So this has been nagging at me for awhile and there are barely any stories for this fandom, especially for this pairing. Let's see how this turns out. Going to keep it pretty close to the plot at the beginning before diverging for my own plot. Also going to use some actual scenes and dialogue from the movie, sorry if it is incorrect at all, I'm going off of mostly memory.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Final Destination series.
The moment he saw Browning start flipping out on the plane, he couldn't help but get involved. Something about Browning just...set him off, always has set him off. The rather forgettable boy with the average looks and the average intellect and yet, something about him caught Carter's attention. Maybe it was the way he was never really interested in anything, the way he passed through life as if he were half asleep. Or maybe it was his eyes. They were the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen, and they always seemed to stare right through him as if he didn't exist. It was unsettling and frustrating just as much as it was exciting. So when Browning finally came alive, attention fully in reality and freaking the fuck out on flight 180 right before departure, Carter was drawn like a moth to a flame.
Very few people knew the extent of Carter's fear of death. Of dying alone and being buried six feet under in a suit he had never worn, of being forgotten because he never amounted to anything memorable. So when Browning kept saying that the plane was going to exploded, his fear ignited. Everything was red. He could feel the flight attendants grabbing him and dragging him off the plane. He could hear Terry trying to get his attention, trying to defend his actions like she always does. But all he could see was Browning. Browning, who was finally awake, only to be acting like he was having a mental breakdown. He may have been concerned if he wasn't long gone himself in a combination of anger and paranoia. Everything is a blur of emotion until he finds himself punching Browning, trying to make him shut up. That look on his face, that snarl of rage that spoke of deep seated hate, seemed so out of place. Browning was yelling at him. And he was yelling back, but he doesn't know what he's saying. There's blood on his knuckles and while this was pretty normal for him, he only felt sick. He verbally bullied Browning and occasionally pushed him around with his other friends, but he had never actually hurt him. He had crossed a line. They were both on the floor, each being restrained by a guard, when the windows exploded.
There was sound and heat and glass flying through the air. He was in shock as he looked to the windows, only to see the fireball in the sky. He didn't recognize it at first, couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. And then it suddenly hit him. He looked to Browning, wanted to see if he had made the connection, if he had the same response. But Browning was looking at the sky still, his eyes wide and horrified, but unsurprised. Seconds later he turned to look at Carter, and for a sick second, he was smug. Browning had looked at him first. Instead of looking to his buddy Tod or that creepy Clear who was always staring at him, Browning looked to him. But then that was gone, and he felt nothing. Looking into his eyes, he knew he was right. That was flight 180. They could've been part of that fireball, incinerated and free falling back to New York. But instead they were safe in the airport lobby, surrounded by broken glass and screams, because Browning had gotten them all thrown out the plane. He had been right. But god how it looked like he wished he had been wrong.
Carter avoided looking directly into Browning's eyes as they all sat in the cramped waiting area. They were all looking at him in some way, most like he was freak or like it was his fault that the airplane exploded. But Carter avoided looking into those eyes and seeing the damage. Of seeing those eyes that would actually be looking into him rather than through him this time. And he wasn't prepared for that. So instead he glared at the air next to his head, tensing just a little bit more every time Tod gets too close to touching Browning. He vaguely remembers that Tod's brother was on that plane too. After that he tries to avoid remembering who else was left on the plane.
Terry was basically sitting on top of him with how close she is. For once he wants to push her away, tell her to get the fuck lost like everyone else. But he can't. Not when she seems so numb and delicate, and he'll start a fight with anyone, anytime, except with her. He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her. He kind of viewed her as a friend with benefits, except to the rest of society, she fell under the label of girlfriend. He knew she felt something for him, as she put up with his shit, but he didn't really know the extent.
He normally would've been startled when Browning himself broke the tense silence, his voice angry and tired as it rang out, but he was just too done to be. While he logically knew Browning wasn't the cause of the explosion, he couldn't help but feel uncertain and wary. There had always been something off with Browning to Carter, so maybe this was it, that he was a freak.
"Is everyone dead? Are there any survivors?" Ms. Lewton dared to ask him. She looked so lost and hopeful, and he vaguely remembers she chose to send Mr. Murnau back on the plane and stay with them. Browning looked dumbstruck, but Carter could give that answer just as anyone could. He was moderately pissed at her insensitive question, but he was interested in how the other would answer.
