Open Case File [COMPLETED]

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.