Chapter 45 - "You're right, I don't protect my left side."

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Something snapped inside Donovan at the sight of Carter unmoving. A blinding rage filled every aspect of his being. Carter's attacker barely had time to turn, when he found Donovan's foot slammed into his chest, fracturing his breast bone. The man stumbled back, but Donovan was far from being done.

Tucking away the gun, he attacked the man with vicious force and accuracy. The man's neck snapped to the side as Donovan punched him in the jaw, following it up with a blow to the ribs and a second to the stomach. Adrenaline raced through his veins dulling his own pain. As the man tried to right himself, Donovan pulled out his gun. Flipping it, he caught the muzzle and cracked it against the man's face. The force of the impact sent the man crashing to the floor.

From the corner of his eye, he registered Carter moving. Done with the man before him, he fired at his leg keeping him on the floor. A weak cry of pain slipped form Carter's lips. Like a light switched, Donovan's anger vanished as he hurried to her side. Worry and concern ate away at his heart as he knelt beside her. A bruise was growing on her cheek and her skin had a paleness to it that terrified him.

"Carter," he said, emotions escaping with her name.

Carter's breath came in shallow gasps as she focused on him. The strangled sound was like a tear in his heart. He was bent over her, studying her, hating every sign of hurt. Hiding his gun away, he reached out and gently cupped the back of her head. He brushed the side of her face, wishing he could absorb all her pain.

"Hey," he said, his voice tender.

She took in a deep breath, the weariness in that movement almost breaking Donovan.  As she stared at him something in her face changed and her blue eyes lightened.

"You're right," she said, her voice raspy. "I don't protect my left side."

Relief like he had never known it crashed into Donovan. Dropping his head, he gave a shaky laugh. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, his breathing ragged. Her skin felt hot beneath his lips and it solidified the fact that she was alive. Hating that he had to, he pulled away.

"Don't move," he said. "I have to take care of the lock down and I'll be right back."

As if scared he would break her, he slowly lowered her head back to the floor. Standing, he locked the main office door and headed to Principal Withers's office. Following Deputy Townsend's instructions, he reversed the lockdown, moving as fast as he could.

The shutters retracted and gray light filtered into the room. The grinding metal rang in the silence of the room. When he stepped from the office, Carter was propped on her elbows, though her gaze was still hazy. Donovan pulled the radio from his pocket and clicked it on.

"Deputy Townsend," he said, "you're clear."

"Well done, Agent. Hold your position and my men will find you."

"Copy that."

Donovan slipped the radio into his pocket before crouching down by Carter.

"Can you get up?" he asked, studying her, seeing what strength had returned.

She started to nod, but stopped. Donovan watched as her eyes went out of focus and she dipped back. Before she could hit the ground, he caught her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"I'll take that as a no," he said.

She blinked, at him, struggling to fight against what ever fog was clouding her mind.

"I just need a minute then I can get up," she said, weakly.

Donovan didn't respond, he knew Carter was strong but didn't plan on having her try to prove it. Not when she already had. Instead he slid his other arm under her legs. Instinctively, she wrapped her uninjured arm around his neck as he lifted her off the ground.

She sucked in a breath, gripping the back of his shirt. Panic and guilt shot through Donovan and he quickly shifted his hand up to an undamaged area.

"Sorry." Guilt lanced through him again. "You okay?"

Carter tucked her head in the crook of his neck, taking a shaky breath. Donovan felt a tear roll down his neck, making his insides clench.

"Yeah," she said, as he felt her fingers tighten on his shirt collar.

Moving cautiously, he took a couple steps over to the chairs and sat down. With that small action all of his energy evaporated. All the pain he had been ignoring came screaming back. He knew that at least three of his ribs were cracked, and all over him were bruises that would take weeks to heal. Hit by the force of it all, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but never once did he loosen his grip on Carter. Right then she was the only thing he chose to focus on, helping him shove away the agony in his body.

After a brief moment, she relaxed against him, her body melting into his. All Donovan could think about was her. Sweat clung to her skin but still he could smell her shampoo. He listened to her breathing, waiting to hear it it settle into something calm. When it did, it fell inline with his own. Against his chest he could feel her move in sync with him. He did nothing but pin all his attention on that, letting it help him get past each painful second.

When she raised her head from his chest, Donovan almost said something, missing the feel of it resting there. Then gentle, callused fingers brushed the bruise coloring his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Worry filled her face and the sight made his heart hum. An exhausted smile pulled at the edge of his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" he said.

