Open Case File [COMPLETED]

A Day's Work

It's really short but I wanted to explore this one moment and well I hope you like it. If not, don't tell me!

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With a sigh, Donovan dropped into his office chair. After forty-eight hours of surveillance work, all he wanted to do was file his report and go home to a good book. The office around him slowly emptied of agents as he typed away. He hit send as he heard footsteps approaching his desk. When he looked up, he found Brock looking down at him, his brow edged with concern.

"Have you seen Carter today?" he asked.

Donovan laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

"No. I just got back from a stakeout," he said.

Brock nodded and dragged a hand down his face.

"Look, I think you should go see her," he said.

Donovan straightened. "What happened?"

"You know she's on my team. Well, today we were called in for a homicide," Brock said. "A family of three."

Donovan felt his stomach sink. This would be Carter's first major case, her first homicide.

"Is she still in the building?" Donovan asked, quickly shutting down his computer.

"No, after writing up her report, she went home."

Donovan grabbed his jacket and hurried to the elevators. On his way to Carter's apartment, Donovan replayed the first homicide he'd seen. Remembered the grief and anger he'd felt at seeing what one person could do to the other. The horror of it had kept him from wanting to sleep that night, afraid of seeing the scene over and over again. Sometimes it still slipped into his dreams.

When he knocked on Carter's door, he got no answer.

"Carter?" he said.

Still, he heard nothing.

He pulled out his key and slid it into the lock. When he opened the door to Carter's small studio apartment, he saw her in the corner kitchen, standing at the counter. She'd changed into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. From the doorway, she looked fine.

"Hey," he said, easing the door shut.

Carter didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge him.

"Carter?" Donovan said, moving towards her.

"Please leave," she said.

Donovan paused, watching her as she poured boiling water into a mug. Her hand was shaking.

"Do you really want me to leave?" Donovan asked.

After a breath, Carter shook her head. Donovan closed the gap between them, hovering a foot away from her, uncertain. With her back to him, he wasn't certain what she was feeling.

"I don't think I've ever seen you drink tea," Donovan said.

"Maggie makes me some when I need to calm down."

Carter's voice cracked at the end and Donovan touched her shoulder. Carter gripped the edge of the counter.

"The boy was five years old," she whispered. "And they-"

Carter covered her mouth, trying to stifle a sob. Donovan pulled her into his arms and she buried her face in his chest. Her whole body shook with grief and pain.

Donovan said nothing though there were a million things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that it would be okay. But it wouldn't. That family was dead, ripped from the world. He wanted to tell her that it would get easier. But that was a lie. Death always hurt. He wanted to tell her that there were good things in the world. But he couldn't. Not when she'd just seen the bad.