When Carter Wasn't Herself

The sliding glass doors parted and Donovan glanced up. A teenager with a bleeding arm walked in, trailed by a nervous looking parent. Having given up on finding distraction in the muted TV screen hanging off the wall in the emergency room lobby, Donovan focused on the two newcomers. The mother talked with the nurse behind the desk. After a quiet back and forth, she accepted paperwork and led her son to a section of chairs.


Dismissing the teenager, having assessed the injury was from a biking accident, Donovan went back to staring at the double doors leading to the rest of the hospital. His heel bounced against the tile floor, his bottled-up energy needing some form of displacement. When the doors opened, he stood. A male in his late forties wearing a white lab coat over slacks and a button-down shirt stepped out.


"Doctor Andrews," Donovan said, approaching the man.


"You're the one who brought in Ms. Owens?" the man asked.


"Yes, sir. How is she?"


The doctor wrapped his hands around the stethoscope that hung about his neck.


"She's fine, it wasn't a break, but a bad sprain," he said. "She said she got it during training?"


Donovan nodded, trying not to think about the incompetent trainer who had attacked when he should have simply been demonstrating. The small intake of breath Carter had given and the pain that shocked her features was like a stab to Donovan's heart. It had taken all of his self-control to walk Carter away and not break the trainer's arm.


"Well," the doctor continued. "Her arm will be fine. It was a bad sprain so I gave her some morphine for the pain. I'll take you to her and then you're free to take her home."


The doctor pushed through the swinging doors, Donovan right behind. The corridor beyond was lined with beds with machines acting as bookends on either side and divided with thin pale blue curtains. Some sections were concealed while others showed grimacing patients being looked over by nurses and others asleep, escaping the pain.


"Here you are," Doctor Andrews said, motioning to one open section. "Make sure to drop off the release form on your way out."


"Thank you," Donovan said.


The doctor left and Donovan stepped towards the hospital bed. Carter was sitting up, wearing a paper gown, her arm wrapped up and hanging in a sling. When she focused on him, he saw the obvious effects of the drug. The intensity that always burned in her eyes had been numbed. She was still his Carter, but without the sharp edges.


"How are you feeling?" Donovan asked, stopping by the side.


"Grand," she said, with a lopsided smile.


A piece of Donovan's worry evaporated with the response and happy look.


"Ready to get out of here?" he asked.


A little wobbly, Carter placed a hand on his chest, grinning even more.


"I will go anywhere with you," she said.


Fighting his amusement, Donovan took her hand and helped her out of the bed.


"You should get dressed first," he said. "I'll be outside."


Scoffing, Carter waved her hand, the look floppy like she was swatting away a fly.


"Just turn around."


Hesitating, Donovan closed the curtain and kept his back to her. After two muttered curses, Donovan wondered if he should offer help, but didn't want to take advantage of the drugged moment. A third curse came and Donovan opened his mouth. Before he could speak, he felt a tap on his arm. Turning, he found Carter fully dressed and holding up her damaged arm.


"I need you," she said.


The statement was so simple but Donovan couldn't have ever imagined it freely coming out of Carter's mouth. Taking the sling, he eased her bandaged wrist into it. As he went to clasp it around her neck, she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest.


"Why do you always smell so good?" she asked, her eyes closed.


The closeness of her made Donovan falter, but he regained his composure and finished the task.


"You're all set."


Uncertain, Carter righted herself and stared up at Donovan.


"Hi," she said.


Donovan wanted to laugh. It was as if she were someone completely different. When she looked at him, her mind was quiet, she wasn't trying to solve the world. She wasn't trying to solve him.


"Hi," he said.


He moved the curtain aside, but Carter poked his arm, stalling him.


"Hmm?"


"I want your jacket," she said.


"You cold?"


She shook her head and teetered with the motion. Instantly, Donovan reached out and steadied her.


"How come you want my jacket?" he asked.


She squinted at him, the look asking if he were stupid.


"Cause it smells like you."


Shaking his head in wonderment, Donovan removed his jacket and draped it over Carter's shoulders. Snatching the release forms from the edge of the bed, they headed out.


A soft brush of skin startled Donovan and he glanced down. Carter's brow was scrunched up in concentration as she tried to connect her hand with his. Part of him wanted to watch as she worked to take his hand but decided to take pity on her and offered it up.


Sighing, Carter slipped hers through his and held onto it tightly. It was like he was her anchor in a storm and she was never going to let go. He was fine with that.


"Since your father is away, Maggie wanted to take you home, but something happened at the deli and she couldn't come."


"I'm glad it was you."


Carter stumbled to the side but course corrected, leaning against Donovan instead. After two failed attempts, she managed to rest her head on his shoulder. Donovan stared down at her. She seemed to fit so perfectly there, yet this occurrence was rare.


They dropped off the forms and Donovan led Carter out to the parking lot. He opened the passenger side door for her and guided her in. When he climbed into the driver's seat, he found Carter struggling to work the seat belt.