Her hand dropped away, taking the warmth with it.

"Like I got beat up by a 275lbs militarily trained guy."

Donovan gave a weak chuckle, mystified by the girl who could be beat up and still make light of it.

"What about you?" she asked, concern twisting through every word.

"Only a little better than that. I have a bruised rib or two but that's about the worst of it." He hoped to lessen her concern by denying half of what he felt. "I've had worse encounters."

Carter's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really?"

A thousand memories of being pummeled and tackled by his brothers flashed through Donovan's mind. One instance had left him with a broken arm, black eye and a fractured rib.

"You live with Marines you're bound to be black and blue for a good part of it. I learned how to take a hit."

"Seems I could stand to learn that sort of lesson."

The thought of it jolted him. The fear of Carter ever being hurt again made every muscles tense.

"You shouldn't have to if I'm around."

He kissed her forehead, needing to convince himself that she was whole and okay. Behind them they heard the soft patter of footsteps. Donovan's head jerked at the sound of the door handle jiggling. He whipped the gun out from behind his back as the door was unlocked and opened. Finger poised on the trigger, he was about to fire when something about the man's familiar movement made him pause. The man raised his gun, along with his other hand. He then quickly flipped up his visor. 

"Good to see you're still in one piece, Donny," Brock said, a flicker of a grin skipping across his face.

Donovan let out a tired breath and dropped the gun. His brother waved in a couple more men and they finished the sweep of the office.

"I have Agent Keller and the civilian," Brock said, into a comm set. "I'm escorting them out now. Have a medic standing by."

When Carter shifted as if to stand up, Donovan didn't release her. Even though some of her strength had returned, he could feel the tiredness in her body. Without a word, he stood, his hold on her making it clear that he wasn't about to let go. Though he did it for her, another part of him couldn't let her go. Every moment she was in his arms it helped weaken the image of her on the floor unconscious, though he knew that nightmare may never completely leave him.

Brock nodded to him and led the way out of the office. On the opposite end of the hallway, men in body gear were moving in and out of rooms, securing them. Brock took them back through the already cleared areas.

As they approached the school entrance, Carter spoke.

"I'm going to have to walk once we hit those doors," she said.

He met her gaze. "Why?"

"Because if my dad sees you carrying me he will most likely shoot you."

A smile appeared. "Understood."

They stopped just inside the front doors and Donovan lowered Carter's feet to the ground, but kept a firm grip in her side. She left her arm slung over his shoulders, testing the steadiness of her balance. When she started to loosen her hold, Donovan reached up and caught her hand before she could pull it away.

"I'll risk being shot," he said, "but I won't have you falling down the stairs and breaking your neck."

She locked eyes with him, a grateful look entering them. "Okay."

Brock stepped forward and pushed the door open, holding it for them. They emerged into the gray day, the air was cool with the scent of rain. Beyond them was the perimeter of cars. Added to it were ambulances. The scene was teeming with people constantly in motion, preparing for the onslaught of hysterical parents and the reviving of hundreds of students. In one long look, Donovan noted all the vans and the different devisions of the military that had shown up.

Brock guided them down the stone steps. They had barely touched the gravel drive when Carter's father appeared. He hurried forward, a tidal wave of emotions playing across his face. Before he could sweep her up into a hug, Donovan took a step forward and raised his hand. He knew all a father would want to do would to hold his daughter, to solidify that fact that she was okay. All Donovan could think about was Carter and her battered body.

"She's injured," Donovan rushed to say, seeing the anger flash in Carter's father's eyes. "Bruised ribs, possibly fractured, and a minor concussion."

Steve swallowed his emotions and stepped over to Carter. She smiled, tears of relief springing to her eyes.

"Sarge," her father said, gently encasing her in his arms.

Carter leaned into him, a fresh wave of exhaustion hitting her.

"Come on, Donny," Brock said. "Deputy Townsend wants to meet you."

His brother placed a hand on his shoulder and tugged at him, knowing he would need encouragement to leave. As they walked away, Donovan glanced back once, watching as Carter sank into the arms of her father.

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You want a piece of me!

No, but I will take a piece of cake or pie, as long as it's apple. 🥧

Question! Which was more fun to read, this one or the original?

Also Donovan is so cute and protective!

Now cake or pie?

What does it say about your personality if you like cake?

Where do turtles go when they're lonely and just broke up with their mate? 🐢

Follow up question: do turtles mate for life? Someone google it and let me know.

Which will you do: vote, comment or follow?

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