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Peter was down in the ER when paramedics radioed that they were arriving in a couple minutes with a stab wound patient. He was paged for a surgical consult that ended up not being surgical, so he took the moment to breathe before his next inevitable consult. He wasn't scheduled for any surgeries that day and the ER wasn't bustling with patients, so there really wasn't much to do. There was always something, but nothing that urgently needed Peter's attention. He didn't even have any charts to catch up on since Carter finished them before leaving for the night.
"Stab wound," Mark said from next to him, his eyes scanning the board before landing on Peter. "Wanna stick around?" Peter nodded just as the bay doors opened and the two of them were rushing over to the gurney with a couple nurses following.
"24-year-old male with bruising and two stab wounds to the upper abdomen!" The paramedic yelled as he and his partner pushed the gurney down the hall. Peter's eyes quickly assessed the patient before landing on his face. He felt his heart drop at the sight of Carter laying unconscious and bloody.
"Holy shit, it's Carter," someone said from behind Peter, their voice fading as his focus was stolen away by his student.
"His vitals?" Mark asked just as they pushed their way through the doors of the trauma room. "On my count." They moved Carter to the new bed.
"Blood pressure 90/60, tachycardia, weak pulse, and unresponsive." The paramedics backed off as nurses moved around Carter with practiced precision, their fingers moving swiftly to take his vitals and hook him up to the machines. Beeping filled the room quickly after, Carter's heart rate sitting at a rapid 120 bpm. Someone performed a quick sternal rub to check for responsiveness, but Carter didn't even flinch.
"We need to remove his clothes." Carol quickly produced scissors from one of the drawers and got to work cutting Carter's shirt and pants off his body. The clothes were peeled away to reveal the two stab wounds to the upper left quadrant of Carter's abdomen. The wounds themselves were hard to see with all the blood pooling around them, but as the blood was wiped away Peter could see how brutal they looked.
"Damn, we need a CT to see how bad the damage is internally." A nurse went running to get the machine and Peter took a moment to scan Carter's body. The removal of his clothes also revealed a number of bruises that were scattered across his abdomen and legs. Now that Peter was taking a moment to fully assess the man, he could see the bruises forming on Carter's face and the blood that was caked in his nostrils. It was drying and started to flake across his lips which only added to the carnage that was John Carter's body.
Peter's assessment was interrupted when Haleh reached into his field of vision to clean off Carter's face. He shook his head and threw himself into contributing meaningfully to caring for the man. Those thirty seconds he let himself get distracted by the fact that he knew the patient were valuable and he couldn't afford to lose anymore time.
The CT confirmed intense internal damage to the spleen and stomach and Carter was promptly wheeled up to the OR. Peter pushed his way into the elevator with Carter despite Mark protesting.
"You're too close to him, Peter!" He yelled, but Peter didn't care. Too close? Wasn't that a good thing? Peter knew Carter, Peter wanted Carter to survive, so he would try his hardest. He scrubbed into the OR and forced his way through the doors when a nurse tried to stop him. There was no way he was trusting Carter's life to anyone else when he knew that he was the best chance his student had to get better.
-
After his long surgery, Carter was placed in an ICU room. Peter watched from the side as a couple nurses fussed with his wiring and double checked his vitals. The surgery was success and now all there was to do was wait. There was always a chance of infection with injuries like this, but Peter was confident that Carter would be able to pull through even in face of an infection. He had to. For now, all Carter needed to do was trigger the vent and wake up on his own. He was on some pretty decent pain medication, but he was not being sedated. It could take hours or days, the ICU doctor said as if Peter didn't already know that.
Since there was nothing to do, Peter made his way back down to the ER. Mark might have obtained some information about what happened to Carter these last few hours and Peter was curious.
"Mark," Peter called out when he saw the man lingering near the admit desk with a grim expression on his face.
"Hey, how is he?" A few other heads turned at Peter's voice. Carter was quite popular down in the ER it seemed.
