Fic: Taking Chances (1/1)
Title: Taking Chances
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through "Journey", but it's pretty AU.
Warnings: Attempted suicide
Summary: Future!Fic. A sequel to Last Call. I hadn't really intended to do one, but the consensus seemed to be that it needed one, so hopefully this passes muster! The song at the beginning is Shakira's "Embrace."
Hope it isn't too late
To say "I love you"
Hope it isn't too late to say
That without you this place looks like London
It rains every day
When I forced my eyes open, squinting through the blinding white light, my first thought was that my final desperate prayers as I drifted off in a fog of booze and pills had been answered. There was Rachel - and she was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered her, a beauty only enhanced by the subtle lines that had started to show on her face. She smiled, and I could see home in her lips.
And then the pain started to seep in through the blurry haze around my mind, and there was a sickening lurch in my stomach as I realised that unless hell looked like a bright white room, then I must not be dead after all. I tried to say something, but Rachel reached out and put her cool hand on my forehead. “It’s okay,” she murmured softly. “Don’t try and talk, Quinn, they haven’t taken your breathing tube out yet. The doctor’s on his way, okay?”
I wish I could have projected my thoughts right then - some of my fury must have shown through my eyes, though, because she looked a little frightened.
“Quinn, I’m sorry - I couldn’t let you-“
I shook my head, reaching up to try and pull the breathing tube out. I needed her to hear what I had to say. But someone grabbed my hand - a nurse. I tried with my other hand, and she grabbed that one as well. “Miss Fabray!” she admonished me loudly. “Stop struggling, or we’ll be forced to restrain you.” My choice - my wish to be out of this world - had been taken away, and her words didn’t even register. I thrashed and struggled until two orderlies came bustling in and buckled my wrists and ankles in some kind of cuffs. I didn’t stop fighting, though, not until they stuck something in my IV line and the world went slowly dark again. The last thing I heard was Rachel begging me to stop, and the last thing I felt was my own tears sliding down my cheeks.
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The restraints were gone when I woke up, so I gathered that the breathing tube must be gone as well. I reached up and confirmed that with one hand, exhaling softly. My eyes were sticky, like someone had glued them shut while I slept, and it seemed to take a ridiculous amount of effort to get them open. And like an instant replay, there was Rachel. She was leaning over the bed, with that same smile on her face. But with my notions of heaven evaporated, now it only angered me. My throat hurt like someone had scraped sandpaper up and down the inside of it, but I forced a word out through it all the same.
“Why?”
The smile faltered. “Quinn, I couldn’t let you - not after you told me what you did. How I could I let you go before we had a chance to talk?”
She held a glass of water to my lips and let me sip from it. I started coughing almost immediately, and she touched a control that raised my bed a little. I got my first look at the room, for what it was worth - it was a private room, though, which gave me pause. There was no way my crappy insurance could have paid for a private room. So she’d paid for it, then. “Rachel,” I rasped, “what part of our conversation didn’t you understand? I wanted to die - that’s all I wanted, the only thing I wanted. And you took that away from me. Why would you do that?” I could feel the tears burning my eyes, but I pointedly ignored them - I needed to say my piece, and they would only interrupt. “I finally felt like I could go - like I’d made peace. And now I’m still here.” She started to say something, but I pressed on. “You know, it’s all okay for you to fly in here and play the white knight - you get to go back to New York, back to your sold-out shows and your fans, and I’m still going to be here, spending every day hating myself.” My throat was absolutely killing me, but I wanted to finish before I gave in and took a drink. “What you’ve done to me isn’t fair.” And with that, I’d managed it. I let her help me take another sip from the glass and sighed as the cool water soothed my throat.
She looked at me, teary-eyed, and reached out to stroke my cheek with one finger. Her skin was cool, and her touch raised goosebumps in its wake. “Quinn - what makes you think I’m going to leave you here?”
I couldn’t find an answer for that - my tired mind couldn’t make sense of what she was saying.
“What you told me that night - it changes everything, don’t you know that? I know that you thought I wasn’t serious when I told you that the future you’d dreamed of could still happen, but I was. I need you to know - I’ve never had aspirations of a long-term relationship, not since I grew out of those fantasies in high school. I’ve always been happy in the short term. But what you said - the kids, the dog - it was like you put your finger on something that I never knew I always wanted. But I do now. And if you’re willing, I’d like to try and build that future with you.”