"How would I know? You think I'm some sort of..." He looked like he wanted to continue but was at a loss for words.
"He's not a witch." Clear blurted out suddenly. Well, no shit, he already knew Browning wasn't a witch. Or a warlock or whatever. Browning turned to look at her, and Carter felt rather...unpleasant about the way they seemed to connect and understand each other.
Anything else is cut off by the men who enter the room. He knows what they are here for, listens to them as they prattle on and give no answers, only to separate them for interviews. Carter refuses to answer them when his time comes, so his interview is rather uneventful. They aren't interested in what anyone but Browning has to say anyway.
Then they are all back in the same white room. There was no room for tension any longer, only numbness. And then the door was thrown open and all their families rushed in. He watched as the Browning's engulfed their son in tearful hugs, and he wondered how much the police told them. His moderately shocked at how openly affectionate they were, and was even more surprised at how Browning buried his head into his mother's shoulder. He had never seen him interact with anyone outside of school really now that he was thinking about it. The Browning's looked like the average American family, something out of the Brady Bunch or some shit. He off handedly noticed neither of them had blue eyes.
His own parents walked calmly to him, though he could see the tears in his mother's eyes and the relief in his father's face. His mother wrapped her arm around him nonchalantly, but he could feel how tight she was gripping him. He wanted to hug her and tell them he was alright, but for one, he really wasn't, and this is the most attention his parents had given him in years aside from confrontations about school, so instead, he just nodded at them. That seemed to satisfy them for the moment. From over his father's shoulder, he could see Browning's mother offer to drive Clear home. It looks like none of her family had shown up. He didn't want her anywhere near Browning, but, from the way he was ignoring her, it looks like his...concerns were unwarranted.
He doesn't know what time it is. Upon getting home, his family sat in the living room in a tense silence. But the air was too stuffy and the expensive leather chair too uncomfortable, so Carter had left and had been in his bedroom ever since then. His TV glowed from where it was perched in the corner of his room on top of the dresser. Images flashed by, horrific images of the explosion and of debris, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.
It wasn't hard to imagine himself as part of that mess, of that wreckage scattered over miles of land. But here he was in the comforts of his bed, alive. It seemed like all the sound had been sucked out of the room, and all he could hear was the ringing of the thunder in his head. He wanted to leave, wanted to get out of the house, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Instead of feeling relieved, he felt as if something was wrong, something was off. There was a sense in the air he couldn't deny but yet was so far from understanding. His last thought before falling asleep was of bloodshot blue eyes.
Spring break passed in a haze. The survivors had been exempted from attending school, though they were still responsible for homework and tests. The only time Carter left the house was to go on drives late at night or to hang out with Terry. He didn't go to any sports events, and while he could tell this frustrated his father, he wasn't willing to press the issue. He had never been a fan of alcohol, only drinking it lightly at parties. But he found himself drinking it more regularly to keep him calm and collected when all he wanted to do was scream.
39 days after the crash, he was required to attend the memorial service. He stared blankly ahead as the minister spoke of how death was something they couldn't understand and that the plan for all of them was not theirs to chose. He was hyperaware of all the survivors, could almost sense them all. From Ms. Lewton crying on stage to Clear in the back row, he could place them all. Terry was huddled under his arm, her eyes focused on the speaker and her hands in a death grip on her rose.
He wasn't surprised that when the time came to place their roses on the memorial, Browning fell in step behind him. He didn't have to see him to know he was there, he could just tell it was him. They were in line, his arms around Terry, and he knew he had to say something.
"Hope you don't think, Browning, that because my name ain't on this wall that I owe you anything." That made him sound like a dick, but at the same time, he needed to get that thought off his chest. That thought that he should be grateful, that he owes Browning for going psycho at the right time in the right place. He could feel Terry tense in his arms, ready to break things up if he started something.
"I don't." His response was completely honest, and there was some emotion behind his words but Carter couldn't identify them. He couldn't help but say more, turning back to look at Browning.
"All I owe is these people. To live my life to the fullest." Browning didn't step away like he expected, but he did flinch, most likely from the scent of alcohol on his breath.
"Why don't you stay off the JD then, huh, Carter?" Maybe it was that acidic tone of voice, or maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to ignite, but Carter suddenly remembered what Browning had yelled at him while they were fighting in the airport lobby before everything went to hell.
