"J.T. - It's Not Easy Doing Greene, Part 10
By: Cathy and Melissa
Carter awoke with a fuzzy feeling in his head and mouth. Had to be from the sleeping pill, he thought. He sat up and looked at his watch. Almost eleven and he had to be at work by noon. There would be time for a quick shower, but no breakfast, not that his stomach really felt like breakfast. Or lunch for that matter. As he got out of bed he saw that the covers on the other bed were undone -- someone had slept there. He vaguely remembered that Billy had been sitting over there before he fell asleep. He most likely had slept there as well. Gathering up his regular clothes, he stepped into the hallway, then frowned. Someone was in the shower.
"Morning," Billy said with a smile as he came down the hallway. "I hope you're feeling better."
"I'm fine. Who's in the shower?"
"Mark. He showed up last night looking for you. Roger let him stay because he was pretty insistent about needing to talk to
you."
"There's nothing he can say that I want to hear. Not anymore."
"J.T., he stayed with you all night."
So Mark had been the one in the other bed. Big fucking deal. Without another word, Carter went back into the bedroom and changed, then headed out. Roger was at the dining room table, the morning paper spread out before him.
"Did you see Mark yet?"
"No. I'll see him at work I suppose. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night."
"There's no need to thank me for that. Billy and I can leave so you can have some privacy with Mark."
Carter shook his head. "I need to get to work. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Fine."
Roger stared at the door that closed behind Carter. Mark Greene was not going to be pleased to find out that he had left. Not pleased at all. Maybe there would be a chance for them to talk later. Roger hoped so. Talking with Mark last night had made him realize that Mark really did care, and this was one of those times when Roger found himself wishing that things would work out right for one of his guys.
Mark was in a lousy mood by the time he finally made it into work. He was still kicking himself for being considerate when he woke up. His first instinct had been to awaken Carter so they could talk, but no, he stopped himself from doing that. He told himself then that Carter needed all the sleep he could get. Instead he got up and took a shower. And when he got done with that shower, he found that Carter had left. Roger and Billy made it clear to him that Carter had not been willing to wait to talk with him. By the time Mark left the apartment, he didn't have much time to get his butt to work. Then he hit the early lunch traffic and that sealed his fate. So he was fifteen minutes late and the look on Kerry's face let him know that she wasn't pleased about that at all.
"Sorry I'm late, Kerry. I know you're tired and eager to get home."
"I'm all right, Mark. Got a minute?"
"Sure." He followed her into the lounge, grabbing a cup of coffee and a bagel for himself while she got ready to go home.
"What's up with Carter? I haven't seen him this depressed since Anna Del Amico left."
"What makes you think I would know why he's depressed?" Mark snapped.
"I thought the two of you were friends," she evenly replied, but her eyes seemed to be telling him more. Or was it just his imagination?
"Sorry. No, I don't know why he's depressed," Mark lied. "But, I'll try to talk to him later to see if I can find out anything."
"Good. I don't think anyone of us wants him moping around here the way he was last summer. Have a good shift." She left and Mark sat at the table, wondering how he was going to get Carter alone long enough to say "Hello", let alone get into a serious discussion.
The citizens of Chicago did everything in their power to keep Mark away from Carter during their shift. It seemed that they would barely be done with one trauma before another would arrive. They were slammed to the wall, and even though he ended up working side by side with Carter throughout the day, there was never time to talk. During the short lulls, Carter wouldn't even look at him, and that cut him to the quick.
Mark figured that he would have to wait until their shift was over for them to talk, and shortly after midnight he was waiting just outside the doors for Carter to appear. And he waited. Finally, he went back inside.
"Back so soon?" Randi asked him.
"I left something in my locker," Mark lied as he headed for the lounge. No sign of Carter in there. Was he still around or had he left by another exit?
Mark went back to the admit desk. "So, who's on tonight?"
"Carter's pulling a double shift as a favor to Doyle..."
Mark didn't hear the names of the other residents as Randi kept talking. He only heard the fact that he couldn't talk to Carter tonight. He had no choice but to resign himself to having to wait until tomorrow to talk to him.
