The World Turned Upside Down

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Let it be known that you asked for this. This is on you, not me.

(Also I had Hamilton on the brain for that title)

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Carter pulled her hair over one shoulder, leaned over the sink, and spat out a gob of toothpaste.

"We could stay here," Donovan said.

After rinsing out her mouth, Carter straightened, looking in the mirror's reflection. Beyond the open bathroom door, she could see into the bedroom and out onto the balcony where Donovan was leaning against the railing. Despite the chilly air, he was only in a pair of sweatpants.

Around him was a landscape of pine trees. The sun was dropping behind the treetops, turning the edges golden. The forest was so thick that the scent of pine and fresh air filled every corner of the house.

"And what?" she asked. "Leave our careers behind and become forest rangers?"

Still looking at his bare back, she brushed her hair. She kept it down, knowing Donovan liked running his hands through it and playing with the ends.

"Maybe not that but you have to admit it's nice. Just you, me and the quiet."

Though they were only thirty minutes from the city, it felt as if there were all alone and there was a peace about it. Their vacation had been forced upon them, having spent too many months constantly working without a break. The bureau had all but kicked them out the door, saying they needed to take their vacation days.

It was only once the couple had stepped into the secluded cabin that they had realized how much they had been working. The past week had been like their honeymoon all over again, only three years later.

"I thought you didn't like quiet," she said.

"I like it with you," he said, spinning around and smiling at her.

As Carter's lips curled in response there was a loud crack, a shattering of glass and her world froze.

Everything inside her turned to stone, her heart stopped, her face locked in an almost smile, her eyes riveted to the reflection.

A single spot of red bloomed on Donovan's right shoulder.

In a breath, the world roared back into motion as Donovan staggered into the railing, face contorted in pain, and collapsed to the ground. The scream of his name ripped itself from Carter's throat. Before she realized it, she was halfway across the room, her gun in her hand.

She charged onto the balcony and fired. Years of training had already pinpointed the one spot that would be perfect for a sniper. Over the ringing of the gun, she heard the breaking of a window and the squeal of tires racing away. It wasn't until she heard the click-click of an empty chamber that she lowered her pistol.

Spinning around, she dropped to one knee. Blood had already pooled around Donovan and he grimaced, one hand clutching the bullet wound.

Some part of Carter felt herself split in two, her heart bleeding with him. But before she could fall into a black hole of panic, fear, and desperation, she made herself cold. Years of learning how to hide her emotions away came rushing back and she forced everything that threatened to undo her into a vault and slammed the door shut.

She sprinted into the bathroom and yanked towels from their racks. Back on the balcony, she eased one under his shoulder and pressed another on top, placing his hand over it.

"Hold this as best you can," she said, her voice almost robotic in its absence of emotion.

Donovan's movements were weak, but he managed to do as she instructed. Returning inside, Carter went to her phone, but already knew what it would tell her. There was no signal, one of the reasons the week had been so quiet and one of the reasons she cursed this place.

She ripped the sheet from the bed and tore it into strips. Her mind walked through all the next steps, the strength needed to control her thoughts building a barrier against the emotions trying to break free.

Donovan's eyes were closed as she sank down beside him. Despite this sign of weakness, he was still breathing in sharp gasps, telling her he was still conscious enough to feel the pain.

"Carter...I-" he whispered.

She scowled. "Shut up. You need your strength and I need you."

Any words he would have would only destroy her and at that moment she was all they had. Replacing the bloodied towels with new ones, she took the strips of the sheet and wrapped them around his shoulder and chest. By the time she was securing the knots, her hands were stained red. The makeshift bandage was ugly but effective. The next step made her heart stutter.

"Donovan, I can't..." her voice cracked. "I can't carry you, I need you to help me. I can't do this alone."

He pried his eyes open, the blue so familiar and still so full of life it knifed Carter in the chest. Gritting his teeth, he held up his hand. As best she could, she helped him up without aggravating the wound. Stopping only briefly for Carter to gather the necessary things from the room, they made their way down through the cabin.

