Open Case File [COMPLETED]

New Beginning (Part 2)

"Being dead was tiring," Carter murmured. "I'm not getting up."

Donovan didn't respond. Her voice. Her joke. Real. She was real.

At his silence, Carter tilted her head, blue eyes staring into his. That blue. Like dark denim. The sky at dusk.

She smiled. And Donovan felt his heart stutter. He thought he'd never see that smile again. Teasing. Taunting. Playful. Challenging. Infuriating. Loving. All in one smile.

"What?" she said. "You're not going to drag me out of bed and demand I wake up?"

No reply came and Carter's expression dimmed.

"I'm real," she said again.

Donovan said nothing. Instead, he traced his thumb over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across the plain of her cheek, down to the line of her jaw, outlined the shape of her lips. All familiar. All new. All her. All his.

"If you don't kiss me now," she said. "I'll punch you."

The comment was accented by a teasing grin, but Donovan didn't react.

She was the same.

He was not.

Carter wrapped one arm around his neck and kissed him. It stirred the blood in his veins. Jolted his heart. He knew this.

When she pulled away, he went with her, afraid to lose it all again. Afraid to feel his heart wither to nothing.

She laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet, but if I don't get up now, I'll pee in our bed and that's not the homecoming I imagined."

As she tried to break from his hold, Donovan tensed. She couldn't go. He couldn't let her go. She would disappear. She would vanish before his eyes. He would wake up and it would all be a dream. He tightened his grip, so very afraid.

Carter sighed. "I wasn't joking about the peeing in the bed thing."

Still, Donovan couldn't let go. He would never let go again.

"Okay," she said. "You can walk me to the bathroom."

Unlatching one of his arms from around her, she laced her fingers with him. He trailed behind her, lost in the feel of her fingers. Had they always been that slender? Were there more calluses than before? The scar on the side of her hand was new. How'd she get it?

Before Donovan knew what was happening, Carter's hand slipped from his and the bathroom door closed in front of him. His heart stopped. He tried to breathe but his lungs seemed to stop working as well. He pressed his hands to the door. She was there. She had to still be there. She wouldn't leave him. But she'd already left him once.

When the door opened a moment later, he stood frozen. She stood there in one of his shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. She was there. She hadn't left him. She was there. Hadn't left.

"I know I promised more kisses, but I can't kiss you with that beard," she said.

When Donovan remained motionless, Carter took his hand, tugging him into the bathroom. Guiding him to the sink, she pulled out shaving cream, scissors, and a razor. The snip snip snip of the scissors filled Donovan's ears as Carter cut away the scraggly edges. She worked the cream in his beard all the while Donovan stared at her, as he held to a piece of her shirt with one hand. He couldn't let her go. He didn't want to wake up from this dream.

The razor rasped against his skin as Carter carefully cleaned away the beard he'd been too lost to even notice.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself," Carter said softly. "If I find that there are pictures of you online with this beard."