"He's just...Carter."

5.06 - Stuck On You, 5.12- Sticks And Stones, 5.10 - The Miracle Worker

I know that I'd die without you

I can't help but be wrong in the dark

'Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts

I can't help but want oceans to part

'Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts

UNSENT

[SMS: Him] Last night was really nice. If we didn’t have a shift, I would’ve laid there with you all day…

[SMS: Him] I know I laughed when you told me you loved me as you finished inside me, but I do believe you were being truthful. I could see it in your eyes. Lust or no, you’ve always been here for me when I need you in any capacity. You never ask questions or treat it as an inconvenience. At the drop of a hat, you’re at my side. I can’t thank you enough for that.

[SMS: Him] Sonya may not have been planned, but please believe me when I say she’s one of the two best things to ever happen to me, the other being you, her incredible and loving father.

[SMS: Him] Really, I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened between us, even if it scares me to love someone this much.

[SMS: Him] I wish I wasn’t so fucked up. Maybe then I wouldn’t put you through all this hell. I hate to see you waiting on me to become the woman you deserve. I’m afraid I’ll never be what you need. I’m so sorry. I love you, John. I love you so much and I’m so so sorry.

SENT

As eager as she is to share her research on the subject, Lucy is winded just listening the locations. No matter her determination, healing certainly will take several weeks if just breathing is such a feat.

Acquiescing, she opts to listen intently to Carter’s answer. He’s sorely right about the usual romantic tropes. Even as a woman who would enjoy being showered in thoughtful gifts, she’s certain she would’ve shamelessly teased Carter, never mind his endeavor. In typical Carter fashion, the conversation becomes rather melancholic as he expresses regret for his behavior, prompting her to frown.

“Hey, I’m not asking you to have everything figured out. We can do that together. That’s how relationships are supposed to work.”

With women like Roxanne notched in his bedpost, Lucy suspects that Carter is used to giving until there’s nothing left of him. Then, when they’ve exhausted him for all he’s worth, the Roxannes leave him high and dry. It makes her wonder how he might respond to a balanced give-and-take. Perhaps it’s only natural that he’s scared, but Lucy is patient. She doesn’t mind taking this one step at a time, so long as he’s willing. That’s all she asks of him: a chance.

“You could’ve done any of that, you know,” she says matter-of-factly, her voice calm and warm. “I would’ve been happy with anything because you put thought into it. You cared enough to think of me. Granted, I agree, you did get pretty immature with your jealousy, but in the right situation, it may have been flattering.”

A rather poor attempt to joke. No doubt it didn’t quite hit the mark. Oh well.

Before she can say more, he stoops enough to brush his lips along her bandages, startling her into silence and robbing her of what little breath she has. It occurs to her that she hasn’t much considered the physical repercussions of the attack. Her body will absolutely be left grotesquely scarred. Would Carter even still find her attractive with so many reminders of that night forever etched into her flesh?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, drawing his tender lips to her wounded bosom, “Forgive me.”

“I do,” she replies, a little alarmed by his display of emotion. Apparently it’s all or nothing with him. “We’re alive, and we’re here now, John. It’s gonna be okay.”

Since she’d spent that entire night believing she’d be dead by morning, she’ll settle for that much.

“I still have your gift too, by the way. It’s probably still hidden in my locker. I can ask Corday or Weaver to get it, but I think I can afford to spoil the surprise considering what we’ve gone through since.”

Softly running her fingers though his hair, Lucy nuzzles against his crown, “I talked to your gamma and she mentioned you had a tradition of buying t-shirts from places you and your family traveled. She hates them, by the way.”

With a small laugh, she continues, “Anyway, she had them sent to my dorm and I…well…” A pause, wondering if he may react poorly, “I patched them into a blanket, something to comfort you when you’re having a bad moment.”

Lucy looked up at him then, her big blue eyes tired and watery as she reassured, “Hey, I’m not asking you to have everything figured out. We can do that together. That’s how relationships are supposed to work.”

Relationships... It was still such an odd concept to Carter, even though he'd arguably had more dalliances than anyone he knew. "Okay," he murmured, lifting a hand to lightly brush the hair back from her eyes. "I'm not much for leaning on other people...maybe 'cause I never had to. Or rather, I couldn't. But I'd like to try..." with you.

