REVAMPED AS OF APRIL 2014

"Mort."

There was a series of loud thuds on the door, and Mort woke from his position on the sofa, where he'd fallen asleep writing. He pulled on his glasses and sat bolt upright - being woken by banging on his door was too familiar. But the voice was not that of John Shooter.

"Mister Rainey, open this door."

Mort stood up, his entire body feeling stiff when he recognized the voice at the door as belonging to Sheriff Newsome. What now? He thought, feeling the familiar locking sensation in his jaw as anxiety crept up on him. He walked to the door and opened it carefully, wordlessly.

"I need you to come with me -"

"What?" Mort said, almost leaping backwards in surprise. "What the hell is this? I didn't -"

"I'm bringing you to the hospital, Mister Rainey," he said stiffly. "Miss Anderson is asking to see you -"

"The hospital?" Mort asked, suddenly reaching out and throwing the screen door open so that he was face to face with Newsome. "What is she doing there?"

"Come with me -"

"No. No, I'll drive myself, thank you," Mort hissed. "What happened?!"

"She was in an accident - she's not awake right now, but when they picked her up in the ambulance, she was asking for you," Sheriff Newsome explained, the words leaving his mouth in a manner that made it obvious how much distaste he had for the fact. "I don't have any more information on her status right now, so if you want answers, you'd best hurry."

And with that, the Sheriff walked off, while Mort bolted into the kitchen to fetch his car keys, not bothering to change out of his pajamas or make his hair anything better than the tousled nest that it was.

What happened last night? Why had she been out? Where was she going? The questions plagued Mort's mind the entire drive down to town so thoroughly that he could have run down a moose and not noticed in the slightest. He had been asleep all night. But - that was the way it always went. Bad things always happened while he was sleeping, and now he feared the worst possible thing had happened. He pulled up at the hospital and double-parked in a space outside of the emergency room entrance, only to be stopped by one of the nurses the instant he bolted inside.

"You'll need to wait here," the tallest woman at the reception area said before he even had a chance to ask any questions. They knew why he was there - the whole town fucking knew, he thought angrily. They all knew, and they all hated it. People in town had no issue with Carmen Anderson when she came into town alone. They bought her coffee. They bought her lunch. They 'accidentally' forgot to ring up items she picked up at the store so she got them for free. But when it came to Mort Rainey, it was a different story. Mort's hands clenched at his side.

"I want to see Carmen," he said through gritted teeth, stepping up to the desk area. "Sheriff Newsome said that she asked to see me, and if she asked for me, then I have a goddamn right to be in there -"

"She's being look at right now. We aren't quite sure of her condition," one of the head nurses interrupted stoically. "You can't go inside. When she's admitted into a private room, you can sign in with everyone else during visiting hours."

"Will you quit dicking around? You let people in there all the time!"

"It's either you wait, or I will have security escort you out and you won't be allowed in to any room in this hospital, Mister Rainey."

For a moment, Mort simply stood there, well-aware of the fact that people were staring holes into him from all sides in the waiting room. Of course no one would be on his side. He hadn't expected any different. He exhaled through his nostrils with some force before managing to throw his hands up in surrender. "Fine. I'll wait - but will you at least tell me if she's -"

"We don't have that information," one of the older nurses interrupted, not even looking up from the patient file she was updating. Mort clenched his jaw to keep from lashing out and sneered at all of them one more time before settling into a rickety wooden chair in the corner, burying his head in his hands tiredly.

Why's she in here?

"I don't know," Mort muttered, trying not to be heard. "I don't know what happened to her. I don't know,"

Are you sure? You don't have any idea? You don't have any possible scenarios running through your mind about why all of a sudden, she's in the hospital -

"Of course I am," he spat back. "A million horrible things could have happened to her, and I just might have thought of every single one of them."

By now, a few people couldn't help furtively glancing in his direction as he sat alone, arms crossed, muttering incessantly to himself. A couple of mothers pulled their children closer - others simply glared and murmured amongst themselves. Mort didn't care.

You don't think you could have had something to do with this.

"Me?" Mort snapped back, "I didn't do anything. That's the one thing we can rule out, right now. I didn't do this,"

Oh, Mort. Mort, Mort, Mort. Do you really believe that? It's a very really possibility - you could have -

"No," he growled through gritted teeth, trying to hold his temper. "No, I did absolutely nothing. I never did anything all right?"

