The world crashed in on Carter. Her chest constricted, as her heart banged against her rib cage. The men noticed her and walked towards her, their faces serious. They descended the stairs, their movements perfectly in sync.

Carter stumbled back, shaking her head vigorously. Panic and fear swept over her, killing the world around her except for the sight of the two men. Her throat tightened and her mouth filled with bile. Her mind flashed to an empty apartment, an empty bed, a dark suit folded away. A new wave of terror crashed into her as the images darted around her head.

One of the men moved forward and Carter recognized Curtis. He stretched a hand out to her.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" she yelled, her fist flying at his face.

Her blow never made its target, her movements lacking any true focus. Curtis snatched her wrist in his large, muscular hand. She pulled against him, all the while screaming 'no'. Every inch of her wanted to run, move away from him and the words he would say. The truth that she never wanted to hear and had dreaded hearing everyday of her life. She fought harder, her body cried out to be released so she could flee. Curtis kept a hold on her, his hands grasping her wrists in a vise like grip.

"Carter! He's alive!" he yelled, trying to be heard over her panicked voice. "Do you hear me? Your father is alive."

Through the storm of her thoughts and yells, the words came to her. She froze and stared at Curtis. He nodded. Relief like she had never known swept over her, making every muscle weak.

Her legs buckled under the weight of it and Curtis caught her before she fell to the ground. For a moment all she could do was lean against him, trying to find her breath once more.

"He's alive." The words rang through her head, chasing away the images that her fear had conjured up.

When the weak sensation passed and her breathing was normal, she looked up at Curtis.

"He's alive." she said.

Curtis nodded. The simple gesture gave her strength and she pushed herself, shakily, from him. Her legs felt weak, but she didn't crumble. Curtis kept one hand on her arm, watching with concerned brown eyes.

"What happened? Where is he?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically small.

Curtis kept his hold on her arm, worried his next words might make her fall again.

"He was shot in the right shoulder," he said. Carter took in a ragged breath, but remained upright. "The bullet went through. He's at the hospital. It was a minor surgery. We tried to call but you didn't answer."

As the panic subsided, the words slowly filtered into her mind. She digested the information, her strength returning to her legs. When her mind had processed it all, she looked at Curtis, a hopeless need appearing in her eyes.

"Take me to him," she said.

Curtis nodded. He walked to the car and pulled the back door open for her, still watching her with concern. She slid inside, not even noticing the clean interior or the soft leather seats. Curtis stepped into the driver's seat, while his partner took the passenger side. The car gave a low purr as it started and they pulled away from the empty apartment.

The world blurred around Carter as the car rushed by; houses, apartment buildings and stores. Yellow light poured from windows onto the sidewalk. Streetlamp flashed by, their light illuminating the darkness.

Curtis's words ran through Carter's head on an endless loop. The car was buried in silence. As the miles raced past, Carter's mind began to return to the world around her. On the tail end of the realization that her father was going to be okay, came a single thought. The last traces of her panic and fear were burned away by an intense anger. She turned away from the darkened window and looked at the rear view mirror.

"How the hell did this happen?!" she demanded.

Curtis glanced toward the mirror meeting her fiery gaze. Her voice seemed to ring in the small space.

"Captain said that the only reason someone ever got shot is because someone wasn't doing their job," she said, her tone accusing although she didn't know who she was accusing just yet.

Curtis turned to his companion, who had yet to speak a word. He looked up at the mirror.

"Carter," he said, his voice soothing. "Sometimes mistakes just happen. No one is to blame."

"Bullshit!" she yelled, slamming her hand onto the seat. "My father was shot because someone screwed up, I want to know who!"

The man in the passenger seat shifted and spoke.

"That's something we are not at liberty to tell you," he said.

Carter let out a low growl, her fists clenched. Before she had time to snap back a retort the hospital came into view and her biting words were lost. The tall white washed building stretched out over a block and stood three stories high. From the windows came the faint white light, that gave everything under its gaze a deathly look. In front of the entrance were rows and rows of cars.