Lucy vowed she forgave him then -- how could she? -- and overcome, he squeezed her hand and nodded. They were alive. It was going to be okay.

Please, God, please let it all be okay.

“I still have your gift too, by the way," she said, startling him. "It’s probably still hidden in my locker.”

"You got me something?" Carter asked, unable to keep the gentleness from his tone. He was admittedly touched. He had been nothing but cruel to her, cold, and yet Lucy had proven yet again that she was far too good for him.

As if reading his thoughts, Lucy stroked her fingers through his hair, her face nuzzling into his crown as he nudged his cheek over her steadily beating heart -- the heart he had been so afraid would never beat again.

“I talked to your gamma and she mentioned you had a tradition of buying t-shirts from places you and your family traveled. She hates them, by the way.”

Carter laughed, startled by that admission. "You talked to my gamma?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you two kept in contact after that fiasco dinner..."

Lucy hesitated, then she confessed to having patched the shirts into a blanket -- something to lend comfort during his times of distress.

Blinking rapidly, Carter slowly lifted his head in order to meet her gaze head-on, his expression softening as his pulse quickened. "You did that for me?" he asked, blinking anew. "I know it sounds pathetic, but...no one's ever really made me something before." A hint of shyness bled into his features and he grinned, idly stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. "I'm amazed Gamma even let you keep those. She's been threatening to burn them for years."

I love it, thank you, I love you. Because he did, didn't he? It was harder and harder to deny, even with as cruelly as his tongue tangled over the words and refused to speak them into existence...because in his experience, anything he acknowledged was stolen from him. He couldn't lose Lucy. Not like this. Not ever.

His words pierce through her heart like a dagger, and yet it’s nothing short of what she deserves. Shame on her for toying with him like this, tying him to an invisible noose and leaving him little choice but to follow her into oblivion. He understands her plight, cares enough for her that he implores her to reconsider. Is that not enough?

Bekah chuckles breathily, lacking in mirth, “I’m afraid logic is beyond me these days…”

How dare she ensnare him, just as she had Benjamin. If she doesn’t remedy the situation quickly, he’ll likely end up the very same, six feet under and gone forever. Then where would that leave her? Better to have him far away and alive rather than dead, all because she manipulated him into his fate.

“Don’t do that,” he says, cradling her cheeks, his touch more gentle than merited, “Don’t depend on me like that…I can’t be what you need.”

“You’re right,” she answers sadly, her gaze falling from his eyes, ashamed to look at him, though she nuzzles his palm in the process. “It’s not your job to keep me afloat. However, to suggest you aren’t enough as you are is a disservice to yourself. I don’t know everything you’ve endured the last several years, but I don’t have to. Underneath your scars, you’re still just as you’ve always been: compassionate, loving, brilliant, and persevering.”

She won’t let the cruelty of this world tear that from him. There’s so little good to be found within it. Unwilling to hear any protest, Bekah wraps her arms around him, pulling him into her embrace as the old record plays a fitting tune, Ella Fitzgerald’s I Can’t Get Started.

With her name sounding so honey laced on his tongue, Carter admits he’s tried escaping to the Congo, which surprises her. He speaks from experience, and hasn’t been able to outrun his own demons. How then, can she hope to outrun hers? Silence follows for several beats as she attempts to gather her thoughts, but she doesn’t pull away.

“What would you have me do?” She asks, her lips grazing just below his earlobe.

What can I do?

This was a mistake, that’s more than apparent. Her selfishness has made quite the mess of things. Reluctantly, she loosens her hold, arms dropping to her side as she takes a step back. If she truly loves him, then perhaps she should let him go before she becomes his certain undoing.

“I’ve no right to ask anything of you, but please Johnny, will you promise me one thing?”

To imply she’s leaving — where to, now, she really doesn’t know — is for the best. He’ll heal without her, but her continued presence will only serve to fester his wounds. She must leave well enough alone. With a mixture of remorse and longing in her gaze, it’s her turn to cup his cheeks, her thumbs grazing along the curve of his face.

“Don’t neglect your capacity to love. It’d be the gravest loss possible.”

He may have forgotten what he’s capable of, but she hasn’t, and she never will.

Peggy Lee said it best:

No.

He would not make this about himself.