You never did anything? Then what happened to Carmen, Mort? What was she doing in the woods at night, and what else could have happened to her when you're the only other person around for miles?

"No."

Was it him, Mort? You know who I'm talking about. The one you always blame -

He was just about to crack and start yelling when a nurse stepped out and looked straight at him.

"The physicians said that she's stable enough for you to see her now. Upstairs, room 250," she said blankly with evident strain in her voice. Mort stood up right away and followed the woman, who insisted on taking him up to the room. He frowned when he realized that it was out of suspicion.

"Hypothermia, for sure," the nurse said as they walked. Mort knew she was referring to Carmen. "And really bad bruising. Lacerations. I haven't read the reports, but I've heard a tree branch fell on her car. Somehow, nothing's broken, but it wouldn't be smart to have her walking around so much when she's up. The car's a wreck, and she shouldn't be up and about either?" The nurse said all of this, trying to sound remorseful, but failing miserably.

"Can you leave now?" he snapped at her once they reached the door. The nurse flinched and left resentfully. Mort inhaled deeply and peered his head into the room, but pulled out again immediately, grimacing."This has gotta be the wrong room," he muttered, hitting the back of his head slightly against the wall. He wrung his hands and walked in, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

There was no doubting that this was Carmen - but somehow, it didn't feel like the Carmen he knew. The vibrance he had always attributed to her was gone from her unconscious form as she was covered in blanket and hooked up to machines that beeped intermittently. Steadily. Steady was a good sign, Mort reminded himself. He reached out and grabbed her hand, relieved at the fact that it was slightly warm. He didn't know how he would have reacted if she had been cold.

You still think she's gorgeous, even hooked up to all these machines.

"Of course I do," Mort said quietly, though at present he wouldn't have cared if anyone had heard him. "She's beautiful - I just... I hate it. I hate seeing her like this."

You're terrified. She looks like she's dead...

"No, she doesn't," Mort said adamantly, holding his head up and putting on a stoic face. "She's doesn't look dead. She just looks cold...and tired..."

You're tired. Take a nap. She won't be up anytime soon.

"I wanna be awake when she's better," he groaned. "I wanna- -" he yawned, and put his head down on her hand. He was exhausted. He needed to sleep.

Before coming to Tashmore Lake, Carmen had never had a lucid dream - but now, she was fully aware of the fact that she couldn't be where it looked like she was. She was standing outside of Mort's house - she had been n her way here, but she knew she hadn't made it. She remembered the tree limb, the car spinning out of control. She remembered the ambulance. She couldn't really be here.

"You ain't much of a listener, are you, pretty girl?" came a familiar Southern drawl - John Shooter appeared out of the woods, wiping his hands on a kerchief and striding over to Carmen, who wanted to run but somehow knew she couldn't. "You had to put your nose in where it don't belong -"

"You told me to look, so I looked, Shooter," she said darkly, standing her ground. "You told me to look. What do you want from me? Why can I see you? What have I done wrong?"

"You ain't done nothin' wrong," Shooter said, towering over Carmen ominously. "Honest to God, you ain't done nothin' - but Mister Rainey has something that's mine. And it's them little things that count -"

"The story?" Carmen said, drawing herself to whatever height she could manage. "You're a liar, Shooter - you died twelve years before you said you wrote that story -"

"I AIN'T DEAD!" he roared furiously, his hands clasping around Carmen's shoulders and shaking her violently.. "I ain't dead, because I ain't finished yet. Now, don't you go telling Mister Rainey none of your nonsense, or I'll just have to take care of him-"

"No." Carmen said, writhing until Shooter released his hold on her. "You have no business with Mort. And as long as I can help it -"

"But you can't, miss," he said. "You can't help it none. You can't change it none. You tried to, and look what you get yourself into."

"What are you talking about?"

"Like I told my wife, it ain't a woman's job to worry her head over the menfolk's business," he said, garnering a sneer from Carmen. "I got not quarrel with you, missy."

"Well, I've got a quarrel with you," Carmen hissed. Shooter cocked his head to one side and stared silently for a moment before hooting with laughter.

"You don't realize who you're speakin' to, missy."

"Don't call me missy."

Shooter gave an eerie, toothy grin at Carmen's gall and shook his head.