But the next days weren't any more successful. Somehow or another Carter managed to get his shifts changed so he wouldn't even come close to overlapping Mark's shifts, let alone share a shift with him. Of course Mark noticed the schedule change. Carter was working nights now. As disappointed as he was at not seeing him, a part of him was satisfied in the knowledge that Carter wasn't seeing anyone. Roger had told him that Companions, Inc. was not a twenty-four hour business. His guys worked nights only -- seven p.m. to seven a.m.
What was Carter doing with the days, besides sleeping? Mark called repeatedly, and got no answer after the first time, when Carter had hung up on him immediately. When Kerry gently mentioned Carter's subsequent purchase of caller I.D., Mark had been given pause for thought. Kerry knew, or at least suspected -- that much was obvious. She was tactful enough not to pry, and was caring enough to drop crumbs of information from time to time.
One evening as they were leaving the hospital, Mark noted that Kerry seemed to be going into unusually elaborate detail about her night's plans. Straight from work to the theater, a late supper afterward with a friend, possibly a sleepover there, since she didn't have to be at work until late the next day. And did she mention that Carter had the night off? She thought he might be spending the evening in -- he hadn't wanted to accompany Kerry and her friend to the theater. He seemed so down lately -- maybe Mark could stop by and check on him?
It was obvious that Mark was being nudged to go talk to Carter, or at least to make an effort. What if Carter had decided to use his night off to go to his second job, though? Mark knew he couldn't call to find out. Carter would refuse to answer, if he was at home. Roger wouldn't speak to him, whether Carter -- J.T. -- was working that night for him or not. In the end, Mark decided he didn't care. He was going to wait it out, was going to talk to Carter tonight. In person.
Mark knocked quietly, willing the door to be opened. He dreaded the inevitable confrontation that he knew would ensue when -- if -- Carter answered, but it would at least mean that Carter was at home, not out with some man. To Mark's surprise, Carter was maddeningly calm, cool, distant. Whatever he had expected upon being asked in, albeit reluctantly, that wasn't it.
They sat in silence for some moments, both knowing that Carter would be the first to speak. His words, when they finally came, were accusatory, his tone icy.
"You can't just use people like that. Manipulate them until you're tired of your sick little game, and then throw them aside." He got to his feet, walked around the room, his anger clearly heightening. "You got bored with me, right? I'd done everything I'd said I wouldn't, so it was over. Time to move on to someone else, more of a challenge? Or maybe now you've thought of some new thing you could get me to do, and you're here to talk me into it? You can't use me like that."
Of course those words were deserved, but they were rooted in misunderstanding. Mark had to make Carter see that he had not meant to hurt him. That it had not been a personal attack and that he had not cast him aside.
"I wasn't using you, Carter. Yes, I wanted certain things from you, I'll admit that. And I was glad when you finally gave in to me. But, I never used you. And I never threw you aside."
"The hell you didn't!" Carter's voice was more than a notch louder. "You told me to leave, remember? You kicked me out."
"I told you that I didn't want J.T. I never said that I didn't want you."
"You never thought there was a difference between us. The things you did, you did to me. Not to J.T., and you know it."
"Are you listening to yourself? You're referring to J.T. as if he's a real person, Carter. That scares me."
"It's none of your business, Mark. You made it plain that you were done with me. Yes, you are my boss and at work I have to take orders from you. But not here. Not any more. I think you should leave now."
Mark chose to ignore that directive. "Roger told me that this is the second time you've worked for him. He also told me that a former employee of his introduced you to him and is the person who told you to use another name."
Carter paled a little when Mark said that. Just how much did Roger tell Mark, he wondered. Mark was trying to get him off balance again, but Carter was determined that wouldn't happen. Mark had made him get his guard down before, but never again.
"I asked you to leave. Do I have to call the police in order to make you go?"
Mark slowly shook his head, then got to his feet. "I'll go. But, we're not done talking, Carter. Just know that I never used you. Not once."
