"He's just...Carter."

Despite the positive exchange, a visible dip in Carter’s mood becomes apparent when he speaks of his job. She can see it in his eyes. Generosity to such a degree requires quite the sacrifice. The good work has taken its toll in more ways than one. This distresses her greatly.

“I do it to save them.”

“Sweet and selfless John. You’re far too gallant for your own good, aren’t you?”

Though there’s a hint of Shakespearean melodrama to her tone, it’s laced with sincere compassion.

He doesn’t need pity, nor indulgence of his innermost grievances. Neither of them do. So Daisy does what Daisy does best. She smiles, cheeks dimpling with a giggling lilt as she tugs him onto the sidewalk beside the diner, stopping there entirely.

“I don’t think you’ll be returning to work today,” she says with a confident stance, “You’re going to be my personal physician for the day.”

Daisy patted him again. “Sweet and selfless John. You’re far too gallant for your own good, aren’t you?”

He glanced down at her, an odd twisting sensation in his stomach. He'd never thought of himself as selfless, and least especially since a part of him had entered medicine for himself...to prove he could save others, and that he could defeat what had vanquished Bobby.

Swallowing reflexively, he shrugged, pushing past the tease with feigned indifference.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, depending on her motives, Daisy seemed far more interested in distraction. “I don’t think you’ll be returning to work today,” she informed him. “You’re going to be my personal physician for the day.”

"What?" That, admittedly, did bring a sincere smile to his face, and incredulous, Carter breathed a laugh. "I'm afraid that's not how it works..."

Bringing a hand to her head, Daisy feigned a swoon. “You see, it’s the chill in the air that renders me ill. I simply can’t survive without your expertise. I’ll surely wither away if you aren’t by my side.”

"Oh, of course," Carter agreed, bobbing his head in faux acquiescence. His grin grew more sincere. "Either you're being serious, or this is the start of a bad porno."

Okay, so maybe he shouldn't joke like that... It wasn't as if they knew each other well enough for such teasing.

her eyebrows shot upward the second he made the joke. "good to know. here I was worried about the dress code." she shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "at least you caught yourself. five points for effort." the truth was she hadn't expected him to be this funny. or maybe funny wasn't the right word. comfortable. every time she expected him to lean into the grand gesture of the evening, he somehow managed to undercut it with a joke about biting his nanny or accidentally talking himself into trouble. it made the whole thing easier. "okay, i think it's important to know how old you were when the whole bite incident happened."

this kind of evening that felt pulled from somebody else's life. the fact that the staff knew what she liked caught her off guard. her head turned toward him. "damn . . . i didn't know i came here that much. i don't know whether to be embarrassed or not." she never really thought anyone was paying attention. her smile lingered as she looked around the room again. she knew this wasn't normal. not the violins, the private floor. most first dates she'd been on involved splitting appetizers and shouting over music in a crowded bar. and yet somehow none of that was what had her heart beating a little faster. it was him. the way he kept looking at her like he was waiting for permission to enjoy himself. the way he seemed almost relieved every time she laughed.

when he suggested dancing before dinner, andrea caught the nervousness hiding underneath the invitation. for all the effort he'd put into tonight, he somehow looked more anxious than she felt. not the kind of anxiety someone got before a presentation or a difficult procedure. the kind that came from caring. a smile softened her expression. her fingers gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "lucky for you, you managed to land a date with a very patient woman. i had to teach my little brother and his friends how to dance for the quinceañeras they'd be going to back when they were freshmen in high school. i think you'll be just fine." still smiling, andrea set her free hand lightly on his arm and let him lead her toward the open space. "but if you step on my feet more than three times, i'm telling everyone about you biting your nanny."

With a faint pink creeping along his cheeks — should he have said all that? — he met her gaze, and his stomach flipped as she gently pressed his hand with her own, her expression softening.

“Wait…” Breathing a soft, self-conscious laugh, Carter asked, “I’m being compared to a bunch of freshmen boys? I mean, yeah, I guess I still have the appetite of a headstrong teen, but God willing, I’ve outgrown the major B.O. problem.”

