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It’s morning on the streets of Chicago as John Carter stumbles back up the stairs of the apartment, haggard and emotionally exhausted after a night helping Chase detox.

Anna stayed with them for hours, helping John administer fluids and medications to Carter’s delirious cousin. She left about four hours ago, needing to catch a couple hours of sleep before her shift at the hospital. Carter had called out for the day with a family emergency. He was out of the apartment now, having rushed over to the corner store to grab some more Gatorade and fever reducers. He hurried up the stairs, nervous about leaving Chase alone for more than a few minutes. The night had been brutal – fevers, hallucinations, tremors, vomiting… It was more than John had been prepared for, practically or emotionally. He would have been screwed without Anna’s help, he knew now. He owed her a lot, for all her patience and understanding.

He's turning the keys in the lock of the apartment door when he is hit from behind, something hard making contact with the back of his head.

“What the-” John cries out as he falls into the apartment, landing on his ass, clutching the back of his head.

Blearily, he looks up at his assailant. For a second, he can’t place him. Then it hits him – it’s the guy from yesterday, Chase’s smarmy, white-collar looking drug dealer. But this time, he’s not alone. Behind him are two larger, beefy guys. One of them is holding a baseball bat.

Swallowing, John holds up his hands placatingly. “Look guys, let’s talk about this. I’ve got money, let’s work something out,” he says as calmly as he can.

Chase’s drug dealer walks through the door, rage in his expression.

“That’s funny man, real funny. Thing is, I don’t feel much like talking!” At the last word, the guy is swinging his foot at Carter’s head. Carter scrambles out of the way, trying to think fast. Chase is asleep in the bedroom. Carter’s phone is in the kitchen. He may have fenced in high school, but he knows he’s severely outmatched in this fight.

“No one interferes in my business and gets away with it,” the drug dealer seethes as his thugs advance.

“Look, I can give you five times whatever Chase was going to give you for those drugs,” Carter says panickedly, scooting away, eying Thug 2 with the baseball bat nervously. “I’m just trying to help him, man. He’s sick. He’s really sick. I’m his family!”

“Your cousin has been my biggest client for months,” the drug dealer hisses, and before Carter can register what is happening, a foot slams down onto Carter’s left hand. John cries out in pain as he feels at least one bone fracture. “It’s going to take more than a couple g’s to make up for what you’ve done to my business. And in my line of work, nothing like this gets handled without a little retribution.”

With a sinister look to his goons, the drug dealer steps back. Thug 1 and Thug 2 move forward.

“Hey, we can work this out, guys, just hear me out- God!”

A baseball bat makes contact with Carter’s ribs. John curls in on himself. It would appear that Chase’s friends were no longer interested in talking.

Anna Del Amico jogs the whole way from the El station back to Carter’s cousin’s apartment. It was her lunch break, and she had been calling John all morning trying to get updates, with no response. John had specifically told her that he would call her after she arrived at work that morning. She was worried about him, and worried about Chase, so with a quick word to Carol about stepping out, she had got on a train headed to Lincoln Park.

She buzzes the intercom outside the building, but there’s no response. Tries calling John’s cell again. Same thing. “Damn it,” Anna whispers, pulling her coat around her tighter, trying to guard against the cold winter air. She pounds on the glass, trying to attract someone attention inside.

A couple minutes later, an older woman appears at the door, purse in hand, clearly on her way out.

“Can I help you, dear?” she asks.

“Thank you, thank you,” Anna says, quickly sliding through the door and past the woman. “Just checking on some friends!” she yells, already climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

As she enters the hallway on Chase’s floor, she immediately notices that Chase’s door is wide open.

“What the hell,” she mutters, hurrying forward. Steps in the door. “Oh my god, John!” she cries out, rushing forward and dropping to her knees.

John is on the floor, unmoving. There’s blood on his mouth, coming out of his nose. His arm is bent to an unnatural shape. Around him, the apartment has been completely trashed.

“John, wake up,” she says, panicking, lightly slapping his face. “John, what happened?”

