Behind The Mask




Robert paused outside the door of the conference room. His secretary had already informed him that Anspaugh, Greene and Weaver were waiting for him, having shown up promptly for the meeting. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to barge into the room, letting the force of his entry cower the people inside. But today he was hesitant to do that. Must be a carryover from Atlanta, he thought. Why shouldn't he put the fear of God into them all? How dare they leave him out of the loop on something as important as Carter's health? Didn't they realize that Carter had been close to suicide before the intervention? It would have been all too easy for the young man to take a few too many pills, or inject too many narcotics into his veins.

And yet, Robert didn't feel that it was quite right to tear into Don Anspaugh in front of the others. After all, the man had been the previous Chief of Staff and was one Hell of a surgeon, someone that Robert respected. If Donald hadn't told them that he had been the one prescribing pills for Carter, then why should Robert embarrass him in their presence by revealing that information? Then again, if they did know, then they would all be more vigilant when Carter returned to work.

Robert put on his best fake smile, checked his watch to make sure that he was at least three minutes late, then roughly opened the door.

"It's good to see that you all could make it on time," he said. Robert headed straight for his seat, not even bothering to make eye contact with any of them. As he settled into the chair, he waited until the door had swung back closed before continuing. "I know you're curious as to the nature of this meeting."

Kerry cleared her throat, doing her best to not look nervous. Obviously the men had decided that she would be the spokesperson for their little group. "Yes, Robert, we are."

Donald and Mark nodded.

Robert leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him. "I came back from Atlanta last night, as some of you might already know. It had been an unexpected trip for me, one that took my by surprise, actually. But, it was an eye-opening experience, and one that I won't soon forget." Or forgive, he thought.

"Atlanta?" Mark asked, trying to look nonchalant. Kerry had told him that already, but he was still hoping that Romano had not found out about Carter.

"I received a call from an old friend of mine who now works down there. We went to medical school together, and when Hank couldn't reach anyone here, he called me. It seems that even though John Carter's drug detox has been going well, Carter was being very stubborn about some other points regarding his treatment."

That hit the target. Robert tried not to grin as he looked into their shocked and anxious faces. He thought that Donald looked especially anxious.

"I want to know why you decided to keep this information to yourselves?" Robert looked at Kerry. "Can you enlighten me on this?"

"At the time it seemed best to bring just a few people into the intervention. We weren't sure how Carter would respond. As it was, Peter had to chase him down and find a way to convince him to go to Atlanta." Kerry still didn't know all the details about how Peter managed that. Whenever she tried to ask, Peter would brush aside her questions. Lately she had given up asking.

"I didn't need to be in the intervention, but would have appreciated knowing what was happening in the ER. When Hank called me to talk about Carter, I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I don't like being made to look like a fool."

"I'm sorry for that, Robert. At the time I was thinking about doing what was best for Carter," Kerry explained.

The exchanged long stares and Robert finally nodded. "I'll accept that answer, as I feel the same way." He shifted in his chair, placing his elbows on the table and looking at each one of them before continuing.

"As you may know by now, Carter had surgery on his back to alleviate the pain from the hematoma that had formed in his lumbar plexus as a result of the stabbing. When I left Atlanta yesterday, he was doing well and seemed to be in good spirits. He's made it through the de-tox portion of the program, but now they have to work on the rest of the issues surrounding his addiction. There's a very real possibility that he's suffering from PTSD." Robert didn't see the need to make them worry by telling them that Carter had tried to kill himself and was now under psychiatric observation at the hospital. He would leave it up to Peter to share or withhold the news as he saw fit.

"One issue of concern for the doctors treating Carter was determining who was prescribing so much medication to him in the first place. They wanted to speak with this physician and find out if he or she had any suspicions that Carter was abusing his pain meds."

"We never got into that with Carter," Kerry said. "He did admit to Mark that he was taking over the prescribed dosage, but with everything else that was happening that day, finding out if his physician knew about it was the least of our worries."

Robert looked from Kerry to Donald and raised his eyebrows, waiting to see if the surgeon would admit to being the one.

Donald looked down at the table, then spoke, his voice soft. "I prescribed the medication to him."

Kerry stared at Donald, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Mark also looked shocked at hearing that.

"You were in the intervention," Kerry said. "We spoke before hand. Why didn't you say something? Donald?"