Carter opened the door and stood there waiting for him to leave. Reluctantly, Mark stepped out onto the small porch, flinching as Carter slammed the door behind him. God, how was it possible for him to have messed things up this badly? Despite his anger, there had been hurt in Carter's eyes and Mark knew he would never forgive himself for putting that hurt there. He was also upset over the way Carter was now talking as if J.T. was a real person. And he had to have been the catalyst that made that happen. But, Mark knew one thing -- if he ever came face to face with the asshole that had convinced Carter to make up J.T. then that man was going to face his wrath. Who knew the kind of psychological damage that was now doing to Carter?
He started to his car, then reconsidered. He wasn't giving up...he couldn't. He hadn't done what he had come to do: apologize, make things right. Carter hadn't been willing to hear him out, but maybe he would in a little while, once he'd cooled down from the earlier explosion. It was good that Carter had finally let his anger out -- maybe now the healing could begin. Mark sat on the doorstep, pulling his jacket around him. It was going to be a long night.
Carter's anger was dissipating somewhat, but his mood wasn't improving. He paced, still high on the adrenaline from the argument, hoping that the crash into despair wouldn't happen. It came every day, as soon as he was alone, after he'd exhausted his body with work or chores, his mind with reading or paperwork.
Working for Roger had been his coping mechanism, whether he'd been aware of it or not. It had helped when Anna left and his family had disowned him, had helped when Chase died and the memories came back. When he stepped into J.T.'s clothes, he didn't have to cope with John Carter's world, John Carter's work, John Carter's problems. John Carter ceased to exist, and J.T. took over. J.T.: glib, invulnerable. Desired...pursued, even.
That thought made Carter wince. His regulars had been asking Roger about his absence and Carter had caved into the pressure to work again a couple of nights ago. He hadn't been due at the hospital until nine, and figured he could easily work in an appointment at seven. It had been a disaster. This particular trick always wanted the same thing -- to blow J.T. in the car as he drove them to the bar, then for J.T. to blow him on the dance floor. Easy, quick, requiring no thought. J.T. hadn't been able to do it -- any of it. He'd been unable to get an erection in the car, but explained it away. When they got to the bar, however, and J.T. received his cue, "What do you want to drink?", he froze. Unable to speak, even to apologize, he'd run out, and somehow had found his way home. Roger had subsequently put him on notice, gently telling him that maybe it was time that J.T. "retired".
He glanced out the window, and saw Mark sitting on the step. What the hell was he doing? Standing watch? He looked cold. Carter wasn't ready to talk to him again...not yet. Still,he couldn't leave him there. Stubborn as Mark was, he'd likely stay the whole night.
Mark started as the door opened behind him. Seeing Carter's face, he realized, relieved, that there wouldn't be another fight tonight. "Go home, Mark." Carter's voice was quiet, but the anger was no longer there.
It was a start.
"I am sorry...you know that?" He looked for confirmation, and received a tiny nod.
"I know, but I just...I can't think about it right now. Give me a little time, okay?"
Mark suppressed the urge to press for more, to extract just how much time Carter would need, to demand that he not see anyone else in the interim. Instead, he returned the nod in acquiescence. "Okay."
Without waiting for Mark to depart, Carter walked back in the house and closed the door gently behind him. With a sigh, he switched the lights off, and headed to bed, saying a little prayer that sleep would come. Eventually.
Carter needed more time than Mark bargained for, and waiting for some word, any word from him went even further in putting Mark into a bad mood. Carter, for his part, was more depressed than he had been before, a fact noticed by their co-workers. Things were getting so bad that their colleagues were ready to kill them both. Mark knew he was taking his frustrations out on everyone else, and he kept promising himself that he wouldn't do that anymore, but as each day passed and nothing changed, he found himself breaking that promise over and over again.
As for Carter, he was simply existing. The pain in his heart was so intense that he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Could barely think. Somehow he managed to get his job done. Everyone tried to cheer him up, and he appreciated their concern, but he wasn't interested in going on blind dates or out on the town with everyone else. Kerry had initially greeted his request to be on separate shifts from Mark with a raised eyebrow, but nothing more. She knew better than to press him and he was grateful for her understanding. Carter figured that if he didn't have to see Mark every day, then he wouldn't end up missing him so much. So far, it wasn't working. In fact, it was even harder to not see him since he had let him in the house to talk. At least Mark wasn't trying to call him. It had been so difficult to stand there and look at the caller I.D. and not pick up. He wanted so much to hear his voice. But, Mark's actions were what had changed their relationship - it wasn't by Carter's choice. So, he muddled along, staying away from Mark and Roger while waiting for his wounds to hurt a little less. Yet, when Maggie needed him to fill in for her during a day shift, he found himself agreeing. He knew he would see Mark, have to work with him, but it couldn't make him hurt any more than he already was.