“Life,” I coughed, and she gave me another drink. “Life’s not that simple, Rach, you know that. What am I going to do, move to New York? With what money?”
“With my money,” she said softly.
I stared at her, eyebrows raised. “I’m not going to be your charity case, Rachel Berry. I know you obviously came here with grand ideas of sweeping me off my feet, but you need to take a hard look at the facts. I’m not some grand prize for you to win. I’m a drunk, Rach. I have no education, no future. You’re Rachel Berry - what are the papers going to say when they find out you’ve decided to adopt some sad Lima loser? Don’t you get enough shit from the tabloids already?”
“Okay, I’ve let you say enough, Quinn. Now you’re going to listen to me,” there was a ferocity in her expression that brought back memories of the young diva at McKinley, and it was heartrending. “I’m not offering this out of charity. I’m not the naive little girl you knew, and I do have a mind of my own. What I’m offering to you is a chance, that’s all. I’d like you to move back to New York with me, and I’d like to get you some help for your drinking problem. You can finish your diploma, get your GED, and decide what you want to do with your life. I don’t expect you to be my kept woman, or something stupid like that. I’d like it if we could have that future you dreamed of, but even if we don’t,” she swallowed, “I think everyone deserves a second chance. I’d like it if I could be yours.” She stood up and walked toward the door. “But I’m not going to force it on you, because you’re right - that isn’t fair. I’m going to go back to my hotel room now, and give you time to think. If you choose to come with me, I’ll expect you to make an effort in rehab, I’ll expect you to complete your GED. If you don’t think you can do those things, if this - being with me - isn’t what you want, then I’ll walk away and leave you here to do whatever you decide to do. Sleep well, Quinn - I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The closing of the door was like the pounding of a judge’s gavel, and I winced. I reached out to find my bed controls and lower it again so I could stare at the ceiling tiles and think. Did I want this? Of course I’d imagined the day where I’d get a second chance, but I’d never pictured it quite like this. Since I’d closed my eyes and embraced eternity (or so I’d thought at the time) everything had changed. I may not have died that night, but I had to face the fact that I may very well have been reborn - the sudden possibility that any of my worn-out dreams could come true was staggering.
But, the voice in my head - the one that most often spoke in my father’s measured tones - protested, did I really deserve it? How could I? I’d brought life into the world too young and unprepared, and she’d paid the price for my negligence. How could I possibly justify, if everything worked out the way I’d dreamed it, bringing another child into the world? How could I take that chance again? That voice in my head didn’t stop there, either. Rehab? What good was that going to do? I was done, after all - my life was a wash-out that there wasn’t any sense continuing. I’d had my shot, and I’d blown it. Who was I to ask the world for a do-over? Surely that chance could be better spent on someone else?
My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock. I sat up in bed, assuming Rachel had forgotten something. When my mother walked through the door, I almost died from the shock. She looked - old. Like time had gone doubly fast for her over the years since we’d last spoken. Her lip twitched in a half-smile as she took in my expression.
“Hello, Quinnie,” she whispered, and I couldn’t help the tears that burst from my eyes. The little nickname brought back memories of a forgotten time when I was a favorite child, beloved by her family and adored by her peers, before the days of unplanned pregnancies and screaming fights. Mom sat down in the chair beside my bed, the one Rachel had just recently occupied. “How are you, sweetheart?”
“I - I’m not really sure how to answer that. How did you know-“
“I’m friends with some of the nurses, sweetie. They called me last night. But they told me that someone else had spent the last few nights at your bedside, so I wanted to wait until she left.”
“I - don’t take this the wrong way, Mom, but what are you here for? To tell me how much of a failure I am?”
“Oh, heavens no, Quinnie - not at all.”
“Really? It wouldn’t be the first time.” It was a cheap shot, but it scored big. She looked down at her lap, fiddling with her dress.
“I know - I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am, baby. You deserved a mother who would stand up for you, and I - I couldn’t. I was too tied up in the idea of a perfect family, where I did what my husband told me - but that’s all over now. After they told me - last night, I mean - I threw a drink in his face and told him I was leaving. I’m just sorry that it took this to make me realize what I’d lost. What the two of us had cost you.”
“What exactly are you looking for from me, Mom? A hug, to tell you everything’s okay? Do you really expect that?”
“Of course not,” and the reproach in her voice, even now, could make me blush. “I just thought we should talk. I have to confess - I was listening outside a few minutes ago when that lovely Rachel asked you to come to New York with her.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me that it’s a sin? To love another girl?”