"I don't know. I felt as if I had let Carter down by not seeing that he had become addicted. I knew then that I had made a mistake by prescribing painkillers to him, but I was too ashamed to admit it. I felt that since you had caught his addiction so soon, that the fact I was there at the intervention would send him a strong message." Donald leaned back in his chair and wearily rubbed his eyes. "He was in genuine pain when I wrote the first prescription. And, yes, he was asking for refills, but not too close together. I suppose that was because he was supplementing his prescribed medication with what he found in the ER."

Robert nodded, remembering that Carter had confessed that to him, but he didn't say anything. He had accomplished what he set out to do with the meeting, which was to let them know he was aware of where Carter was at and why, and also to find out for himself why Donald had prescribed so much medication to Carter. There was no need to drag it out now. "Well, I have a hospital to run. Mark, Kerry, we will need to get together to discuss the terms regarding Carter returning to work once he's completed the program. I'll be getting some guidelines from the Caldecaus Club and Doctor Stephenson on how we should proceed with that. I want him back to work, but I don't want to do anything to further jeopardize his health." Robert stood, looked at them all one more time, then left. For some reason, winning this round by proving he knew more than the others didn't feel quite as satisfying as he had anticipated it to feel.

**************************
Atlanta:

Peter was about to enter Carter's room when the nurse stopped him to let him know that Carter wasn't in as upbeat a mood as he had been last night. Peter thought she meant that Carter was merely antsy and anxious to be getting the feeling back in his legs. When he entered the room, though, he immediately saw that he was wrong.

Carter was lying there, staring up at the ceiling. The tv wasn't even on, neither was the radio. It was deathly quiet in the room and the look on Carter's face was one of resignation and sadness, not impatience. Chelsey Davis hadn't been so off the mark after all, Peter thought.

Taking a seat beside the bed, Peter greeted Carter. "Good morning. Has Laenger been to see you yet?"

"No," John replied.

"Have you noticed any return of sensation to your legs?"

"No."

"Did you have breakfast yet?"

"No." A pause, then "Yes. I wasn't hungry." John had woken up that morning, feeling more down than he had in days. He hadn't felt this numb since the moment he stepped into the pond, he thought. No, he corrected himself, he hadn't felt numb then. He had felt calm then. But now there wasn't any sense of calm. Nor was there a sense of hope like he had felt when he had regained consciousness after nearly drowning. He couldn't move his legs, couldn't get out of the bed. He was trapped in the psych ward and was beginning to think that he belonged there for longer than a seventy-two hour observation hold.

"You need to eat," Peter said. "You've let yourself get worn down by not taking proper care of your body."

"You know what? I'm not really in the mood for visitors this morning. It might be better if you left." John didn't intend to sound mean, but he was tired of hearing people telling him what a failure he was.

"I'll just sit here quietly then." There was no way that Peter was going to leave Carter alone while he was in such a depressed state. He quickly scanned the area immediately adjacent to the bed, trying to see if there was anything there that Carter could use to hurt himself. Then he noticed that Carter was staring at him.

"I'm not going to try to slit my wrists with the phone cord, Doctor Benton. You don't have to stay here just to keep me from doing something stupid like that."

"I'm sitting here because you need company. It's not good for you to sit and dwell on things." Peter could sound sincere since he had seen for himself that there wasn't anything handy that Carter could use to hurt himself.

"I don't need company and I'm not dwelling on things. You really should be on your way to Chicago. Don't you have a job there? And a child? I'm sure that Reese is missing you, and so is Cleo."

"Cleo understands why I'm here and Reese is very happy spending time with Carla. As for work, Romano told me to spend as much time here as I thought necessary. He's also concerned about you."

"Why doesn't he just buy plane tickets for the whole damn hospital? Then everyone can come on down to see for themselves that I'm fine," John spat out.

Peter tried to hide a smile. While he wasn't thrilled to be on the other end of a Carter temper tantrum, he found that he preferred an angry Carter to a morose and withdrawn one. "I'm sure that a lot of people would take Romano up on that offer. A lot of people care about you."

"Oh, yeah? Well, they're just wasting their time. I'm not worth caring about." John turned his head away from Peter, determined to find some way to drive Peter from his room.

"That's not true. You're worth quite a bit, Carter."

"No, Lucy Knight was worth quite a bit. Not me."

