Trusting You to Catch Me - Chapter Three
Title: Trusting You to Catch Me
Author: Sio & Maura
Rating: NC-17
Length: 20,998
Spoilers: Everything up to On My Way and then deviating from there with minor Big Brother references.
Pairing: Santana/Quinn, Brittany/Santana/Quinn/Rachel friendship, mentions of Brittany/Santana, some Finn/Rachel (not positive)
Summary: Following her accident, Quinn experiences the gamut of emotion: denial to acceptance to healing and everything in between. But through it all are her friends patiently helping her with caring and friendship and maybe more.
Warnings (highlight to read): eating disorders, severe accident recovery, graphic sex, verbal abuse, minor violence, family issues, cheating, body image issues
Chapter 3
Santana laid back on the auditorium floor after Schue's ridiculous booty camp. It was one of the only times she enjoyed Glee lately, since Brittany didn't need to come. She didn't have to spend the entire lesson pretending to not watch her former girlfriend dancing and laughing with everyone but her.
She sighed and took a long drink of her water followed by a swig of her master cleanse and closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of the rest of the glee clubs footsteps carrying them out of the theatre.
"Those things are horribly bad for you, Santana. I simply cannot understand why you continue to ingest that vile concoction from Sue." A slight scrape from beside her announced the toe of a neatly polished Mary Jane nudging her red Cheerios bottle of master cleanse.
"Because," Santana said, her eyes still closed. "I'm a flyer... I have to stay under 98 pounds or someone gets hurt."
"And there's a reason you can't maintain that weight without poisoning yourself?" she asked curiously. "I'd hate to see you become ill, Santana."
"I won't." Santana stated, "I don't even get why you'd care. Quinn got hurt and no one around here gives a damn... and you liked her. You all hate me, so care about her. Not me."
"Stop that," Rachel snapped. Santana could almost see her folding her arms over her chest with an irritated pout. She could hear the stamp of her Mary Jane on the stage. "I care. You know I care. I care about you and Quinn. Stop trying to say that I don't."
"Right. Because you care so much about her... How's she doing at the hospital? Do you even know that she's at home now? Or that I'm the only one who's seen her?"
"I... I know she woke up." She tried. "I wanted to visit... I just..."
"Finn, the emotionally abusive giant, wouldn't let you," Santana deadpanned as she opened her eyes.
"Stop that. He's my fiancee," she was worrying her hands and chewing on her lower lip. "While I admit that he did request that I not go, it was because I would doubtlessly upset her which she certainly doesn't need in her time of healing."
"He has no right to tell you to do anything!" Santana exclaimed. "She wouldn't have been hurt if it wasn't for your stupid wedding."
"He's my fiancee!" Rachel cried as if that gave him permission to order her around. "And... and... don't you think I know that, Santana? Don't you think I lay awake at night because I know it's my fault?!"
"Don't say fiancee like it means anything, because it doesn't. You're never going to marry him," Santana spat as she stood up. "And, yeah. It's your fault she was rushing to get to town. It's your fault she is like this and feels ruined. The least you could do is come and tell her that you're sorry and you didn't get married to that idiot."
"I'm going to marry him, Santana. And not you or anyone else can stop me," she glared at her. "I love him and I'm sorry Quinn got hurt and I know it's my fault, but my marrying or not marrying Finn won't change that in the slightest."
"Go ahead and marry the first person who showed interest in you," Santana hissed stepping towards her, "Be his little housewife and put up with him cheating on you and not letting you have a life. I don't fucking care what you do."
"Cheating on me?" she frowned. "He's never cheated on me, Santana. And why are you so concerned anyway? It's not like you've ever cared about me except to figure out how best to put me down."
"You're right. I don't care. But maybe I found sympathy for you when Finn turned his self-aggrandizing shit on me and I realized how fucked up it must be to date him," she said crossing her arms, "I care because for some reason Quinn cares."
"Quinn doesn't care about me," Rachel murmured, shaking her head. "We were barely friends and then... then the accident happened. I'm sure she'll never want to speak to me again, let alone see me."
"You got her back from Pink hair land. You got her to let go of the Shelby shit," Santana reminded her. "She gives a damn about you and now you're throwing that away."
"She shouldn't. If it wasn't for me, she'd be fine still."
"Don't shut her out." Santana warned, "It's not fair to her."
"I... I can't," she whispered, looking down at her shoes as she hugged herself. "Finn and I are fighting enough right now. If I go and see her..."
"Don't tell him then!" Santana exclaimed, "Shit, Berry, lie to the idiot."