"Uh, yeah, he's good," Peter mumbled out, nerves still a bit high from the adrenaline of the situation. He never wanted to cut into Carter again. "Surgery was a success, so it's all on him now."
"He's strong," Carol muttered more to herself than anyone else. It was true, the kid was strong. And stubborn. It was annoying on the average day, but it was necessary now. There wasn't anything else they could do for Carter so it really was up to him to wake up.
"Did you find out what happened?"
Mark sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "A maid came in with Carter, but she won't talk to anyone. The police tried asking her what happened and she just acted like they weren't even there. They're going to try again later. It's probably shock," he added on a moment later, voice a bit distant as he no doubt tried to wrap his head around the entire situation. Peter couldn't even find himself to scoff at the mention of a maid, his mind running wild with possibilities. If Carter was brought in with his maid then he was probably stabbed at his house. Was it a home invasion? A disgruntled employee getting back at the Carter family?
"Where is she? The maid?" Mark gave his a doubtful look but pointed over to the chairs where a older woman was sitting with her purse clutched between her hands. She was wearing a white and black outfit that was coated in dried blood. Carter's blood. There was makeup smeared down her cheeks that she made no effort to wipe away after crying.
"Ask her if she has a number for his parents, Peter. There's nothing on file for him." Peter nodded and approached her slowly, taking a seat next to the woman.
"Did you come in with John Carter?" he asked softly, keeping his voice gentle in case the woman really was still in shock and traumatized from the situation.
"Oh, yes, is John okay? Are you the doctor that worked on him? Oh, please tell me he's okay." She reached out and clasped Peter's hand in her own. Peter placed a comforting hand on her forearm and let her hold his hand.
"I helped perform surgery to repair John's stomach and spleen. He is in the ICU right now, but the surgery was a success." He hesitated on his next words, knowing he shouldn't say them, but too close to not say them. "I think he will be just fine" The woman breathed a sigh of relief as a stray tear ran down her cheek. Her wrinkled skin creased around a smile as she threw thanks after thanks at Peter.
After a moment, he spoke again, "can you tell me what happened to John? Who hurt him?" The woman's previous joy quickly fell and she finally let go of Peter's hand, her shoulder curving in a way that made her look tiny.
"I apologize, Doctor." He nodded. If the police were unable to get her to talk, it was unlikely that she would suddenly spill to Peter.
"Alright, how about telling me his parents' phone number? We don't have an emergency contact on file for him."
The women seemed to cave in on herself even more, a weird energy suddenly developing between them as Peter watched her avoid any and all contact with him. A odd minute passed with no answer from the woman. "Do you not have their information?"
"I just don't think that's such a good idea," she said finally. Peter looked at her, his eyebrow raised in confusion. She doesn't think it's a good idea to let Carter's parents know that he almost fatally stabbed just a few hours ago? Carter didn't talk about his family much, but Peter couldn't imagine a situation where they were so distant that he lived at their house while uncaring about his health.
"Are you worried you'll lose you job?" he finally settled on asking. It was possible, he guessed. Carter did get stabbed while this woman, whose name he didn't even know, was working, so he supposed she might be worried about that. If the Carter's were rich enough to have maids (and butlers and chauffeurs and who knew what else) then maybe they were big enough assholes to fire their staff for the simplest things. Not that Carter getting stabbed was simple, but how could it be this woman's fault?
"Oh of course not," she said finally looking up at Peter. "They would never fire me over such a thing."
"Don't you think John's parents would like to know that he is in the ICU?"
She looked nervous but leaned in a bit closer to Peter like she was about to tell him a secret. "You must understand," she started, voice low. "They are so different from you and me. It can be hard to understand their family dynamic, but it's just how it is. Rich folk have a different understanding of punishment. There was an argument with John and his father. It simply…got out of hand."
"What are you saying? Did John get stabbed by his father?"
