Chapter Text
The dark of night, he found an unsettling comfort in it. Back from when he was eleven to now as an adult. The bitter cold gnawed at his fingers and nose, it wasn't his plan to visit after his shift but he honestly couldn't remember the last time he did visit on his own freewill.
So here he was, sitting down and getting drunk. Tipping his head back when the bottle was brought to his lips, watching the stars as the glass bottle was soon finished and tossed it aside. Falling back again the sheet of white below, the freshly fallen snow biting at his face. Counting one shooting star than another that would follow after his slow blink, he felt like a child again.
Curling into himself in the four poster bed, the estate is cold from the raging snow from outside, the heavy blankets warm but not enough to keep his mind from wandering, drifting , to his siblings. Being able to sneak into any of their rooms without any complaints during this time of year. The oldest, his sister, would hold him close and properly tuck him into her bed, scratching his scalp to help him sleep in the new found warmth. Anymore, his older brothers had different ways of treating him; Micheal would always grumble about it, he and Carter were closer in age so that was a factor, but he kept him close and would always make sure his baby brother was always comfortable, if he needed water or kept tossing and turning, Micheal was always there to make it better.
Half the time he joined Carter in his room, and would laugh quietly as his brother looked at him in shock like it was supposed to be a surprise that he was in his room. But that’s how Robert was to him, the second oldest, and the 'middle' sibling. It was Robert, Bobby , that cared for everyone and gave interest into every one of his siblings' hobbies; even if he and Elina would get into a fight (sometimes physically, but what sibling didn’t?) every other weekend that their parents left them alone. He would always have Carter scoot aside, they would talk in whispers about their day and what to do for tomorrow when the snow would clear up. Their talks always made Carter sleepy, Bobby flicking the lamp off and pulling the covers closer to him; he always knew Bobby would watch him sleep before leaving his room quietly, but not without a goodnight kiss against his temple.
Now Carter laid beside his grave, a new bottle in hand but not opened yet. It just sat there, resting under his fingers.
The alcoholic drink was one of Bobby’s favorites when he was permitted to drink at events their father would host or those rich gatherings.
Carter didn’t see the appeal, the drink was strong and nasty, but maybe that’s what was helping him get over his overwhelming sadness. The tears would fall on their own, it felt like the snow was swallowing him whole and Earth’s thick embedded roots wrapping around his limbs to keep him stuck there. Besides his brother.
He choked out a quiet sob, laying the bottle against his gravestone with a small clink. The stars shine bright in the dark of night, cars speeding down the roads and one is bound to get in an accident by the black ice. It mattered, but it didn’t matter. He coughed as more tears spilled, it felt hot against his cold and rosy cheeks, nothing mattered that night. Carter just wanted his brother back, he would have been thirty-six this winter, one he knew he wouldn’t celebrate in full due to “not seeing the point in it,” as Bobby would put it. And Carter didn’t like to celebrate it, he found no point in celebrating his birthday. It felt like a light died when he died.
Through his sobs, he picked that bottle up again and popped it open. That was brought to his lips and drunk in one swig. He was getting blacked out for the night, letting his soul lose its way that night. Gasping as he pulled it away, coughing up what he almost choked on, eyes shot like he found a new fascinating patient that he could fix.
The case of beer was a twenty four pack, he opened one bottle after the other, downing them with a determination of whatever possessed him. Let him load his gun and shoot, he’ll be the bringer of his own death and walk the line of new found life. Tears streaming down his face as he was halfway through the case, he felt dizzy and wanted to throw up but his gun was loaded.
He wanted to pull that trigger. He was waiting around to die after all.
Benton felt uneasy, it was rare for that to happen on his own accord. Yet, it felt like there were a set of eyes on him at all times, looking around to find none. It was unsettling.
Getting out of one of the most complicated surgeries he’s done in a while, Benton found himself in the men’s room, splashing water on his face from his small mistakes that got him reprimanded over and over again; it was humiliating and angered him. He patted his face down with the paper towels, rubbing his eyes and froze.
