Author's notes: First, the characters and setting are not mine. I'm doing this for fun, not for profit, so don't sue me. Second, I've made a few revisions, mainly to fix some grammar, and to fix a major goof. The goof being that it's impossible for a someone to carry a 150lb man in their arms or over their shoulders if they're smaller than the man. The story and plot are mine.
Agent of Reincarnation
Day 1
"Lucy...."
Blood... blood all around her. Life... oozing out of her. No. No.
"No!!!!!"
Carter shot up in bed, the nightmare having left him covered in sweat. It had been several months since he had a nightmare.
On February 14, 2000, Valentines Day, Carter walked into Exam six and the next thing he knew he was in pain and on the floor. The next thing he saw was Lucy Knight, on the floor, the floor next to her covered in blood, her eyes wide open and focused on him. That was the last time he saw her alive. She died from a blood clot after the staff stabilized her and moved her up to the ICU. He had heard that Romano knocked over a tray, out of anger, when he couldn't save her.
In the months that followed, he tried to come to terms with what happened. He spoke to Paul Sobricki's wife, and confided in Gamma. But he still couldn't forgive himself. He didn't kill Lucy, but he should have realized that Paul was schizophrenic, should have listened to her, and should have had him put in restraints.
For the next year, he suffered considerable physical pain from the stabbing. He became addicted to his pain medication. If it weren't for his friends, and especially Peter Benton, he would probably have ended up like his cousin Chase. They confronted him and, after he hit Benton, went to Atlanta and into rehab.
He was living with Gamma at her house in Chicago, and went back to work after getting out of rehab. It has not been easy for him though. He had to submit to drug tests, and attend meetings to keep clean with Abby as his sponsor. Unfortunately, the craving for drugs was still there. He took two pills from a biker that was brought into the ER. Fortunately he realized the effects of the drug and managed to extricate them before they did any real damage. At Abby's urging, he eventually told Dr. Weaver about the incident and said that she would think about it, and he should continue to attend his meetings.
Up until today, he didn't have any nightmares about Lucy. He missed her, still thought about her, and still loved her, but the guilt wasn't as acute as it was during his physical recovery.
He looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table and realized that he still had a few hours before his shift. So he decided to get out of bed, take a shower, and have some breakfast. Perhaps taking things at a slow pace before going to work would help clear his mind.
He drove his Jeep Wrangler to work and arrived about a half-hour before his shift started. Dr. Weaver and Green were already there reviewing paperwork.
After saying his good mornings to his friends, he placed his coat in his locker, donned his white coat, signed himself in, and took his first case for the day.
It was a surprisingly calm day. There were the usual round of patients with injuries and illnesses, but, thankfully, only one trauma. The patient, a young woman in her mid-twenties, survived and would make a full recovery.
Later that day, Carter was checking his e-mail-he had an account with the hospital for communications and research-and received an unusual, and alarming, message:
At first, he thought that Sobricki sent the message, but then Carter remembered that he was still in a psychiatric hospital. Carter spoke to his wife after he returned to work. The question remained: who was the ghost from his past? The only death he felt guilty for on that day was Lucy. Maybe it was a friend, or relative of Lucy's. He finished checking the rest of his e-mail and logged out.
He didn't have the chance to talk to anyone else because that was when the trauma came in. It was near the end of his shift by then and he was tired. After signing out, he walked to his Jeep in the parking garage. He didn't realize that he was being watched. Before he knew what was happening, a blue Ford Crown Victoria pulled out of a parking space and attempted to run him over. He ducked out of the way just in time as the car sped past him and out of the garage. Just then, Kerry Weaver came over to him, having observed the entire scene.
"Carter! You ok?" She asked.
"I scraped my hand on the ground when I jumped out of the way, but I'm ok." He replied.
"Let's get you back to the ER and checked out." She finished.
An hour later, after giving a statement to the police and getting his hand bandaged, Carter went back to his Jeep, this time escorted by security, and drove home. Just minutes after settling in, he received a phone call.
"Carter" he said.
"Do you believe me now? They'll try for you again." He said, his voice full of concern.
"Who the hell is this?" Carter responded, frightened and angry. He didn't recognize the voice; its owner was male, American, and in his mid-twenties.
"Not on the phone. I will only say that this is not my real voice and I'm not the one that is trying to kill you."
There was a brief pause, and the caller continued.
