by dancefevers

ISN'T IT JUST SO PRETTY
TO THINK ALL ALONG
THERE WAS SOME
INVISIBLE STRING
TYING YOU TO ME.

I DRIVE DOWN DIFFERENT ROADS

Hope is a beast even crueler than mankind — HOPE IS THE VERY THING PEOPLE NEED TO SURVIVE YET IT IS ALSO THE SAME THING THAT DESTROYS THEM. See, hope is something everyone inherits. Something ingrained in the human psyche at such a young age children begin to have hope in things that are a part of their life. Hope is the (metaphorical) gasoline that is pumped into the (metaphorical) cars of life that a person is supposedly sitting in the driver's seat of. Hope is supposed to be the thing that allows them to get to where they wish to be. To allow themselves to drive to the person they hope to be years down the line. But hope was minimal in comparison to the very things that squash it. Life. Death. Hope couldn't outrun the things that mold a child into a teen and then further break them into adults. Forcing a child to leave behind everything they wanted from the world as they repeatedly get beaten down by everything that said no. Turning a child from a wide-eyed, sweet, caring, loving person into a calcified, bruised adult who couldn't even remember who they had to be. It was the ultimate nightmare for a child who had hope. One that hoped so much only to have it ripped from their hands, torn to pieces beneath them, tattered as stray pieces had been found stuck between their teeth. Because, in the end, they were always the ones to ruin the good things in their life. To have hope means leaving themselves vulnerable, open to being attacked by life when they're most unsuspecting of it. To have hope means they want something bigger out of life. Something that no one else had around them. Or something they had always imagined unattainable.

And for the most part, the things people believe are unattainable, are actually attainable. That is until, of course, Death joins the party. But instead of beating down hope with his bare fists, Death came equipped with a baseball bat ready to knock hope out of the park. Or to beat it into a pulp, either way, death got the job done.

Josephine Elaine Whitman had her hopes yanked from her as if it was a rug underneath her feet — like her world had been flipped upside down. It was as if all the colorful things in life had faded into distinct shades of grey. Leaving a girl, a girl, screaming at the sky. Falling to her knees, screaming, howling at the moon for things to be different. For life to take it all back, to give her back the things she had hoped to have in the future. Josephine Whitman had never imagined a world without her mother, no eleven-year-old does. She knew about death, sure, she had lost people in her life before. But being sat down at a dinner table with her mother and father in front of her, her father's voice carrying a sad tone and a simple "Sweetheart, we need to tell you something," was not what she had expected. Cancer. That one word is enough, a small hammer hitting the picture frame of the life that Josephine had expected to live, a resounding crack that would never be repaired, only worsened as time continued to move forward. Because time was a cruel beast that continued to take and take from the people who were barely holding onto anything. From people who had almost nothing left to lose. From people that had slowly lost any and all hope. A viscous cycle where they had just long enough for some slight hope to build, only to turn and see Time standing behind them with a sly grin ready to take it back.

Hope may be cruel, but somehow Time finds a way to be even worse. Or perhaps the two find ways to combine with the other and ruin everyone's lives.

Josephine Whitman learned that time was fleeting and hope was something she lost a long time before by the age of thirteen. Grasping onto the black umbrella on a drizzling day watching her mother be put to rest. Time didn't stop to let people breathe, to let them mourn. No, Josephine had to put on her clothes and return to life the next day. How was she supposed to do that when her mother was dead? A mere thirteen-year-old girl thrust into the world of grief and managing school, she had no one to turn to. Her father was grieving. Her best friend was grieving not only her mother but also his own brother's battle with cancer (which was another added part to Josephine's struggles throughout the past few months). And suddenly it was as though the bright and jovial young girl she used to be had been hardened, bruised, and calcified into a deeper form of girlhood. Something that no one had prepared her for. Josephine Whitman had changed. Changed into someone she knew absolutely nothing about. And that terrified her. Growth was one thing, Josephine Whitman knew she would never fully know herself. Ever. But becoming this was never in her plans. Never something she had even imagined when thinking of the future. And suddenly thirteen turned into fourteen and then fifteen and soon she was a sixteen year old girl who had been living as the shell of herself. As the shell of a person without as much as an ounce of an idea as to who she was or who she wanted to be.

That all changed one night when she and John Carter (her best friend since they were both literally babies in diapers) were in his kitchen and he made a confession she had never imagined before. At least, not a confession she ever thought she would hear come from his lips. John Carter had always been the person she imagined her future with. But as she lost hope, that sight of the future washed away with it. Down went any and all fantasies of her best friend becoming something more than just that. Because, at the very least, he would stay her friend and she would always have one person who understood her pain. Except, John Carter loved her. And she loved him. Days turned into weeks which turned into months which turned into years and suddenly Josephine Whitman had another last name and a ring on her finger. As well as a better sense as to what she wanted to with her life.

She wanted to be able to help people — just like the staff had been able to help her mother as she received treatment. Josephine Whitman-Carter wanted to be a doctor to reach out to her community, to do more than sit behind a desk at her father's company (the very one that the Whitman's have owned for generations), she needed to help people.

Even if it ended up causing her more pain in the end. She'd still argue to say it was all worth it, it would always be worth it if she was able to save someone else's daughter or family the same pain she and John had gone through. Especially if she was able to save someone from understanding what that pain feels like.

BUT THEY ALL LEAD BACK TO YOU.

JOSEPHINE ELAINE WHITMAN-CARTER
portrayed by chyler leigh

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ADDITIONAL CAST
Violet Xu ... Jessica Henwick
Michael Cook ... Justin Chambers
Cara Fontaine ... Freema Agyeman
Penelope Wright ... Janet Montgomery

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AUTHORS NOTE

I should not be doing this but ... gd here I am again.
AGAIN. This is ... becoming a problem of mine. John and Josephine are just so ... SOOOOOOO. They're so aggravating but I love them. My favorite literal idiots. Me and this yearly ER rewatch that makes me bring them back. At this point they should at the very least just live on my account and rot publicly (like all of my fics do let's be honest). But, as always I love being able to write them and explore their pre-established relationship. I love being able to show their growth from a young married couple hiding their marriage from the ER staff (not that the summary says that but oh well I'm telling you that) to a ... well ... you'll see (idk hopefully I write that far).

Let me know your thoughts about the summary!

If anyone wants someone to blame for this fic coming back & for my brainrot returning, blame elfaouly

DISCLAIMERS
1. I do not own any of the plot lines and or characters created for ER. All of the plot points & characters featured in the TV show are not mine. 🥰

2. This book has pretty in depth descriptions of medical things (blood, death, etc) that are all typical to the show! It's also rated mature for a reason! There will be references to drugs, alcohol, sex (probably smut at this point I'm down bad) and other things that are considered mature. Read at your own discretion, I'm not your mom.

3. Sign off below is created by silksenses

DEDICATIONS
to the hogwarts founders: ownthelight, vanishingstarrs
findtheforce
to the milfs: foxgIoves, fxllmoons, awfulmoons, bananapopsicIes, -punisher
and to my many other friends whom I love and appreciate: sanktham, clarkskents, svperboy, quicksilvrs, bayports, elfaouly, vaderism, silksenses, binarysun, dunbonnet, pepperronys, protectremus!

THANKS FOR READING
INVISIBLE STRING!