With a groan, Carter’s eyes flicker open. “…Anna?” he whispers hoarsely.

“John, you’re hurt. I need to check your vitals, we need to get you to the hospital.” Frantically, Anna’s hands move all over John’s body, brushing up and down his legs, his arms, his chest. She positions his head on her lap, running her fingers through his hair, heart sinking when her hands come back sticky with blood.

John groans again. “Chase…” he rasps. “You need… to check on Chase.”

Oh god, Anna thinks. If whoever had done this had also attacked Chase, in his condition, they needed to get to the hospital yesterday. “Okay John, okay,” she soothes. “I’m going to go check on Chase. Don’t move, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

Carter grunts.

She slides her leg out from under John, snatching a throw pillow from the couch and gently sliding it under his head.

“Chase??” she yells, running to the bedroom. At first glance, she is relieved. The room seems untouched compared to the destruction in the living room. But then she takes in the unresponsive, unmoving form on the bed. “Oh Chase,” she whispers. Fingers to his neck, she registers a weak, thready pulse. The hand she places on his forehead meets scalding, dry skin.

She glances up and sees that the fluids attached to Chase’s IV have run completely empty. He was dehydrated, tachycardic, and running a fever well over a hundred.

He needed a hospital now, Anna knew. They both did. Plunging her hand into her pocket, she pulls out her phone and dials 911 with one hand, pulling out additional IV fluids from the bag in the corner and hooking them up to Chase’s IV with the other.

Anna hurries back to John in the other room. He’s sitting up now – sort of. Slumped against the wall and cradling his bad arm with the other, he barely looks up as Anna crouches down in front of him.

“I’m taking care of Chase, Carter. EMS is on their way, we need to get you both to the hospital right away.”

Carter blinks at her through bloodshot eyes, then nods. “What time is it?” he asks her hoarsely.

“It’s a little past 11, John. Do you know how long you’ve been like this?”

Carter nods. “Yeah, yeah… I went out around 9 for more supplies,” he whispered. “Was only gone a couple minutes… they were waiting for me when I came back.”

“Who, John. Who was waiting for you?” Anna raises her finger in front of John’s face, wordlessly commanding him to follow her finger with his eyes, which he does.

“Chase’s drug dealer,” John groans, clutching at his ribs. “Some goons. Turns out… turns out they’re not very happy with me for losing them a client.”

Anna does not react to his weak attempt at humor.

Jesus Christ, she thinks. What had Chase gotten himself into? What had Carter gotten himself into?

“Alright, Doctor Carter,” she says, trying to smile at him reassuringly as she transitions into doctor mode. “Give me the worst of it. What should we be worried about.”

Carter lolls his head to the side, wincing as Anna pulls him back into a supine position.

“Definitely concussed,” he replies as Anna lays his head onto a pillow. “Got hit from behind, took at least one punch to the face.”

Anna fights back tears as Carter soldiers on, eyes squeezed shut. Distantly, she hears sirens approaching.

“Ribs are pretty bad. Possible internal bleeding. One of the guys had a baseball bat.”

“Oh my god,” Anna whispers, hands frantically moving to undo the buttons of Carter’s shirt. An intrusive thought takes her by surprise – this is not how I imagined undressing John Carter for the first time. She lets out a slightly hysterical burst of laughter as she strips Carter of the button-up.

“How’s it look? ‘M I gonna survive?” John rasps. His eyes open, humor reflected in them. They soften as he takes in Anna’s stricken face, observing his bruise-mottled abdomen. “Hey, hey,” John whispers, grabbing her hand. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m going to be fine. You’re doing great.”

Anna nods, not breaking eye contact. She wipes away the single tear that had escaped her eye.

“You’re doing great,” Carter repeats. “Just keep me awake. Keep asking me questions,” he instructs.

“O-okay,” Anna whispers. “What else? Where else do you hurt?”

“My left arm is definitely broken,” John reports through gritted teeth. “Definitely some broken bones in the hand, too. The freaking maniac stomped on it.”

“Oh, John,” Anna whispers, distressed.