"Mr. Carter has always had a temper," the woman said, her voice trembling with barely contained sadness. "John is a good boy, a good son, but his father can't see that all the time. He wants a heir for the business and John wants to be a doctor." She finished like that explained everything. Peter supposed that it did in a way. Carter's occupational aspirations didn't align with his father's and it caused tension between them. He couldn't believe the man would attack his own son for it though. This wasn't a slap on the wrist or disapproving smack on the head. This was brutal and vicious. This was attempted murder.
"Is this the first time John has been attacked by his father?" Peter found himself asking. Maybe it wasn't his business and maybe he didn't want to actually know the answer, but his mouth moved before he could stop himself and the woman hung her head.
"Attacked is such a vicious word," she murmured. "You just don't understand."
Anger quickly simmered under Peter's skin. He didn't understand? What was there to possibly understand? Nothing could excuse such a brutal act of violence due to a simple disagreement in what career to pursue. He felt a bit crazy just at the fact that he was even having this conversation after performing surgery on his student.
"I asked you if Carter has ever been hurt by his father before." He pushed on, insisting for an answer than he already knew. The woman stared at him solemnly for a moment, her mouth tugged into a frown and eyebrows creasing in sadness. She sighed before nodding.
"I've been with the Carter family since before little John was born. I know this family. They really aren't a bad bunch, but yes, his father has hurt him before. It started when John was quite young. About ten years old, I'd guess."
"You've known that Carter was getting abused for 14 years and didn't tell anyone?!"
"Oh, abuse is such a callous word!" The woman yelled, her voice angry beneath the sadness. There was a bit of shame clouding her expression, but she covered it with the need to deny deny deny. "And you mustn't tell anyone. You will ruin Mr. Carter's name if you do. Ask John, he'll tell you the same thing."
"I can't ask John," Peter pushed out behind gritted teeth. His jaw clenched and anger surging. "He's unconscious after being beaten, stabbed, and operated on." Without another word, Peter turned away from the woman and stalked down the hall towards the elevators. He made his way to Carter's room in the ICU and sat by his bedside in an attempt to calm himself down.
He studied his student's ashen face, the intubation tube taped to his cheek, the wires surrounding his still form and let his mind wander. Peter knew very little about Carter's family but he certainly formed an image of them in his mind. To him, Carter lived in a giant house surrounded by money that granted him every wish he could ever want. His parents were probably ready to drop everything on a whim for whatever Carter wanted, throwing their money at each of his pesky little problems to bribe them into nonexistence.
But that wasn't true. Carter lived a life where he was attacked for having a different dream than what his family wanted from him. He went into work each day and helped heal others when he was hurting. He soothed sick children and comforted lonely adults in a way that he likely never got from his own family. It made Peter sick. It made him guilty. Carter never spoke about his family, so Peter let his mind fabricate some perfect image of them and let that dictate how he viewed his student.
Feeling a bit nauseous, Peter gripped Carter's hand.
-
Despite everything he said to the Carter family's maid, Peter did not tell anyone about what Carter's dad did to him. This was a secret that Carter had been carrying with him for 14 years, and Peter would almost feel like he was betraying his student if he exposed it. That didn't mean Peter wasn't going to convince Carter to let him call the police the second he was conscious enough to hold a conversation, however.
That didn't happen until a few days later. It wasn't the first time Carter woke up, but he was so delirious with pain and confusion that it was hardly the time to have such a difficult conversation. Instead, Peter waited until Carter was laying in bed, breathing on his own, and complaining to an ICU nurse.
"I feel fine," Carter all but whined, looking between the nurse and Peter. "I just want to leave this room, please."
The nurse chuckled and patted Carter's arm when she finished checking his wound. "You know I can't let you out of this bed, Doctor Carter. Just hang tight for a little while longer." His sighed, but nodded and the nurse walked out the door.
"Feeling better?"