Throughout the morning, Carter kept expecting Mark to corner him in order to talk again as he had promised. The more time that passed without that happening, the more Carter felt guilty over avoiding Mark the way he had. Obviously, he had overestimated Mark's feelings again. The man had made it plain before that he didn't care, so why would he go out of his way to try to talk about it?
Meanwhile, Mark was trying to be patient, hoping that today would be the day when he would finally get another chance to talk things over with Carter. Find some way to make him see that he didn't mean to hurt him. He was thinking about that as he walked over to Carol, a chart in hand.
"Doctor Greene?" Jerry called out.
Mark handed a chart off to Carol, then looked over at Jerry. "What?"
"Someone here to see you," Jerry cocked his head toward the tall man standing on the other side of the desk.
"Carol, can you see if Jeannie can finish up with this patient?"
"Sure," Carol went to look for Jeannie as Mark walked up to the admit desk.
"I'm Mark Greene. And you are?" The man looked familiar to Mark, but then, Mark often got that feeling when he met people. He treated so many patients that it was difficult to keep it straight who he had and had not seen before.
The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a badge. "Fox Mulder, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'd like to ask you a few questions about a patient you treated here a few months ago."
"The stripper?"
Mulder grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling. "You remember her then?"
Mark grinned back, "It would be hard to forget that patient and everything else that happened. Come on into the lounge, we can talk there."
Once inside the lounge, Mark offered Mulder some coffee. While pouring it, he took the opportunity to ask a few questions of his own. Back when the stripper had been brought in, she had been in the custody of two F.B.I. agents. Men who turned out were anything but F.B.I. agents, at least according to the real F.B.I. No one ever told him what was going on and he had finally put the entire incident out of his mind.
"So, why is the F.B.I. interested in the case again? I was questioned that day." He handed the cup of coffee to the agent, then sat down at the table across from him.
"Doctor Greene, I don't work the normal cases. I specialize in the odd cases, the ones that no one can explain. When the file crossed my desk, I was intrigued. A lovely young stripper," he paused, and waited for Mark's answering smile in confirmation, "shot and brought into the hospital by F.B.I. agents only to disappear shortly before the local agents appear. I can't even get a full and honest answer from the local bureau as to what was going on and who she was. I was hoping you could fill me in."
Mark shrugged. "I don't know much, but I'll tell you what I can."
"I guess that will have to be enough, won't it?"
"Don't you guys usually work in pairs?"
"I have a partner. She's got a bad case of the summer flu and is stuck back in D.C., so I guess you're stuck with me."
"I can handle that."
Mulder nodded. "So, tell me what happened that day."
Mark was in the middle of the story when the door suddenly opened and Carter stepped into the room.
"Mark, we've got an MVA on the way..."
As Carter's voice trailed off, Mark could see him pale. He followed Carter's startled stare to Mulder. Then it hit him as to where he knew Agent Mulder from -- the gay bar where Carter had been with two men. Two men who had physically hurt him later in the night. It took all the self-control Mark had to keep his voice even as he asked, "How long?"
Carter's gaze shifted from Mulder to Mark and it was clear that he was trembling. "What?"
"How long before the MVA victims get here?"
"Five minutes."
"Thanks."
Without another word, Carter turned and left. Mulder stood.
"If you'll excuse me."
Mark reached out and grabbed him around the wrist, his grip tight. "I think we need to talk, Agent Mulder." He placed a lot of emphasis on that title and name.
Mulder reluctantly sat back down, wondering just how much this doctor knew about what J.T. was doing after hours. "You were telling me about the stripper," he said. Hopefully, that would get this interview back on track.