"L-lie?" Rachel looked startled. "Santana... that's no way to have a relationship. I... I have no secrets from him."
"why do I not believe that?" Santana scoffed. "Whatever, Berry. Remember when he lied to you about me? About pretty much everything? Do you give a fuck about Q or am I just wasting my breath?"
"I do!" She insisted, but her voice quickly quieted. "I do... but Finn drives me home in the evening and stays there until my dads come home..."
"The fuck? Is he your parole officer?" Santana grumbled, as she grabbed the girl's arm. "I'll take you then. He's not here now he's with Puckerman."
"He'll know! He'll know I went to her, Santana. Let go... please," she begged. "I'll lose him!"
"Like that would be a bad thing," Santana said. "Cut your losses, Berry. Face that you made a mistake," she snapped, not sure if she was taking her anger out on her because of Finn of because Finn reminded her of Brittany.
"But he's the only one who wants me!" she half whispered, half yelled. "I'm tired of being so alone all the time. Can't you understand that? I need someone who believes in me!"
"He doesn't believe in you!" Santana yelled, "I get wanting someone. Fuck, I do, but it's not worth it."
"You have people who believe in you, Santana!" Rachel snapped. "You have Brittany and... and Quinn! You're the Head Cheerio! You have nothing to worry about! You're not me!"
"Britt and I broke up!" Santana snapped. "So I'm alone, so fuck if you have any Idea about what I'm feeling."
Rachel flinched as if she'd been slapped, taking a half-step back from Santana and blinking at her startledly. "You... you did? But why? You were perfect together and... and I thought you were so happy..."
"Yeah, well. Love doesn't always work both ways." Santana said bitterly. "Losing Finnept won't kill you."
"I'm... I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling bad about bringing up an obviously sore topic. "He's just... very hard to resist."
"Don't make me twelve step your ass," Santana growled. "Just go see Q. If you want me to take you, call. I need to bounce though," she said, grabbing her bag and water bottle and heading to the doors. She slipped out the doors and took a pack of cigarettes out of her bag. She lit one up and inhaled deeply, her hand shaking slightly as she held it.
Rachel just stood where she'd left her, wondering what had just happened when Finn came up behind her.
"Hey, Rach. Ready to head home?" He smiled lopsidedly down at her, hitching his backpack up a little higher on his shoulder.
She did her best to muster up a smile but it was getting harder every day. "Sure. Let's go home."
Santana trudged home and slipped in her house. She knew at least one of her parents would be home - her dad didn't start his night shift for a few hours and she couldn't remember if her stepmother was working late on her rounds or not. She slipped off her tennis shoes and hung up her backpack before heading into the kitchen.
Her father was standing at the stove, cooking. He looked over when she walked in, his eyes flicking over her as if he could pick out the signs of indiscretions with a glance. "Santana. How good of you to come home. I'm assuming that Brittany is busy?" The not so subtle tinge of distaste in the tall girl's name evident in each syllable to Santana's ears.
"Papi," Santana said softly. "That's... You don't need to worry about that anymore. It's... It's done."
"Oh, so you've finally come to your senses and decided to stop embarrassing us?" he murmured, turning back to his cooking and dismissing her. "Good."
"I was wrong." she whispered, "I'm sorry for hurting the family."
"I'm glad you're finally growing up," he stated, nodding towards the stairs without looking at her. "You should go up to your room and do your homework before dinner now. There is no excuse for you not being in the top five of your class now that the Fabray girl is out of school."
"She's still going to be graduating, Papi," Santana mumbled as she grabbed a diet Sprite from the fridge. "And, I am second in my class behind Mike," she said before going and getting her backpack. "Not that you'd remember."
"That's no excuse to slack off, young lady," he responded. "Education is the most important thing you can have. You will not embarrass this family any more than you already have, understand?"
Santana nodded and headed up the stairs to her bedroom. She put her bag on her bed and she sat on her bed. She looked around the room and saw several things that belonged to Brittany or reminded her of the blonde and the quickly got up and threw them in her closet. She got up and moved to her window and crawled out on the roof, she pulled the plastic easter egg that was duct taped to the gutter and opened it. She pulled out the triple bagged packet of joints. She held one up to her lips and flicked her lighter over the end and inhaled the pungent smoke.
She was just starting to get a pleasant little buzz when her phone rang. Santana sighed and took another hit off the joint before pulling her phone out, she didn't even bother looking at the name before answering, "Yo?" she choked as she tried to hold the smoke in her lungs.
"S-santana?" The voice coming through the speaker wavered with uncertainty, but was unmistakably that of Rachel Berry. "Is that you?"