"Stupid thing," she groaned.


Donovan reached over and clicked it in. Relieved, Carter sank back against the seat, smiling at him.


"My hero," she said.


Donovan chuckled. "I've definitely been working way too hard then."


They pulled out and eased into the late afternoon traffic. When he glanced over at Carter, she had curled up on the seat and was gazing at him.


"Is it ever annoying being so good looking?" she asked.


Donovan fought a smile at the comment.


"There it is," Carter breathed out, gently touching the corner of his mouth where the smile was hidden. "That's my favorite smile. It's the one that says you find me amusing. Or you don't want to show how much you like me."


Donovan's eyes cut to her. "I didn't realize I had a smile for that."


Carter gave a sleepy nod. "You do. You have a lot of smiles. Thirty-seven to be exact."


Donovan chuckled, glancing at her again. She looked at home beside him in the passenger seat, like she never wanted to be anywhere else but his side.


"You have six different ones just for Link," she said.


"Really?"


"Yup. For when he's sad. When he needs someone like a big brother. When you want to help him not feel alone. You have so many smiles. Like you have so many thoughts and I will never know them all." Carter blinked at him. "I know you so well and then there are times you look at me and I can never fully understand what's going through your mind."


She closed her eyes and nestled deeper into the seat.


"I see you interact with others and know what's on your mind, but you look at me...and I don't know anything." Her voice was soft, unaware she was talking out loud anymore. "Maybe I just get lost in you. You have such pretty eyes and at the same time, they are so much more. It's like...you see everything. You see everything in me. I'm not a mystery to you, I'm...I don't know."


Donovan wanted to speak, to admit everything she was to him, but he also knew that this moment would be erased from her memory. These truths she was sharing weren't meant for him. These were the thoughts he was always trying to read when he looked at her. Now he knew them and now he loved her more for them because she was just as taken with him as he was with her.


"You're my everything, Carter," he whispered.


Beside him, Carter let out a happy sigh. Donovan looked at her and found a tiny smile dotting her lips. The rest of the drive passed in silence, Donovan stealing glances at his sleepy companion. When they pulled up to the apartment, Carter stirred. She blinked at the fading light and her home. Donovan got out and rounded the car, opening her door by the time she had gotten her seat belt undone.


"Need help?" he asked.


Carter gave a drowsy nod. When Donovan leaned forward to assist her out, she wrapped her good arm around his neck. Smiling, he scooped her up and nudged the door closed with his foot.


"I take it you can't walk then," he said.


Carter shook her head. "I like your arms."


As he walked to the stairs, her head fell against his shoulder. He felt her warm breath on his neck and for a second his thoughts collapsed. Shaking himself, he climbed the stairs and got them into the apartment.


When the lights flicked on, he found the living room had been recently cleaned and the touches of Steve's seriousness about Maggie popping up in small ways: The pillows on the couch and the throw blanket draped across the back, the potted plant in the kitchen and newly framed photos hanging on the wall, covering the empty faded spots that had been there.


"You want to go to sleep?" Donovan asked.


Carter shook her head.


"A movie then?"


A nod. He laid her down on the couch. After kicking off her shoes, she curled up, head resting on one of the new pillows. Donovan took the blanket off the back and put it over her. Grabbing the remote, he then flipped on the TV and found something that had at least one explosion and a car chase. When he turned back to Carter, she was staring up at him.


"You want me to call Maggie?" he asked, not wanting to leave but uncertain.


"Stay," she whispered.


"Okay."


He took a spot on the couch. For a while they watched the movie, neither talking, but both thinking of each other. Halfway through, Carter sat up.


Before Donovan could ask if she needed anything, she crossed the couch and curled up beside him, dragging the blanket with her. Donovan reached for it and pulled it around her as she rested her head against his shoulder. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her.


The suddenness of it all surprised Donovan but he said nothing. Right then his life felt perfect. Every moment of feeling trapped or frustrated over the last seven years didn't seem to matter. If it had lead to this one instance, it was all worth it.


Carter sighed, relaxing against him.


"In case you were wondering," she said, her breath warm as if fell over his bare arms. "You're my everything."


He smiled, yes it was all worth it.


**********************************************************************


You got a problem, punk!


No? Oh that's good! โ˜บ๏ธ Must be nice to have to qualms in life.


Okay, onto the real reason you're putting with my oddness, to understand what was behind the writing of this chapter.


Well, it's cause my sister and I were talking and we were wondering what it would take for Carter to ever just soften and not fight for affection all the time. And we realized for that to ever happen she would have to not be herself, drugged!


There you have it the really random reason to why I wrote this.


Did you like it?


Let's face it I would want to steal Donovan's jacket cause it smells like him! I'm guessing the dude smells amazing!


Any who share what you want, I shall find it all amusing and delightful!


Vote, comment, follow! Or whatever โ˜บ๏ธ

Comment