It was charming, he thought, anytime Andrea spoke of her family. He didn’t wish to sound so damn pathetic, but he enjoyed hearing her talk about them — the way her face lit up, and her eyes shimmered like sunlight on a lake reminded him that yes, it was possible to love that deeply and be loved in return.

Andrea’s hand came to his arm then, and taking his cue, Carter led her over toward the open space, an incredulous laugh catching in his throat at her fair warning.

“Okay, so I have a grace period of two stomps? Good to know,” he teased. Drawing her into his arms, he tucked her left hand into his own, and then splayed his hand against the small of her back, instantly being reminded of cotillion and school socials. With a fond, lopsided little smile, he darted his eyes in between her face and the floor, careful not to step on her toes as he swayed from side-to-side. “I’m afraid I never went to prom,” he admitted. “Or at least, when I did, I spent the entire time taking care of my cousin. He snuck in a flask, and was hurling for at least two-thirds of the event.”

Romantic. Did he seriously just bring up vomit on his first date?

Wincing, he amended, “I-I mean, how was yours? Er…your prom. Not…not vomiting, but…evidently, I’ve got some major word vomit going on here. Sorry about that.”

He flashed another grin, his eyes crinkling warmly around the edges. “I guess you’re kind of paralyzing, that’s all. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to talk to a beautiful woman. You’d think it’d get easier, but I just…want you to like me.”

She wasn't going to tell the doctor why, either. Partly out of stubbornness after he made her turn her head to either side which aggravated her neck, but mostly because she didn't know why. Sure, she could guess, but what good would a guess do her now? What good would a guess do him? Probably land him in jail. He'd already been through so much. Jail was the last place he should end up.

Luckily, this doctor talked enough for the both of them. Even if she could speak without having to write her responses down, she doubted she'd get a word in. That suited her just fine. Let the man talk. Well, she was fine with it, until he spoke of the ones they love hurting them the most.

It's the things we love most that destroy us.

Why did the doctor say that? How did he know to say that? What little air she could still breathe on her own became shallow as she tensed, suddenly overwhelmed by a fear she couldn't control. She might have been able to convince herself it was only a coincidence if she wasn't in a hospital right then, suffering the effects of having been choked almost to death by-

The doctor was still talking but Katniss couldn't hear a word of it now even if she wanted to. The once steady, average beeping of the heart monitor had rapidly increased into a continuous buzzing sound filling the room, beneath the pounding in her ears, as her heart rate doubled.

She wanted to yell at him to stay away from her but her voice couldn't handle the stress she was already under, let alone this new stress, leaving her looking at the doctor half like she thought he was going to kill her and half like she would just have to kill him first. The gel pack was the least of Katniss's worries as it landed unnoticed on the floor when she shoved away from the bed, accidentally yanking the IV from her wrist in the process of fleeing the hospital room. The pain from the tape ripping free that kept the IV in place and the sight of her own blood that resulted made her dizzy on top of the already sparse air she could get into her lungs. Her stubborn nature could only get her so far with everything feeling as though it were working against her and she stumbled, barely away from the room she'd just been in, falling and dragging herself across the floor in futile determination to get away from the doctor.

Her eyes were wide, pupils slightly dilated, and there was an almost feral quality to her expression that made Carter appraise every medical instrument in the room. Nothing sharp was within her immediate trajectory — one small mercy, he supposed — but the phone was also on the other side of the room, and he doubted it would go over well if he suddenly ran or walked over to check on the requested psych consult. Dammit, why hadn’t they showed up yet?

Before he could further weigh his options, Katniss viciously pushed on the gel pack, and it went sailing across the linoleum floor. She launched up soon afterward, tearing the IV straight from her arm, and rushed out into the hall.

Cursing under his breath, Carter watched the young woman slip and fall before he made his pursuit. “Malik!” he called, seeking the strongest of the team’s nurses. “Haleh? We’ve got a runner!”

Everyone within earshot swarmed to help, leaping upon Katniss and wrenching her more securely to the ground. The young woman was naturally terrified. He felt terrible that he hadn’t been more aware of his surroundings, and thus, hadn’t been given the proper chance to keep this unfortunate setback at bay.

While Malik kept her in a secure hold, he stuck her with a syringe filled with fast-acting Dexmedetomidine, which would calm her enough to alleviate whatever panic had spiraled her into this initial state in the first place.