"If Mr. Rainey hears a word of what you know about me, it's his head," he said with a twisted chuckle. "Your decision. You like having control like that, don't you, missy?"

Mort stirred when he felt Carmen's hand twitch under his cheek - he opened his eyes, and it moved again, and her eyes opened weakly. She gave a small gasp and attempted to sit up, to which Mort responded by gently placing his hand on her shoulder and coaxing her back down.

"Don't ever give me a scare like that again, babe -"

"Babe?" she asked, her voice weak. She attempted to chuckle a little, but it came out as more of a quiet cough accompanied by a small smile. She was still pale and clearly tired, but Mort gave a chuckle of his own at the fact that she was at least awake.

"Sorry. Don't like it?" he asked. "I should've guessed you weren't much of a... nickname person..."

"No, it's - it's nice," she said with a weak smile, but it was only now that Mort noticed that there was an unusual sense of apprehension in her face. He was holding her hand tightly, but she wasn't squeezing back. "These blankets are itchy. I guess they didn't want to spare me the five star accomodations -"

"What happened?" Mort interrupted, gripping her hand even tighter, so suddenly that her eyes widened slightly. "Why were you out in the woods that late?"

"I..."

Carmen hesitated. Shooter had said not to say a word. He'd threatened Mort, and while Carmen wanted very much not to believe in any of this, she wasn't sure if it was a risk she was willing to take.

"I was heading into town," Carmen lied. "I -"

"Bull." Mort said, his forehead furrowing in deep creases. "That's a lie. You've lied for me, and I can tell when you're doing it. Are we - are we going to start hiding things from each other?"

"I'm not hiding anything from you," Carmen said, attempting to sit up again. Mort leaned towards her, bringing her hand to his lips and shaking his head. He knew what this emotion was, coming from her. This was fear. She was scared to tell him something, and if there was something that she'd be scared to tell him...

Do you think she was alone last night?

His eyes suddenly shot up to eye Carmen with suspicion, so reflexive that he couldn't have stopped it, and Carmen flinched at the harsh glint to his eyes.

"Mort," she said sternly, finally giving his hand a squeeze. She, too, knew him well enough by now to know that his mind was wandering to a very familiar place. It always wandered there. "I - I need you to trust me, okay?" she asked carefully, and the gentle pleading in her voice softened the edge in Mort's expression, like a cobra hearing the melody of a snake charmer. "I... I just have some things that I need to take care of. On my own."

"You're not in trouble, are you?"

"Not yet..."

"What?" Mort snapped - Carmen had muttered the last two words underneath her breath, and she quickly lowered her gaze. "Carmen, I know you're strong and independent - I know you get a kick out of that - but can you let me be the reliable one once in a while -"

"I was coming to see you," Carmen said quickly, clenching her eyes shut. A partial truth, after all, was better than no truth at all. "I had a - a really strange dream, and I was scared shitless, so I jumped into the car without thinking and I shouldn't have been driving because I was half asleep," she explained quickly. "And now I don't have a car, and I'm lucky that I still have legs," Carmen said. She hadn't yet pulled back the covers, but she could tell even through the vague haze of the painkillers she was on that they had taken quite a beating. For a while, she and Mort sat in silence - he slowly pulled back the covers, and Carmen gave a low hiss at the sight of the bruises and bandages on her legs.

Mort didn't know whether or not to blame himself - he leaned toward the former. He opened his mouth to mutter some feeble apology before a voice in the doorway spared him the awkward embarrassment.

"Knock knock."

The pair turned to see Rob in the doorway, his face spattered with a seldom-seen spattering of stubble, indicating that he had hurried over before even shaving. He was clad in sweatpants and a New York University t-shirt. Mort bristled slightly but allotted the man a nod in greeting.

"You never changed your In Case of Emergency contact," Rob explained weakly, stepping into the room and placing his laptop bag down on a nearby chair. Mort wondered if that thing was some kind of a security blanket that this guy brought with him everywhere, because Mort had never seen him without it. "Still had me down. I gave them the heads up at the front desk that you... might want to change it. It makes more sense, your boyfriend lives much closer."

Mort grudgingly admitted to himself that it was... a very nice-guy move. He'd keep that in his back pocket in case he needed something to say later to cheer Carmen up.

