Hey, you know how I've written chapters and said don't read this but you do anyways. Yeah, I'm just not going to say anything at all.

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Donovan twirled his keys on his fingers as he walked down the apartment hallway. Work was over and it felt like he left the stress of it in the elevator. When he knocked on the Evans' door, Maddy opened it with Harrison sitting on her hip. She greeted Donovan with a smile and stepped back. Link sat on the floor while Kennedy climbed over him. Donovan crouched down.

"Hey there, Princess," he said.

At the sound of Donovan's voice, Kennedy paused, spotted him, then rushed over to him. Before she could tumble with her excitement, Donovan scooped her up.

"Princess, huh?" Link said, pushing himself up. "How does Carter feel about that nickname?"

Donovan kissed his daughter's cheek. "Well, I explained to her that a princess can rule as well as be feminine so our daughter knows she can be whatever she wants to be."

"She still hates it?" Link asked.

"Of course, she's pushing for Cadet, which works. It means Princess can be just my nickname for Kennedy."

Donovan smiled at his daughter and she snuggled against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wasn't sure anything could make him as happy as that. Well...Carter had her moments.

"Let's get some food," Donovan said.

"They are already fed," Maddy said.

"All right. Bath time."

"That's done too," Link said, pointing to Kennedy's onesies.

"Fine, books then bed."

Kennedy gave no argument so Donovan figured it was a good plan. It also meant that they had time to wait for Carter to get home.

"We appreciate you watching Kennedy these last few days. This O'Malley case is taking longer than Carter expected. She plans to take the year off once it's done to be with Kennedy."

Link slid his arm around Maddy's waist and ruffled Harrison's hair.

"We don't mind. Harrison enjoys the company."

Donovan said goodnight and slipped across the hall to their apartment. He stepped out of his stiff shoes but didn't change from his suit since Kennedy still rested against him. Grabbing a stack of picture books from a basket near the couch, he settled down. He read to Kennedy, finishing every page with a look at his daughter. She sucked her thumb, sometimes touching the bright pictures. After each book, Donovan glanced at the door then his watch. He figured Carter would have been home by then.

"And it was the best day Allen had ever had," Donovan said, finishing the last book.

He looked at Kennedy and found her passed out. Gently, he lifted her and carried her to her bed, tucking her in. He kissed her head and switched on her nightlight. He shut her door then looked to the front door. Still, no Carter.

He didn't find it strange, this case had been taking everything out of her. Long hours but few results. Donovan showered and changed into a pair of sweatpants. He checked his phone but there were no calls. Not stressing, he tossed his phone onto the bed and headed into the kitchen.

The clock on the oven said it was only seven-thirty. The quietness of the apartment pushed Donovan into action. What Carter needed was a relaxing night, good food, and of course, him. He smiled as he set a pot of water on a burner. He grabbed a package of tortellini. The counter became crowded with all the ingredients for pasta.

Soon the apartment filled with the aroma of roasting pin nuts, garlic chicken, pesto. As things cooked, Donovan set the table, putting down placemats Maggie had given them on their last anniversary. He put out candlesticks, another Maggie gift. He laid out the china from their wedding and two wine glasses. Though neither of them drank, Donovan figured a single glass might help Carter relax. He would say she worked too hard but that's how she lived, throwing herself into whatever was in front of her. It's what he loved about her.

Donovan thought of putting on some romantic music but figured Carter would mock him for it. She'd call him ridiculous. And for her, he was. As Donovan combined all the ingredients, he contemplated whether to add a salad to the meal but knew it would be ignored and refrigerated.

As he was adding cheese to the steaming pasta, he heard the sound of a key fitting into the lock. Donovan wondered if that sound would ever not make him breathe a little easier. She was safe. She was home.

The cheese grater toppled off the counter as the door opened. Donovan snatched it up.

"I thought you'd be hungry," he said, straightening.

He stopped. Instead of Carter, Brock entered the apartment.

"Hey," Donovan said, puzzled by his brother's appearance.

Brock looked from the bowl of pasta before Donovan to the set table, the candles, wine glasses, and back. Donovan grinned as he walked over to the table, setting the bowl down before the placemats.

"Don't give me that look," he said. "I'm allowed to walk around shirtless in my own home. Besides, Carter always acts like I'm too much when she finds me like this but she secretly loves it."

"Donny," Brock said, his voice sounding a little strange. 

Donovan grabbed a wine bottle from a bottom cabinet, this a gift from his parents months ago.

"What's up?" Donovan asked, searching the drawers for a corkscrew. "And no, you can't have any of the pasta. Carter and I can usually finish it off ourselves."

"Donny," Brock said again.

Donovan nodded to him, but remained focused on the corkscrew, trying to get it to go in at the right angle.

"Yeah," he said, still not looking at his brother, twisting the handle.