"Yeah?" Santana said as she laid back, "Who this?"
"It's Rachel. Your classmate and fellow Glee clubber?" she still sounded uncertain. "Santana, are you okay?"
She finally exhaled with a cough. "Yeah, what's up?" she asked as she looked up at the clouds.
"You, um... you asked me to call you if I wanted to see Quinn," Rachel sighed softly into the phone - after the argument she had with Finn earlier she really didn't see any point in trying to appease him any further with regards to the girl. "I've decided that I do, in fact, wish to see her and I was hoping you could advise me as to a good time to present myself as a visitor? And possibly assist me with transport to her domicile?"
"Wha...?" Santana blinked, "You... oh yeah. Finn said it was okay?"
"No, but I doubt I'll ever get permission from him upon the subject. Quinn has never been an exceedingly pleasant topic for us," she sounded slightly bitter.
"Alright. When do you wanna go? She had physio today... but maybe tomorrow?" She suggested as she took another hit on her roach.
"That is entirely acceptable. Just let me know as to when I should make myself available to meet you so we can go to her. I'm sure I can find an opening to fit the two of you in without too much difficulty."
"After booty camp I have Cheerios' practice... but like how about six?" she said as she took a last deep inhale on the joint before stubbing it out.
"That sounds perfect. I shall ensure that I am completely open at that time and if Finn protests, well, I have dance and voice instructors to offer an alibi," she sounded like she was smiling for a moment before her voice softened. "Santana... how is she? Quinn, I mean."
"Wankey." She giggled to herself at Rachel's comment, "Q? Q's broken."
The pained wince was almost audible over the phone. "Yes, I am aware of that, Santana. I was inquiring as to her state of mind. How is she coping?"
"Yeah... I was answering that question." Santana replied, "She's stuck in bed with a broken back with her drunk ass mom toddling around." She coughed slightly, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it. "How'd you feel?"
"Terrible," Rachel whispered. "Does... does she look entirely awful? I visited once before she woke up with my dads but it was... overwhelming."
"She's green," Santana said, "and yellow and purple." She took a couple puffs and threw it away before climbing back into her room and putting her phone on speaker so she could strip out of her weed smelling clothing. "She's okay though. Stitches are all out."
"That's... that's good," Rachel sounded nervous. "Is there anything I could bring her to help? I have no doubt you take excellent care of her on your visits, but I would like to bring some token of my regret for this affair..."
"Bring her something that you think she'd like?" She shrugged, as she looked in the mirror at her body. "She likes stuffed animals."
"Does she?" Rachel sounded slightly wistful, "I never knew that about her. Is there any treat I could bring? Something both of you would appreciate perhaps?"
"I'd say bacon... but she's on a not getting fat kick." Santana hummed as she ran her hand over her skin, enjoying the fuzzy feeling from the weed in her system more than her apperance.
"Bacon?" The sound of her revulsion at the idea was almost visible through the phone. "If I must... I believe I've seen chocolate bars with bacon in them. Would that suffice?"
"Nah, she's not gonna eat it anyway. How about like one of those fancy drinks from the Lima Bean," Santana said as went to her dresser and pulled out clothing.
"Oh! I can do that!" She sounded excited by the idea. "She always orders the same thing - Carmel macchiato with extra foam and a triple shot. You like... black coffee, Italian Roast? With three sugars and no cream?"
"Just black, no sugar anymore," she said as she looked down at her body, "Uh, get her a straw too... she can't really lift her head much to hold a drink to her face."
"Hmm, perhaps she would prefer an iced variation instead then. Hot beverages through a straw is rarely a pleasant encounter after all."
"I don't care what you do, Berry." Santana said, "You're killing my buzz..."
"Your buzz?" she sounded confused. "I'm... sorry? I'll, um... I'll see you tomorrow at six then?"
"I was tokin' when you called," Santana explained, "Yeah, I'll pick you up after Cheerios."
"I have no idea what you're referring to, but alright. I need to go and join my fathers for dinner. Thank you for agreeing to take me and," she hesitated, "um... for insisting I go and see her. Thank you."
"Uh-huh," Santana said before hanging up and throwing her phone aside and heading into the shower.
Santana rolled her midnight blue CRV up to the curb in front of Rachel's house. She was exhausted from Glee practice then Cheerios, but she had promised to bring Rachel to see Quinn and she wasn't able to go and visit her injured friend the day before because of Quinn's doctors' appointments and Judy's apparent lucidity. She had spent some of the night on the phone with Quinn before the blonde fell asleep talking.
