Chapter Text
“The thing about the women of today, John,” Dale Edson says as they exit the elevator at level -1 and head towards the morgue, “is that they’ll talk your ear off about equality and independence, but at the end of the day, all they really want is a man in their life who’s gonna take charge.”
Carter says nothing as they enter the morgue. It’s his general strategy for dealing with Dale. Ignore. Say nothing. Don’t take the bait. Half the time, John thinks, Dale doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying. He’s just trying to provoke a reaction.
John just wants to finish the task at hand – retrieving a tissue sample from the pathologist – so that he can return to the ER, hand off the rest of his patients, and go home. John was in the last half hour of his shift, and he had a rare consecutive two days off ahead of him.
Benton and Weaver had sent the two of them down to collect the tissue sample. Why they had to send two residents and not one of the interns, John did not know. The case in question involved multiple patients – a family, being treated by both surgery and the ER. A young woman had arrived in the ER that morning, two days after a gallbladder surgery. She was septic. Benton had taken her up to the OR, but she died on the table. Two hours ago, that same woman’s brother arrived at the OR with similar symptoms. An hour after that, the siblings’ mother collapsed in chairs in respiratory distress. Weaver and Benton, butting heads over who should take the case, agreed to send both Carter and Edson down to the morgue to collect a tissue sample from the dead woman and take it to the lab. They suspected clostridium perfringens sepsis, which spread from the now-dead woman to the rest of her family.
It had been a long, difficult day.
All I need to do, Carter thinks, is get this sample to the lab. Then I’m out of here.
Dale shoves his way through the morgue doors, not bothering to hold them open for John, who, trailing behind Dale, has to shoot his hand up to stop the heavy door from smacking him in the face.
Fucking Dale. John’s jaw tightens as he wills himself not to let out a nasty remark about the other man’s neanderthal ways.
“See, your problem, John,” Dale continues, loudly, “is that you’re actually treating women like they’re your equals. In reality, it’s all about lip service. You have to tell them that they’re your equal, but you need to treat them like they’re lucky to have your attention. Make them feel insecure about it. That’s what keeps them coming back. Nowadays, you and all your metrosexual compatriots walk around like-”
Dale, too absorbed in his own diatribe, hasn’t even noticed that the morgue is completely empty. “Doctor Mullins?” Carter calls out, cutting Dale off.
Dale finally looks around. “What the hell, man. Mullins is supposed to be here. We need that tissue sample!”
Carter bites his tongue to stop himself from responding to Dale’s obvious observation with a sarcastic comment.
“Doctor Mullins?” John calls out again. Still no response.
A couple seconds later, however, a nurse walks out of an office area, purse in hand.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” she asks.
“Yeah, we’re looking for Doctor Mullins,” Carter says before Dale has a chance to speak and say something stupid. “We’re supposed to be collecting a tissue sample from him.”
The nurse frowns. “Doctor Mullins is at lunch, and I have to go. He should be back in a few minutes, though?”
“This is urgent,” John says. “We need to have the tissue tested right away. We have patients upstairs in critical condition.”
The nurse sighs. “I haven’t heard anything, but try checking the walk-in? We keep a lot of organic material in there for storage. I wish I could help you guys look, but I’m late to pick my kids up from school.”
“That’s okay,” John tells her. “The walk-in is…?”
“It’s back there,” she says, pointing to the large metal door on the other side of the morgue. “The code is 1294,” she calls out as she vanishes out the main doors.
John sighs. “Alright, let’s find this sample, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“It’s a waste of our time, more like it. Don’t know why they couldn’t have one your ER interns do this. Like Lucy.”
John soldiers through the tick of irritation he gets every time he hears Dale say his intern’s name. He knows the two have been on a couple dates. Dale has made it a point to brag about that fact every time he’s in John’s company. It’s like he senses how much John hates it. 1-2-9-4. John punches in the code. The door gives a loud click as it unlocks. He hauls it open. It’s heavy, like reinforced steel.
“I don’t know why they had to send us down to get it, Dale,” Carter responds with intentional disinterest. “The last name is Lindstrom. The samples should be labelled.”
The freezer itself is about eight by eight feet. The walls are stacked with shelves, filled with eerie jars of mystery blobs and tubes and vials of unknown substances. Each container has a small white label with a last name and a bar code.
“Christ, this is gonna take forever,” Dale complains, flicking through the tags. “They’re not even alphabetized.”
“Just find the sample so we can get out of here,” John says tightly. He’s exhausted and his feet hurt from being on the move all day. All week, really. He’d worked three consecutive fourteen-hour days.
Home soon, he tells himself. He’s going to sleep through the entire weekend. It’s going to be incredible.
“Relax, John. No need to be a princess about it.”
“What does that even mean, Dale,” John says, irritated as he visually scans the names on the test tubes.
“I just think you need to learn to relax a little. You’re so serious.”
An entire family will die if we don’t get this sample, you dullard, John wants to say. Of course I’m serious.
He says nothing, though.
“Which reminds me.” Dale continues. “Speaking of Lucy. Now that’s a girl who knows how to relax.”
John feels the anger bubbling up inside of him. Who Lucy spends her time with is none of your business, he reminds himself. She’s an adult. She can do what she wants. She’s your student.
