Open Case File [COMPLETED]

Finding Their Way Back (Part 7)

Someone asked for this, I don't even know why you would but here it is. 🤦🏽‍♀️

Also if you haven't read the previous four chapters that come before this I suggest you do so cause this is slightly connected.

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It was nearly nine o'clock at night as Donovan stepped into the elevator. A faint hum melded with the classical song playing through the speakers. He rested his head against the cushioned wall, exhaustion weighing on him. When the doors dinged, he opened his eyes and lifted himself off the side of the elevator.

As he headed down the apartment hall, he buried his hand in his pocket, pulling out his keys. He turned the handle, already feeling the relief of being home and getting to see Carter's face for the first time in 48 hours. When he stepped inside, he found her curled up on a chair at the dining table, files and a computer sitting in front of her.

It had been three months since she had been taken and tortured by the Castello crime family. The FBI had granted her time to recover, giving her desk work that could be done at home and help ease her back into her job. She was finally putting back on the weight she had lost over dealing with trauma but there was a faint haunted look that had yet to leave her eyes.

Donovan dropped his keys into the bowl, waiting for Carter to look up, for her to see him and make the long hours he had spent on surveillance all disappear.

But she didn't respond at all to his presence, instead continued to type away at her computer.

Hurt, Donovan turned away from her and headed into the kitchen. At the sight of unwashed dishes in the sink frustration coiled in his stomach. He opened the dishwasher and found there was plenty of room. He straightened and spun around to Carter.

"You understand that you can load up your dishes, right? You don't need me telling you this."

Finally, Carter raised her head, surprise darting across her face.

"You're home," she said.

Donovan curled his fist, his irritation growing.

"Nice of you to notice," he said.

Carter blinked at his response and Donovan grabbed the two plates, adding them to the dishwasher.

"I can do that," she said.

"Doesn't look like you can," he said. He faced her. "Carter, you understand that you do live with someone who works hard to keep things clean, right?"

Carter's face went closed off and she focused back on the computer screen.

"Don't worry, I'm well aware of this fact. Leave the rest of the dishes, I'll deal with them."

"It's fine, I can take care of it."

Silence followed this statement as Donovan emptied the sink and had to hold himself back from slamming the dishwasher door closed. He walked into their bedroom and tossed his suit jacket on the bed, it was quickly followed by his tie, collared shirt, and undershirt. He grabbed his boxing gloves and put them on.

Despite the exhaustion that he had carried with him upon arriving at the apartment, he felt ramped up and tight with tension. He slammed his fist into the bag, taking out his frustration on the taut leather. With each blow, he felt his emotions subsiding.

Breathing heavily and sweating, he stopped and placed his hands on his hips. He felt drained, the bout of annoyance set to rest. He replaced his gloves in the drawer and walked back out to the living room. Carter hadn't moved. He looked at her, seeing the layers of files spread out around her. Feeling the gap that had grown between them, he let out a breath.