A patient? No, no way. This man looked dead already. Pale in the face, just skin and bones. His eyes stared at him, it was unsettling to be under the man's gaze. He inched forward to him.
He was gone when Benton looked back, fists clenched for self defense. “The hell?” He muttered, glancing around before putting his hands down and left the men’s room. “I need more sleep, Jesus.”
It had only been a couple of hours since then, but there he was again. At the end of the hall and by the stairs, head tilted and eyes shot. Facial expression dead, blinking at him, waiting . In a blink he was gone again. Benton wasn’t a man to feel so uneasy, but this? This was fucking unsettling.
“Benton! Have you seen Carter?” Doug pulled him out of his thoughts, looking back at the other man with a cooled expression.
“No, why?” He crossed his arms.
“Kid was looking pretty upset, and not in an angry way. But he seemed to be on the verge of tears when he left, I wanted to see if he was around to grab drinks later.” Benton’s hardened demeanor faltered slightly at the latter’s statement. He seemed fine with him, what happened in the time period that he saw him and the other shift ending?
“Really? Do you know where he went?”
“No, not a clue. Also Jeanie has the labs on the patient in Exam 2-”
“Pass that onto Mark, I’m off the clock.” He passed by Doug, the latter watched him leave before looking at Carol, who had been watching their exchange. Carol laughing softly as Doug cracked a smile.
“And he says that he doesn’t favorite Carter.”
Where the hell was he even going to look? Benton didn’t even know where the kid was, well, he wasn’t at his apartment at least. At this point Benton was just aimlessly driving around to try and spot the kid’s car or him on the streets. Stopping at a light, the roads of Chicago were partially dead from the black ice slicking the main roads. And he made the mistake of looking in his rearview mirror.
This time, the man spoke. “Quiet roads, huh?”
Benton looked back in front of him, the light still a blaring red and he hoped the man was gone by the time he looked back but he wasn’t. “You do a shitty job at ignoring a man, could at least keep your jaw loose.” He had been clenching his jaw, so tight that his teeth grinded together and hurt. Benton readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, calming his nerves with deep breaths.
“It isn’t everyday a man sees a dead one, who the hell are you?” He cocked a smile when leaning forward.
“Go check out the cemetery Peter.” The light turned green as he was simply gone again. Benton pressed his lips into a fine line, he didn’t want to but he headed to the cemetery anyways.
His tears were a never ending stream of salty saline, hiccuping and coughing as he finished his recent bottle and tossed it back into the box; unaware of the eyes that bore into him just feet away. Carter was too intoxicated, it was evident in the sluggish movements and attempts to not throw up over his lap. All he could do was fall back, staring up at the sky before his lip quivered and he broke into another sob; all this crying was making him dehydrated, the alcohol not helping nor was him breathing faster and quicker, hyperventilating .
Benton watched from afar, his student that was normally cheerful and optimistic was just falling apart in front of him. It hurt, it really did; his self destruction of drinking so many bottles was concerning, the kid could get alcohol poisoning, liver damage, damage his coordination and so on and so forth. Carter knows the risk, he is a student for fucks sakes, of course he knew the consequences!
The older man walked over, quick that he almost slipped on the ice covered bricks; the hell was he even doing?! Benton didn’t know Carter’s motives, nor did he even know why his student was even here; besides crying by a grave. The resident took away the bottle that he opened, looking down at him only to be met with his brown eyes. They were red and puffy, his mouth agape like he was calling for help.
Help to pull him out of where these roots held him.
“Carter,” Benton sat down in front of him, the eyes that would become so fascinated when Peter picked up a scalpel and made the smallest incision on a patient now looked away, down at the ground and into the palm of his hands. Tears rolling down his face. “You can’t be drinking away like this. What’s wrong man?”