“Quinnie, I loved another woman, back before I met your father,” if my jaw had fallen open any harder, it may have broken. “We even slept together - but when the time came to choose between the life I could have with her, and the life I could have with your father, I gave in. I married him. And the only good thing it ever gave me was you - and I let him take you away from me too.” She looked tearfully at me. “I was at Beth’s funeral, you know.”
I gasped.
“I was behind a tree - my heart was so broken, to see you so lost, to see that Puckerman boy leave you standing at that lonely grave by yourself. I wanted so much to go to you, to just hold you, but - I was scared. I was scared of what your father would do if he found out. And so I let you suffer. And I can’t watch you suffer anymore - you need to go with Rachel.”
“Mom, I haven’t decided-“
“Yes, you have,” she said with a sad smile. “Your heart knows what it wants, Quinnie, you’ve loved that girl since middle school. Whatever part of you you’re hearing that tells you otherwise is lying to you. It’s trying to convince you that you don’t deserve to be happy. And you do, sweetheart. You deserve it so much. If you stay here, you’re going to stay trapped in your own sadness, and that road just leads you back here, to the hospital - or worse, the morgue. You deserve a better life than that.”
"I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, baby girl."
"But then - if you've left dad, if things are different now, I can't just run off to New York and leave you behind - I -"
"Quinn - you're still trying to find a reason not to be happy. I won't be the reason that you're looking for. Do you think that I'm going to stay in this town without you, now that I've left your father? Do you think that there's any reason for me to stay? I despise this town!" She laughed, and I laughed - it hurt my throat, laughing like that, but it felt good in a way that I hadn't for what seemed like unending, unceasing years. I leaned up as best I could, still feeling a bit weak and dizzy from the aftermath of the overdose and the resulting measures that had been taken to save me, and she held me close to her. I don't know how long the embrace lasted, but it ended with the arrival of a nurse to announce the end of visiting hours.
"When she comes back tomorrow, Quinnie," Mom said insistently, "you tell her what's really in your heart. Every last bit of it. Do you understand?
"Yes, mom," I rolled my eyes teasingly on the last word, and she smiled.
"I love you, Quinn. Be happy, for me. But more importantly, be happy for you."
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"Good morning, Quinn. I've brought you some breakfast - I don't know what it is you normally eat, so I got a range of-"
"Rachel, stop." My throat hurt significantly less than it had the previous day, and it was easier to talk. I looked her in the eye, shaking my head with a growl when tears threatened my ability to do so. "Let me talk first, okay?" I couldn't stop my hands from shaking, so I put them in my lap and clasped them tightly together. "Look - I don't think that I'm exactly what you thought you'd find when you got here. I know that I'm not much of a prize, and I don't think that I'm - worthy of you, if that's the right word. Worthy of your forgiveness, worthy of being happy or worthy of another chance." She tried to interrupt, but I talked over her. "But for whatever reason, you want to take a chance on me. I think you're crazy. To even contemplate letting me be a part of your life, to want to try and build that future I talked about. But if you're willing - if you'll have me - I'd like to try."
Rachel's eyes gleamed, and she reached in her wallet to retrieve her phone. She pressed a button and handed it over - it was displaying a picture of a young bulldog, looking earnestly at the picture taker. "I called my assistant last night," she said in a choked voice, "he went to the animal shelter this morning. I thought we could call him Winston."
There weren't any words - there was nothing I could say. I let her embrace me, and felt, for the first time since I was a teenager, a sense of hope - that the days in front of me might finally be better than the days behind.
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Author’s Note: The actual conclusion of this story as I originally wrote it, which comes after all of the above, follows. It’s in spoiler text because I think that the story actually works both with and without it. I’m not sure which I prefer myself, so I’ve included the option for those who choose to read it. And if you like a happy ending, you’ve no need to read any further, just take the final paragraph above as the end. So anyone that chooses to, you’ve been warned, saavy?
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I couldn’t control the sobs that ripped themselves free as I stood in the corner of the room, watching the doctor pull a white sheet up over Quinn’s still form. She looked so calm - so very peaceful - and it was hard to convince myself that she wasn’t just sleeping, that she wouldn’t grace me with her smile when she opened her eyes a few minutes later. Instead it was the doctor that spoke to me, a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Miss Berry,” he gave me a sympathetic squeeze. “There was simply nothing we could do. She took a massive dose of pills, and her body had shut down before we got to her.” I nodded, feeling my heart weighing heavy like a stone in my chest.