“Help her up,” Carter entreated, his voice raspy, “and for God’s sake, someone find psych! They should’ve reported down here thirty minutes ago!“

The nurses and security helped Katniss back into a proper holding room — one with a door that locked — and as they set her upon the bed, Carter folded his arms and rolled his lips inward. “I’m sorry we had to do that,” he apologized, doubting she would ever come around with any sort of trust. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself, or anyone else. We’ll let you go. We will. But first, we just need to clear you and make sure there isn’t any brain damage from the strangulation.” His expression grew earnest. “You’ll let me do that, right? No one’s keeping you here against your will, but I’ll be honest: I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive or take care of yourself for the evening.”

she laughed, the sound warm and easy as they started toward the staircase. "well, thank god," she squeezed his hand back. "'cause i was worried this was your version of normal. just let me know where we'll be going when you book that jet. that way i know how to dress." the tease was gentle, softened by the smile she couldn't seem to stop wearing around him tonight. andrea had heard the chatter around the department that carter came from money. it was hard not to when hospital gossip traveled faster than lab results. the private schools, the family name, the stories that seemed to grow a little more elaborate every time they were repeated. but none of that had ever factored into how she saw him. if anything, she'd spent most of her time getting to know the version of him who showed up exhausted after shifts, who got flustered when he was nervous, who cared too much and apologized for things that didn't require apologizing. the rented-out floor wasn't what impressed her. it was the thought behind it. the fact that somewhere along the way he'd decided she was worth the effort.

"yes, like from my fingers. feeding someone doesn't necessarily have to be with grapes only. i was planning on hand-feeding you charcuterie all evening. all finger foods are game." she nodded seriously as a small smirk tugged on the corner of her lips. her fingers remained comfortably threaded through his as they reached the upper level. the sight that greeted them made her slow slightly. the water, the soft lighting, the distant sound of conversation below . . . and apparently violinists. she turned toward him, one brow lifting. her gaze lingered on him for a second longer than she'd intended. his question about dancing snapped her out of her daze. "i like dancing." the admission came easier than she expected. she tilted her head, eyes sparkling with amusement. "not to brag, but i'm actually a pretty good dancer. not good enough to do a jig, but slow dancing definitely."

As Andrea explained her finger food plans, he had to grin. “I’m learning so much,” he replied, raising his brows with a mock sense of gravity. “Though I’ll have you know, when I was a kid, I was compared to a snapping turtle. I once bit my nanny taking a cookie from her hand, so proceed at your own risk.”

Once they reached the topmost floor, a hit of self-consciousness returned as he watched Andrea take it all in, her brow lifting as she regarded him. Oh, great. Princess had sabotaged him, hadn’t she? She’d recommended the violins, claiming that women “loved being serenaded,” but maybe she was trying to get revenge because of her cousin…

To his relief, Andrea’s features melded into a light simper, and she spoke of her dancing prowess.

Carter grinned. “You’re a natural Ginger Rogers then, eh? I’m no Fred Astaire, but I do at least have the long legs.” Squeezing her hand, he added, “And since you come here so often, some of the waitstaff already knew what you’d like, so, uh…we don’t technically have to order…if you wanted to show me those oh-so-impressive moves?”

Maybe then Carter would’ve had the privilege of witnessing his son’s first words, steps, his acclimation to solid foods, watching him develop likes and dislikes, skills, and hobbies.

Fortunately, he’ll be able to see the next ones. He’ll send him off to school, help with homework, attend sports meets, teach him how to tie a tie, and give relationship advice, eventually taking him off to college. These things, he’d surely not miss. Susan firmly believes the man would defy death itself to be present.

As they gaze at each other, Carter thoroughly understanding her implication to stay indefinitely, Susan beams, happier than ever.

“I have training wheels still,” Jack says, “But mama said I can take them off. Can we do that?” His tone is hopeful, seemingly impossible to contain his excitement.

Jack tugged at his shirt then, regathering his attention. “I have my training wheels still,” he explained, “but mama said I can take them off. Can we do that?”

Glancing up at Susan again, Carter grinned. “Well, you know what they say, buddy: whatever mama says goes. I’ve learned to never go against that decree…not unless I want to learn the hard way.”