Curtis had barely pulled into a parking space before Carter was out the door. Bright, florescent lights flooded the ER entrance. An ambulance was pulled up at the front and two men were lowering down an elderly gentleman. Carter didn't see them as she rushed passed, into the sterile waiting room.

TVs hung from the walls and family members holding sick, bruised and injured patients filled the powder blue couches and chairs. The walls were a dull beige and the counters and remaining furniture were faded pastel colors as if death and sickness had drained them of their once vivid hues. Carter's shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor as she raced to the front desk, startling a grayed haired woman wearing black framed glasses.

"I need to know where Steve Owens is, now!" she said.

Every nerve was buzzing with impatience. The woman adjusted her glasses and leveled Carter with a peeved expression.

"Ma'am there are procedures that need to be -"

Carter leaned forward on the counter, her face hard, her hands gripping the edge. The doors slid open and Curtis and his fellow agent walked in.

"Listen lady," Carter said, a cutting edge to her voice, "if you don't just tell me what I need to know I will jump over this counter and strangle you with your name tag, got it?"

The woman gave Carter a horrified look. Curtis put a restraining hand on Carter's shoulder, pulling her away from the desk. She clenched her fists, glaring at the woman who stood between her and her father. She tried to keep herself from shaking with frustration. Curtis gave the shocked woman a warm smile.

"We're looking for Steve Owens," he said, in a calm voice. "I'm agent Reynolds."

The woman softened, looking mollified by Curtis's in control manner. Before moving to the computer, the woman shot Carter one last look. Carter met the look with a deep, defiant expression.

"Agent Owens has been moved to recovery. Third floor, room 6," the woman said.

The words were barely out of the woman's mouth before Carter spun away, running to the elevators. She punched the up button. She stared at the lit up number, waiting for it to descend. After half a second, she turned away and moved to the stairs, the two men following behind.

She took the stairs two at a time, the sound of her pounding footsteps ringing in the narrow stairway. She burst through a door on the third floor, surprising a group of nurses. She looked both ways before racing down the right hallway, one of the nurses calling after her. Her heart was hammering and nothing but her need to see her father existed for her. She skidded to a stop before room six. She opened the door, blood pounding in her ears. The room was simple, with a single bed, heart rate monitors, uncomfortable looking chairs and a hanging TV.

Her father looked over as she pushed the door open. His pale face wore a worn out, tired expression that she hadn't seen for a long time. His right arm was hanging in a sling and a plastic white bracelet was wrapped around his wrist. The beeping of the machine filled the room.

"Hey Sarge," he said, his voice raspy.

Carter rushed forward, stopping beside his bed.

"I hate you," she said. "You know that, I hate you."

Her father cupped her face with his left hand. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held them back with dogged determination.

"I'm fine, Sarge. I'm fine," he said.

"It doesn't mean I still don't hate you, you got that?"

Her father nodded and gave her a tired smile. All her anger and panic were wiped out with that look. The only thing left behind was utter relief and a small piece of fear that would always be with her. Until he left the service, it would always be her constant companion, whispering in her ear and staring over her shoulder.

"I got it, Sarge," he said.

Carter forced back the lump in her throat that was choking her.

"Don't you dare ever leave me."

Her father pulled her face down and kissed her forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

Carter closed her eyes and gripped the white sheets, fighting back a new round of tears. Her father released her and she straightened. Curtis and the other agent appeared in the doorway. Her father looked over, as his hand fell from her face. He gave a weak nod.

"Thank you for bringing her here," he said.

Curtis moved into the room and joined Carter, by her father's side. She took a step back.

"I'm going to grab some water. I'll be back," she said, her throat tightening again.

Her father nodded. Before she could break down in front of him and Curtis, she turned and left the room. But she didn't make it far before her eyes clouded with tears and the suppressed sob broke lose. She stumbled and put one hand against the hallway wall, leaning on it as she quickly covered her mouth.

She lowered herself to the ground and pulled herself into a ball, her hands covering her face. Tears of relief and fear muffled the world around her. The floor was cold but she wasn't aware of it. Her body shook as let go of all the emotions that had coursed through her moments before. The sound of nurses' voices and the tapping of soft soled shoes on the floor faded away. The only thing that came clear to her was the beeping of the heart monitor, reminding her every second she was not alone. She still had someone who loved her and wouldn't leave her.

