TITLE: CHICAGO STORIES II: THE THREAT
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
SUMMARY: Dale Edson threatens John and Walter. He's such a skunk.
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. 
SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and ewade for beta reading and friendship.
************************************************************

CHICAGO STORIES II: THE THREAT

by WPAdmirer


John slapped the last of his charts onto the stack in front of him, then slowly stretched rolling his neck, trying to ease the kinks and knots in the muscles of his back. What he needed right now was a good massage, or a hot shower, or better yet, a session of good sex followed by a boneless sleep draped across Walter's hot body. He smiled to himself. It wasn't likely he was going to get any of those anytime soon, but if he had a choice, he'd take door number three.

The door to the lounge slammed open and Dale Edson stood there with a smug smile on his face. John turned away and went back to his charts, making them into two neat piles that would be easier to carry back to medical records.

"Johnny boy, just the man I wanted to find." 

John ignored Edson and started to get up. He felt Edson's hand on his shoulder pushing him back down into his chair. 

"What do you want, Dale?"

Edson patted him on the shoulder. "We need to have a little talk." He sat on the edge of the table, keeping his hand on John's shoulder. His other hand reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out several sheets of folded paper. 

John sighed. Dale was obviously taking his time, wanting to drag this out for however long he could. "Stop being dramatic. Either talk or don't. I have work to do." 

"Are you this pushy with Walter Skinner?"

John's heart began to pound. He didn't respond.

"I have a friend who's a surgical resident at Arlington Hospital."

John stared at the charts stacked in front of him. He remembered Arlington all too well. Walter had virtually dragged him back there for a post-surgical appointment. It had been a visit that had convinced him more than ever that his decision to leave surgery had been a good one. The surgeon he'd seen had been a real asshole. Not unlike Dale Edson.

"He sent me a copy of your chart, and don't even bother to tell me how illegal it is. I don't give a shit."

John glared up at Dale. Dale smiled.

"It seems that it wasn't a simple mugging as you and Dr. Weaver have explained. In fact, you were beaten very deliberately. But what's most fascinating about your record is the man who paid the bill. Walter S. Skinner of Crystal City, Virginia. I would offer you his address, but since it was listed as being your address also, I guess I don't need to."

John concentrated on keeping his breathing slow. He unclenched his fists. "And the point to all this is what?"

Dale placed the folded papers in front of him. "This is an original and two copies. One for me and one for you. I'm going to frame mine."

John unfolded the paper and saw a letter addressed to Anspaugh.

"Read it. Out loud."

"Dear Dr. Anspaugh, this letter is to serve as a notice of resignation from my residency in emergency medicine at Cook County Hospital. This notice is effective immediately. John Truman Carter."

"Now if you'll sign the original and my copy, you can do whatever you like with your copy."

"You don't want to know what I'd like to do with all three copies. There's no way I'm signing this."

The hand on John's shoulder squeezed tighter. John flinched. 

"If you don't sign this, I'm sending copies of your chart to everyone.  Anspaugh, Weaver, Green, Romano, and your family. Grandma, Grandpa, Daddy and Mommy. I'm going to blanket the Carter family. Then I'm going to newspaper. I think they'd be fascinated with the story about Roland Carter's only surviving son and how he has this lover in Virginia who apparently beats him up on a regular basis. But he's not a terrible guy. He does pay the hospital bill."

"Go ahead." John's voice was firm, but his stomach was churning. He breathed deeply, fighting back nausea.

"It's your choice, Johnny. Either you resign and leave medicine, for good, or I out you and your buddy in Virginia. If you don't care, just think what he's going to think. I mean, the last time he got pissed at you he put you in the hospital."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"He paid your bill. He was listed as your next of kin. The surgeon noted in the file that you were probably in an abusive homosexual relationship with this Skinner. He wanted to be sure if you showed up again that your doctor would make another effort to get you to file a complaint with the police. You refused to do it when he asked."

"He was wrong."

"Not about everything. Right?"

John didn't answer. He couldn't.

Dale laughed. "Listen, I'm going to be a sport about this. I'm off tomorrow, but I'll be here bright and early on Thursday. If that letter isn't signed and waiting for me when I come in, before the end of the day, everyone will know what I know."

John picked up the double stack of charts in front of him and stood.  "Do what you have to do," he said and he walked out of the lounge. His legs felt like rubber, but he forced himself to keep walking. He left the charts at the desk for medical records. His breathing was ragged, he desperately needed a place to gather himself, someplace to get calm. The linen closet was just down the hall. John focused on that door, deliberately putting one front ahead of the other until he reached it. 

When the door closed behind him, John sank back against it. He trembled. Oh, God, this was bad. First it would put Walter's name in the hands of the Carter family. Second it would inform his grandfather that he, John Truman Carter, had a sexual relationship with a man. That man being, of course, Walter. On one level, John really didn't care if anyone knew about Walter. On the other hand, he really didn't want his grandfather to know.  It wasn't like he was all that popular with the family right now anyway, but this would be just the trick to push his grandfather right over the edge.

John leaned his head back against the door, then gently thumped it on the wood. Fuck, this was bad. The good thing was his parents were out of the country. The bad thing was his grandfather would immediately pick up the telephone and demand they return. There would be a Carter family summit in which not only he would be crucified, but Walter would be destroyed.