“I guess,” he said, easing past me to leave the room, “all we can hope is that she’s happier where she is now.”
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through "Journey", but it's pretty AU.
Warnings: Attempted suicide
Summary: Future!Fic. A sequel to Last Call. I hadn't really intended to do one, but the consensus seemed to be that it needed one, so hopefully this passes muster! The song at the beginning is Shakira's "Embrace."
Hope it isn't too late
To say "I love you"
Hope it isn't too late to say
That without you this place looks like London
It rains every day
When I forced my eyes open, squinting through the blinding white light, my first thought was that my final desperate prayers as I drifted off in a fog of booze and pills had been answered. There was Rachel - and she was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered her, a beauty only enhanced by the subtle lines that had started to show on her face. She smiled, and I could see home in her lips.
And then the pain started to seep in through the blurry haze around my mind, and there was a sickening lurch in my stomach as I realised that unless hell looked like a bright white room, then I must not be dead after all. I tried to say something, but Rachel reached out and put her cool hand on my forehead. “It’s okay,” she murmured softly. “Don’t try and talk, Quinn, they haven’t taken your breathing tube out yet. The doctor’s on his way, okay?”
I wish I could have projected my thoughts right then - some of my fury must have shown through my eyes, though, because she looked a little frightened.
“Quinn, I’m sorry - I couldn’t let you-“
I shook my head, reaching up to try and pull the breathing tube out. I needed her to hear what I had to say. But someone grabbed my hand - a nurse. I tried with my other hand, and she grabbed that one as well. “Miss Fabray!” she admonished me loudly. “Stop struggling, or we’ll be forced to restrain you.” My choice - my wish to be out of this world - had been taken away, and her words didn’t even register. I thrashed and struggled until two orderlies came bustling in and buckled my wrists and ankles in some kind of cuffs. I didn’t stop fighting, though, not until they stuck something in my IV line and the world went slowly dark again. The last thing I heard was Rachel begging me to stop, and the last thing I felt was my own tears sliding down my cheeks.
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The restraints were gone when I woke up, so I gathered that the breathing tube must be gone as well. I reached up and confirmed that with one hand, exhaling softly. My eyes were sticky, like someone had glued them shut while I slept, and it seemed to take a ridiculous amount of effort to get them open. And like an instant replay, there was Rachel. She was leaning over the bed, with that same smile on her face. But with my notions of heaven evaporated, now it only angered me. My throat hurt like someone had scraped sandpaper up and down the inside of it, but I forced a word out through it all the same.
“Why?”
The smile faltered. “Quinn, I couldn’t let you - not after you told me what you did. How I could I let you go before we had a chance to talk?”
She held a glass of water to my lips and let me sip from it. I started coughing almost immediately, and she touched a control that raised my bed a little. I got my first look at the room, for what it was worth - it was a private room, though, which gave me pause. There was no way my crappy insurance could have paid for a private room. So she’d paid for it, then. “Rachel,” I rasped, “what part of our conversation didn’t you understand? I wanted to die - that’s all I wanted, the only thing I wanted. And you took that away from me. Why would you do that?” I could feel the tears burning my eyes, but I pointedly ignored them - I needed to say my piece, and they would only interrupt. “I finally felt like I could go - like I’d made peace. And now I’m still here.” She started to say something, but I pressed on. “You know, it’s all okay for you to fly in here and play the white knight - you get to go back to New York, back to your sold-out shows and your fans, and I’m still going to be here, spending every day hating myself.” My throat was absolutely killing me, but I wanted to finish before I gave in and took a drink. “What you’ve done to me isn’t fair.” And with that, I’d managed it. I let her help me take another sip from the glass and sighed as the cool water soothed my throat.
She looked at me, teary-eyed, and reached out to stroke my cheek with one finger. Her skin was cool, and her touch raised goosebumps in its wake. “Quinn - what makes you think I’m going to leave you here?”
I couldn’t find an answer for that - my tired mind couldn’t make sense of what she was saying.
“What you told me that night - it changes everything, don’t you know that? I know that you thought I wasn’t serious when I told you that the future you’d dreamed of could still happen, but I was. I need you to know - I’ve never had aspirations of a long-term relationship, not since I grew out of those fantasies in high school. I’ve always been happy in the short term. But what you said - the kids, the dog - it was like you put your finger on something that I never knew I always wanted. But I do now. And if you’re willing, I’d like to try and build that future with you.”