“I think that’s the worst of it, though,” he says. “Go check on Chase, I was supposed to give him fluids when I got back-” Carter is cut off by the loud and chaotic arrival of two teams of paramedics.

“Alright, what have we got?” One of them shouts out, bursting into the apartment, stretcher in hand.

Anna blinks away her tears, stepping back as she carefully begins to recount to the paramedics Chase’s condition and Carter’s injuries.

They roll up to County General in two ambulances. Anna rides along with Chase, at John’s insistence. She had sat in the back, letting the paramedics do their work as she called the E.R., speaking to Carol and updating her on the situation.

When Anna hops out of the ambulance, it seems like the entire emergency department is waiting for them in the ambulance bay.

“I’m fine, I’m FINE!” Carter is yelling out as he is rolled out of the ambulance, Mark and Kerry moving along with the gurney as it is pushed through the hospital doors.

Doug and Maggie join Anna as she follows them in with Chase. “What’ve we got?” Doug asks, jogging along next to her as he snaps on some gloves.

“26 year old male in heroin withdrawal,” Anna reports. “Severely dehydrated, fever of 104.1.”

“This is Carter’s cousin?” Maggie asks interestedly.

“Yeah,” whispers Anna, distressed. “He – we – were trying to help him detox, he was really sick last night. He’d ran out of fluids completely when… when this all happened.”

“Okay,” Doug says. “Get me saline, an acetaminophen drip, clonidine, and some cooling blankets,” he yells out to the nurses.

“Have you, have you got this?” she asks. “I want to go check on Carter.”

“Yeah, we got this, go,” Doug responds, not taking his eyes off his patient.

Anna hurries down the hall to trauma two, feeling the eyes of the hospital staff on her, hearing whispers as she walked.

“They’re saying Doctor Carter’s cousin is a heroin addict!”

“Looks like he took a major pounding, what do you think happened?”

“I’m telling you, I knew that family was messed up.”

Anna shoves the voices to the back of her mind as she pushes through the doors of the trauma room.

John is struggling against the hands of the doctors and nurses who are trying to keep him flat on the table, trying to get him into a gown.

“I’m telling you guys, I’m fine,” Carter is protesting. “Let me up, I want to check on my cousin.”

“You’re not fine, Carter,” Mark calls out, navigating around the nurses who are hooking John up to monitors, to an IV.

“You’re concussed, Carter, that’s probably why you think you’re okay,” says Chuny, ruffling Carter’s hair affectionately.

“Yeah, John, you’re confused, that’s all,” Anna teases, her voice a little hesitant as she stops at the head of the table.

“Anna, hey,” Carter breathes, eyes softening at the sight of her.

Anna smiles at him reassuringly. Squeezes his good hand. “You gotta let us take care of you, John. You could be really hurt. Just let Mark and Kerry check you out.”

“How long was he unconscious?” Kerry asks Anna, all business.

“At least 90 minutes,” Anna reports, “but I think most of that was just because of the pain. He’s been responsive and coherent ever since I got him awake.”

“Alright, page radiology,” Kerry calls out. “Tell them we’re going to need a head CT and a chest x-ray!”

John groans. “Anna, how’s Chase? Is Chase okay?”

“Yeah, John, he’s stable. He’s really sick, but I think he’s going to be okay. Ross and Doyle are with him right now.”

“Good, that’s good,” John breathes, visibly relieved. “Fuck! Ow!” he snaps as Mark prods at his broken arm.

“Left radius is definitely fractured,” Mark reports to the room. “Let’s get ortho down here to take a look.”

“I could have told you that,” Carter grumbles, moaning a little as Mark moves the fingers of John’s injured hand around.

“I’m giving you some morphine for the pain, John,” Kerry calls out from behind John’s head. “You’re going to feel better in just a minute.”

“He’s stable, let’s get him down to radiology so we can rule out internal bleeding,” Mark says.

Carter sighs, his body unclenching as the morphine hits his veins.

“John, is there anyone we should call? Your parents?” Kerry asks softly.

Carter’s eyes flash. “Oh, god no,” he says quickly. “No, you don’t need to call anyone for me.”