The Carters would decide that he'd been seduced or forced into the relationship. They would do everything in their power to ensure that Walter's career and life were demolished. Quietly, of course, but nevertheless demolished.

Of course, there was also the incredibly stupid notion that Walter had beaten him. Only a complete moron would have made that jump in logic, and the surgeon had been a complete moron. 

The door suddenly swung in and whacked John sharply in the back of the head. "Ow!"

Carol stuck her head around the edge of the door. "Oh, Carter, I wondered what I'd hit." 

John stepped away from the door and Carol came in, letting the door close behind her. She looked around the linen closet with her eyes, her head not moving. "Is there some reason you're in here?"

John looked down at the floor, feeling the heat of a blush spreading across his face. 

Carol ran one hand through her dark, curly hair and smiled. "Who are you hiding from?"

John looked at her and grimaced. "Edson."

Carol nodded. "Good move. I need some patient gowns."

"Oh, yeah, sure." John moved out of her way. 

Carol gathered an armload of gowns and started to leave the room. She stopped and patted John on the arm. "Carter, you're twice the doctor Edson will ever be. Hell, three times, maybe more. Don't let him get to you."

"Thanks."

The door closed behind her and John leaned his forehead against it. There was no other way to do it. He would have to go and talk to his grandfather himself. It certainly would not add to his present popularity with the family, but then it was hard to be much more of a pariah than he was. Besides, his grandfather would take care of Edson. There'd be no way that the file would ever get to the press once the Carter money and power got in its way. With any luck, his grandfather would decide to take out at least a small part of his rage on Dale. That would almost be worth it. 

*****

It was late when John finally settled in for the night. The day had been hard, and the phone call to his grandfather had not gone well. They would meet privately at the family home after he got off work tomorrow night.

The phone next to the bed rang and John closed his eyes. Walter. He'd never felt dread before knowing that Walter was on the other end of the line, but tonight was very different.

It rang a second time and John made himself pick it up. 

Walter's voice sounded like warm chocolate, rich and deep. "What are you wearing, John Carter?" There was the hint of laughter beneath the question.

"Nothing," John answered. 

"Good."

John felt his penis stirring, beginning to get hard. "Walter, ...."

There was a pause and then John heard Walter sigh. "What's wrong?"

"I have to tell my family about me...us...our relationship."

"What happened?"

"A surgical resident here, Dale Edson got my chart from Arlington Hospital. A friend of his is one of the surgical residents there."

"And?"

John covered his close eyes and tried to breathe regularly. "He's going to send it to my family unless I resign my residency."

"So they see the file. What's in it that would mean anything to them?"

"Your name. And a doctor's note expressing his suspicion that you, my homosexual lover, had beaten me."

"Oh, good grief." 

John could hear Walter sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Because this Edson's a blackmailing son of a bitch? Or because my work almost got you killed?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. So cut it out."

John sank back on the bed and covered his eyes with one arm. "I called my grandfather. I see him tomorrow night after work."

"I'll go with you."

There was a long silence as John found himself trying to comprehend what Walter had just said. 

"John Carter, if you're going to talk to your family, I want to be there. This is about us."

This is about us. 

"What time do you get off?"

"Seven."

"I'll get a flight and be in by then. I'll get a hotel room."

John took a deep breath. "No. Don't get a room. Stay with me."

Now the long quiet was on Walter's side. John almost smiled picturing him sitting on his bed, naked, a look of panic on his face. "All right.  I'll go from the airport to your place."

"I'll leave a key under a flower pot near the door."

"How many flower pots am I going to have to pick up before I find it?"

John Carter smiled, then found himself laughing. "There's one, Walter."

"Good." 

John could hear the creaking of the bed, and the thump of Walter settling himself back against the headboard of his bed. 

"What are you wearing?" Walter's voice teased.

John laughed. "Other than a smile? Nothing, Walter. How about you?"

"I'd like to be wearing you."

"Oh, Walter Skinner!"

Peals of laughter came across the phone line and echoed in John's room.

John joined in, and they continued laughing until tears ran down John's face. 

"You're going to be the death of me, yet," Walter said softly.

"I hope not, Walter," John replied. 

"What time do we need to be at your grandfather's?"

"Nine."

"I'll rent a car. Be at your place no later than seven-thirty."

"We won't need to leave here until eight-thirty." John waited, listening to Walter's breathing getting heavier.

"I think we can find a way to fill that time." Walter's voice was thick with desire. John could not suppress the groan that rose in his throat.  "Don't touch yourself. Leave that to me."

"Oh, God, I don't think I can wait."

"You can."

"You're a cruel man, Walter."

"Let's see if you're still saying that at eight tomorrow night. Until then, John Carter."

John heard the click as Walter hung up and cursed him out loud. It was inhuman to leave him like this. The man would pay, and with any luck, pay and pay and pay. John realized he was giggling. He must be tired, punchy. He was lying on his bed, stark naked, a hard on that could be used to hammer nails, and enough anxiety to cause a massive myocardial infarction.

John turned over onto his back and one hand strayed down to lightly stroke his penis. Then he pulled his hand away. He got up and headed for the bathroom and a cold shower. Damn Walter. The man was a fucking sadist.

The End