With each sucked in breath or shift, Carter felt her handle on her emotions wavering and stabs of fear would shoot through her. Each second getting eaten away cut into her.

By the time they made it to the car, Donovan's dark skin looked pale. Climbing into the back with him, Carter eased him down to the seat and secured him as best she could. The moment he no longer needed to be in control of himself, his eyes shut. Slamming the door, Carter clambered over the center consolt and slipped into the driver's seat. Flipping on the siren, she hit the gas, rocks shooting out behind the tires as the car rocketed forward.

As they tore away, her bloodied hands gripped the steering wheel. There was no speed limit she did not break. The siren screamed alongside her heart, yelling at the world to stand aside and for Donovan to hold on just a bit longer.

The tires burned rubber as she turned the car into the hospital parking lot and skittered to a halt at the emergency entrance. As she jumped out, the doors parted and two medics raced forward, a gurney rattling along between them. She yanked the back door open. Donovan didn't notice, his body limp. Whether from blood loss or unconsciousness, she didn't know. The medics took hold of his shoulders and lifted him onto the gurney.

"Donovan," Carter said.

He gave no response. His fate was now no longer in her hands.

She followed the pair as they hurried inside. A doctor in a white coat stood waiting, his face calm, body humming with expectancy.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Gunshot wound. It went through his right shoulder," Carter said.

The man nodded. "Get him to the surgery."

The gurney barraged through a set of swinging double doors. As Carter made to follow, the doctor held up a hand.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Instead of arguing, Carter grabbed hold of his coat collar and pulling his face close to hers.

"He dies, you die. Got it?"

Her voice was not full of anger, just a raw certainty of future events. The doctor swallowed but didn't flinch, clearly not new to being threatened by desperate loved ones.

"I'll do my best-"

"No, you will make him live." 

It was the piercing gaze that Carter gave him that made the man finally feel the truth in her words. He blanched but nodded. She released him and he disappeared behind the doors. Clenching her fists, Carter walked back to the waiting room.

A nurse behind the desk called her over and handed her forms to fill out. Carter completed the task with thoughtless efficiency. When she was done, she dropped into a chair and stared back at the doorway.

Sitting there, alone and all too aware of the eyes that flitted to her blood-caked hands and away, she felt the years of fear from her childhood getting compounded into that one moment. Abandonment, loneliness, loss, fear all converged on her now that all the steps had been completed and she no longer had any control. She dug her nails into her palms.

When she felt herself beginning to tear apart, she stood and crossed over to the desk. Snatching a piece of paper, she scrolled out her number. She handed it to the confused looking nurse.

"This is my number," she said. She whipped out her FBI badge. "See this? This means I know how to kill you and dump your body where it will never be found. That means you call me the second he is out of surgery."

As with the doctor, there was no blustering or raging, it was all said with a cold attachment, a conviction. The nurse's face went paperwhite, her hand shaking as she took the slip of paper. Convinced the woman would do as she was told, Carter left. Back in the car that was still running, she pulled up one number.

"Hey, Carter," Brock said.

"Donovan has been shot, he's in surgery at Sibley Memorial Hospital. Come sit in the waiting room."

"Wait! What? Carter-"

She hung up before he could finish and pulled away from the curb. Her phone buzzed in the passenger seat but she didn't answer. He had what he needed and she didn't need questions that would break her. She drove to the FBI offices and parked, leaving her ringing phone in the car.

The day was heading into evening and the offices were emptying as workers clocked off and found bars to ease the day's stress. Taking back stairways, Carter managed to avoid running into anyone. She headed down a deserted hallway and slipped into a room.

A bank of computer screens dominated the space. The blue glow was a strange contrast with the white fluorescent lights burning overhead. Mason sat before the mass of data, leaned back in his chair, his clasped hands resting on the back of his head. At the sound of the door, he spun around. His eyes widened at Carter's wild hair, bloodied sweatshirt and hands.