Kerry’s eyebrows twitch with concern, but she says nothing.

“Ok, John, we won’t contact them.”

“Alright, hold on Carter, we’re going to take you up to radiology now,” Mark says, kicking up the brakes on the gurney.

“Alright,” John says, closing his eyes, noticeably more agreeable with the morphine now in his system.

As Mark begins to wheel Carter out of the room, John snatches Anna’s wrists. “Hey. Stay with Chase, would you?”

Anna smiles weakly. “Yeah, yeah of course I will.”

Peter Benton was headed up to records to look up a patient history when he catches a snippet of conversation between nurses in the hall.

“You know that heroin patient that came in downstairs? That’s Doctor Carter’s cousin.”

“Doctor Carter? Isn’t that the cute, young one?”

Benton freezes, coming to a stop. Without a second thought, he pretends to be engrossed in the charts he’s carrying so he can listen in on the conversation. Carter’s cousin? Heroin?? As his intern, Carter talked so little about his family. Peter had always assumed Carter’s family life was picture perfect, charmed. Full of prancing ponies and Fabergé eggs and European vacations. But heroin? It literally stopped Peter in his tracks.

“Yeah, and get this. Doctor Carter was brought into the ER with him, in another ambulance!”

“What?!?”

“I swear, I saw them bringing him up to radiology like half an hour ago! He looked like shit!”

“Do you think he was on drugs too??”

“I don’t know, he didn’t look like he was conscious-”

Peter doesn’t wait around for the rest of the conversation, abandoning his charts as he takes off down the hall towards the elevators.

John Carter is sitting up in a bed in exam two, watching as Doctor Greene carefully wraps his arm in plaster, when the door bursts open without warning.

Carter looks up and winces. “Hey, Doctor Benton,” he says casually.

Peter stares at the boy who, up until a few months ago, was his student. In a gown. The IV. Bruised temple, cut lip. The clearly broken arm. The finger splints. Dr. Del Amico sitting on a stool behind him, gloved fingers in his hair, suture kit in hand.

“I have been told,” Carter says to Benton wryly, “that I am not currently in need of a surgical consult.” Behind him, Benton catches Del Amico smile slightly, rolling her eyes.

Peter blinks at him. Eyes narrow. Says nothing.

Carter clears his throat nervously, avoiding Benton’s eyes. Unable to take any more of the awkward silence, he eventually says, “It’s not as bad as it looks, I swear.”

“…What the hell happened, Carter.” Benton asks finally, sighing.

Carter sighs, a grumpy expression settling on his face. Del Amico squeezes Carter’s shoulder. A gesture of comfort, Peter recognizes. His heart pangs with something. Worry, Peter recognizes begrudgingly.

There is a long, awkward silence. Carter shifts uncomfortably. The silence stretches on. And then, finally, the dam breaks, words flowing out of Carter in rapid succession. “Okay, so. I may have gotten on the bad side of a couple drug dealers. But it was a misunderstanding, really. Kind of. I mean, I did piss them off. But it’s not my fault, I was just trying to help someone out, and I guess the drug dealers didn’t take too kindly to that. I don’t know, I’m not sure what the usual protocol is when cutting off one’s drug dealer, I’d never done it before. Not my drug dealer! Not mine! I don’t have a drug dealer. It was my… friend’s. Not a very nice guy, I’ll tell you that. The drug dealer. So anyway, there were these two other guys, and one of them had a baseball bat, and long story short, it didn’t end well for me. But I’m fine! Just a little banged up. Scans came back clear, I’m almost ready to be discharged-”

“You got on the bad side,” Benton says slowly, cutting off Carter’s babbling, “of a couple of drug dealers?” Peter’s mind was reeling. This is the kind of thing Carter was getting up to in his free time?? The cocktail parties and cigars and fancy cars that Benton had always imagined consuming Carter’s life outside the hospital faded away. His understanding of John Carter, actively changing shape.

