into the same room as me, the atmosphere just freezes up. Believe me," she said, shaking her head, "nothing needs to be said. We hate each other without saying a word."
Carter gave her a pat on the shoulder before heading off to the lounge, "Trust me, Deb. She's not as bad as you think."
He left her standing there as he hurried to put his stuff up and clock in. If there was anything Kerry hated, it was tardiness. As he pulled on his lab coat and put his things up, he hummed tunelessly to a song he didn't even know the words to. All he could remember was the upbeat rhythm, and it was stuck for good in his head.
"Whatever you do, Dr. Carter," came a stern voice from behind him, "please don't hum like that. You'll scare the patients."
Startled, Carter spun to see Romano leaning against the table, a smirk on his face. he thought as he gave the older man a tight smile, "Sorry. I'll try to hold it back."
"You do that," Romano answered, before grabbing the newspaper, what he had obviously come for, and walking out slowly.
Carter shrugged to himself as he followed him. That was Romano for you.
He stepped outside into the hallway, only to hear Malik's voice echoing down the hallway, "Head's up!"
Without thinking, Carter caught the small elastic ball, aptly titled, the "Wacky Bouncy Ball" in his left hand with a smile. He fingered the small yellow ball a moment before walking towards the reception desk where Malik stood and tossed it back to him, "Here you go, Malik."
"Thanks, Doc." he answered as he bounced it on the floor a few times.
"No problem." he turned towards the charts and looked for any new patients. What stared back at him was a small assortment of names matched with different complaints, all taken care of but one. An older woman, Gladys Narret. Complaining of sharp pains in the side.
He found her in Exam 2, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he entered, "Mrs. Narret?"
She nodded.
"I'm Dr. Carter," he introduced himself, and she smiled weakly. Her green eyes were tired and dull, and her gray hair was a matted mess, "what seems to be the problem here?"
"Well, I'm not exactly sure," she said softly, so softly that Carter had to lean forward to hear, "I woke up this morning and could barely move because of the awful pain I had in my side. It's faded a bit since I've been up, but it's still there." she touched the spot that the pain seemed to be emanating from, and Carter nodded.
"Do you have any illnesses or diseases, Mrs. Narret?"
She shook her head, "Goodness, no. The only ailment I have is a slight bit of arthritis in my right hand."
"Really?" Carter studied her lined, anxious face, "have you had your appendix removed?"
The woman thought a moment, "No...no, I can't say that I have."
Carter nodded, "Alright. That's more than likely the source of your pain. It's nothing bad, just normal. It's a simple procedure that will only have you in bed a few days." he gave her hand a gentle pat.
She nodded, somewhat nervously, and managed a thank you as Carter made his way out of the room.
"If you'll wait a few minutes, there will be someone in here to schedule your operation."
Again, she nodded, and Carter moved toward the patient list, wondering if any new patients had come in. It was his nature to stay busy, and when he wasn't, he felt as if he would go crazy from the boredom. It looked as if he would have to get used to it, though. It was going to be a very slow day.
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Chico Navarrez gave his padre a little nod as they pulled up in front of the house of two of the biggest gang leaders of the Insane Popes. A few younger guys, one white, two Latinos, wondered around outside in the yard, not even knowing what was about to go down.
"Alright, my man," Chico said quietly as Breno watched him, "you know what goes down. No matter what, you make sure you get two, just like they got Anna and Martinez."
Breno pulled the sawed-off shotgun from under his seat, "You got it, Chico."
Only three days ago, the Insane Popes had done a drive-by on one of the streets of the Two-Sixers' territory and killed two of Chico's closest. Anna, who had only been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, she had been killed by the shot to the head. Chico held back the urge to scream as he thought of her face, covered in blood. They were supposed to get married someday. Now...
Chico slammed his fist into the dash, and Breno jumped beside him, "Keep it down, man," Breno said as he threw a nervous glance to the house, "we don't want them to know we're here."
Chico didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He wanted revenge. And he would have it. Not only for Anna, but for Martinez, his closest padre in the family. It had almost destroyed him, seeing him lying there, dying, not knowing what to do. Now, he knew exactly what to do. Hit them where it hurt the most. Right on their own turf.
Chico nodded to show he was ready as he readied his own gun, a machine gun that Martinez had given him as a gift. Breno drove slowly past the house, and Chico could've sworn he could hear the guy's heart pumping a thousand times per second. It was when they were right in front of the house that Chico let loose on the guys in the yard. His gun jerked with every rapid fire, but Chico didn't worry. He was a good shot. Beside him, Breno took down his own guy with one blast.
What was left were three bodies lying on the dirty ground, and Chico yelled at Breno to floor it as the rest of the Insane Popes flooded the yard. They would be home free if they made if around the block. Chico stared behind him as Breno sped crazily, and it was when they turned several corners that he could relax.