But fuck does he hate that she’s hanging around Dale. The guy is a fungus. Lucy is… Lucy. She’s stubborn and bullish and defiant. Frustrating. And incredibly bright. And kind. Beautiful.
John shakes himself. It doesn’t matter what she looks like. She’s the student, you’re the teacher. He pretends like this isn’t the hundredth time he’s had to remind himself of this fact.
“I mean, she wasn’t relaxed at first. The girl’s kind of uptight,” Dale carries on. John does his best to block him out. “You’ve really got to get a few drinks in her before she’ll let her hair down. But once she does…” Dale’s laugh booms in the enclosed space. It thunders in John’s ears. “Well, let’s just say she gets a lot more… cooperative.”
“Shut the fuck up, Dale.” John says quietly, turning around to face the other man. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Carter’s skin is buzzing with more than just the cold. Anger pulsates through his body. He wants to wipe that smug smirk off Dale’s face. With his fist, preferably.
Dale’s eyes dance with delight. “Or what, John? You gonna make me?” John knows this is exactly what Dale wanted. Ever since Harper, ever since the chart falsification debacle, the guy seems to have made it his life’s mission to get under his skin.
Dale is a proven liar, John tries to reminds himself. He makes shit up all the time.
“Just find the damn sample, Dale.” John says through gritted teeth.
“What, this one?” Dale dangles a test tube from his fingers.
“Jesus Christ, Dale,” John snaps. “How long have you had that? The Lindstroms do not have time for this.”
Dale scowls. “I found it just now, you self-righteous asshole.”
John narrows his eyes. “And why should I believe you, you duplicitous misogynist.”
Dale takes a step forward. The stale, frigid air around them feels charged with frenetic energy as the two men glare at each other. John feels his chest heaving with angry breaths. Dale’s mouth twists into a smirk.
“So much attitude, Carter,” he breathes, faces inches from Carter. John can see, can feel the other man’s hot breaths. “You might benefit from some of the same kind of relaxation I gave to Lucy. Ramming my cock up her ass a few times seemed to shut her right u-”
John breaks. “You fucking asshole!” he snarls, and suddenly he has his fists full of Dale’s scrub top and he’s slamming him against the closed door of the freezer. “Don’t you fucking talk about her like that. She is a med student, you fucking louse!” John’s heart is hammering. He can’t get the mental image of Dale and Lucy out of his head. He’s hardly even seeing the man in front of him, the image is so powerful. He can barely breath through the rage that consumes him.
“You want a piece of this, Carter?” Dale taunts, upper lip curling, eyes dark. “Lucy sure did. Multiple times, from both-”
And then John is pulling Dale forward by his shirt and slamming him against the door again. “You shut up, or I swear to god I’ll-”
Dale is laughing. “You’ll what, Carter? What do you want to do to me?”
John forces himself to take several breaths. Forces himself to reclaim his own rationality. Reminds himself of the sick family upstairs. The thundering in his ears lessens ever so slightly. With great effort, he relinquishes Dale’s shirt. Takes a step back.
“Don’t you ever talk about Lucy like that again.” John says quietly. “I’ll fucking end you. God knows I have enough dirt on you to have you kicked out of this program for good.”
They stare at each other. Dale’s eyes burrow into him, nearly black. John does not look away. He wants Dale to know how serious he is. Freaking Lucy. That girl had been a source of endless consternation for John since the moment she arrived at County. Yet somehow, John loved being around her. Even when she was driving him crazy. It was a completely platonic feeling, John tells himself. A brotherly sort of thing. He just doesn’t want her to get hurt or feel embarrassed.
“Fine.” Dale says, finally.
“Good,” John says cooly. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before-”
Dale moves so fast, he’s a blur. His hands are slamming against John’s shoulders, hard. John’s stumbling backwards, his feet slipping, losing purchase with the ground. He falls backwards, his head slamming against the floor of the freezer.
Truly pissed now, John is stumbling to his feet. “Are you kidding me, man-” John looks up just in time to see Dale slipping through the door of the now-open fridge. Just in time to see the door slam shut.
John is storming towards the door, truly prepared to punch Dale’s lights out, when he hears the click of the door locking.
“Dale, what the fuck,” John yells, pulling at the handle of the door. It doesn’t budge. “Dale, are you eight years old?? Open the damn door!”
“Mmmm, I don’t think so, Carter,” comes Dale’s distant voice from the other side, smug and condescending. “I think you could use a time-out of sorts, to think about your actions. To remember your manners.”
John grits his teeth, slamming his palm against the door.
“Dale, unlock this door right now. This is stupid.”
“I’m having trouble hearing you, John,” Dale calls out, his voice sounding farther away. “I’ve got to get this sample to the lab. But don’t worry, that nurse said Doctor Mullins should be back from lunch any time. Maybe he can unlock the door.”
“Dale!” John shouts angrily, slamming his palm twice more against the locked door. No response. “DALE!!”
The only sound to be heard is the quiet hum of refrigerator unit. John stands there, staring at the door. His breaths come out in small, hot puffs of air. “Goddamnit,” John yells, slamming the door one more time for good measure.
The silence is deafening. A shiver runs through his body. Suddenly, John feels very, very alone.