"We can talk about her later. Right now, I want to know why you think that your badge can enable you to hurt people and think you can get away with it. What would the Federal Bureau of Investigation have to say about the fact that their agents were going around hiring male prostitutes and then beating them?" Mark knew he was going out on a limb by accusing the other customer of being an agent, but the look in the other man's eyes told him that he had guessed correctly.
Mulder quickly blinked and he shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I saw the two of you in the bar with him a few weeks ago. The next day, he had bruises and welts on his body -- obviously put there by one or both of you."
"We didn't do anything that J.T. didn't agree to. We would never hurt him on purpose. We had been drinking that night. Too much, obviously. Things got out of hand, but we never meant to hurt him like that."
"You've been with him more than once?"
Mulder slowly nodded.
"I see."
Mulder looked down at his hands. "We had been with J.T. before, the previous night. We felt comfortable with him and he seemed to be comfortable with us."
Mark glared at Mulder as his heart and soul were being filled with pain from merely sitting in the same room with a man who had engaged in sex with Carter. His Carter.
"Look, there's no reason for you to tell anyone else about this, right?" Mulder anxiously asked.
Mark knew he couldn't tell anyone without revealing how he knew and that would then get Carter in trouble. "I won't turn you in. But, I don't ever want you near him again. Is that understood?" Mark remembered Roger saying that none of his guys would ever go to a customer interested in S&M again, but he wasn't entirely sure that he could trust the man. Profits mattered a lot to Roger, and if his profits dropped too much over his ban, then he might just lift it. And put Carter in danger once more.
"Crystal clear," Mulder replied.
The door opened again and Carol stuck her head in. "MVA's here."
"Right. Sorry, Agent Mulder, but I have to get back to work."
"Here's my card. Call me." Mulder scribbled his hotel room telephone number on the back of the card, then handed it to Mark, who shoved it into his pocket.
Mark headed out to meet the gurneys and Mulder headed out to safety. Mark, Jeannie, and Benton handled the traumas, but Carter was no where to be found. Finally, the last patient was sent upstairs for surgery and Mark had the time to look for Carter.
"Any idea where Carter took off to?" he asked Lydia.
"He wasn't looking too well and said something about needing some air. I think he went outside," she replied. "That was a few minutes before the MVA's came in."
"Thanks." Mark tossed his bloodied gloves into the hazardous waste bin, then went outside to look for Carter. He stood just outside the ambulance bay doors, looking around. He finally spotted Carter sitting on a bench, looking out toward the street, and he headed in that direction.
"Lover, friend, or boss?" Carter asked, without turning his head, a tremor still in his voice. "I'm not sure which one you are. Which one you were supposed to be."
Mark was surprised that he'd heard him approach. "All three?" He sat down.
They remained quiet for a few minutes before Mark finally spoke again. "I had a short talk with Agent Mulder. He admitted that he and his co-worker, I guess he is, were the ones who hurt you."
Carter turned, anger flashing in his eyes. "I told you that it was job related, not that it was any of your business."
"And you want to keep taking the chance of getting even more job related injuries, Carter? You know you're going to have to stop. Not just because I want you to, but because of the risks. To your health, to your career..." It was killing Mark to see that Carter was still trembling. God, had they hurt him that badly?
"You made it plain that you don't care, so why are you out here?"
"I do care. I wanted to make you see that you were only hurting yourself with what you were doing. I was trying to get you to quit."
"Why? So you wouldn't have to pay for me anymore?"
"I never did pay for you." Mark had the satisfaction of seeing that remark make Carter's anger fade. He almost wished it hadn't. There was still fear in his eyes, but there was also pain and sadness. Feelings he knew he had put there. "Roger told me that you paid off my charges."
"I asked him not to tell you that." Carter looked away again.
"Is it so bad that I know?"
"Yeah. You might have gotten the mistaken idea that I cared about you or something like that. Truth is, I felt sorry for you. You have child support to pay and other stuff like that. I was just doing a good deed by paying off a trick's charges. Don't read more into it than that."