"Do you want to live?" the voice asked.
"What do you want?" Carter asked.
"You remember the message I sent you?" he asked.
The email message he received.
"Yes" Carter said.
"Do you remember the location that was in the message? Don't say it, just yes or no." He said.
42nd and Wilsher.
"Yes." Carter said.
"Be there, and don't be late. You'll have only a ten minute window."
"Who-" he started but was quickly cut off.
"When we meet, you'll understand. Make sure you're not followed and be careful." The voice said and hung up.
After putting the phone down, Carter wondered who that was. He still didn't recognize the voice, yet it felt familiar.
The fact still remained: someone tried to kill him tonight. If this person was telling the truth he had to meet him. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to go to the meeting. He'd keep his phone and pager handy. As another piece of insurance, he stopped at Kerry's and told her about the email and the call. Kerry suggested calling the police, but Carter decided to meet the mystery man first. If he didn't call by that afternoon, then she should call the police and tell them what he told her.
Later that night, Carter was standing on the street corner, just two minutes before two in the morning. It was cold outside, the sky was clear and he could see some stars despite the lights from the city. As the caller suggested, he made sure that no one was following him and, so far, he didn't see anything out of place. In fact, he was the only one who was out of place standing on a street corner at two in the morning. He was so caught up in those thoughts that he didn't notice a blue Audi S6 wagon silently pull up to the curb until the passenger-side window rolled down.
What he heard next was impossible.
"Get in." Said a ghostly-familiar, warm voice.
He had to be dreaming. He froze there, for a few seconds, staring at the open window, not wanting to move, and not wanting to look inside. Biting back his fear he gained enough strength to bend down far enough to look inside and see the owner of that voice.
He was speechless.
The driver was a young woman, in her mid-twenties, with blond hair, blue eyes, dressed in a dark winter coat, a green pullover, and blue jeans. He stared at her, open-mouthed, his face a clearly conveying his shock.
"Lucy..." he whispered.
Tears threatened to fall from his face. It couldn't be possible. She was dead, yet she was sitting there, very much alive and well.
"John. Please, get in the car now." She said, her voice calm and gentle.
Still in shock, he hesitantly opened the door and got in. Out of habit, he put on his seat belt as she put the car in gear and drove away, rolling up the window and locking the doors as they gained speed on the empty streets.
He didn't move, he didn't talk, but just stared at her. He closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten, thinking that this was a dream, and opened them again; she was still there. Then, he reached up and touched her cheek. He felt warm, soft skin, and caught her familiar scent. Her hand reached up and held his. He quickly withdrew his hand as if her hand burning hot and withdrew as far away from her as he could before he broke down into tears.
"No... No... This can't be." He said.
Lucy looked over at him, her eyes full of sadness and concern. She wished that she didn't have to do this. She wished that she could just kill herself rather than hurt him.
She returned her concentration to the road, letting Carter calm down on his own. She continually checked her mirrors for any tails before she pulled into an underground parking garage.
After parking her car and shutting the engine off, she checked on Carter again. By that time, he had stopped crying and was just staring ahead at the blank brick wall in front of the car.
"Carter?" She said, but he didn't move.
"John?" She said.
She realized that he was in shock and chastised herself; she didn't think this would happen, though she planned for it. This was why Agents never attempted to contact family and friends of their host's lives.
She quickly got out and went to the passenger side to get Carter. A quick search uncovered his cell phone and pager in his coat pocket. She turned the phone off-her pursuers could triangulate the signal- but she wasn't worried about the pager. He still wouldn't move, but she had planned on this. Pressing another button on her remote, she opened the rear hatch and took out a foldable wheelchair. After getting it set up, she rolled it to the passenger door.
She managed to get him out of the car and maneuvered him into the chair, her lean five-foot-three frame hiding her strength. She shut the door, and locked her car with the remote transmitter in her hand. Going to the elevator, glad for the late hour-it would be awkward for her to explain why she was pushing a handsome, and catatonic, Doctor in a wheelchair-, they arrived at the door to her temporary apartment. Unlocking the door with the key in her hand, she shut the door and secured it before continuing to the bed room.
After depositing him on the bed, she took off his coat and covered him with a blanket from the closet. After taking off her coat and pull-over, she checked his vitals. He was stable; his shock merely emotional. Hopefully, he would snap out of it in a few hours. She gave him a sedative, and held his hand for the next several hours.