Before he could try and apologize, Rebekah wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, causing the words to die in his throat. Despite his feet feeling wooden, he allowed her to pull him into a gentle sway along with the record, his eyes briefly closing as she nudged her cheek into his chest.

“What would you have me do?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“That’s the million dollar question, right? If we had all the answers, life wouldn’t be so hard,” he murmured.

As if pulled out of a trance, Rebekah backed away from him, her eyes tired and swimming with defeat. The sight punctured through his chest and directly into his heart.

“I’ve no right to ask anything of you, but please Johnny, will you promise me one thing?” she pleaded.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing reflexively. “I’d argue you’re one of the only person who does have the right,” he murmured. With a nod, he encouraged, “Yeah, Beky, of course.”

Her hands lifted to his face, gentle and secure, and Carter found himself leaning into her touch despite the realization he should pull away — that he should spare her.

“Don’t neglect your capacity to love,” Rebekah murmured. “It’d be the gravest loss possible.”

“If you can find my cousins across the pond, then I’d applaud your efforts to find some truly heinous black mail material. However, I think I do a well enough job on my own to provide content, thank you very much.”

“A kiss?” She didn’t mean to sound quite so horrified at the idea. They were going on a bloody date, kissing was bound to come up. No, it was more the shock at being called out and read her mind so easily. “Ah, or, uh… oui. Good job passing that. I know that’s a tricky subject. But uh, coincidence, yeah? Let’s leave it at that.” Before she slipped up anywhere else so soon. She hadn’t even had a drink yet to be bumbling this much.

Ophelia turned to face him properly, her face not feeling quite as hot anymore. “Wait, you’d fly out to see me if I moved? Seriously?” Now that did make her stomach flip at the thought. That was a rather sweet thought, but one she hoped not to employ. She’d hate to get into some long distance relationship, but maybe with Carter, it wouldn’t feel so bad if he made all that effort.

Hypothetically, of course. No need to rush down that daydream just yet.

“Dale, yeah? So long as I can keep some sense of anonymity as a nurse around here, maybe I can save some of my reputation.” As they reached the restaurant, she was grateful a table was open and they were seated easily. With chips and margaritas on their way soon, she could relax a little bit more.

Ophelia’s mortified, “A kiss?" drew his attention, and he glanced down at her, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” he cautiously treaded, “a kiss. Y’know. The thing people do with their mouths? When they like each other?” He gently elbowed her side. “For the record, you make this whole teasing thing a little too easy. I’d never lean in for a snog unless you wanted one.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ophelia twisting toward him in surprise. Though rather than further remark on kissing, she momentarily threw him when she spoke of his delcaration.

“Oh…” Feeling his skin prickle warmly beneath her gaze, Carter briefly met her probing eyes and flushed, offering a smile and nod. “I mean…yeah. Absolutely. Unless that was the wrong thing to say, of course. Which in that case, pretend I never said anything.”

Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who could be a complete embarrassment…

By one small mercy, they were shown to their table without additional awkwardness (for now), and after taking her coat and helping her into a chair, Carter slid into the seat across from her and shrugged out of his own coat. Ophelia’s question made him chuckle.

Sometimes it's hard for her to believe that she helps people. She doesn’t feel like it is enough, there’s so much time she should have figured it out earlier, should have made different choices, should have done things differently. There were people that might have been here if she had been better at her job. 

That was the problem though, what she did was not perfect, there were always going to be multiple roads to the same end, and the reality is…some choices simply don’t matter. You weren’t going to save everything. It is possible, and sometimes even common in their lines of work, to commit no mistake and still lose. That was simply how it was. 

In matters of life and death perfection does not guarantee success. It was a hard lesson to learn, one Kate had not learned well. She still fought against it, tried to kick back and act as if she was somehow the exception to all of that. 

Her eyes watch him, like she's trying to evaluate the honesty of his words, or at least the honesty of the intention behind them.

“We don’t,” he softly offered. “Humans were made to be social…to love and mourn and feel. But whenever we can’t have those things…well…” He shrugged, looking away. “We do our best to trick ourselves into believing solitude is better — that it’s genuinely what we want. I know I do this.” Anxious, his right leg started to bounce. “Pretending might feel good at the time, but I promise you: that kind of imagination isn’t your friend.”