"Yeah," Chico whispered, "that was for you, Anna." he smiled lazily, pleased with himself. Nero would be glad to hear that the punishment had been given for the death of some of their family.
Beside him, Breno let out a sigh, "Chico, man," his voice was nervous and quiet, and Chico's adrenaline high began to fade.
"What, man?"
"I-I didn't kill the white one, man."
Chico felt his anger rise, "What?" he turned to glare at the younger gang member, "you didn't get him?"
"Sorry, man. I was driving at the same time, and I missed his chest, man," Breno slowed the car, "I got his leg."
Chico almost hit the stupid, ignorant kid sitting beside him. Instead, he chose to punch the dashboard again, "Dammitt!" he screamed, "go back. We're finishing him off."
"Are you crazy, amigo? That's suicide!" Breno argued.
Chico almost strangled him, "We ain't leaving one alive, man. It's not the way to go."
The sounds of ambulance sirens made both men stop, and Breno turned to him, "We got to roll, Chico. Cops are gonna be all over this in a minute."
"No," Chico glared at him, "we gonna finish him off, Breno, like good little boys."
"How?"
Chico allowed the smile to form on his grimy, knife-scarred face, "We follow him to the hospital, man. We can be in and out in seconds."
Breno looked like he was about to protest, but Chico cut him off with another glare, "You rather face Nero and say we left one, man?"
Breno shook his head reluctantly, "No."
"Then we follow," Chico put the gun in the floorboard as Breno turned the corner to head back another way to avoid any cops, "now where's the nearest hospital?"
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Haleh sighed as she headed down the hall toward the lingering doctors, "Stupid kids," she muttered as she clamped her hands around her mouth, "we got a GSW coming in! Kid's barely hanging on!"
Automatically, the ER came alive with nurses hurrying to prepare the equipment and doctors rushing toward the ambulance bay. As Dr. Chen sprinted by, she gave Haleh a tight smile, "So much for a slow day."
"You said it," Haleh answered as she joined the others in preparing the ER.
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Carter was among the waiting doctors standing outside in the cold, nothing to protect themselves with but the flimsy white coats that they had come to get used to. The temperature was well below thirty, and Carter shivered as he pulled the thin material closer to his body.
Just then, the ambulance pulled up to the bay, and Carter hurried towards the stretcher that was already being lifted out, "What have we got?"
"GSW to the upper leg, shotgun. Victim was conscious at the scene, but he's going in and out. BP is 80 over 40 and still dropping."
"I got it," Carter looked down at the pained, pale face of a kid who looked to be no more than eighteen. There was a black and blue bandanna around his head, and Carter guessed this had been gang-related, "can you tell me your name?"
The kid's eyelids fluttered, "Ah, it hurts, man," he wheezed painfully.
"I know, "Carter nodded, "what's your name?"
"Paco-,"
"No, I mean your real name."
The kid looked like he wanted to protest, but he glanced at Carter's stern face and thought otherwise, "Daniel. Daniel Tambort."
"Daniel," Carter addressed him, and the kid gazed up at him through slitted eyelids, "I need you to stay with me, okay? Whatever you do, try to stay awake."
Daniel's eyelids drooped, and he began to lose consciousness. Carter cursed as he led the stretcher into the nearest waiting room, "Let's move people, he's lost consciousness."
Deb was beside Carter in an instant, "Let's get an EKG in here, check for any problems in the chest."
"Breath is shallow, but it's there," Carter announced as he removed the stethoscope from Daniel's bare chest, "no need to intubate right now."
Deb only nodded as she began to examine the wound. It was deep, and it had hit a major artery. They would have to stop the flow of the blood in the next minute or so, or there would be no chance, "Stupid kids," she hissed, "why do they do this?"
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Chico made sure that the gun was hidden beneath his jacket as he entered the ER with Breno beside him, hiding his own weapon. No one even glanced at them as they walked past the admissions desk. Chico thought hatefully.
Now, he had gone over the line. There was no turning back, and he knew it. So did Breno, who was sweating and glancing back and forth nervously. It was time they showed them that they meant business, that they would have their revenge for the murders of Anna and Martinez. He threw a look at Breno to get it across that he was in charge of this little operation, and Breno nodded jerkily.
With every step Chico made, he saw Martinez lying there beside Anna, both too far gone, both taken too early. As their faces swirled in his mind, he began to get angrier and angrier, until he was fighting the urge to whip his gun out and start shooting everything. But no, that wouldn't do. He had come for one person, and he was going to get him.
Chico heard a doctor yelling orders down the hallway as he passed the ambulance bay, and he followed the voice, almost certain he would find the dude there. Breno fell into step behind him, obviously beginning to chicken out, but Chico didn't care. All that mattered now was revenge, and he knew that Breno would have to face the consequences for wimping out when this was over.
