Open Case File [COMPLETED]

New Beginning (Part 2)

I wrote this because I made so many of you cry. (And because I didn't feel as bad as I should have about how much I made you cry 🙈)

It's not going to be what you want. It's only mildly less depressing than the previous chapter.

Also I still didn't know what age I wanted Kennedy to be and whether this would be something she would remember so she's not in it.

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

Donovan bolted upright, breathing hard. His heart rioted in his chest. His body trembled. Sweat clung to him. A dream. It was all a dream. As it always was. A dream. It wasn't real. Carter...It wasn't real.

Shaking, he buried his face in his hands, hating the way he craved each visit from her, even though he knew it would leave him hallow when she left. Each phantom touch blissful and torturous. Each kiss left him broken inside.

And that night. It'd been the worst of all. Her ghost told him stories that felt real. Told him what he wanted to hear, that she really had come back to him. It had all been fake. Her death. The funeral. The months of living without her. The empty bed. The lingering smell of her in the apartment. The way he'd see her out of the corner of his eye but when he turned around, she wasn't there.

Donovan shook with pain. Wanting it to all be real. Wanting to turn and see her lying beside him. Wanting to feel his heart beat again.

But he wasn't strong enough. He didn't have the courage to look over. If she wasn't there... If it was a dream as all the others had been he didn't think he would survive. His heart would fail him. The reality of having to go on day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute without her would crush him.

Through the blackness of his thoughts, he felt a gentle touch.

"Hey."

That voice. That voice that filled his memories. That voice that whispered in his ear at night. That voice that made his blood race. That voice that filled him with happiness.

Her voice.

Feeling like a man made out of splintering glass ready to shatter, Donovan turned his head.

In the dimness of the room, he saw a silhouette beside him. A silhouette he knew by heart.

"You're real," he croaked.

The silhouette reached out and brushed a tender hand over his face and in his hair.

"I'm real," she whispered.

Donovan shattered. Tears he thought he would never cry again spilled out as he buried his face in the soft crock of her neck. Strong, dependable arms pulled him against a body he knew better than his own. A loving voice whispered in his ear, though he barely heard the words. All he knew was the warmth of her, the solidity of her in his arms, the beat of her heart that struck against his.

A dream. It wasn't a dream. She was real. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream.

*********

Daylight pooled on the floor, strands of it making its way across the bed. Donovan woke to the sound of a sigh. When he opened his eyes, he found a tangle of brown hair in his vision, pieces of it tickling his cheek. A head rested on his chest, a hot breath caressing his skin. A familiar form snuggled against his.

Carter stirred and wiggled, curling closer to him. Natural. The action was natural. It was foreign. It wasn't real. It was real. He never thought he would feel it again. She lay here. In his arms. Her breath changed. She was awake. He knew that. Knew the change in her breathing. It was real. She was real.