"Carter, what-"

His words were choked off as she gripped the back of his chair, his face inches from hers.

"Listen closely cause I will not repeat myself. You are going to help me find the person who shot Donovan and you are going to do it now. Understood?"

Mason's eyes widened even more. "Donovan was-"

"Mason!" Her voice was a fierce snarl, something that wasn't even human but feral animal. "It is only cause I need you and care about the fact that Link likes you as a brother that I haven't shot you in the foot to shut you up. Do you understand?"

Mason swallowed, nodding once. Carter straightened and spun the chair back towards the screens.

"Good. Now find him."

Trying to shake off his shock, Mason pulled himself closer to the table.

"Okay," he said, masking his nerves well enough. "Where do we start?"

"There is only one road to the cabin we were staying at. Just before the turnoff is a gas station. They will have cameras."

Mason didn't need to be told what to do next, his fingers flying over the keyboard as screens shifted.

"I shot some part of his car, that can identify him," Carter said.

Mason responded with a bob of his head but nothing else. As he worked, Carter paced, a caged animal, prowling towards its prey. She stared at the screens watching as Mason tracked the vehicle, her mind letting nothing else invade her thoughts.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours which seemed to lengthen into days until Carter felt she had been stuck in this limbo for eternity. Finally, Mason's hands stilled.

"3032 Rodman street," Mason said. "What are you going to-"

The question wasn't even finished by the time Carter was out the door. In the parking lot, she reached into the glove compartment and took out two clips. She pulled out the gun from her waistband and released the empty clip and loaded a new one. Armed, she drove away.

She cut through the city's traffic with a singleminded determination. Nothing beyond her goal existed. Even though the smell of blood hung in the air and was soaked into the backseat, she spared it no thought. Her emotions were trapped behind a vault door that was honed from years of living with the fear of Captain then Donovan dying.

As she entered the neighborhood, she slowed the car. It was a wasteland of buildings ready to be demolished and reborn as luxury apartments. A block away, she parked and stepped out. Her phone, which had finally stopped buzzing, was in her pocket and her gun pressed against her back, hidden by Donovan's oversized sweatshirt. The sky was shifting and the day hung between evening and night, a time where street lamps weren't awake yet, but visibility wasn't what it should be. 

As Carter approached the correct apartment, she slipped the gun out and held it down. She ducked into a back alley, spotting the car with the shattered window. When she neared it, she could dimly see the sign of blood on the edge. A line of drops left a trail to a back door. Carter knew the wound must be deep if the assassin hadn't thought about the evidence.

Back pressed against the grimy wall, she turned the handle and cracked open the door. No noise came from inside. She inched her gun into the opening. When there was no response of gunfire, she tucked herself into the gap. She swiveled both ways but found there was nothing but bare, concrete hallways laying before her. Peering down at the ground, she picked up the trail and followed it, checking rooms as she went.

On the third floor, she heard a muttered curse and paused. Her heart beat steadily. There was no emotion there to set it racing. She moved soundlessly to an open doorway, a weak light escaping out of it. The blood paved a path inside. Carter snuck the edge of her phone past the frame, the screen displaying what lay inside.

It was a man in a chair, his arm covered in blood from a wound in his bicep. Around him were camping materials, a sleeping bag, battery lamp, stovetop, and cooler. Strew on the floor were medical supplies. His hands were shaking and his skin was an off-color from blood loss.

Sliding the phone back into her pocket, Carter rounded into the room and kicked the man in the shoulder. He yelped and was flung back in his chair. Before he could topple over, Carter caught the edge of the seat with the foot. The front legs crashed back on the ground and the man stared at the barrel of the gun aimed at his head.

He was breathing hard, whether from the pain of his wound, shock or fear, Carter didn't know.

"You shot my husband," she said, her voice containing not a single inflection. "Why?"

The man, stared at her, eyes hard. When that seemed to be all he would say, Carter, buried the tip of her gun into his bullet wound. He groaned in pain, his body shaking with the shock of it. He swore at her and in answer, she pistol-whipped him across the face. He bent double, spitting blood.