The cheerleader stretched her legs after putting the car in park. She had ran ten miles and drills with the Cheerios before practicing for their Nationals' routine. She reached over and grabbed her low-calorie gatorade and took a long swig before honking the horn to signify to Rachel that she was in the driveway.
Rachel hurried out pulling her coat on and trying not to drop the tupperware container clutched under one arm while waving back to the man in glasses that came to close the door behind her with a smile. Opening the passenger door, she scooted into the car, quickly buckling up and settling the container on her lap. "Again, I cannot thank you enough for offering to take me to visit Quinn, Santana. It is exceedingly kind of you."
"It's fine," Santana said, not even looking over her aviators to see Rachel. "Throw your stuff in the backseat."
"No no, they'll get damaged if I do that," she smiled brightly at Santana. "Of course, you're welcome to have some once Quinn gets first pick."
"What is it?" she asked as she pulled away from the curb and rolled her neck. "Fuck... booty camp sucked."
"I'm sorry cookies and I agree that it was more aggravating than usual. I'm still not entirely certain why Mr. Schue requires your attendance though, Santana," she glanced at her confusedly, "I thought you and Brittany were our top female dancers after all."
"I have an attitude problem." Santana scoffed, "Dude's just a perv and wants to see me in shorts."
"I fail to see how treating you as if you were incapable of the level of dance Brittany is will improve any attitude problems you may have," she remarked, ignoring the slur against Mr Schuester. "As for attitude problems, well... wouldn't you say that all of us in Glee have problems of that nature?"
"Yeah, but people actually like you." she sighed, "You wanna hit the Bean before Q's?"
"Yes, that sounds good, but please don't exaggerate. I'm tolerated, mostly, in Glee. Primarily for my voice I have no doubt, but I don't hold any false assumptions of lasting friendship in most cases." She smiled brightly, "But I'm allowed to sing and perform, so it suits me."
"I guess," Santana shrugged, "It's a workout and keeps me busy before cheer." she said as she pulled into the Lima Bean.
Rachel unbuckled and glanced at her. "Allow me to buy you a beverage? It's the least I can do for this favor of giving me a ride."
"Water is fine, my mouth is dry as fuck," she exclaimed.
"There's no need to use such uncouth language, Santana," Rachel chided. "Are you sure you don't want a coffee? I truly don't mind..."
"Nah, kinda dehydrated." Santana said softly.
"Oh. I'll get you two bottles of water then," she nodded. "Do you think Quinn would appreciate a smoothie more than a coffee beverage?"
"Smoothie," Santana said, "No whip cream though."
"Okay, I can do that," she smiled brightly before turning to head into the building. "I'll be right back!"
Santana nodded, and leaned her head back against the headrest. She texted Quinn to let her know that she was on the way before looking sadly and longingly at the photo on the wallpaper of her phone. It was of her and Brittany kissing, she hadn't been able to bring herself to change it yet.
Ten minutes later, Rachel bounced out of the building with a large strawberry smoothie and three bottles of water tucked under her arm. "I remembered how much Quinn enjoys strawberries. I've seen her bring fresh ones to school for lunch when they're in season, even when Sue was on your cases about your weight."
"Yeah," Santana said, "They're like 40 calories so they were in her plan."
"She continued eating them after leaving the squad, so I assume she likes them," Rachel shrugged, getting back in and buckling up. "So... shall we?"
Santana nodded and pulled out and headed to Quinn's. "I'm not sure what the state of Judy will be after yesterday and being sober, so you're warned. And, Quinn doesn't know you're coming."
"What?" Rachel looked worried, "Why not? She... is she truly angry at me? I don't want to upset her..."
"I couldn't see her last night so I didn't tell her," she said. "Don't worry."
"I hope she doesn't kick me out," she murmured, looking out the window and nervously toying with the paper on the smoothie's straw.
"She won't." Santana said as she pulled into Quinn's driveway. "Look, don't cry and don't dwell on her injuries. She hates that."
"Okay," she whispered, nodding absently as she stared nervously at the house in front of them. "It just struck me, but... I've never been in her house before or, well, ever really even been here. Outside of it. Her father never took a liking to my family..."
"Mines either," Santana said as she got out of the car and pulled down her shorts. She fiddled with her black v-neck to push it down to cover her hipbones. "Come on," She said as she grabbed her bag of Quinn's school work and headed into the house.
Rachel took a deep breath and gathered her things before following with a determined nod. She paused before stepping over the threshold with her eyes clenched shut. When nothing appeared likely to swing out at her like Russell Fabray had threatened when he'd been yelling at her dads years ago, she tentatively opened them and looked around the neat living room before gently pushing the door closed and hurrying to follow Santana where she was disappearing down the hall.