“Life,” I coughed, and she gave me another drink. “Life’s not that simple, Rach, you know that. What am I going to do, move to New York? With what money?”
“With my money,” she said softly.
I stared at her, eyebrows raised. “I’m not going to be your charity case, Rachel Berry. I know you obviously came here with grand ideas of sweeping me off my feet, but you need to take a hard look at the facts. I’m not some grand prize for you to win. I’m a drunk, Rach. I have no education, no future. You’re Rachel Berry - what are the papers going to say when they find out you’ve decided to adopt some sad Lima loser? Don’t you get enough shit from the tabloids already?”
“Okay, I’ve let you say enough, Quinn. Now you’re going to listen to me,” there was a ferocity in her expression that brought back memories of the young diva at McKinley, and it was heartrending. “I’m not offering this out of charity. I’m not the naive little girl you knew, and I do have a mind of my own. What I’m offering to you is a chance, that’s all. I’d like you to move back to New York with me, and I’d like to get you some help for your drinking problem. You can finish your diploma, get your GED, and decide what you want to do with your life. I don’t expect you to be my kept woman, or something stupid like that. I’d like it if we could have that future you dreamed of, but even if we don’t,” she swallowed, “I think everyone deserves a second chance. I’d like it if I could be yours.” She stood up and walked toward the door. “But I’m not going to force it on you, because you’re right - that isn’t fair. I’m going to go back to my hotel room now, and give you time to think. If you choose to come with me, I’ll expect you to make an effort in rehab, I’ll expect you to complete your GED. If you don’t think you can do those things, if this - being with me - isn’t what you want, then I’ll walk away and leave you here to do whatever you decide to do. Sleep well, Quinn - I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The closing of the door was like the pounding of a judge’s gavel, and I winced. I reached out to find my bed controls and lower it again so I could stare at the ceiling tiles and think. Did I want this? Of course I’d imagined the day where I’d get a second chance, but I’d never pictured it quite like this. Since I’d closed my eyes and embraced eternity (or so I’d thought at the time) everything had changed. I may not have died that night, but I had to face the fact that I may very well have been reborn - the sudden possibility that any of my worn-out dreams could come true was staggering.
But, the voice in my head - the one that most often spoke in my father’s measured tones - protested, did I really deserve it? How could I? I’d brought life into the world too young and unprepared, and she’d paid the price for my negligence. How could I possibly justify, if everything worked out the way I’d dreamed it, bringing another child into the world? How could I take that chance again? That voice in my head didn’t stop there, either. Rehab? What good was that going to do? I was done, after all - my life was a wash-out that there wasn’t any sense continuing. I’d had my shot, and I’d blown it. Who was I to ask the world for a do-over? Surely that chance could be better spent on someone else?
My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock. I sat up in bed, assuming Rachel had forgotten something. When my mother walked through the door, I almost died from the shock. She looked - old. Like time had gone doubly fast for her over the years since we’d last spoken. Her lip twitched in a half-smile as she took in my expression.
“Hello, Quinnie,” she whispered, and I couldn’t help the tears that burst from my eyes. The little nickname brought back memories of a forgotten time when I was a favorite child, beloved by her family and adored by her peers, before the days of unplanned pregnancies and screaming fights. Mom sat down in the chair beside my bed, the one Rachel had just recently occupied. “How are you, sweetheart?”
“I - I’m not really sure how to answer that. How did you know-“
“I’m friends with some of the nurses, sweetie. They called me last night. But they told me that someone else had spent the last few nights at your bedside, so I wanted to wait until she left.”
“I - don’t take this the wrong way, Mom, but what are you here for? To tell me how much of a failure I am?”
“Oh, heavens no, Quinnie - not at all.”
“Really? It wouldn’t be the first time.” It was a cheap shot, but it scored big. She looked down at her lap, fiddling with her dress.
“I know - I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am, baby. You deserved a mother who would stand up for you, and I - I couldn’t. I was too tied up in the idea of a perfect family, where I did what my husband told me - but that’s all over now. After they told me - last night, I mean - I threw a drink in his face and told him I was leaving. I’m just sorry that it took this to make me realize what I’d lost. What the two of us had cost you.”
“What exactly are you looking for from me, Mom? A hug, to tell you everything’s okay? Do you really expect that?”
“Of course not,” and the reproach in her voice, even now, could make me blush. “I just thought we should talk. I have to confess - I was listening outside a few minutes ago when that lovely Rachel asked you to come to New York with her.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me that it’s a sin? To love another girl?”