Chico shook his head to clear his mind as he drew closer to the sounds of the emergency. He knew he may not get out of this alive, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like he had anything to live for now that Anna and Martinez were gone.
He was in the doorway now, and he paused, surveyed what was going down. There was the bloody form of the Insane Pope lying there, out of it. Above him, a young doctor who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties was scrambling to save his life, along with a pretty Asian doctor who kept glancing around nervously. It was obvious that these were good docs, and the kid, who looked no more than eighteen, had a real chance.
Chico thought, chuckling to himself as he raised the gun.
The Asian doctor saw it first, and her eyes widened in fear and disbelief, "Get down!" she screamed, and the whole room reacted. Everyone dropped as Chico let loose, only aiming at the body. If someone happened to get caught in the crossfire, that was too bad for them.
The kid's body jerked and spasmed as the bullets hit, and Chico was overwhelmed by a sense of satisfaction and glee at what he was accomplishing. All he could hear were the bullets, the screaming. All he could feel was the justice he was serving for their taking of his loved ones.
The clip was spent too quickly, and Chico lowered his gun and stared at the figure that now lay dead on the table. He had done what he'd come for. Blood was all over the room, on him, on the walls, even on the nurses.
"That's for you, Anna and Martinez," Chico muttered.
His eyes roamed the room to the nurses as they rose, and the Asian doctor who had screamed the warning. They hadn't been hit. There was one missing, however. The guy doctor. He hadn't stood up.
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Carter could barely register what was going on around him. All he could see was the redness. All he could feel...was the pain. The incredible pain that had exploded in his chest only a second after Deb had screamed the warning. He had ducked too slowly, favoring his back that had been smarting a little that day. Now, he was on the cold floor, in a puddle of something warm and sticky. It matched the rest of the red. Was the red around him his red?
He heard the voices above him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, but they closed on their own, until all he could think was the red. All over everything. So hard to get out of clothes. So hard to get out of the mind.
Carter was beginning to lose consciousness, and his mind drifted slowly as the sounds of the chaos above him faded.
the image of Lucy, dying, with the stab wound in her throat, popped into Carter's wandering, barely conscious mind. There had been red there. All over her, all over the floor. The red had been hers, and there had been too much of it.
Now, the red was his.
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Deb couldn't stop the tears from coursing down her face as she knelt beside the fallen body of her best friend. There was a bullet wound to his chest, and the blood had already began spilling onto the floor, spreading...
She didn't even care about the guy with the gun now. All that mattered was John, who was unconscious and dying right in front of her.
"Oh, God, John, please!" she choked out.
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Chico only stared at the scene. The nurses, scrambling around the crumpled doctor, the blood...the Asian doctor, who looked like her own heart had been wounded, not the guy's. He noticed the tears running down her face. He noticed the pure fear. It was what he had shown only a few days earlier.
He knew what it was like. Standing by, not being able to do a thing as the life of a loved one drained right in front of you. He had done the same thing...cried, screamed. But it had not brought them back, only left him with no one. Just the feeling of revenge.
Chico felt the overwhelming guilt of what he had just brought down upon the unsuspecting people here. It was a feeling he'd never received before, but it was there, growing worse with every breath he took. He knew it wouldn't go away. The revenge had done nothing, only made it worse.
With a sigh, Chico looked to Breno, who was staring with wide eyes at the activity. He knew what had to be done.
Without hesitating, he grabbed his padre's shotgun, the weapon that had put the kid in the hospital, and put it to his head, "I'm sorry, man." Chico whispered to Breno, who yelled and lunged toward him.
"Chico, no!"
But it was too late. Chico pulled the trigger, and all he heard was the blast, the thunder beside his head, then the intense pain as the bullet entered...
And nothing.
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"Oh God!" Cleo couldn't believe it. She had come down from the OR to assist with the kid who had come in, only to witness the scene of a guy who wore a black and tan bandanna around his head kill himself with a shotgun. The blast was imprinted into her mind, and the sight of the lifeless body flopping to the floor. He was dead. There was nothing that could be done.
She saw Dr. Weaver struggling to get around the body and into the room, moving faster than she ever had before. There was something seriously wrong in that room.
Cleo moved closer, afraid of what she would see, then gasped, appalled at what lay before her. The entire room was in shambles, bullet holes were everywhere. Blood was everywhere, from the body of the kid she'd been paged to help out with, who had been dead for several minutes.
Then, she heard the words she had never hoped to hear in her life again, ever since the day Lucy had gotten killed, "Stay with me John! Don't leave us now!" Weaver yelled, panic evident in her usually controlled voice.
And there, laying behind the table, was Dr. Carter. The wound in his chest was pumping more blood hat joined the kid's on the floor. Beside him was Dr. Chen, crying and screaming.