"They said you should be able to go home after a few more hours of monitoring," Rob said, crossing his arms and leaning against the far wall, keeping a respectful distance. He'd learned by now that for the sake of respecting his best friend's happiness, it was better not to wander too far into Mort's turf, so to speak. "It was pretty cold out last night, and they said your heart rate dipped pretty low."

"It's called hibernation," Carmen joked weakly. "It means I'm well adapted."

"It means you almost -"

Died. Rob couldn't bring himself to say it, and that was well and good because Mort couldn't have stood hearing it.

"I think I'm... gonna go," Mort said suddenly, feeling shaken by the statement Rob had made, even if he hadn't finished making it. "Robert. Could you do me a solid and make sure she gets home safe?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Mort chuckled with a small hint of bitterness in his voice. "I doubt they'd let her out of her with me anyway. I'm not exactly Mr. Congeniality in this town."

"I'll call you, okay?" Carmen said, a genuine smile finally making its way onto her face. Mort smiled back, giving her hand another squeeze and kissing her forehead before standing up. Trusting another guy to bring his girlfriend home was progress - and everyone in the room knew it. Mort walked over and briefly clapped Rob on the shoulder before walking to the door. He stopped for a moment in the doorway, glanced over his shoulder at Carmen, and added, "I love you, babe," before walking out.

"I love you? Babe?" Rob repeated incredulously once Mort had left. He walked over, standing next to the bed but not taking the seat that Mort had vacated. "Good God, Carmen -"

"You came just to give me a hard time, Robbie?" Carmen said with a muted smirk. "They said I was fine, why did they call you?"

"They wanted to give me the stuff from your car before it got towed away. It's a lost cause, so don't bother looking for it," Rob said. He walked back across the room and opened his laptop bag, but instead of pulling out his computer, he pulled out something else: the thick manila envelope Carmen had been meaning to take to Mort's house. Opened.

"They found this on you," he said, picking up a few of the sheets covered in her highlights and scribbling, holding it up in front of Carmen and noting the way the small amount of color she had just regained leave her face once again. "John Shooter. Seventy-five pages of this shit," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Carmen, what's this all about?"

"I can't tell you."

"You've already told me," Rob said. "You think I tune you out - and half the time, I do - but I remember who Shooter is. This has something to do with Mort. Does he know?"

"No. He can't," Carmen said, looking away out the window of her hospital room. "He can't know about this, because it could open up a whole new can of worms."

"Then tell me -"

"I can't!" Carmen hissed, forcing herself up even more. "Rob, I - I don't even understand what's going on. But I need you to get rid of those papers, and make sure that Mort never sees them. Take them far away, burn them, shed them - anything."

"Fine," he shrugged in resignation, shoving all of it back into his bag. "But - you'd tell me if you were in some kind of trouble, right? I know your boyfriend is more than capable, but I'd hope you still have a little room in your life for your best friend."

"If it was something I couldn't handle, I would tell you," Carmen nodded. "But right now, I still have this under control -"

"From a hospital bed."

"I've got this." Carmen snapped. "Now, can you run out and sneak me in some real food before they try and put one of those hospital trays in front of me."

Rob had admittedly had a good time teasing Carmen about the fact that the nurses had insisted on wheeling her out to his car in a wheelchair - for someone as fiercely independent as Carmen, it was torturous to be pushed around and bumped into doors without any ability to do anything about it. He snickered about it the whole way home.

"It's a shame they didn't let us take it with, I could've tied you to the back of the car - pulled you like a bobsled -"

"When I'm better, I'm gonna kick your ass," Carmen laughed tiredly, leaning her elbow tiredly on the edge of the open window. When they pulled up in front of her cabin, however, she sat up and squinted in disbelief at the sight of another car in her driveway. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had been Mort, but it wasn't - it was a silver Mercedes that she had seen before.

As they pulled up next to it, Carmen turned to look at Rob, who then reached into his pocket and jingled a set of carkeys at her.

"For you. Had one of the teenagers in town help me get it up here while you sent me out for food," he said with a lopsided grin. Carmen's eyes were wide in disbelief - this was the Mercedes. The one she hated. The one that Rob had bought with money he'd received after pawning off the ring he'd tried to give her when they were together. "I know you hate it. Consider it punishment for worrying everyone and dragging me out of bed so early."

"I can't take that," Carmen said, shaking her head and attempting to push the keys away. "I can't -"

"I'm not giving it to you, I'm loaning it to you," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Now, sit still. I'm gonna help you get inside."

