Quiet (Part 3)

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Em_Mayhem said that I could write a chapter where Carter and Donovan did nothing but stare at each other and she would be happy. I decided to take on that challenge.

Read When Disaster Strikes to understand the full extent of this chapter.

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Donovan didn't sleep anymore. That's what it felt like at least. He slept so lightly that nights were endless. If Carter stirred, he woke up, ready to do anything to help her make it through. Some nights that meant holding her while she cried from nightmares. Sometimes It meant talking to her while she remained trapped in a dream, trying to soothe her.

And the worst times were when he felt like nothing he did made a difference.

Carter whimpered and Donovan snapped his eyes open, his heart already picking up speed, his body tensing in preparation. From the bit of morning sunlight, he could see the line cut between her brows, her fingers clawing the sheet. She breathed rapidly like she was fleeing something in her head.

Gently, Donovan brushed his thumb over her forehead and down her cheek. Carter let out a shuttering breath. It had taken a week for her not to flinch at his touch. He stroked the back of her hand, waiting for her clenched fingers to relax and release the sheet. Eventually, she did. Slowly, she drifted back into a deeper sleep.

Donovan didn't.

Instead, he lay there caressing her cheek. Carter turned to his touch like she never did when she was awake. It gave him hope that she was slowly returning to herself and him. He might have fallen back asleep with his fingers brushing her skin, he wasn't sure. But the morning had fully formed when he blinked and found Carter awake.

Every time she opened her eyes, Donovan waited for it to be the day where she knew him. Where she saw him as she used to.

But it wasn't that day.

She looked at him blankly, her blue eyes empty of that thing that made her who she was. It felt like looking at a frozen lake, everything was stiff on the surface while Donovan knew there was life underneath that he simply couldn't reach.

He stretched forward and kissed her forehead. She didn't react.

He settled back on his pillow. She stared at him and Donovan wished he could read her mind. There was a time when he thought he could, he knew her so well that just by seeing a certain glint in her eyes he could tell what she planned to do.

But now...

With one more kiss, Donovan climbed out of bed. He went to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and chopping up fruit. He'd tried real meals but Carter barely got through them so he found another solution, power shakes crammed with everything she needed. Partway through his task, he heard the toilet flush, but Carter didn't come to join him.

When he walked back into the bedroom, she sat on his side of the bed, gripping the blanket. She lifted her head and he thought he saw a trace of something in her eyes but it was gone.

He wondered if she thought he'd leave her, disappear.

He wouldn't, he'd given a vow: for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

He loved this beaten, broken Carter the same as he loved the fierce, determined one.

When he handed her the cup with the power shake and straw, she accepted it and drank, gazing out the window. He sipped his coffee, the one thing that seemed to be keeping him running through most days. Outside the day looked bright and cheery with wispy clouds lazily crossing the sky. Carter couldn't stop looking like out there it was better.

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