“...I wanted to be a doctor to help the people, the ones that could be saved and the ones that couldn’t. The ones that couldn’t,” Carters breath reeked of alcohol, but was timid and quiet. It wasn’t like him. “I wanted to give them that comfort or at least make an attempt to save them. I wanted to give them what he couldn’t get.”
“Carter, if they can’t be saved, they can’t be saved.” Peter found himself talking in such a soft tone, one he would use on his nieces and nephews when they were smaller, on Carter.
“I know that,” His voice cracked. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to be one of the people that helped my brother. That’s why I wanted to be a doctor in the first place, his– his death is what pushed me to make that step. And here I am, the first time I visited him in fucking years. He died the week before his fucking birthday!” Carter’s hands dug into his hair, knees pulled up to his chest. Benton looked at the grave they sat beside, the one isolated from the others.
In loving memory of our dear son, brother, and grandson
Robert Carter
“Carter…” Benton looked back at him.
“You—You think if I was older I could have saved him? Saved him from the pain he went through? I–I know a person can’t cure cancer, but,” The kid looked so distraught, it broke his heart. “Do you think I could have saved him?”
“...No, no I don’t think so,” He pulled him into a hug, keeping Carter's head into his shoulder to muffle the louden cries. Rubbing his back in a soothing manner, letting his gaze drift back to the brother’s grave.
“I wanted to, I really did,” Carter sobbed out.
“Carter,” Benton pulled him closer. Holding him tighter.
“I went into that room everyday, and everyday he got worse.” His voice kept cracking, Peter’s heart clenched as Carter held onto him for what seemed like dear life. “No one told me anything, Bobby didn’t tell me anything. Told me to never worry, he’d get better, and he fucking lied. He’s gone— gone and there is nothing I could have done to help. I just watched him get worse and worse each day and I couldn’t even be there to comfort him. I wanted to Dr. Benton, I really did, but I could never stay for so long. He has to hate me for it, he has to… ”
Benton clenched his jaw, trying his best to keep his own tears back. Carter was crying for his life, and it was heart wrenching.
“No,” Benton shuddered, “No, he wouldn’t hate you Carter. You were his brother, you were lost and no one told you what was happening with him. The time you spent with him must have meant the world during his last moments, you were young, a child Carter. But, you helped give him comfort in his last moments, that’s all that meant to him. You have to know that, he would want you to know that.” He pulled away from the hug, much to his own dismay, and brushed away his tears. It felt awkward but natural to be this mushy to him.
“...He’d be proud of the path you took, that you wanted to help the people that needed it. I’m sure he would.” Carter seemed to need that reassurance, more heart wrenching sobs being torn. The ones he must have kept deep embedded within him, the ones that mother nature was letting unravel and set free.
It only took twenty-five minutes until Carter stopped crying overall, Peter offering telling him that he'd drive him ‘home.’ The young man was in no way to drive on the roads nor was he in a good state of mind to be left alone, Carter was told to stay put as the latter disposed of the glass bottles properly.
“Carter, you are going to trip over your own feet.”
“No, I have this.” He muttered out, quickly balancing himself as he almost slipped backwards. Benton looked at him struggling before sweeping an arm across his back and under his legs, making him scramble to grab onto his shoulders.
“You’ll fall face first into the bricks,” He told him shortly, walking to his car with the younger in his arms. Missing how he fell asleep from the emotional toll the night took on him, when Benton did notice, he was extra careful when laying him down in the backseat. Getting into the driver's side, the engine roaring to life and turning off the radio before he drove off.
“Peaceful when he sleeps,” Benton drove the final stretch to his house, the dead man in his passenger seat. Staring at Carter this time.
“Don’t touch him,” He gripped the steering wheel as the other just laughed, though it had no malice intent behind it, Benton just parked his car.
“I wouldn’t dream of harming him,” The dead man looked at him with such love and fondness. “He is my little brother after all.”
Peter's eyes turned wide, looking at the man in the passenger seat then back at Carter. They looked very similar from their eyes to their nose to their hands and feet. This man was Robert Carter.