"Bride style or firefighter?"

"Caveman."

"Such a gentleman."

Rob came around to Carmen's side of the car and allowed her to sling her arm around his shoulders, trying to walk up to the door. She had to admit, maybe the wheelchair hadn't been such a bad idea after all, as her legs were still shaky and tender. Rob helped her get back on the couch and made a gesture like dusting off his hands.

"I called Mort before we left the hospital, he should be over soon," he said with a nod. "I left a message - he probably went back to sleep."

"Figures," Carmen chuckled, reaching over and pulling the covers up over herself. "Probably not a bad idea."

"Get some beauty rest. You kinda need it."

"Ass."

Rob smirked and reached out, ruffling his best friend's hair affectionately before showing himself out.

The instant Carmen managed to doze off, however, she found herself in a familiar situation - sitting, uninjured in her living room, with John Shooter sitting across the table from her as though they were having a business meeting. He gave his familiar, eerie grin, his hand folded into a steeple-shape in front of his face.

"I did what you asked," Carmen said, frowning deeply. "I didn't tell Mort anything. Now, you tell me what you're still doing here."

"I didn't make no deals with you, missy -"

"You almost killed me."

Shooter unfolded his hands and leaned away, eyeing the woman suspiciously. He exhaled through his nostrils and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You was never gonna be killed, Miss. It was never the plan for you to go the way the others did -"

"Why Mort?"

"Because, I told you already - I'm fixin' to take back what's mine, no matter how small. It's the principle. I don't suffer insult from none o' you city folk -"

"Like Haley. I understand that," Carmen said sternly. "But Mort never did anything to you. Mort never stole your story."

"He has my hat -"

"You did this to him over a hat?"

"I told you, Miss Anderson, it's the principle of it," Shooter insisted, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "And I ain't gonna be done until I take back everything that's mine. I won't stop. I won't take no replacements. Not like Mister Rainey has."

"What?" Carmen snapped, unable to help herself. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh. Oh," Shooter said, his face contorting into an even more cruel grin as he leaned across the table towards Carmen. "You don't see it yet. I figured you'da figured it out by now what Mister Rainey keeps you around for -"

"Shut up."

"He loved his beautiful, beautiful wife enough that losing her was enough for him to lose his mind - enough to let me in," Shooter sneered, and Carmen's expression turned to one of shock and denial. "Do you think that all of that just stops because you came around and batted your pretty brown eyes at him?"

"Stop -"

"He loved her. He'll always love her," Shooter pressed on cruelly. "You can try to patch up the holes as much as you want, Miss Anderson, but he's a sinking ship -"

"That's a lie."

"He's told you his story, you know I'm right," Shooter said, slamming his palms on the table and leaning farther forward, almost directly into Carmen's face. "He didn't want to sign them divorce papers, did he?"

"He couldn't accept it then -"

"He can't accept it now." Shooter said. "I'm only saying it, on account'a you don't belong in this mess. This ain't your fight -"

"It wasn't Amy's. Why didn't you warn her?" Carmen sneered. "Why can I see you?"

"Because I want you to, missy..."

"No!"

Carmen sat bolt upright and swung out her arms, thinking she was lashing out to strike Shooter, but another familiar voice gave a loud yelp as her had thudded against something - she opened her eyes and realized that she had just struck Mort in the chest. He must have let himself in while she was sleeping.

"It's just me," he said with a weak smile, reaching over and running a hand over her hair in an attempt to calm her. "It was just a dream - it's okay..."

"Yeah..." Carmen said with a watery smile. She exhaled, determined to put her conversation with Shooter out of her mind. "Just a dream."

ORIGINAL A/N's

over-dramatic-05: You resognized Bump! I was hoping someone would! haha. And the history lesson with John Shooter? Oh, there's still more. I've pretty much mapped out John Shooter's life! Haha. Maybe I should do another fic all about Shooter! Haha, just kidding. Maybe.

lordofthekingsfanficreader: THANK YOU! hugs! hee! That is probably the highest praise I could ever receive for this fic! THANKS AGAIN! I will love you FOREVER if you keep reviewing until the ending!

Kurama13: oooh yeah, connected in lots of screwy ways.

Dawnie-7: Well, Carmen isn't frozen solid! Score one for the sane girl! Haha, we have her all thawed out now, and ready for round two of snooping