For Cleo, it was as if the world had stopped. And she feared that for Carter, it had for good.
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It was happening again. Almost exactly the same. There was Carter, pale and barely alive, lying on the operating table. His life lay in Peter Benton's hands. Again.
"Let's move people!" he yelled, not able to hide the emotional hitch in his voice.
But it was happening again, and this time, Carter was even closer to death than ever before. A gunshot wound to the chest. The chest. Just like a stab wound in the chest, like Lucy, who had died.
Benton shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Right now, all that mattered was bringing Carter back.
Beside him, Kerry was already examining the wound, "Oh God," she whispered, and Benton's pulse rose even more, "the bullet...," she grabbed the suction tube, "there's pericardial effusion."
"Centesis," Benton ordered as he checked Carter's weak, but steady, pulse.
Kerry began clearing the chest cavity of the blood that had flowed from an as-of-yet unknown ruptured artery, "Clear, but it's still coming."
Benton stuck his finger into Carter's open wound and pinched the leaking artery closed, "We need a vessel suture here," he snapped, and Kerry was there in an instant.
The atmosphere in the room seemed to relax a bit as the steady beep-beep of Carter's pulse droned on. No one talked, just worked desperately to save the young doctor.
Of course, it was that moment when the monitor went crazy, and the beeps changed to a steady whine as Carter's heartbeat was lost completely, "Paddles!" Benton roared, more scared than he had ever been in his life.
"Paddles." Chuny's voice.
"Charge to 150." he choked out.
"Charging."
"Clear!"
A shock, and Carter's body was lifted off the operating table for a moment. Benton paused, praying to a God that had already taken so many in this building, and cursed when there was no response.
"Charge to 200!"
"Charging!" Chuny yelled, panic creeping into her voice.
Benton closed his eyes a moment, hoping against hope that he wouldn't lose one of the best men he'd ever known tonight, "Clear!"
A shock, a jerk, and still no response.
For the first time in his life, Benton began to cry over the operating table.
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Carter opened his eyes slowly, wincing against the bright light that shone in his eyes. It was pure and white, and painful to his vision. He was lying on a stark-white floor, with nothing to be seen except for white walls, unmarked and unmarred, around him. All there was, was white.
"Where-?" he rose slowly as he studied his strange surroundings, "where am I?"
He felt something warm and sticky on the front of his shirt, and Carter looked down to see the bloody wound in his chest . He gasped, terrified. He knew that he shouldn't be there, that he was actually still in Cook County, lying on the operating table.
No, he couldn't be. There was no way...
Carter heard a sound to his right, and he whirled around to see a very tall man standing there. He was taller than Carter himself, who stood at least six-foot two, and his mop of dark curls almost hid his eyes, his hair was so long. The man only stared at Carter, his hands jammed into the pockets of the long dark trench coat he was wearing.
Unnerved by the guy's behavior, Carter gulped, "Uh...can you tell me where I am?"
"You're no where," the guy's voice came at him from all different directions, bared down on him with the power of a higher being, and Carter fought the urge to cower, "you're waiting."
"Waiting?"
The man nodded, "To make a decision. You must choose."
"Choose what?" Carter questioned, but the man simply vanished in front of him. Shocked, he blinked, but the man didn't return. He was alone.
"Choose what?" he asked again, "choose to live?" as soon as the words left his mouth, Carter shivered, suddenly scared. So he was hovering on the brink of death right now. Dr. Benton was probably fighting to save him, but until Carter himself chose...
Carter saw an image of his parents, staring at him disdainfully as he told them that he wanted to become a doctor instead of going into the family business. He could still remember the look of utter and complete disappointment on his father's face, and the cold, impassive behavior he had gotten from them ever since. They hadn't seemed to realize that going into medical school was the only thing he had wanted to do, that being a doctor was something he did well. It was what he had been born to do.
Now, a series of operations that had taken place in the ER flashed into Carter's mind. He had been the head doctor, and with every memory, a feeling of success came to him, and Carter allowed himself a small smile.
But as soon as he thought of those, more emergencies were remembered, this time ones that had failed. he could remember every mother's face, every father's and sibling's face, as he told them the news. he could still remember the complete feeling of inadequacy. Like he didn't belong there, with every lost victim. Those days were always the hardest, and they made for many sleepless nights, no matter how many times he had been told that it wasn't his fault.
Carter's smile had long since faded, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wanted, more than anything, to stop this, because he knew what would be coming.
And it was there. Her face. Lucy, covered in blood, lying on the floor.
"Lucy...," Carter whispered brokenly as the memories of that night came flooding back, worse than ever. They were so strong that Carter had to fall to one knee because of the pain that exploded in his back, as if he had just been stabbed again. Carter groaned painfully and clamped his eyes shut, but she was still there. Staring at him.
