Carter trudged up the steps of the El station. So, he had lied to Sam about the roads because he hadn't even brought his car but the looks that Jocelyn Taggart had been sending him when she thought he hadn't noticed was enough to get him scurrying out of the apartment in no time.
The station was dull, since it wasn't a well-used stop and he huddled further into his coat, trying vainly to ignore the water seeping through his clothes and moulding his shirt to his back. His feet were slopping about in his pooled shoes. He hated being wet. He had forgotten what it was to be wet with rain when he had been in Africa. The heat and humidity had taken a lot of getting used to and, just as he had, he had to return to Chicago in the middle of a biting winter. Shaking his head, he cleared his head of thought of Africa, as it only lead to thoughts of her. And he really, really didn't want to think about her right now.
He knew it was wrong that he was making moves on his best friends girl, considering that said best friend was out of the country because his mother was dying, or that said best friend and said girl were in the middle of… the closest thing to an argument that could be construed from Sam and Luka.
Shivering, he glanced behind him when he saw someone else ascend the stairs behind him, his bright yellow parka dripping with water. He caught the person's eyes before the man glanced away and Carter couldn't help but stare after him. He recognised those eyes, and it wasn't exactly a friendly recognition either. Shaking his head and glancing down towards where the train would be coming from, he dismissed the feeling.
He shuddered slightly as he felt eyes on him and knowing that it was only he and this yellow clad stranger, he shook it off again as he glanced back towards the familiar figure and saw that he was sitting down, huddled under a bar, immersed in a deep study of his shoes.
Dammit, but how did he recognise him? Someone he had treated at the hospital? But then, Carter didn't make a habit of remembering each patients face. He had, however, seen him around the hospital lately – he thought so, at least.
He felt uneasy around this guy and he hated that feeling. Where had he come from anyway? John hadn't seen him on the road to the station and Sam's apartment was only one corner away from the station. Had this guy followed him? Surely not. He would have done something to him already if he were going to attack him. Suddenly, Carter wished that the El would hurry the hell up.
Seconds turned to minutes and John tapped his foot restlessly on the concrete ground. He heard a rustling noise and instantly turned his head in that direction but his faceless foe was nowhere to be seen. His sigh of relief was short lived as he sensed someone walk up behind him and he whipped around so fast that he almost lost his feet footing. He came face to face with the most haunting image he had seen in his life.
This guy was familiar. More familiar than he would like to believe but he still couldn't place his face.
Before he managed to get a word out, his world went black as he saw a metal glad fist thrust into his face and felt a blinding pain.
Then nothing.