“Until then,” He was simply gone, this time for good.
Carter wasn’t hard to carry, though Benton did workout often, he set him on the couch. A guilt of his own gnawing at him, the one where he resented that the man on his couch who grew up in money, the one where he was proving that the money he grew up with wasn’t what he thought it was. It wasn’t all so glorious, Carter seemed uncomfortable when ever it was brought up, like he himself hated that he grew up in money. And maybe he did, maybe he didn’t like the money his family had, his own hardships he could have had, where it was hard to find a friend that didn’t want you but your money.
Peter crouched down beside him and brushed his hair out of his face, a fever was already starting to kick in with a flush crawling up his cheeks; alcohol poisoning, though it seemed mild and fairly treatable at home. He grabbed a trash can and placed it besides his guest bed, a thermometer now resting on the nightstand, antibiotics, and water. Going back to his living room, he took Carter into his arms once again and moved him to the guest bedroom.
102.6, he tisked at the reading. “Mm,” He looked back at Carter, tears slipping from his eyes when he cracked them open, looking out of it.
“You're okay Carter, you're okay,” The older man’s voice was gentle, hesitant but let himself cup his cheek, rubbing his thumb across Carter's cheekbone soothingly.
“‘M scared,” He would mumble.
“I know man, I know,” His voice was soft.
“There’s so much I wanted to tell him, what I want to confide in him even now… He wouldn’t be happy with what happened when I was eleven.” He hiccuped, letting Benton push away his tears.
“Did you fail at a competition or fail a subject?” The older man tried cracking a smile out of him, but Carter just shook his head, his sad frown growing.
“No, no it was so much worse Dr. Benton,” His lip quivered and he couldn’t stop what followed next. “He’d kill the woman that sexually assaulted me…”
A sorrowful silence washed over them, the small smile on Benton’s face just fell as it processed through his mind. He pulled him into another hug, holding him tight and close, letting the tears slip from his face silently as the other sniffled out more tears. They stayed like for a bit, Carter still awake and Benton just processing on what sick fucking bitch of a woman would do that to a child. “She was a maid,”
Easy access to children, fucking woman– “I saw her today at the end of my shift… It was so terrifying, so terrifying .”
“You don’t have to talk about it anymore, just–just get some rest Carter. I’ll be here in the morning, we can talk about it then.” He just hummed and just like a switch, he was out. Laying his head back against the pillows before he walked out, sitting at his kitchen table.
If he drank, he would have pour’n himself a drink at his student's confession. Instead he buried himself into his charts, rubbing his eyes whenever his mind drifted back to Carter and what happened to him as a sweet boy. ‘ What kind of person does that? ’ was the thought that ran through his mind over and over again, a monster was what. It would make him wonder if his parents knew, and if they did anything about it as soon as possible or kept her working, he hoped it was the latter.
Though to know he wanted to be a doctor to help others that were like his older brother or not, a person who had been gifted hands of life, made it all a bit better that night. He wasn’t doing it all for some big achievement that he could just turn around and show his family, no, this had a deeper meaning to him. One that meant a lot, one that he wanted to partake in changing lives even if it meant losing some, the one where his emotions could get in the way and it would be fine.
He returned to that bedroom when the charts had been finished, sitting beside him and wondered how he was as a boy. Tonight he looked small, small and afraid, was he always like this? So afraid of his past that he wouldn’t dare speak of it and toss it away like it meant nothing?
No, no not at all. Carter was one of the greatest students in terms of emotions and being an open book that was pretty comfortable with his patients, his skills as a surgeon would get better over time as he was a fast learner. Benton had no doubt about that, no doubt at all. He was doing it all for love.
“Night Carter,” The ghostly kiss he pressed against his temple felt natural, parental and loving , it made a smile grow on his face. Even asleep, his smile was still infectious, Benton having his own soft smile before quietly leaving the guest room and turning in for the night.
The talk could be saved for another day .