"Why?" she asked.

He fell back against the chair, his eyes still telling her there was nothing he would say. Before Carter could do serious damage to his face, her phone rang. The screen said it was an unknown number but located in D.C. Gun still pointed at the sniper, she answered.

"Your husband made it. He's out of surgery," the woman on the line said.

Carter gave no reply and hung up. For a second, she closed her eyes, feeling as if she were going to break again, but this time for a completely different reason.

In the second of weakness, the chair scraped against the floor and Carter fired.

The man jerked back, clutching his bleeding ear. She leveled a cold stare at him.

"He lives, so that means you do."

Beyond one of the broken windows, the blare of sirens was heard, drawing closer.

"And now you will face what you deserve."

Grabbing his wounded arm, making him wince, she hauled him up and walked him out. By the time they reached the ground floor a swarm of FBI agents were in the building. After twenty minutes of explaining, the man was taken into custody and Carter walked out of the building. Leaning against one of the car hoods, was Mason, his expression apologetic.

"I couldn't let you throw away your career," he said.

Carter's expression barely changed at his presence or this statement.

"Mason, I know you would send people after me, that's why you weren't gagged and tied to a chair. I simply wanted a head start."

Mason nodded in understanding than rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you heard anything?"

"He's alive."

Mason let out a breath. "Good."

Carter returned to her car and got it. On the drive to the hospital, she didn't let herself think or feel. Even the tiny hint of relief she had received had been an indulgence. She needed to protect herself from all that she felt herself holding in. Donovan needed her to be strong for both of them and that was what she would be. She had no intention of crying over a fate that was no longer a possibility.

When she walked through the waiting room doors, Brock jumped up from his seat. He had the agitated energy of a man not accustomed to waiting or dealing with fear. Behind him were Captain, Maggie, Link, Maddy, and Danny. All of them had the distressed glazed look of fighting back tears and worry. When they saw her, they offered up smiles that only made her angry. He was alive, worrying now was pointless and she wasn't going to fall prey to it.

"They say he's unconscious but stable," Brock said.

Carter nodded. The nurse behind the counter approached, hesitant as if Carter might bite her head off.

"I can take you to see him," she said.

Carter looked to the collection of supporters.

"Thanks for coming," she said. "I'll call when he is awake and ready to see everyone. You can go home and rest."

Captain, Maggie, and Danny all rose. Captain hugged Carter and kissed the top of her head.

"He's okay," he said, a reassurance that Carter knew but somehow still needed.

Maggie squeezed Carter's arm. "We'll go get you some food." Her eyes slid to Carter's bloody attire. "And some new clothes."

Danny wrapped his arms around her waist, clinging to her.

"He needs to be okay," he said, the choke of tears in his voice.

The sound nearly undid Carter, the familiarity of it so close to everything she felt growing up and right then. She hugged her brother back, resting her cheek on his mob of unruly hair.

"He is. You know Donovan. Nothing stops him."

Carter felt herself cracking, but she mentally shook herself, telling her to keep it in. It was not a time for her to be weak. Danny nodded against her stomach, then let go, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Carter's father landed one hand on his son's shoulder.

"Thank you," Carter said, her control intact once more.

The trio left and Carter focused on Brock, Link, and Maddy.

"We're staying," Link said.

Carter found no reason to argue. "Then I would get something to eat." She turned to the nurse. "Where is he?"

At the display of affection from Carter's family, the nurse seemed convinced that Carter wasn't a complete monster, only broken. With a small smile, she led her to the elevators and down a set of hallways. She gestured to a closed door.

Balling her fists, Carter stared at the wood. Bracing herself, she stepped inside. Donovan lay unconscious on the bed in a thin gown, machines hooked up to him, capturing the steady beat of his heart. Fighting everything inside her that wanted to break down at the sight of him, she pushed a chair up to his bedside and sat down.

She watched him, studying the rise and fall of

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