TITLE: CHICAGO STORIES II: THE CONFRONTATION
AUTHOR: WPAdmirer@aol.com  
ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where.
CATEGORY: Slash Crossover (XF-ER) Skinner/John Carter, AU (Alternate Universe - cause damnit, I like the beard)
SPOILERS: None
RATING: PG-13 (John Carter swears a bit)
SUMMARY: John Carter confronts his grandfather.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me. The full set of stories (thus far) can be found at the ER nfic site: 
http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Studio/5437/wpadmirer.htm  and my own site: http://chateauke.simplenet.com/chimerical/chicago/index.htm DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC.  Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately, relatively unharmed. 
SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and ewade for beta reading and friendship.

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CHICAGO STORIES II: THE CONFRONTATION

by WPAdmirer


John Carter stood outside the door of his grandfather's office. The secretary was gone. Everything was very hushed. He could hear the soft hiss of air coming through a vent somewhere, and in the outer offices the murmur of voices. A quick glance at the secretary's desk had shown that no one should be in the office with his grandfather. Of course, that was no guarantee. 

He took a deep breath, turned the knob and walked in.

His grandfather looked up at him from his desk. John stood in the doorway, unable to move.

His grandfather gave an exasperated sigh. "Come in and close the door."

John closed the door behind him and walked over to a chair in front of his grandfather's desk.

"Sit down."

"I'd rather stand."

"Suit yourself."

His grandfather leaned back in his chair. "You're the last person I expected to see today."

"Did you have Dale Edson killed?"

Robert Carter smiled. "That's right to the point."

John felt anger building inside him. His grandfather really was a smug old bastard. "Did you?"

"No."

John Carter looked into his grandfather's face. The man didn't flinch, didn't turn away. John wanted so much to believe that he was telling the truth. "Do you know anything about his murder?"

Robert Carter sat back in his chair, turned his face away from John. He rubbed at his left wrist absently. "Not really."

"What does that mean?"

Robert Carter took a deep breath. "It means that we're finished talking. Go back to your friend, Johnny. He appears quite capable of taking care of you."

John Carter felt his face grow hot. His chest felt as though something had turned sideways and rubbed against his ribs. John clenched his teeth, keeping the pain inside, but he heard it in his voice. He knew his grandfather heard it, too. It made him want to scream, or kick something, hurt the old man. Make him understand what this was doing to him. "I will not just be dismissed. You tell me what you do know."

Robert Carter surged up out of his chair, his voice soft, but hard with rage.  "The only thing I know is your friend is dangerous, and because of him, you're lost to me and another young man is dead. That's all I know. Now get out."

John Carter stumbled back, moving away from his grandfather. He felt himself grow small, felt his courage wither and die inside him. He felt sick.  He turned and fled the office, leaving the door open behind him, running for the elevator. 

The doors closed just before he arrived and he couldn't wait, couldn't stand to be in the building a moment longer than he had to. He ran to the stairs and didn't stop running until he was on the street outside. He leaned against the building and gulped cold air. 

Fuck. That wasn't exactly how he'd planned things. Shit. He was trembling. Goddamn, it wasn't like he was still ten years old, but the old man could still scare the shit out of him. Fuck. 

And he hadn't learned jack. Well, maybe he had learned something. His grandfather was angrier today than he'd been last night. And he said that Walter was responsible for Edson's death. That meant he did know something. Something that he wasn't willing to share.

Fuck.

John Carter ran one hand through his hair, leaving most of it standing almost on end. He hoped that Walter was having more luck on his end.



The End