/Help me./
Those ice-blue eyes, so wide and dull, nothing like they usually were.../Help me./
Carter felt a tear course down his cheek, and he felt all the strength leave his body. He fell the rest of the way to the floor, not moving, just remembering.
He shouldn't have acted the way he did. So arrogant. he should've realized her instincts. But no, he had stayed blind to the hints, to the symptoms of Paul's sickness...until it had been too late.
/Help me./
Carter put his head in his hands and began to cry softly, "I can't," he whispered miserably, "why would you ever trust me?"
/Help me./
That voice. Always pleading, always trusting, only to be let down by the one person she looked up to the most.
Full of despair and loathing, Carter shook his head, not wanting to see any more.
And for a moment, everything was quiet. No more images of a dying Lucy, no more pain. Just peace.
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Benton's voice was raised to fever pitch as he rubbed the paddles together again, "Charge to 300!"
"Dr. Benton."
"Clear!" he didn't think. All he did, was react on instinct. Just keep going. He'd come back. He'd come back...
"Dr. Benton." Chuny's voice broke through his thoughts, and he finally lowered the paddles.
He looked at each face in the room. Kerry, who was crying silently, wouldn't look up. She looked as if she would collapse in the next few moments, and Peter felt the same way.
Chuny was staring at him, her hands on his own larger ones. She gently took the paddles away and put them on a table, and he didn't protest. All he could do was stare at Carter's pale, lifeless face. He was gone, away from the ones who loved him.
He heard Cleo's voice, full of anger and sadness at the same time, but he couldn't bring himself to react to her words, "Time of death...," she was calling it, because he couldn't, "1:06 PM." the last of her sentence was nothing but a choked sob.
No one moved. No one could. It was devastating. For one long, wretched moment, Benton felt the whole hospital come to a grinding halt. Everything grew quiet, nothing moved, no one spoke or even dared to breath. Operations were suddenly frozen for a second in time.
Because Cook County general had just lost one of the best doctors to ever walk through it's doors.
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"Please, just... let me go," Carter pleaded to no one. The silence of the huge room was deafening to him, strangely enough. And with every heartbeat, the memories of Lucy flashed through his tired mind.
"Why can't I just stop thinking about her?" he asked himself brokenly.
It was then that another image formed in his mind, but it wasn't Lucy. Instead, it was Doug, smiling and telling a great joke, as usual. He had been one of his first real friends in the ER. Then, an image of Dr. Benton, snapping at him angrily for something he had done wrong again. Then, he saw himself, on the night that Kerry and the others had approached him about his drug problem, crying against Dr. Benton's shoulder. He had never seen his mentor's face, until now. It was a look of complete concern and caring for him. It was a look only fathers gave their children.
Next, he saw Abby, rushing to attend to a patient, but stopping just long enough to give someone a little wave and a smile. That was her, always ready with a smile, even if she wasn't exactly having a great day. Chances were, she was waving at him.
And Susan...she always hit a certain chord in him, and as of yet, he still hadn't figured out what it was. Maybe he would, someday.
Carter watched his own memories fly by in rapid succession...Finding out about Dr. Greene's tumor on the basketball court during a break...bickering with Randi over a little something she had skipped over again. He even remembered the day he had woken up to find a cast on his leg, compliments of Dave and a few of his friends. That had been something he hadn't lived down for months.
And Deb, possibly one of his best friends he'd known. In this memory, she was laughing at a joke she had just heard. She was one of the most selfless, generous people Carter knew, even to a fault. He admired her greatly for that. And no matter how many times she had told him to call her Jing-Mei, he had simply stuck with Deb, much to her frustrations. Still, he knew she didn't mind, just because it was him.
Carter recalled the day he had helped her deliver the baby. What she had gone through...so much emotional agony over a mother's want and a baby's needs. He remembered how he had wished so badly that her pain be taken away, to be put onto him. If it would only relieve her for a short while...
Carter found himself smiling at the fond memories he had of all his friends at the ER. Even the worst days and the most depressing couldn't stop him from being a staff member there, just because of the great people that worked there with him.
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Jing-Mei, known to Carter as Deb, slid down the wall of the ER, not able to support herself anymore. He was gone. There would be no more conversations with him, no more advice given to one another, no more jokes that only they laughed at.
There was no more Carter.
Deb couldn't hold back the sobs that escaped her body, the bone-wracking, wrenching sobs that left her feeling weak. It was as if the whole world had collapsed down upon her and it would never better itself. It couldn't, with the one person she cared about the most gone.
Feeling the most vulnerable than she ever had, Deb wrapped her arms around her body and drew her knees up to her chest as she trembled and sniffled. He was gone.
She felt a presence above her, and Deb glanced up to see Kerry standing there, flushed and teary-eyed. It was at that moment that both women forgot everything they hated the other for and stood on common ground. The loss of a dear one. Without hesitating, Kerry was beside her on the floor, and both women were hugging. Deb began to cry into Kerry's shoulder, and the older woman simply held her tightly, as an anchor.
