The usual disclaimers - characters and "ER" property of Warners,
Amblin, Constant C, etc.; this time, I am *not* promising to take
very good care of everybody, but the "real" writers are gonna screw
with 'em soon enough.

Aftermath, part 2
(some "recap" of Thursday's ep, which is probably perfectly good for
getting me in trouble with *somebody* :-)

Carter gasped and dropped the Valentine as something hit him
in the back hard - another one of Deb's stupid pranks? - and reached
around to his back. His hand came away bloody, and he staggered
toward the call button that would get help. He was suddenly too far
gone in pain to actively remember that strange patient of Lucy's, the
one where she'd been waiting on a psych consult all day, and
whimpered softly as he stumbled and knocked over a tray of
instruments.

Ohhh... the call button looked so far away, even though he knew
it was only a few steps; walking hadn't been such an effort for him
since he was a baby. His knees slid out from under him and he crashed
to the floor. He could feel something wet and slick matting his shirt
down, and thought crazily "another shirt ruined!", and turned his head
slightly-- oh god.

Lucy was also on the floor, on the other side of the bed. She seemed
to be covered in blood - hers, going by her pallor and the desperation
in her eyes - and she was taking little sobbing breaths. "Lucy..." he
murmured, trying again (unsuccessfully) to move, and passed out.

As if from a great distance, he could hear people talking - a woman
had cried out, and then there was movement and noise around him.
Helluva hallucination, he thought, all it's lacking is a chorus line of
blondes! "What's he snickering about?" an indistinct voice floated
through to him. "Who knows?" another replied. "Let's get him prepped
for the OR."

Oh arrrre you sure? Carter thought - or thought he only thought.
"Who did this to you?" "Never mind that now. You're going to feel
a little stick." A stick from a prick, Carter mused - he had finally
recognized Benton's voice - and drifted away again.

Kerry looked up at Benton. "We should've tried to find out who
attacked them. Lucy sure isn't going to be doing any talking, even
if she lives."

"He was unresponsive, you could see that just as well as any of
us. Muttering a little, but he was pretty out of it anyway. We gotta
get him upstairs, and then - with luck - he can tell us after he wakes
up." Benton's voice was gentler than usual, he could tell that Kerry
was especially upset. Whether she was more upset that two of
her staff had been stabbed, or that her ER had been invaded, he
wasn't sure, but he was occasionally capable of a little sensitivity.
Not often, but it did happen.

Carter didn't properly regain consciousness for several days
after that - or rather, he wasn't allowed to wake up. Every time
he began to surface, he began to moan and try to talk, which
only hurt his nicked lung, and he was promptly dosed again.
When he *was* finally allowed to rise from the darkness, he could
feel an enormous pain in his lower left side. He could feel bandages,
and one of those ridiculous hospital gowns - he would have known
he was in hospital, anyway, from the fiercely antiseptic smell of
the place.

He waited for the push back into deepest sleep that had
always come before he could finish waking up, but it didn't come
and he slowly and carefully opened his eyes. He was in what
appeared to be a private room, and it was dark, except for a small
light somewhere. Oh... there was someone there.

Somehow the person realized that he was awake, and approached.
Carter had a moment of panic, until he realized that his visitor was
Kerry Weaver. "can't stay away from me, can you?" he whispered,
just to make her smile.

"Don't overdo it, Carter," she cautioned him, feeling his forehead.
Aw... nobody had ever done that for him when he was sick. Well,
maybe Isabella, but he dad hadn't liked for her to be "too nice" to him.

"Do you know who did this to you?" He shook his head slowly,
hating the way it felt ready to pop off his neck and roll away into the
corridor.

"from behind. maybe patient." He thought irritably of the hoarse
half-whisper he was having to-- "lucy!" His eyes pleaded with Kerry
to give him some good news, but she took his hand instead and
lowered her head.

"I'm sorry. They did everything they could, but she'd lost too much
blood and suffered too much trauma by the time we found the two
of you."

Carter found himself crying at the news. Even he didn't know why
he'd been so short with her, cutting her off when she tried to
present Sobricki's case. Maybe if he'd taken the time to listen, and
let her finish a thought, maybe if he'd even taken a moment to go
upstairs to kidnap a resident from the psych department, Lucy
would still be alive. More blood on his hands, he thought guiltily,
thinking of Gant - another med student who didn't get a chance
to graduate.

Kerry cleared her throat and awkwardly smoothed Carter's hair
back from his face. She wasn't good at dealing with tears - not even
her own - and definitely felt weird about being with a *man* who
was weeping. "Uh... the memorial service is tomorrow. Did you want
to go? I can make arrangements for you to borrow a wheelchair from
the hospital." He nodded.

"why're you being nice?" he asked her, and she twisted her mouth
around. Boy, was she *that* bad, that a gesture of kindness could be
viewed with suspicion? Apparently. But it was the way she was.

"Because I want to be nice," she told him sharply.

"sobricki?"

"He hung himself. He wrote out a long, rambling suicide note, and
pinned it to his shirt." Kerry didn't think it was time to mention to
Carter that the man's widow was making noises about suing the hospital
for providing inadequate care... and possibly Carter as well.

...to be continued