"Wait here," Santana urged as she slipped into the blonde's bedroom. She walked over to the bed and kissed the girl's forehead while she was sleeping. "Blondie... wake up."
Quinn frowned before opening her eyes. "Oh goodie, the clown's finally arrived. You're later than usual today, San. What's up?"
"Had Cheerios and Glee, sorry," she said, her eyes blinking quickly. "How you feeling?"
She shrugged, "Okay, but I don't think I'll be getting up today anyway." She tried smiling, but the joke was tired. "How was Cheerios?" She didn't ask about Glee anymore.
"You need a new line," Santana said as she rolled her eyes and tidied up the table. "Cheerios was lame, I'm gonna need like an hour of yoga tonight to stretch out from all the running."
"Well, I'd help, but as you can see, I've got my hands full here," she gestured at the bed with a wry smirk.
"You just wanna stretch me, you freak," Santana teased. "Hey, you feeling up for some company?"
"You wish," Quinn teased back before the rest of her comments sunk in. She blinked at her, "Like who? I thought you were avoiding Britt."
Santana licked her lips, "Berry..."
Quinn laughed. "Oh, that's a good joke. She's not going to come here after I messed up her precious wedding by almost dying in a ditch."
"She is," Santana said, "She's in the hall."
The smile faded a bit. "You're joking. Right? Santana, it's not funny."
She shrugged and walked over to the door. "Berry," Santana said as she opened it and let Rachel into the room. "Want me to give ya a few minutes?"
"No," Quinn snapped even as Rachel whispered, "Please?"
Rachel took a breath then shrugged. "You can stay, Santana. Quinn obviously wants you here." Taking a nervous step into the room, she held out the smoothie as a sort of peace offering, her tupperware box still tucked under her arm. "I brought you this... it's strawberry."
Santana just shrugged and sat down on the end of the bed and looked at her hands. The bed-ridden blonde looked at the drink and then back to Rachel. "Why are you here?"
She swallowed, licking her lips. "I... I wanted to see you. Awake that is. And... I wanted to apologize. It's my fault you're stuck in this bed and I'm so sorry, Quinn," she looked like she was on the brink of tears, but she sniffed and blinked them back.
"It's been almost a month." Quinn said quietly, "and you just decided to come? See the trainwreck? See how your stupid wedding broke my back?"
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, obviously fighting with her emotions. "I... was afraid you wouldn't want to see me," she admitted quietly before opening her eyes. "I thought you'd hate me... and I'd deserve it."
"I don't want to see you," Quinn whispered, "I don't want you here. Santana shouldn't have brought you."
"Quinn, she feels bad. She was scared... give her a break," Santana said softly as she got the smoothie ready for Quinn and grabbed the girl's medications. "She's here now."
Rachel shook her head sadly, "No, Santana... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't deserve it. She's made herself clear. You don't have to drive me home, I'm sure I can walk." She looked down at the box in her hands and gently set it on the dresser. "These are for you. I made them myself, but if you don't want them, I'll understand." Turning with a soft sigh, she moved to leave.
Santana looked at Quinn with a glare, "No, talk to her." She demanded as she looked down at Quinn.
Quinn glared back, stubbornly refusing to do as Santana demanded. "No. If she hadn't been so determined to chain herself to that miserable Lima Loser anchor, I wouldn't be here. This is my room, my house, Santana. You should have talked to me before you brought her here."
Rachel winced, hearing Quinn talk as she eased the door open. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I... I won't come back. I'm sorry..."
Santana looked down, "Sorry, Q... I know you wanted someone other than me to visit you and Berry wanted to come see you." She swallowed, "She came and saw you when you were first hurt... when you were in the coma."
"Yeah? Well, that's great. Come see the worthless cripple when she can't even wake up to know you're there, then never show up again," Quinn glared at her back. "Hope you got a good look, freak."
Rachel shook her head and stepped out of the room. She'd thought they were finally friends and it hurt to hear those words coming from Quinn again.
"You're an idiot," Santana said. "She's trying. She got in a fight with Finn and lied to him to be here. I yelled at her for being a wuss... just, fuck Quinn..."
"What do you care? You don't even like being in the same room as her," Quinn glared.
"No, but I like making you understand that people care about you," Santana exclaimed. "I like making things better for you."
"Bringing Manhands here doesn't make things better for me, Santana!" she yelled, slapping the bed angrily. "She's the last person I want to see!"
"Why? Because your dumb ass texted and drove into another car?" Santana said honestly, "Or because she hurt your feelings by agreeing to marry Finn?"