"I wish you were on the plane!" Those words seemed to echo in his head. He could still picture the look on Browning's face as he screamed those words, and he couldn't help the hurt that followed now. He felt betrayed even if he had no right to be. Without thinking, he grabbed Browning's arm in a death grip. He would've grabbed his collar, but this wasn't the place to make a huge scene. And Terry was already whispering to him angrily, tugging at his arm but unable to move him.
"Don't ever fucking tell me what to do, alright? I control me. Not you." So maybe he also had a problem with people seemingly trying to control his life. Off handedly he thought of his father. But then again, having the option of living and dying taken out of his hands had also been a major hit for him.
"I'm never gonna die." It sounded pathetic and desperate to his own ears, and Browning seemed more sympathetic than angry now. As if burned, he let go of him, having never meant to actually expose himself to him like this. He turned around quickly, dropping his rose at the memorial before heading back to his seat. When Terry joined him seconds later, she refused to look at him and kept her arms crossed, clearly showing her displeasure.
He felt his jaw tense as Billy heckled Browning, followed by Mr. Lewton brushing him off and saying something hurtful, if the crushed look on his face was any indication. Maybe it was the JD, but he wanted to rush back up there and drag Browning away. Yes, he wasn't exactly friends with the guy himself, but he wasn't cruel. Oh wait, yes he was. Fuck.
He watches as people pass by Browning as he remains up there to talk to Tod. And then as Clear steps up to him once Tod walks away. Instead of placing her rose on the memorial, she hands it to Browning. When she walks away and Tod begins his speech, Browning is still up there. He looks at the sky blankly, the rose twirling between his fingers. He suddenly looks to Carter, meeting his eyes. He seems to be looking for something, and whatever he finds leaves him clenching his fist, crushing the rose in a way that leaves the petals spilling from between his fingers like blood. And Carter stares back, unable to look away from those fascinating eyes. The moment is over as soon as it began, and though his eyes long to follow Browning, they look to Tod still giving his speech.
Terry suddenly puts her hand on his arm, and he looks to find her giving him a concerned expression. He suddenly realizes all of his hair is standing on end, and there's a pit in his stomach. But he pats her hand anyway and looks back to the stage, the feeling of wrongness returning for the first time since that night.
He hears of Tod's death the day after it happens. Carter was watching the morning news for once, filled with apprehension for some reason. The news of his death didn't really surprise him, for some reason he just...knew something had happened. The news calling it a suicide, now that surprised him.
He was even more surprised later when he spotted Browning as him and Terry were driving down the street. His eyes were just drawn to that familiar shape, and he quickly registered the girl at the table next to him as Clear. His knuckles turned white from how tightly he was grabbing the steering wheel. His eyes never left the form of Browning, no attention at all given to the road or Terry. The final straw was when he glanced up, his eyes meeting Carter's for a quick second before returning to Clear. He was jerking the wheel to the left for a U-turn before he even realized he was moving. He hears the car horns and Terry's shout. And he can see a flash of a person on his bike almost under his car, but he doesn't let up. He parks perfectly at the curb. Browning's eyes are now connected to his again, and he remains seated at the table as he approaches. Terry shouts at him from the car, but he continues on his path to stand in front of the other boy. He only tears his eyes away from the other's when Ms. Lewton exits the coffee shop. She seems to step away from Browning the moment she realizes he's there, and Carter moves to stop her from leaving, his body caging her in. He can't help but feel some weird sense of satisfaction.
"Oh! Looks like we have a bit of a reunion here. When are you moving?" He hopes she feels his slight hostility. From the way Terry is trying to distract him, he knows she does.
"A couple of weeks." Ms. Lewton seems rather reluctant to share, her eyes trying to keep track of them all at once. He isn't surprised to hear Billy whining from behind him, so that was who was on the bike.
"Ah, that's too bad. We're losing our favorite teacher." He means that with all the sarcasm he can muster. He never even liked French class. Hell, the only reason he signed up for it was for the Paris trip. And what a shit show that turned out to be.
"Look, guys. There's something I need to tell you, ok?" Alex stands up and starts in, trying to take over the conversation. He hears Clear try and stop him, which only pisses him off more.
"Lived here her whole life. And now she's gotta move all because of Browning!" They are shouting at the same time, only for Terry to step in the middle before it can escalate. He looks to the sky, rolling his eyes as she starts in about how she wants to move on or something.