So, they were back to the stabbing, Peter thought. That was a good sign, at least he hoped it was a good sign. "Why do you say that. I've never known you to be one to make that kind of value judgement, Carter."

John shrugged, but he wouldn't look back over at Peter. "I think that it's pretty obvious, don't you? Look at where I am."

"You're in a hospital because you had surgery to alleviate a painful complication from your stabbing. I don't think that lessens your value as a person."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." John finally looked back over at Peter, his eyes full of pain and sorrow. "I'm in rehab, and on top of that I'm on the psychiatric ward because I was suicidal. What does that say about me?"

Peter knew he needed to watch what he said to that. The wrong words would just enable Carter to wallow even further in despair, and he wasn't used to long, drawn out speeches. But Peter knew that a long and emotional speech was what Carter needed to hear right now. "Carter...John, you went through a very tragic experience. You nearly died that night in Curtain Three, and Lucy did die as a result of her injuries. You kept your fears and feelings from that night bottled up inside of you and you pushed yourself to return to work before you were physically ready. Your body and spirit could only handle but so much, and you kept pushing. Okay, so you turned to chemicals to find a way to numb the pain you were feeling, both the physical and emotional pain. You don't know how much I blame myself for not seeing sooner that you were having trouble, but damn it, John, you covered it up so well. Too well. I thank God that Abby Lockhart saw you shooting up that day, because if she hadn't then you would probably be dead by now. I truly believe that you would have ended up 'accidentally' overdosing in a way to get away from the pain and guilt you were feeling. But, the guilt is not yours to carry alone. A lot of people dropped the ball that day."

"Lucy was my student and I wasn't supervising her as closely as I should have," John replied.

"If I recall correctly, Lucy often chafed when she felt she was being supervised too closely. She had recently completed a psych rotation and should have noticed sooner that something more was wrong with Sobriki. Hell, someone from psych should have come down sooner. Lucy paged them twice, and DeRaad didn't show up until right before Kerry found the two of you in Curtain Three. You told Lucy to page psych, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"But nothing. Carter, what more could you have done? Lucy knew enough to have the guy put in restraints if she felt his behavior warranted it. She didn't. You told her to get Malik to watch Sobriki, didn't you?"

"Yes. But she didn't do that, either."

"So, is that *your* fault that she didn't obey your orders? You weren't her teacher so you could hold her hand."

"And I wasn't her teacher so I could get her killed, either," John shouted back. His body partially raised off the bed during his outburst and he collapsed on the mattress, close to tears.

"You didn't get her killed, man. No more than I pushed Dennis Gant in front of that El train. I did blame myself for Gant's death. For a long time I found myself second-guessing everything I did when I was around a student. I changed because of Gant's death, and you've changed because of Lucy's. But changing because of an incident doesn't mean that we caused those incidents. *If* Dennis Gant jumped to his death, then that was a choice he made, not me. Lucy chose to stay in that room with Sobriki. She chose to not put him in restraints. She was a fourth year medical student and didn't need you there to hold her hand while she was treating a patient. She knew better. And so do you. You did not kill Lucy Knight."

"I made her continue the spinal tap when it was apparent that Sobriki wasn't out from the Ativan. He thought we were stabbing him, trying to take his organs. *I* made her proceed when she wanted to stop."

"And what if you had let her stop and it turned out that Sobriki had meningitis? He would have either become seriously ill or died, and *that* would have been your fault. You needed to rule out a physical cause for his headaches and behavior, and you did."

"Tell that to his wife and son."

"John, you aren't responsible for what happens to everyone in the world. You did your job. Lucy, for the most part, did hers. Maybe you could have supervised her more closely, but you were also supervising another student who was dealing with a dying patient. What would have happened if you had spent nearly all your time with Lucy and left Abby to her own devices? Abby was the junior student, not Lucy. You closely supervised the student that needed the supervision. Hell, Lucy could have listened to you and asked Malik to watch Sobriki while she tended to another patient. Lucy could have hounded psych until someone came down. But, she didn't. Maybe Lucy could have let Sobriki go home after the labs came back negative and then he would have ended up killing his wife and unborn child, or going to the diner where he studied and gone after the people there. There are no answers here, John. No sole blame to go around."

John listened to Peter, and for the first time since February he started to believe that maybe he wasn't totally to blame for what had happened. Maybe.



Part 12
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