"He knows we loved him," Kerry tried to say, but her words were cut off by more tears that fell down her cheeks.
Deb didn't answer, just cried against Kerry's shoulder.
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"Why are they crying?" Carter asked no one as he watched Kerry draw Deb into one of the tightest hugs he'd ever seen. As he observed what was unfolding before him, Deb began to sob into Kerry's shoulder, and Kerry herself began to cry as well, "what happened?" it was strange enough that the two were even in the same area as the other, much less that they were comforting each other.
he thought, since there was no one to hear his answers.
Suddenly, an idea began to dawn in Carter's mind, and he shook his head disbelievingly, "No."
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Cleo rested her head against Peter's shoulder, exhausted in every way possible. Beside her, peter took a shuddering breath, and she glanced up into his drawn, shocked face.
"Why did it have to be him?" he asked dully, staring at a point only he could see, "he was such a great doctor, so much ahead of him...it should've been me."
Cleo frowned, "No, Peter. Don't say that."
"It should've been me." was all he said as an answer.
"Someone should call Dr. Lewis and the others."
Peter sighed, emotionally numb. The realization of what had just happened hadn't yet set in, but he knew it would. It looked like he would be the one to deliver the devastating news.
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Completely at a loss for words, Susan could only listen to Dr. Benton's tired voice coming from Cook County General. It couldn't be. There was just no way. She had seen him just yesterday, looking just as hurried and kind at the same time, just as he always had.
No.
"Is-is this a sick joke?" she asked incredulously, reacting the only way she could, in anger.
On the other end, Benton sighed, "I wish to God, more than anything, that it were."
"Oh God," suddenly feeling very queasy, Susan slumped to the floor, all strength completely gone from her body.
"No. This is not happening." she whispered, utterly falling apart inside.
And, with Dr. Benton as her witness to her pain, Susan began to weep.
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"I'm not dead," Carter gritted out as he rose, "I'm not dead, dammitt! Send me back! I don't wanna die now!" He was screaming at nothing, yet he hoped, more than anything, that someone would hear and grant one man's wish.
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"What? Oh my God," Elizabeth Corday breathed into the phone. Sensing her distress, Mark Greene looked up from feeding Ella and did a double take when he saw the tears in her eyes. There was something horribly wrong.
She put a hand to her forehead and leaned against the doorway weakly, "I don't believe it. How?" she paused, then sighed deeply, and Mark rose, worried, "Alright. I...alright." she said, then hung up.
"What?" Mark asked, dreading what she was about to say.
Elizabeth turned toward him and bit her lip, "It's Carter. He's dead."
"What?" the room suddenly began to spin, and he handed Elizabeth Ella before leaning against the wall for support, "dead?" he sighed, "what about his parents?"
"They're out of the country." she answered as she began to cry silently, and Mark enveloped her in a hug, Ella between them. So he was forgotten by his own parents, but not by the ones who knew him best.
They stayed like that for hours, not moving. Just remembering the man that was John Carter.
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Carter couldn't bear to see this anymore. Every person he knew at the hospital was grieving for him, and he wanted more than anything to not see it anymore. But everywhere he turned his head, the images were there, torturing him. He hated to see them in such pain. All because of him.
He felt the tears slide down his cheeks as an image of Abby popped up, and Carter tried to prepare himself as best he could with what was to come next.
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Abby just stood there, deathly still, alone in her apartment. She had been getting ready for her shift, when the phone call had come. It had been Dr. Benton, giving her the worst news she had ever heard in her life. Now, she could only stare at nothing, completely numb from the knowledge of Carter's untimely death.
"Why?" she whispered to herself. She hoped an answer would come from somewhere unknown, if only to give her some peace, but when it didn't, she closed her eyes and began to cry tears of anger and loss.
She dropped her head in her hands, not wanting to see the rest of the world around her staying the same, moving on with one major detail missing. He was gone for good, and it was killing her to know that the world was continuing on it's own regular schedule. It just wasn't fair.
"No." she muttered, suddenly more angry than she had ever been, "No!"
Without thinking, Abby threw the phone she was still holding across the room. It hit the wall hard and broke into two pieces, but she didn't care. She was angry at everyone end everything, and she welcomed the pain as she swept her arm across the dining room table. The plates and cluttered objects hit the floor with a crash, but it was music to her ears. She turned, grabbed a vase, and hurled it against the wall. She was out of control now, and each thing she threw or broke, she wanted more.
"No!" she was screaming at everything even as she cried. It was when she ran out of things to break that Abby finally allowed herself to fall to the floor among scattered pieces of broken objects everywhere. They were evidence to her rage.