"It didn't hurt my feelings at all! Those two idiots deserve each other!"
"Stop it," Santana demanded, "Just fucking stop it."
"Stop what? Breathing? I wish," she growled.
"So selfish. So fucking what? You're hurt, get over it and move on or you're gonna lose everyone," Santana said. "Your charming personality is only so great when you're not in pain and you still managed to get Rachel as a friend."
"She's not my friend," Quinn snarled, glaring at Santana. "She's an annoying freak who's practically a stalker."
"Who gives enough of a damn to bake you cookies and bring you smoothies."
"So? That doesn't make her my friend and I don't want the damn cookies or smoothie anyway! I didn't ask for them and I don't freaking want them!"
"Fine. Push everyone away." Santana sighed, "I'll drive her home."
"I don't know why you had to bring her of all freaking people," Quinn muttered, staring off at the wall.
"Because she's the only person who's asked about you. She's the only one who wanted me to bring them."
"Bull," Quinn scoffed, "you told me yourself that Britt wants to come. You just don't want her to."
"You're right. She's going to come on her own... I'm not bringing her." Santana admitted.
"No, instead you had to bring her," she muttered, hating the way her voice seemed to emphasize the word.
"She asked to come see you."
"Took her long enough," she scoffed. "Maybe she was waiting to see if I'd die so she could do a dramatic singing at my graveside without having to speak to me again."
"Dramatic much?" Santana said, "She's scared. Like Brittany's scared and I was scared..." She looked at Quinn, "It's really scary when someone you care about gets hurt. I know it's really painful and it hurts that we weren't here for you..."
"You don't know anything," she hissed angrily. "You want scary? Trying having to wake up each morning still unable to move or really feel your legs and wondering if that's all you've got to look forward to for the rest of your life? Try having to beg your drunk mom to come in whenever you have to use the bathroom and have to hope she'll come before you wet the fucking bed!"
"If you'd just let me help you," Santana sighed. "I know. You're scared," she whispered and took Quinn's hand. "You know that you'll be okay. That you'll walk."
"Stop patronizing me!" she yelled, jerking her hand away. "And I don't know that! I don't know either of those things!"
"The physio dude said you would! You told me yesterday!" Santana exclaimed.
"And I can read too! I can look things up!" She gestured angrily towards her laptop. "I know every day it doesn't get better decreases the chances it ever will. I know I could be stuck in a freaking chair like Artie for the rest of my life!"
Santana flinched at Artie's name, "Then we work harder. You let people like Rachel and Brittany help you too. They dance, they understand how muscles work... they can help too. If you let them."
"It's not my muscles that are broken, Santana," Quinn ground out bitterly.
"No, but they're the things that are seizing up everyday." Santana replied, "We can get you walking. If you let us help you, I don't give a shit about my ego with Brittany or that I don't like Rachel. I love you and I'm gonna make you understand that there are people who want to help you."
"You're not a doctor, Santana," she sighed, "and neither are they. None of you can fix my back or make me walk if the damage is permanent."
"No, but you'll have two more friends around to help you." Santana exclaimed, "Please, just let someone else help you."
"Why? So you can leave?" she asked bitterly. "Go if you want to so bad."
"I'm not gonna leave," Santana stated, "Damn, Quinn. I want to spend time with you. I just want you to have someone else around if you want them."
"Well I don't and I doubt her husband will let her anyway," she sneered.
"Let me handle that one, I got her lying once... She'll get the hang of it."
"I don't want people lying to spend time with me," she glared at Santana. "I am not that pathetic."
"It's Finn. He's that pathetic. Now, let me go get the smurfette..." Santana said softly.
Quinn sighed and looked at the clock, "It's been over fifteen minutes, you might have to go find her."
Santana smiled. "So I can?"
"Yeah," she rolled her eyes, "it's not like I can stop you, right?"
Santana leaned over and handed Quinn her medications and the smoothie. "I'll be back."
"Okay, Terminator," she scoffed, swallowing down the handful of pills with a swig of the drink.
Several minutes later, Rachel walked through the bedroom door after being yelled at by Santana. Quinn looked up and stayed quiet when Rachel entered.
"Where is Santana?" she asked, breaking the silence.
Rachel glanced towards the door and flushed, "I highly doubt you want to know. Plausible deniability after all. I unfortunately will likely be imprisoned as an accessory to the fact."
"What?" Quinn asked as she took a sip of the smoothie.
"Well... she's smoking," she shrugged, "and judging by the shape of the cigarette I would presume it is not a legal substance in the state of Ohio. Not that she's of legal age to be smoking tobacco of course."