"Donovan."

Donovan stopped, the use of his name and his brother's tone making him uneasy. When he fully looked at his brother, he noticed the strained expression. His heart clenched.

"Look," Brock said. "There's been a car accident."

Fear shot through Donovan.

"Mom, Commander, are they all right? Were they hurt badly?"

He knew his parents were older, but was it old enough that they shouldn't have been driving?

"It's not them," Brock said.

Donovan let out a single relieved breath but then sucked in another one.

"Clint, Eva? James, Ali? Steve, Maggie?"

Brock took a step closer to Donovan as he shook his head.

"They are all okay. Donovan..." He swallowed hard. "It's Carter. She's...The car accident was hers. She's...She's dead."

All worry fled Donovan as he yanked the cork out of the wine bottle, glaring at his brother.

"That's not a very funny joke," he said, brushing past him to set the bottle on the table.

"Donovan," Brock said, carefully like he was talking to a scared child. "It's not a joke. Police tried to call you when you didn't answer, they called me. I'm sorry."

Donovan spun around, furious with his brother.

"You're trying to tell me that my wife, who survived a bullet wound and torture was killed in a car accident. A car accident when she'd one of the best drivers I know? Not a chance."

"Donovan, listen to me-"

"No! I don't know what you're playing at but I've had enough."

Brock approached Donovan cautiously and tried to rest his hand on his brother's shoulder, but Donovan shoved his hand away.

"Donovan, I'm not leaving. I'm going to help you through this. I-"

"NO! Get the hell out of my home! Carter isn't dead!"

Kennedy made a soft cry and Donovan whipped his head towards her door.

"Donovan, I know-"

Donovan didn't care what Brock knew, he grabbed Brock's arm and hauled him to the door, shoving him out. He slammed the door closed and locked it, engaging the deadbolt. He felt his skin hot from all the anger coming off him. How could his brother lie to him like that?

Kennedy gave another cry and Donovan walked to her room. He picked her up, rocking her back and forth, murmuring to her. All the while in his head he was cursing his brother. Carter wasn't dead? A car accident? It was absolutely impossible. She wasn't dead. She. Was. Not. Dead.

When Kennedy settled back down, Donovan returned her to her bed. He walked back into the living room but stopped, the sight of the set table, food waiting, and all the dishes halting him. She wasn't dead.

Someone knocked on the door, but Donovan didn't move. He hated Brock.

"Donovan," Link said. "Yeah, you want to open up? Brock told us what's going on. And we're here-"

Donovan walked into his room, shutting the door. They could talk to an empty apartment for all he cared. It wasn't true.

It wasn't true and he'd prove it. He picked up his phone to call Carter but didn't get that far. His phone was crammed with dozens of missed calls, one unknown number, the rest from his brothers, his parents, Carter's family. There were messages as well. He ignored the calls and looked at the messages. They were short.

Clint: Eva and I are taking the next flight out.

James: I'm on my way.

His parents: We're coming out. Hold on.

The flood of what their missed calls and messages meant crashed into Donovan. He went to sit on the bed but missed and hit the floor. He didn't notice, all he saw were the signs that it was all true. Only one message hadn't been opened.

It was from Carter.

This was proof, she was alive. She wasn't dead. She was alive.

With a shaking hand, he clicked on her message.

It was a voice message. She only sent those when she wanted him to know the exact tone of her voice.

He hit play.

"Hey, I miss you." Carter's voice was soft and caressing, a tone she saved only for him. Donovan gripped the phone. She wasn't dead. "I feel like with this case I haven't seen you in ages." She laughed. "Seems strange since we share an office. I know how you like to hear it, so I love you, Donovan."

Donovan felt his heart stop beating. Somehow the words he loved to hear her say made him feel cold inside.

"I don't know when I'll be home." She paused and Donovan thought he could hear her voice tightening. But when she spoke again it was normal. "Give Kennedy a kiss for me. I love you both."

Donovan stared at his phone, unmoving. He sat there for so long that the voice message disappeared. He blinked but it was gone, its time run out.

"No! Come back."

He shook his phone like that would change the truth. Nothing changed, it remained the same. The message was gone. Carter's words of love were no longer there.

The truth hit him like a bullet to the chest.

Carter...Carter was gone.

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So....

Yeah, I'll give you a minute...or a year...*hands you a pillow to hug or scream into* Also here. *box of tissues and ice cream*

Ummm...how you doing? Anything left of you? 💬💭🗯

Not going to lie I was pretty savage with this one cause I wrote it with irony in mind. So I wanted you to feel the sense of doom that was minutes away cause, you know, I'm evil like that.

Did it work?

Also here's a cute blurry (I'm going to assume you're still sobbing and cursing my name) puppy.

Haha it was just blurry, here's the real photo.