"Why?" she asked, as she began to rock back and forth slowly, brokenly, "why did you leave, Carter?" she wondered if he heard her, and she glanced skyward, "why did you leave me?"
Feeling more alone and abandoned than Abby had ever felt in her life, she began to cry.
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Carter shook his head, "I didn't want to leave you." he whispered as Abby, small, and fragile, began to sob in her apartment. There were broken things everywhere, but she looked like she didn't care, "I'm so sorry, Abby." he said.
And he truly was.
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Romano almost started screaming at every single person in the ER wing. No one was working, and patients were beginning to pile up in the waiting room. What the Hell was going on? Why was everyone looking like someone had just died?
"Chuny," he hissed, and the nurse hurried over. If not for his anger at the complete incompetence of the staff, he may have noticed that she had been crying, "why is no one working? Do they not realize that they're getting paid?"
She looked shocked for a moment, "Dr. Romano...you didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Dr. Carter. He's dead." her voice trembled a bit as she returned to the admissions desk.
Romano stared after her, dumbfounded. Carter was dead. That was why the staff was acting this way.
Suddenly incredibly sad that a great doctor had just been lost, Romano shook his head as he headed to the lounge. The patients could wait.
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Luka stared at Benton as he registered what he had just heard. The other man was looking at the ground lifelessly, and Luka found himself wondering just how much this had effected Benton, since Dr. Carter had been his student from the beginning.
"He was shot." Luka repeated slowly, still thinking that any moment now, he would awaken from this nightmare that had gripped him so forcefully.
Benton nodded, "Yeah. He was trying to save a gang member. I guess they broughtthe fight to the hospital."
Suddenly not able to move, Luka only stood there. Carter was gone for good. The man who he had been so scared would steal Abby away from him someday, the man who he had not really even liked from the get-go...he was gone.
Luka was suddenly overcome with waves of guilt about how bad he and Carter had gotten along. Truth was, Luka respected Dr. Carter greatly for the things he did in the ER and how well he did them. He had been a fantastic doctor all the way around, and Luka knew there was no denying it.
"We'll miss you, Dr. carter," he whispered to no one, as he turned and headed toward the desk, feeling as if he'd just had the weight of the world put on him.
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Carter stared dully at the white walls surrounding him. The visions and memories had long since subsided, and now he simply sat on the stark white floor, not wanting to move. If this was purgatory, it certainly seemed more torturous than Hell itself.
Was this something that everyone went through?
Sighing, Carter fell back onto the floor and laid there. He wished more tha anything...more than life itself, or heaven, for that matter, that he could be down there with them. He wished that he could suddenly appear out of nowhere and take away all the pain he had caused them.
"I don't care if I go to heaven," he told the walls that had already heard his previous confessions and fears, "all I want is to be back there. it's my life." he muttered as he closed his eyes slowly.
There was the slight sound of a breeze flowing through the room, and Carter looked around him cautiously. Even though he could see nothing but the whiteness, he had the strangest feeling that something was there with him.
"Please," he begged whatever it was, "please...just let me go back. I don't want to die now. I want to be down there, saving other people. it's what I live...," he paused, "lived for."
"Don't take that away from me now."
The breeze picked up slightly, and Carter squinted his eyes against the cold wind that blew all around him. Something was happening, and he knew that this was his only chance, "I have good things going for me," he said, a little louder now, "and good people that help me through the bad things." he sat up as his hope began to rise. Maybe this wasn't the end of him.
"Those are people that don't deserve to go through what they're going through now," Carter continued, "I know what it's like, the guilt, and every single one of them are feeling it right now," Carter looked down slowly as he began to cry, "and I don't want that for them at all."
The wind was stronger now, and it pushed at him from all directions as Carter continued to plead with whatever was holding him here, "Please send me back."
For the first time in his entire life, Carter knew he was at the complete mercy of whatever had brought him here, whether it be God or something else. He knew it held his fate in it's hands, and he feared what may come. It didn't mater, however, for Carter stood up, struggling against the gale-force winds, and threw his arms wide. He knew that he was allowing something to happen to him, and he had no idea what.
And strangely enough, Carter trusted it with every fiber of his soul.
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In Cook County ER, everything seemed to pause for just a moment. The whole hospital was locked in utter silence. Kerry Weaver, pulled away from Jing-Mei and stared disbelievingly as a strange calmness took her over, and she felt totally at peace with herself. Beside her, Jing-Mei breathed in a sigh of contentment.
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Luka Kovac looked up from the chart he was reading, curious as to why the hospital had grown so quiet. It was then that the guilt he had been feeling the last half-hour was suddenly gone, replaced by a complete feeling of tranquility that he hadn't felt in a long time. He couldn't bring himself to speak, all he could do was stand there and feel wave after wave of the strange emotion wash over him.