"...waste your life beating the shit out of Alex everytime you see him, then you can just drop fucking dead!" And then there's the sound of a horn and then there's a bus where Terry was a second ago. He flinches back, closer to Browning as something warm splatters all over him. He can feel it dripping down his face. He can hear Browning gasping and Ms. Lewton screeching, but he can really not breathe. Browning is grabbing his arm, trying to get him to look away from the mess on the street in front of him, but Carter is stuck. He's in shock, he knows it. But he can't- And then he's being shoved backwards roughly and would've fallen if Browning didn't have a grip on him. He meets those blue eyes, and he can suddenly breathe again. He composes himself and takes off his windbreaker, using it to wipe the blood off of his face. He vaguely remembers handing it to Browning as he wonders into the coffee shop to call the police. He isn't surprised to come back out to Ms. Lewton on the ground from having fainted and the others gone.
He's sitting at a barstool in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Carter's first response is to let it ring until someone else answers it, but then he remembers that there's no one else there. His parents had simply nodded at the news of Terry's death, telling him she was such 'a nice young lady', before announcing they wouldn't be home for the next week, 'love you son, be responsible with that hot rod of yours'.
He gets up, the bottoms of his sweat pants brushing the wood floors as he makes his way to the front door. He isn't surprised to find Browning standing there in the dark, his eyes meeting Carter's with shock, as if he can't believe he actually opened the door. He nods and steps out of the doorway, silently inviting the other into his house. He briefly wonders how Browning got his address before realizing he probably just looked it up in a phone book. He makes his way back to the kitchen, listening to the other hesitate before taking off his shoes and following.
"Listen, I know you are still in shock over Terry, but-"
"Not right now, Browning. Maybe not ever. I've heard enough of your babbling for awhile, because it seems like every time you open your damn mouth someone dies. So please, please, just not now." He's back in his barstool, hunched over the countertop. He's not angry or anything, just tired. He feels like he's floating, not grounded or part of this reality, but maybe that was just those shots of JD. There's a tense moment before Browning sighs and moves to take a seat next to him. He unconsciously relaxes slightly, though whether it was from the other dropping the topic or the actual presence of the other at his side he didn't know.
"You've been drinking." He sounded tired too. Carter looked over to find the other in dirty clothing that was burned in some places now that he was paying attention.
"And you look like shit." That manages to get a snort out of the other. He seems to suddenly jerk as if remembering something, and he reaches inside his coat for something. He pulls out a grey object of clothing, and Carter is startled as he recognizes his windbreaker. It's clean, all the blood stains gone and with a fresh scent that is slightly overtaken with the smell of smoke and whatever Browning wears.
"Why did you keep it?" Browning meets his eyes as if he expected something more, and the light in his eyes fizzles out just a little bit more. But then he suddenly wakes up again.
"Why do you only ever call me by my last name?" It's somewhere between an honest question and a rhetorical one. Browning leans forward until he's close enough that Carter can feel his breath when he exhales. His heart stops for a second when he registers the challenging look in those eyes. But he has to look down, back to the windbreaker folded in his arms that was once covered in blood. He can't answer that challenge. He isn't ready to cross that line, to face all those new issues that would come with it. Browning leans back like he'd been hit.
"Oh shit, that was insensitive. Your girlfriend just died." He gasps, eyes wide and hurt and guilty when Carter tilts his head to look at him. But he can't bring himself to be angry. They sit in an awkward and tense silence for awhile. It's still comforting, to have Browning just be there. With a sigh, he stands and grabs the JD. He looks into it longing before unscrewing the bottle and pouring the amber nectar into the sink.
"We all need to get together, don't we?" He turns and asks the startled boy. He seems to catch on quickly and nods, a serious look that spoke of burdens and fear overtaking his features.
"I'll go get the others, I take it you're wanted for whatever you did to get fucked up like that?"
"Yeah, the FBI are after me. Especially after they find my shoe tracks and fingerprints at Ms. Lewton's house." Carter quickly sorted through that information, crossing Ms. Lewton off the list of survivors in his head.
"We'll meet you at the debris sight?" With that, Browning nodded and started headed for the door.
"Oh, and Alex? Don't do anything stupid. You're the only one who knows who's next." The other looks up in shock at the light tone, and his face breaks into a smile at the use of his first name being used. And with that, he leaves. Carter gets going upstairs to change, not surprised when the phone rings and Clear's voice is speaking into his ear.
Okay, so there was chapter 1. I hope to write more soon. Please let me know how you guys like the plot and if I kept the characters mainly as they were.