“They were his cousin’s,” Del Amico pipes up helpfully, finishing up her stitches. Carter scowls at her, and she pokes the back of his head affectionately. “There’s no point trying to cover it up, John,” she tells him. “Everyone in the ER knows he’s in curtain area two.” Del Amico looks to Benton again. “John’s cousin Chase is a heroin addict,” she explains calmly. Benton watches Carter’s eyes fix to the ceiling. “John’s been trying to help him get clean. We- he was helping him detox last night. Evidently Chase’s drug dealer was not happy about losing his client. Caught John by surprise this morning to show his appreciation.”

Peter is silent. “…A baseball bat?” he asks finally, evenly. Not letting his tone betray the concern he was feeling.

Carter winces. “Not an experience I’d like to repeat,” he admits.

“I’ll say,” Benton huffs, reaching for Carter’s chart.

“Hey, that’s my private medical information,” Carter protests sardonically. “That’s between me and my doctor!”

Benton rolls his eyes as he flips through. Concussion, scalp lac, broken radius, a broken metacarpal and two broken fingers, three broken ribs. Jesus.

Peter is saved from having to say anything by Chuny sticking her head in the door. “Hey Carter, your grandparents are here. Should I send them in? They want to speak with you.”

Benton stills as he sees the quiet amusement on Carter’s face disappear, replaced by a look of horror unlike anything Peter has seen before. Carter freezes, his eyes wide with unmistakable panic.

“What??” Carter hisses, looking around the room wildly, as if searching for an escape. “I told you guys not to call anyone! What are they doing here??”

Chuny gives him a weird look. “Yeah, but we had to call someone for your cousin. Carol talked to his parents, they’re in Singapore or something. They had her call your grandmother to come down.”

Benton frowns as Carter’s breath quickens. Peter sees the fingers of Carter’s good hand curl into a ball, the whites of the knuckles turning white.

“Hey, John, everything’s okay.” Anna says softly. “It’s going to be fine.”

Mark, who had been quiet in his work setting up Carter’s cast up to this point, joins in. “We don’t have to let them in, bud,” he says. “But it might be helpful if you told us what the big deal is. Should we be concerned about them being here? If you tell us, maybe can ask them to leave-”

“Jesus, Mark, they’re not criminals or anything,” Carter cuts him off, dragging his hand over his face. “It’s fine they’re here. I guess. I just…” Carter trails off.

Oh, Benton thinks, his confusion over Carter’s behavior fading as a thought occurs to him. Is Carter… embarrassed?

Peter is quiet, observing his former student. On edge. Unguarded. Vulnerable. Looking deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

Carter moans, then. Chuckling slightly. Bitterly. “Oh, I’m a dead man. I am so dead. You guys are going to have to fish my corpse out of the river when this day is over.”

“What are you talking about, John,” Anna frowns. “You’re going to be fine, those drug dealers don’t know where to find you-”

Carter laughs. “Oh, it’s not the drug dealers I’m worried about.”

Mark and Anna look at him confusedly. Whatever Carter was going to say next, they’ll never know, as a high, reedy voice emerges from behind Chuny.

“John, oh John, are you in there?”

Carter groans. “Let her in,” he says hoarsely. Chuny smiles uncertainly before sliding out of the way, back into the hall.

Benton observes a tiny, frail, white-haired woman in her 80s stride purposefully into the room. Behind her looms a tall, gray-haired man with a severe expression.

John straightens up as they enter. “Gamma. Granddad.”

“Oh, John, look at you! What happened? They told us Chase was very sick, and then we get here and a nurse tells us that you’ve been hurt!”

Carter lets out a long breath, his expression stiff and unnatural. “Hey, could you give us the room?” he says finally, not making eye contact with anyone. Anna shifts nervously but leaves the room without a word.

Mark stands up. “I’ll be back to finish the cast in a few minutes,” he says. Carter nods.