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In her apartment, Susan gasped as her tears ceased, and her body was overtaken by such a feeling of serenity that she felt as if all was right with the world, as if nothing had happened to steal such a close friend away from her. Despite the strangeness, she couldn't help but smile at the pure contentment she was feeling.
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Abby rose slowly as the gently breeze blew through her ransacked apartment. It was a strange wind that held something sacred in it that she couldn't recognize. She lifted her head towards the sky as the breeze caressed her cheeks, and she began to weep tears of wonder. Something was happening.
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Romano looked around crazily as the hospital grew deathly still, anxious at what was happening. He headed towards the door of the lounge, curious, but his steps were halted when he was overcome by a feeling of quiet happiness that he knew wasn't coming from him. It's whereabouts seemed to be from a higher level, and Romano glanced towards the ceiling, waiting for the next moment.
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Ella's cries were suddenly gone, and Elizabeth looked down to see her baby staring in wonder at something she couldn't see. It was as if Ella had suddenly become happy.
"Mark-?" Elizabeth began, turning toward her husband, only to hesitate as a strange feeling of harmony was felt from deep within her, and she saw Mark was smiling, obviously also feeling whatever it was that had taken it's effect on Ella as well. It was so hard to describe. It was so many things at once that Elizabeth felt the tears spring to her eyes, she was so immersed in complete peace and joy at the same time. She watched as Mark closed his eyes, savoring the strange moment. It was definitely something God-sent.
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Peter Benton stopped in mid sigh, shocked into silence, as the strange feeling of peace came over him. The hospital had grown quiet only moments before, and he realized that whatever this was, it was touching everyone here.
"Carter." he whispered, suddenly realizing that whatever this was, it had something to do with the young doctor.
Beside him, Cleo, drew in a sharp breath, and he felt her body relax completely. Peter closed his eyes slowly as the feelings of stillness increased, grateful beyond belief for the reprieve that had been granted to the grieving staff of Cook County General ER.
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Carter closed his eyes against the blinding white light that bared down on him from all directions. He had no idea where he was, all he knew was that he was traveling somewhere, though not by any conventional means. He was actually floating, speeding through time, and all he could see was the ethereal light that made him shield his eyes from it's purity. Something was happening, something that had been caused by his pleas to be sent back.
As he was hurtled through the light, Carter began to feel heavier and heavier, until he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds. Then, he was overcome by such a feeling of exhaustion, that it was all he could do to close his eyes and drift off to sleep...
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"Carter...Carter," a female's voice from up above him, "come on John, wake up."
Carter groaned as his head suddenly began to pound. It was more than a headache, that much he knew. The pain seemed to be radiating from his temple, and he touched it gingerly without opening his eyes, then winced as the pain exploded from his touch.
He opened his eyes slowly, then squinted against the bright lights of the hospital ceiling. He was lying on the floor of the operating room, and Deb was above him, along with Chuny, Kerry, and Cleo, "What happened?" he wheezed out as he studied each face.
Deb gave him a pat on the shoulder, "You hit your head pretty hard when you ducked."
"The guy with the gun?" he asked.
"No one was hit, just the kid who had come in with the GSW," Deb sighed, "thank God no one had been caught in the crossfire."
"Where is he?"
Deb look away for a moment, "He killed himself."
Carter blinked disbelievingly, "Killed himself?"
She nodded, and Carter started to sit up, only to be hit with such a severe wave of dizziness that he had to close his eyes to keep from throwing up, "Whoa."
Deb pushed him back down to the floor, "Wait for a stretcher. You've probably got a concussion."
"No, I'm-I'm fine." he protested weakly, even though he didn't make a move to rise.
Deb smiled warmly, "You had me scared. I thought you had been shot."
"Nope. Just being my clumsy self again." he smiled back, though painfully.
"Yeah, well, that beats getting shot, Carter," Kerry spoke up as she rose and smiled at him, "welcome back to the real world."
"Hey, I love that show!" Malik's voice floated from the hallway, and despite the pain and the fact that they had lost Daniel, Carter couldn't help but chuckle.
As Carter waited for the stretcher, he couldn't help but feel that he was forgetting something very important, like it was just out of reach of his memory. It was almost like something had happened here, something different, but it had been erased from everyone's memory, even his own.
"Hmmm," he whispered, "strange."
Deb glanced down at him, "What's strange?"
"Nothing." Carter smiled up at her, "just a weird feeling, I guess."
"Oh," she nodded, "probably that concussion working it's magic."
Carter nodded, "That's it," he hesitated as something popped into his mind from nowhere, "and the world didn't stop."
"What?"
Carter gave her a crooked grin, "Nothing."
Nothing at all. And that was as it should be.
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Okay, so that's it! Did you like it? I know it was a lot of angst and stuff, but that's what I do best. If you can, please R/R for me. it makes my day much better!:)