Quinn rolled her eyes, "That's Santana for you." She sighed, "She's the fastest runner on the squad, but smokes like an old man mixed with a junkie."
"That's distasteful," she shuddered, her face scrunched up. "She should take better care of herself. Those disgusting master cleanse things can't be any good for her in combination with partaking of illegal substances."
"I'm less worried about the weed. She's more stable on it, less likely to kill anyone or get suspended." Quinn sighed, "She's... those cleanses... with her workouts they're not good for her."
"I know," Rachel shrugged, casting another worried glance at the door, "I tried to convince her to allow me to buy her a drink like yours, but she only would accept water. It's concerning. I don't wish any ill to occur to her."
"The water was more because of the fact she probably smoked in the locker room after cheer and had dry mouth..." Quinn explained, "But, you're not wrong... I kept an eye on her. Brittany was helping."
"I'm afraid I won't be much help in that regard. She doesn't listen to me in the slightest." She shrugged.
"Me either." Quinn said, "You can sit." She said as she looked at the chair, "I am.... well I'm lying here, but you get the joke."
"Thank you," Rachel nodded, sitting on the edge of the chair. "I'm really glad you're recovering..."
Quinn scoffed, "Not really healing if nothing changes."
"You look better than you did when I saw you last," she admitted softly. "A lot better."
"After your honeymoon with Finn?" She sniped.
"I'm not married and no, I was there when they brought you out of surgery," she looked down at her hands with a barely suppressed sniffle. "You were so still and there was still blood and some dirt on your face... I thought you might never wake up. I just... I just wanted you to wake up and yell at me again but you didn't. It was so scary, Quinn."
"Yeah... imagine waking up and not remembering why I can't move my legs," Quinn said blankly. "And, Santana said Finn was annoyed you wanted to come."
"That would... be a bit of an understatement," she whispered, glancing away. "He's not happy that I refused to go through with the wedding until you were there and then after that stranger called me on your phone..."
"I don't really remember what happened after the competition," Quinn admitted, "I just remember leaving home then waking up a few weeks later."
"The stranger who called said he saw the accident," Rachel explained softly. "You were broadsided by a truck that ran the stop at the intersection and your car was knocked into the field by the road. He'd tried to get in to you but it was... it was horrible. He called us after calling emergency services and attempting basic first aid on you which is when he found your phone. I most certainly couldn't go through with marrying Finn knowing you were badly hurt, Quinn."
"You shouldn't marry him at all," Quinn said as she looked up at the ceiling.
"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "I've gathered your opinion on the subject, Quinn. But he's... he's good to me and he wants me to be with him..."
"He's not," Santana interjected, her voice sounding a bit deeper than when she left. She blinked at the bright light in the room and carefully moved to crawl in the bed with Quinn. She slid next to the wall and rested down next to her friend and rested her head on the pillow with Quinn's.
"You are so incredibly high right now," Quinn chuckled softly, reaching awkwardly to hug her. "I can't believe you didn't offer to share. I thought we were friends, San."
Rachel looked between the two of them, goggling at the casual intimacy. "Um... ah... am I intruding?"
Santana's head popped up and her brow furrowed at Rachel. "No?" She offered confusedly before giggling softly and moving back down to lay with Quinn. "I can't smoke in here... and you can't go outside yet. No smokeage for you, plus you get the good high with the oxy."
"This is so awkward," Rachel muttered, looking away with a blush.
"Stop being such a tightass, Berry," Quinn chided. "She just gets cuddly when she's high. It's not a big deal."
"Berry does have a tight ass." Santana pointed out, "That's why she wears skirts..."
Rachel's eyes went wide and the blush darkened. "T-that is not why I wear skirts! They simply allow for greater freedom of movement unafforded by pants. Why do you think Cheerios wear them after all? Also, they're faster to change after a slushy attack."
"Quinn likes Cheerio skirts, cuz she can see up them when we spin... Right, Q?" Santana said as she looked at her friend.
"Santana Lopez, you're such a pervert when you're high," Quinn snickered. "And she's lying. Besides, we wear spankies under our skirts to avoid flashing anyone."
"Um," Rachel looked at the ceiling, blushing and fiddling with her fingers, "if you insist, Quinn."
"You made me do that in celibacy club!" Santana pouted, "Don't lie."
Quinn clapped her good hand over Santana's mouth and tried to smile at Rachel while blushing. "She's high. Don't listen to her."
"I'm always high!" Santana protested, trying to pull Quinn's hand away, "It's no excuse!"