From his place leaning against the wall, Benton’s eyes make contact with Carter’s. Carter looks so nervous, so out of his element. There is an almost childlike element to his demeanor. Slowly, Benton straightens up. Maintains eye contact, and just… considers his former student. Wonders what it was that had Carter so on edge. Peter sees a slight flush creeping up Carter’s neck in response to the prolonged eye contact. He sighs, reluctant to leave John in this agitated state. “I’ll see you later, Carter,” he says gruffly, in spite of this, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Outside, it is almost business as usual in the ER. Almost. Doctors and nurses bustle around, going from patient to patient. But there is whispering. Furtive glances at the door of exam two.

Benton scans the board, trying to pick up a surgical consult. He doesn’t have any business in the ER, but he also doesn’t want to leave. Carter’s behavior has him on edge. Overly casual in one moment, then seeming on the verge of a panic attack in the next. Peter, who for so long had kept up such rigid, unyielding walls between the personal and the professional. Peter, who had been feeling those walls gradually breaking down for a couple years now. He’d tried so hard, he really had, not to care. But here he was, pacing the floors of the ER like a gossipy nurse, worrying about John Carter. Wondering about his family. Wrapping his head around the fact that Carter had tried to detox his cousin from heroin outside of a hospital, then gotten entangled with violent drug dealers. Of all the dumbass things Carter had done, this had to be the most reckless.

But Peter couldn’t get it out of his head – the stricken look on Carter’s face when he found out his grandparents were here. The self-conscious mannerisms. The childlike petulance. It was all so… out of character. And so Peter couldn’t help it. He was worried.

A few feet away, Peter observes Doug Ross approach Dr. Del Amico.

“Carter’s cousin is stable in curtain two. We’ve got him on clonidine and anti-nausea meds,” Doug tells her. Glancing around and making awkward eye contact with Jerry, Lydia, and Randi, Peter realizes that he his not the only one eavesdropping. Glowering at them, Peter moves to flip through the stack of charts so he can at least pretend not to be listening in.

“His fever is down to 101, and his BP is steadily improving with fluids,” Doug continues. “He’s sleeping now, but he should be just fine.”

Anna smiles. “Great, that’s great. John will be very glad to hear it.”

“Speaking of, where is Doctor Carter? I haven’t had a chance to check in with him since they arrived.”

“He’s in exam two right now, with his grandparents,” Anna tells Ross. “But he’s doing good. He’ll have the cast for a few weeks, but should make a full recovery.”

“That’s good to hear,” Doug says. “Look, I’ve got a patient in three I have to check on, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Thanks, Doug,” Anna says.

Peter senses Del Amico coming his way. “Hey, Doctor Benton,” she says. “I wanted to talk to you-”

She is cut off by the sudden onset of a booming, angry male voice coming from exam two. Anna and Benton both freeze. The whole ER seems to freeze.

“…was entirely preventable, young man! The only person you have to blame is yourself – you and your senseless determination to escape your responsibilities, your duty to this family! You call yourself a doctor?! You think you can help patients? You couldn’t even keep your cousin out of the hospital! Your cousin nearly died today because of your foolishness!”

Peter’s entire body stiffens. From across the ER, he makes eye contact with Mark Greene. There is quiet from the room – calmer voices prevailing, certainly. And then the yelling starts again.

“You’re damn right the family doctors would have taken better care of this! It doesn’t matter what Chase wants! It doesn’t matter what you want! That is not how this family works, and you should know that by now! We would have taken care of this! And you would have known that if you would just leave this decrepit hospital of yours and come and work at the company already! I’ve humored you and this childish doctor fantasy of yours for far too long! Look where it’s gotten us! I wouldn’t trust you to take my blood pressure!”

Quiet again. The whole of the ER had come to a halt, the crying of patients going ignored. Carol’s mouth had fully dropped open. Kerry looked furious. Mark looked devastated. Anna was just frozen. And Peter… Peter was aghast. Completely aghast.

Never, in all the years they worked together, had Carter even hinted that his family didn’t approve of him being a doctor. That his relationship with them was anything but sunshine and rainbows. Anything less than supportive.