A pair of comforting arms and the whiff of the deli pulled Carter back to reality. She looked up to see Maggie giving her an understanding look.

"I can't ever lose him," she said, in a croaked voice. "He's all I have."

Maggie nodded and hugged her.

"I know, hun. And you didn't. He's still here. In one piece. But it's still okay to be scared."

Carter accepted the hug, letting loose the last remaining tears. In her arms she found a comfort that she hadn't thought she would feel again.

As the tears diminished, Carter felt herself reverting back to her normal disposition. She pulled away from Maggie and forcefully rubbed her eyes. With Maggie watching her, she stood and tried to erase the evidence of her tears. She took a steading breath and nodded.

"Let's go back," she said.

Maggie nodded and stood. They walked back to the room. Curtis was just turning to leave and he paused at the sight of Carter.

"Thanks for bringing me," she said.

He nodded and laid a hand on her shoulder before leaving, tailed by the other agent. Carter's father gave a weak smile to her and Maggie as they stepped inside. As Carter pulled a chair up to the side of his bed, Maggie moved forward.

"Hi, Steve," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot," he said.

Carter snorted as she plopped onto the chair, resting her battered converse shoes on the rim of the bed.

"That's original," she said.

Her father smiled and looked back at Maggie.

"I'm on a lot of pain killers, so it's not too bad," he said.

Maggie smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders. As Carter studied her, she noticed the touch of red in her eyes and the faint crease of worry in her normally smooth forehead.

"Good," she said, the word slipping out on a breath of relief. "I'm glad you're safe. I can spend the night in the apartment with Carter."

Carter shook her head and sank deeper into the chair.

"I'm not leaving," she said. "I'm spending the night here."

Her father and Maggie looked over at her.

"Sarge - "

"Carter - "

She sent them both a stubborn look, that they both knew well.

"There is no argument you can bring me that I won't out argue you."

Her father glanced at Maggie and she shrugged.

"I can pick her up tomorrow and drive her to school."

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded. "I'll leave so you can get some rest."

She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze, accompanied with a smile and walked to the door. Before slipping out, she looked back and sent them both another smile, in it was hidden her heart. The door closed with a quiet click behind her, muting the sound of commands and inquires that floated through the hallway. Carter unhooked her bag and dropped it onto the floor.

"You don't look too comfortable," her father said.

Carter sank deeper into the chair, as if trying to become one with it.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said.

"Good. Me neither."

He gave her a weak smile, that barely reached the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes, his exhaustion spreading across his features. Carter shifted, curling up on the chair, watching him. The sound of the beeping expanded and took over the room. She reached forward and flipped off the lamp beside the bed casting the room in semi darkness. The only light that reached them was from the window in the door and the blind covered window in the wall. After a long moment, she spoke.

"I love you, Captain."

Her father's heavy breathing was all the response she received. The only response she needed.

**********************************************************************

Deario my cheerio!

So it was Steve that was the cause for the last chapter cliff hanger! And he didn't die so phew! That was a close one!

Alright now it's ❓🕘. This question is from the beautiful angelicalrs: How old are you?

Answer: Okay, well I never wanted to share this before because it kind of freaks people out. But just stay with me, I know it's startling at first but hold on. *Breathes* Okay here it goes. I am...

500 years old. Yes, it's shocking and yes, I am a vampire.

That's not even the most unsettling part of this, because I also happen to be 1,324 years old. I'm the last remaining Time lord of Gallifrey.

If that's not bad enough, I'm sixteen and live in District twelve. (Guys, I'm kind of freaking out, the Reaping is coming up and I took out all the tesserae rations I could. The odds are not in my favor)

I'm also an eighteen year old girl with a navy seal for a father and two friends I'm not sure I still have. (And yes, I know how to kick some serious boot-tay!)

Finally, I'm a 21 year old writer living in Boston with a sarcastic sister and a curmudgeonly brother and a crazy family.

I know this a lot to take in, so take your time. I appreciate you accepting me and all my alternate universe lives.

Vote, comment, follow! Tell me how old you are!