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Title: Random Lottery of Meaningless Tragedy
Fandom: ER
Characters: John Carter
Pairings: Mentioned Carter/Kem
Words: 465
Rating: M
Warnings: Mentions of canon child death, addiction, and sexual assault.
Notes: Written for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandom_empire challenge. Title from the song "The Pink Seashell" by Fall Out Boy.
Tag scene for the episode 10x21 "Midnight" (hate this episode so much)
Carter clutched the styrofoam cup in his hands a little tighter as he stared out at the city lights reflected in the river’s dark surface. A cold wind was blowing in off the water, tugging at his hair and undoing any good the hot coffee may have accomplished.
The hospital loomed up behind him — he couldn’t see it from this angle but it seemed as if its presence was the one horrible constant in his life since he first walked into it a decade ago.
He wasn’t completely comfortable with being outside the hospital right now, but Kem was finally sleeping and he needed some fresh air.
His dad had gone home a few hours ago, as had Luka and Abby. Which left Carter alone to finally process the terrible nightmare that had been the past twenty-four hours. And to let the worst question a doctor could ask themself start circulating through his mind: What could I have done differently?
From the moment Kem first told him she was pregnant, he’d promised himself he would do everything he could to keep her and the baby safe. To protect them and make sure they were always happy and healthy. The bare minimum, really, for a father to hold himself to. But, for someone who hadn’t received even the bare minimum from his own parents, it was important to him.
Except he hadn’t managed even that.
Little Joshua never made it into the world at all. Taken away before they could even meet him.
The fact that it was completely unavoidable somehow only made it worse. It was that knowledge that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent it — neither of them could have — that was killing him slowly.
An accident. A random medical happenstance.
It was all so pointless. So meaningless. Their son had been taken from them and there was no point to any of it.
Carter would almost call it cruel, except there was no one at fault — nothing to blame but a horrible twist of fate.
Much as it had been when his brother Bobby had died. Or when his parents had abandoned him in the aftermath to continue their lives without him. Or the horrific day when that maid had decided that a grieving and lost ten year old was fair game. Lucy’s death; getting stabbed by Sobricki; losing Mark; his grandfather’s death… when would the universe decide to balance the scales a little? Or even just leave him in peace.
None of it was pointed or personal. It wasn’t some awful coordinated attack against his life. There was no big bad villain to blame for any of this — not even himself, if he was being truly honest for once.
It was simply life. And that made it all so much worse.
Fandom: ER
Characters: John Carter
Pairings: Mentioned Carter/Kem
Words: 465
Rating: M
Warnings: Mentions of canon child death, addiction, and sexual assault.
Notes: Written for the
fandom_empire challenge. Title from the song "The Pink Seashell" by Fall Out Boy.Tag scene for the episode 10x21 "Midnight" (hate this episode so much)
Carter clutched the styrofoam cup in his hands a little tighter as he stared out at the city lights reflected in the river’s dark surface. A cold wind was blowing in off the water, tugging at his hair and undoing any good the hot coffee may have accomplished.
The hospital loomed up behind him — he couldn’t see it from this angle but it seemed as if its presence was the one horrible constant in his life since he first walked into it a decade ago.
He wasn’t completely comfortable with being outside the hospital right now, but Kem was finally sleeping and he needed some fresh air.
His dad had gone home a few hours ago, as had Luka and Abby. Which left Carter alone to finally process the terrible nightmare that had been the past twenty-four hours. And to let the worst question a doctor could ask themself start circulating through his mind: What could I have done differently?
From the moment Kem first told him she was pregnant, he’d promised himself he would do everything he could to keep her and the baby safe. To protect them and make sure they were always happy and healthy. The bare minimum, really, for a father to hold himself to. But, for someone who hadn’t received even the bare minimum from his own parents, it was important to him.
Except he hadn’t managed even that.
Little Joshua never made it into the world at all. Taken away before they could even meet him.
The fact that it was completely unavoidable somehow only made it worse. It was that knowledge that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent it — neither of them could have — that was killing him slowly.
An accident. A random medical happenstance.
It was all so pointless. So meaningless. Their son had been taken from them and there was no point to any of it.
Carter would almost call it cruel, except there was no one at fault — nothing to blame but a horrible twist of fate.
Much as it had been when his brother Bobby had died. Or when his parents had abandoned him in the aftermath to continue their lives without him. Or the horrific day when that maid had decided that a grieving and lost ten year old was fair game. Lucy’s death; getting stabbed by Sobricki; losing Mark; his grandfather’s death… when would the universe decide to balance the scales a little? Or even just leave him in peace.
None of it was pointed or personal. It wasn’t some awful coordinated attack against his life. There was no big bad villain to blame for any of this — not even himself, if he was being truly honest for once.
It was simply life. And that made it all so much worse.