Evidently Peter was wrong. That was simply not the case, if Carter’s grandfather was to be taken at his word. Controlling was the only word Peter could think of. They were trying to control him, trying to make him quit being a doctor? Benton couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his mind around it, the absurdity of it. How could anyone who knows Carter not see that the kid was born to be a doctor? The idea of Carter in a suit all day, sitting in meetings, in board rooms, handing out checks… the image was so patently absurd that Peter nearly laughed aloud.

And then the door of the exam rooms slammed open. John Truman Carter Senior stormed out of the room, eyes burning with rage. As the door swung closed, Benton catches a brief glimpse of Carter’s face. Pale. Shaken. But somehow… defiant?

“Where,” Carter Senior snarls, breathing heavily, “is my grandson?”

He is met by silence from the ER staff. They’re all looking at the elderly man with mixtures of shock, disgust, and anger.

There’s a long pause before Peter steps forward. “Your other grandson,” Benton says coldly, “is currently being treated by our doctors. I-”

“Take me to him!” Carter Senior barks, cutting him off. Perspiration glistening on his ruddy forehead.

Benton raises his eyebrows. Tamps down the rage burning inside of him. “Mr. Carter,” Benton says quietly, a trace of danger in his tone, “I’m afraid I have to inform you that that will not be possible. In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to leave this hospital immediately.”

Carter Senior’s face twists in rage. For a second, Peter thinks the man might try to hit him. “How dare you,” he seethes, turning to the admit desk. “You!” he demands, pointing a wrinkled finger at Kerry. “Take me to Chase Carter’s room immediately!”

“Mr. Carter, I’m afraid you don’t have the power to make such demands here,” Kerry says frigidly, limping towards him. “There isn’t a doctor or nurse in this entire ER who is going to be willing to take you to your grandson. Now, you can leave this hospital on your own, or I can have security escort you out.”

The older man breathes heavily, whirling around, taking in the crowd of E.R. staff staring him down, arms crossed in unison. “This… this is outrageous,” he hisses, backing towards the doors. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers!”

With that final, ridiculous threat, the man is gone.

A beat of silence. Everyone in the ER seems to be holding their breath.

“Alright, back to work everyone, show’s over,” Weaver calls out. When nobody moves, she repeats it. “I mean it, everyone. Back to work now!”

Slowly, the crowd disperses, groups of doctors and nurses and administrators huddling together, whispering in solemn tones down the halls.

Mark Greene walks up to Peter. “That was..”

“Yeah.”

“Did you…”

“Did I know? No.”

Mark whistles. “Should I…?”

“No,” Peter sighs. “I’ll talk to him.”

Benton can feel every eye in the room tracking him as he approaches the door to exam two. Knocks. Slides in.

Expecting the worst, John Carter is, to Benton’s surprise, mid-laugh. Laughing at something his grandmother is saying, her hand on his good arm. Peter is, frankly, bewildered. The Carter family dynamic was becoming more and more confusing the more Peter learned.

At his entrance, John looks up, his smile fading slightly, transforming into more of an awkward grimace. “Heyyy, Doctor Benton,” Carter says in a dry tone that clearly alludes to the awkwardness of the moment.

“Carter.” Peter searches for the words to say, but he is honestly completely distracted and confused by the presence of Millicent Carter, John’s long-whispered about grandmother, the benefactor of the clinic, sitting at Carter’s bedside as if her husband hadn’t just had a tantrum that could be heard through the halls of the ER. Hadn’t just spoken…. unforgiveable things to John.

He feels the grandmother looking at him, as if sizing him up. Silence stretches on.

“Gamma,” Carter says finally. “Why don’t you go find my friend Anna. She’ll take you to Chase.”

Millicent looks between John and Peter before standing up and leaving the room without a word.

More silence. Benton walks over, takes a seat in Millicent’s unoccupied chair.

“So, you heard all that?” Carter asks, voice steady, but hands nervously picking at the blanket. Posture weary.

“Carter, I think the entire ER heard that.”

Carter throws his head back against the pillow. “Fuck my life.” He sighs, then laughs a little. “What a mess.”

Peter is quiet. Then: “You should have seen the look on your grandfather’s face when Weaver threatened to call security on him.”