Mark knew that was a lie. He wanted to reach out and pull Carter to him, to hold him tight and tell him that he truly did care about him. But, this obviously wasn't the time or place to do that. He also didn't think it was the time or place to get into an argument with Carter, despite Carter's determination to get them involved in one. He finally decided to try another tactic, one he should have tried before.
"You keep telling me that you don't really know why you're working like this. There are people who can help you figure that out, Carter. Going to see a counselor is not a bad thing. Back when I was assaulted, I resisted seeing a counselor. Looking back, I can see now where I was being stubborn and just hurting myself even more. I was also hurting my friends and all those around me who wanted to help."
"You should ask for a refund then, because you're still acting like an ass," Carter said, his tone letting Mark know that he wasn't joking around..
"I'm sorry about that. I was hoping that when I attacked J.T., that you would see how stupid the whole separate identity thing was. I figured that if I treated you like a whore, then you would feel disgusted with yourself and quit. I wanted you to realize that I wanted you, John Carter, and not J.T."
"Mark, you were the only one I was ever with who didn't leave me feeling that way. I never had to pretend anything when I was with you." Carter reached out and laid his hand against Mark's cheek. "Never. I wanted so much to be with you without the trappings of being J.T., but I wanted it to be because we cared about each other and not just because you wanted to fuck me without having to pay."
Mark trapped Carter's hand with his own and he gazed into Carter's watering eyes. "I'm sorry you thought that about me. I did want you, but money wasn't the issue. You were."
Carter pulled his hand free, then looked back out toward the street. He wasn't sure that he could believe Mark. Not after what had happened. It had hurt way too much. "So, what happens now?"
"I don't know. You're confused about things right now, Carter. I think you need counseling. If you were my patient here, then I would insist on a psych consult."
"So, you think I'm crazy?"
"I think that you're confused. Very confused. You've admitted to me that you don't even know why you took up prostitution. Doesn't that bother you?"
Carter looked back at Mark, his eyes unreadable now. "There's a lot that bothers me. But, sex isn't one of those things."
"Will you at least think about counseling?"
Carter nodded. "I'll think about it. I'm not going to make any promises, but I will think about it."
"And there's no reason for you to keep rearranging your schedule so you can avoid me. I won't badger you, Carter. I want you and I want to spend time with you again. I enjoyed being with you. But, I won't force myself on you. I'm willing to wait for you to come to me, no matter how long it takes."
Carter could see that Mark was serious about that, but he still had his doubts. He wanted to believe him so much. But, he had believed him before and taking that risk had only resulted in his heart being broken. He wasn't sure that he could handle having that happen again. Still, he couldn't help but give Mark one more chance. One more test. "Promise? There won't be any pressure?"
Mark leaned over and gently kissed him on the lips. "I promise. I will wait for you to be sure of your feelings, John." He noticed that Carter was grinning. "What's so funny?"
"I just realized how serious you were about this. You never call me John."
"I think that when discussing something this important, that I should use your first name, don't you?"
"Yeah. It's just strange hearing it from you, that's all."
"Well, if things work out, then you'll be hearing it a lot more."
They heard someone clearing their throat and they looked up to see that Carol was standing near them.
"We've got multiple gun shot victims coming in."
"Thanks, Carol," Mark said.
"Everything okay?"
Carter nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine." They stood, then walked back inside with Carol. Just outside the doors, she stopped them.
"Um, you two had better be prepared for some serious ribbing. Things looked pretty intense out there and people couldn't help but notice. Especially Jerry."
"I think we can handle whatever it is that Jerry can dish out, Carol. Let's get inside before those victims show up." Mark held the door open for Carol, then locked eyes with Carter and nodded.
Carter smiled at him, then followed Carol back into the E.R.
Jerry was grinning from ear to ear the minute he saw them, but Mark cut him off before he even had a chance to speak.
"Hope you enjoyed the show, Jer."
"Show? You guys knew I was watching?"
Carter rolled his eyes. "Would Mark have kissed me for any other reason, Jerry?"
Jerry didn't know how to respond to that, so he chose to say nothing. He never noticed the looks that Carol and Lydia exchanged behind his back.
"Looks like things will be pleasant around here again," Lydia commented.
"About time," Carol responded with a smile. "Definitely about time."