Carter turned to face Peter and promised that he was feeling better. So better, in fact, that Peter could let him walk around a little. But he didn't look better. His skin was still pale and a light layer of sweat sat on his brow. He was tired and could only stay awake for a few dozen minutes before drifting off. Carter probably felt considerably less pain than he was actually in with all the pain medication they had pumping through his veins, but Peter knew he had to be in some sort of pain. People don't get beat and stabbed then start walking around a few days later with no pain whatsoever. Maybe he was eager to get back home and reassure his parents (who they never ended up calling) that he was okay. Or, Peter thought bitterly, that he wasn't snitching.
The thought made Peter's mouth run dry, a sudden awkwardness falling over him. He had to ask Carter now. It had been days since the attack and there was no way Peter was going to keep this secret to himself forever. There was no way he was letting Carter go back home if what the maid said was true.
"Good," he finally said. "Then we need to talk." Carter tilted his head slightly, but nodded despite his confusion. He looked a bit worried, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes scanning Peter, but he stayed silent so Peter could talk. "I spoke with your maid."
"Rhonda."
"Sure, the woman that came in with you. We talked and she told me what happened."
"Oh." His voice was quiet. He cleared his throat and sat up in the bed a bit more. "What did she say?"
Peter sighed. "I know your father stabbed you and I know he's been abusing you for years."
A moment passed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Carter," Peter warned. Carter looked away and kept his head down, his fingers twisting in the thin blanket draped on his lap. Suddenly, he looked like a child. "Carter," Peter tried again. He kept his voice soft as if Carter really was a child.
"I wish she didn't tell you," he said after a few moments, voice quiet. His head was still down so Peter tilted his own head down to try and force eye contact.
"I know, but she did. And I can't sit here and do nothing about it."
"It really isn't a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Peter scoffed, genuine shock making his jaw drop open. "Carter, you were stabbed. It could have easily been fatal, too. You spent hours in surgery, lost way too much blood, and will be in recovery for weeks, if not months. I wouldn't call that 'no big deal.'"
"That's not… you just don't get it." That was what the maid said. She swore up and down that Peter just didn't understand as if it changed anything. Peter understood enough. Carter's father abused him for years, stabbed him, and deserved to be punished for it. "My father and I just had a disagreement. He was angry."
"We disagree often, but I don't go around stabbing you. It's not normal, Carter. It's not right or excusable or something to understand. Your father can't do this and get away with it."
"There's nothing I can do," he said, voice breaking around the words. He was whispering so quietly that Peter had to strain his ears to hear him. "My father has power and money. Anything I say is pointless against that. I have no proof anyway."
"Look at me." It took a moment, but Peter waited until Carter peeked through his hair to look at him. His eyes were watery, and his chin wobbled a bit as he tried to stop himself from crying. "You don't need to have it all figured out, okay? But you need to tell someone. I'll be with you every step of the way. So will Mark and everyone else. And you can stay with me when you get discharged because there's no way I'm leaving you alone in that house of yours."
"Doctor Benton," he cried, tears dripping down his face. "I don't… I—thank you." He cried harder, his shoulders shaking with each heaved breath. "Thank you. Thank you." Peter sighed before pulling Carter into a hug. He wrapped his arms around his trembling student with one hand moving to gentle brush through his hair. Carter clung to him with as much strength as he could muster and cried. He cried and cried and cried until Peter had a wet spot on his scrubs and Carter could do nothing more than hiccup into his shoulder. But still, Peter held him. He kept his arms wrapped tight around Carter until he cried himself into exhaustion and fell asleep against Peter.
After gently placing Carter back into his bed and bringing the blanket up to his chin, Peter stayed by his bedside. He sat there silently for a while before requesting a nurse bring him his charts that were left unfinished. There were no surgeries for a few hours so, as long as no one paged Peter, he was content to sit by Carter's side and do the menial, boring tasks he often reserved for his student. Then, once Carter was stronger, they would figure out what to do. But, no matter what, Peter wasn't going to leave him alone to navigate such a terrible thing.