"I suppose that she means I should never listen to you then?" Rachel asked confusedly, her brow furrowing. "And you can't always be high, Santana. You're far too mentally adept for that."
Santana looked at Quinn and shrugged before lying back not wanting to talk anymore.
"Yeah, not listening to her skinny ass is usually a good idea," Quinn teased.
"Is it skinny?" Rachel asked curiously, unable to help herself. "I know she is almost perilously thin, but her posterior never seemed adversely affected..."
Santana squeaked and looked up. "My ass... is not fat," She said defensively, "I'm not too thin, I'm normal. Shut up."
"She didn't say your ass was fat, idiot," Quinn chided. "She said it was tight. Right, Berry?" She turned her head to give Rachel a challenging look.
Rachel blushed and looked down at where her fingers were fiddling with the hem of her skirt, "I um... well, I suppose. If tight were to mean that it is an exceptional specimen at least."
"I.. I don't want to have a big ass," Santana mumbled tiredly into Quinn's shoulder. "Make her stop talking."
"It's not big!" Rachel exclaimed, hurriedly backing up verbally, "It's not! None of you is... with the possible exception of your chest, but you seem well proportioned I assure you!"
"Stop talking," Santana said angrily, "Just stop!"
"Rachel," Quinn sighed. "Just shut up. She doesn't want compliments from you."
She looked down at her hands, nibbling at her lower lip. "Sorry... I didn't mean to upset anyone."
"Sometimes she's normal when she smokes and sometimes she gets like this," Quinn sighed as she turned her head and kissed Santana's crown. "You're not fat, Santana, I promise you."
"Perhaps I should walk home," Rachel offered softly. "I don't want to upset her any further. I'm sorry I've been such a bother, Quinn."
"She'll come down and drive you." Quinn said, "It's not a problem. Just stay."
"Are you sure?" she asked softly, looking uncertain. "I would like to return on future occasions so I don't wish to overstay my welcome."
"It's fine. San will come back to Earth in a few minutes," Quinn said softly. "She's just upset right now."
"I'm still sorry about that. I thought what I was saying wasn't upsetting," she nibbled on her lip. "She is an exceptionally pretty girl after all."
"She is..." Quinn sighed, "You'll learn to understand her crazy if you're around long enough."
"If you're certain," Rachel shrugged, accepting Quinn's wisdom on the subject. "Would you care for a cookie?" she asked, moving to pick up the box and bring it to Quinn. "Also, perhaps I could ride my bike to see you sometime when Santana's busy?" she asked hopefully.
"I mean... she's kinda here all the time. But, she's not here during Cheerios stuff or on Sundays," Quinn explained, not sure how she felt about spending more time with someone but Santana. "So, I guess yeah."
Rachel smiled hopefully. "Maybe I could come by on Sundays? I haven't gone to church with Dad since my bat mitzvah, but I still read the Bible on occasion. If you'd like we could have a mini-study session until you're ready to go to church again?"
"Sounds good," Quinn said as she looked over to Santana and sighed seeing she had fallen asleep.
"She's asleep, isn't she?" she asked softly with a fond little smile as she glanced over at the other girl. "She seemed overly tired earlier."
"Stoner nap time," Quinn replied. "She gets tired because she works herself to death between sports, after school stuff and academics... not to mention home. And with the break up... I doubt she's sleeping."
"Well... if it doesn't bother you that she's there, I'll call my dads in a little to come and pick me up instead of waking her," she smiled at Quinn. "I don't want to wake her just to drive me home if she needs the rest."
"We do this daily... but if you want. I'll see you on Sunday?"
She nodded, "Absolutely. Shall I bring my copy of the Bible? If you'd like, I have a Torah as well, of course."
"If you want. I have a Bible or two around here... but, yeah... I'll see you then," she said softly.
"That sounds like a plan. And you're lucky you're being used as a body pillow or I might feel compelled to try and hug you," she teased, standing. "I'll see you Sunday and perhaps I'll even bring lunch if you don't mind vegan friendly options."
"It needs to be soft, my jaw is still pretty sore," she said. "But okay."
"Soft I can do." She smiled at Quinn, heading over to the door. "I'll see you Sunday. And... thank you. For not hating me. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I should have. I'm so happy you're awake, Quinn. You have no idea how grateful I am to see your hazel eyes again."
"Thanks for caring that I'm not dead," Quinn replied as she looked down. She waited until Rachel left the room to release the breath that she seemed to be holding and tried to calm her nerves. She looked over to Santana who was gently holding Quinn's broken body as she slept. "Stop being so crazy," she whispered to the dark haired girl before closing her own eyes and letting herself fall into a medically induced sleep.