Carter blinks at him. His face splits open into that familiar, goofy grin. Quintessential Carter. “Oh yeah? I would have paid to see that for sure.” He trails off, expression falling once again. Looking generally just… bummed. “I suppose everyone out there is talking about me?” he mutters.

“Most definitely.”

Carter snorts derisively. “The Carter family circus, screening exclusively at County General for one night only.”

Peter doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to push Carter. Doesn’t want to force him to talk about it. So he gets up instead, drags the chair over to the other side of the bed.

“Extend your arm for me.” He orders quietly. Carter does, and Peter gets to work, picking up where Greene left off in the application of Carter’s cast.

Peter works in silence for several minutes before Carter starts to speak.

“My grandmother’s great, by the way.” He starts. Peter keeps his face blank, impassive. “Most of the time, at least. Today was a bad day. Obviously. But she and my granddad… they’re not really… they don’t actually spend much time together. Their marriage is more business than anything else. But she… she’s usually pretty good at handling him, you know. His tempers. Not today though,” Carter laughs to himself.

“He, um. Never really supported me becoming a doctor. As you probably heard. Wanted me to lead the business and promote the Carter family legacy.” Carter’s tone is mocking, derisive. “I never gave a shit about any of that stuff…” he trails off, looking thoughtful. “I told him as much, just now.”

Benton raises his eyebrows. “How’d he take that?”

Carter laughs. “I think you saw enough.” He grows quiet again, pensive. “I told him I was tired of it, tired of him trying to make me into something I’m not.” Carter shrugs. “Told him he could keep the money, that I don’t need it. It’s a poison pill anyway. I’m tired of giving him leverage over me.” The room goes quiet again. “Don’t know why I’m telling you this, anyway,” Carter mumbles. “I know you think my life is ridiculous. All the money, the private schools, the fancy parties. As if I have anything to complain about.”

Still, Peter says nothing. He nudges Carter’s arm, indicating for him to lift it up a little. With a hiss, John complies. Swiftly and carefully, Peter wraps the plaster cast with a roll of dark fiberglass. They continue this way, silent, until Benton finishes the task.

“…thanks.” Carter says, flexing his arm a little. Eyes looking anywhere except Peter’s.

Sighing, Benton leans back.

“I’m only going to say this once, Carter.” John stills, his eyes widening a little as they finally lock onto Benton’s. “You have a gift. A rare gift. You are a good doctor. And someday… someday you’re going to be a great one. And yeah, your family is a little fucked up. And you’re going to have to deal with that. But you better not let them tell you that you are not a doctor. Because I’ve seen it, and I’ve seen you, and I know you. So right now, I’m going to tell you how it’s going to be. You’re going to keep your head down. You’re going to stay focused, and you’re going to complete your residency, and you’re going to become an incredible doctor. You’re not going to get distracted by the whispers of the staff out there tomorrow, and you’re not going to get distracted by the machinations of your fucked up family down the road. Because I’m keeping tabs you, Carter. And I’ll be watching. And I swear to god, if you squander this gift of yours – today or next week or five years from now – I will track you down and I will give you hell.”

Peter finishes. Carter is staring at him, mouth agape. “And if you ever tell anyone about this conversation, I will fucking deny it.”

With that, Benton stands up abruptly, leaving the room without another word.

Carter is discharged around 2pm. He puts on some spare clothes from his locker and sits with his cousin in curtain two for a while, not talking to anyone except Anna and ignoring all the whispers and stares coming from the ER staff. Chase agrees to check himself into some fancy rehab outside of Tucson. Carter’s ribs and arm were hurting – a lot – but he took some prescribed Tylenol and pretended like he was fine. He would be.

Around 4pm, Peter is on the third floor, discussing a patient with one of the doctors from oncology in the hallway with windows overlooking the ambulance bay. Down below, he sees Carter and Doctor Del Amico slowly making their way out of the ER and onto to the street. Peter watches as Carter laughs at something Anna says. Anna tousles his hair affectionately. They disappear around the corner.

Something in his heart eases.

The kid is going to be just fine.