“Quinnie, I loved another woman, back before I met your father,” if my jaw had fallen open any harder, it may have broken. “We even slept together - but when the time came to choose between the life I could have with her, and the life I could have with your father, I gave in. I married him. And the only good thing it ever gave me was you - and I let him take you away from me too.” She looked tearfully at me. “I was at Beth’s funeral, you know.”
I gasped.
“I was behind a tree - my heart was so broken, to see you so lost, to see that Puckerman boy leave you standing at that lonely grave by yourself. I wanted so much to go to you, to just hold you, but - I was scared. I was scared of what your father would do if he found out. And so I let you suffer. And I can’t watch you suffer anymore - you need to go with Rachel.”
“Mom, I haven’t decided-“
“Yes, you have,” she said with a sad smile. “Your heart knows what it wants, Quinnie, you’ve loved that girl since middle school. Whatever part of you you’re hearing that tells you otherwise is lying to you. It’s trying to convince you that you don’t deserve to be happy. And you do, sweetheart. You deserve it so much. If you stay here, you’re going to stay trapped in your own sadness, and that road just leads you back here, to the hospital - or worse, the morgue. You deserve a better life than that.”
"I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, baby girl."
"But then - if you've left dad, if things are different now, I can't just run off to New York and leave you behind - I -"
"Quinn - you're still trying to find a reason not to be happy. I won't be the reason that you're looking for. Do you think that I'm going to stay in this town without you, now that I've left your father? Do you think that there's any reason for me to stay? I despise this town!" She laughed, and I laughed - it hurt my throat, laughing like that, but it felt good in a way that I hadn't for what seemed like unending, unceasing years. I leaned up as best I could, still feeling a bit weak and dizzy from the aftermath of the overdose and the resulting measures that had been taken to save me, and she held me close to her. I don't know how long the embrace lasted, but it ended with the arrival of a nurse to announce the end of visiting hours.
"When she comes back tomorrow, Quinnie," Mom said insistently, "you tell her what's really in your heart. Every last bit of it. Do you understand?
"Yes, mom," I rolled my eyes teasingly on the last word, and she smiled.
"I love you, Quinn. Be happy, for me. But more importantly, be happy for you."
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"Good morning, Quinn. I've brought you some breakfast - I don't know what it is you normally eat, so I got a range of-"
"Rachel, stop." My throat hurt significantly less than it had the previous day, and it was easier to talk. I looked her in the eye, shaking my head with a growl when tears threatened my ability to do so. "Let me talk first, okay?" I couldn't stop my hands from shaking, so I put them in my lap and clasped them tightly together. "Look - I don't think that I'm exactly what you thought you'd find when you got here. I know that I'm not much of a prize, and I don't think that I'm - worthy of you, if that's the right word. Worthy of your forgiveness, worthy of being happy or worthy of another chance." She tried to interrupt, but I talked over her. "But for whatever reason, you want to take a chance on me. I think you're crazy. To even contemplate letting me be a part of your life, to want to try and build that future I talked about. But if you're willing - if you'll have me - I'd like to try."
Rachel's eyes gleamed, and she reached in her wallet to retrieve her phone. She pressed a button and handed it over - it was displaying a picture of a young bulldog, looking earnestly at the picture taker. "I called my assistant last night," she said in a choked voice, "he went to the animal shelter this morning. I thought we could call him Winston."
There weren't any words - there was nothing I could say. I let her embrace me, and felt, for the first time since I was a teenager, a sense of hope - that the days in front of me might finally be better than the days behind.
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Author’s Note: The actual conclusion of this story as I originally wrote it, which comes after all of the above, follows. It’s in spoiler text because I think that the story actually works both with and without it. I’m not sure which I prefer myself, so I’ve included the option for those who choose to read it. And if you like a happy ending, you’ve no need to read any further, just take the final paragraph above as the end. So anyone that chooses to, you’ve been warned, saavy?
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I couldn’t control the sobs that ripped themselves free as I stood in the corner of the room, watching the doctor pull a white sheet up over Quinn’s still form. She looked so calm - so very peaceful - and it was hard to convince myself that she wasn’t just sleeping, that she wouldn’t grace me with her smile when she opened her eyes a few minutes later. Instead it was the doctor that spoke to me, a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Miss Berry,” he gave me a sympathetic squeeze. “There was simply nothing we could do. She took a massive dose of pills, and her body had shut down before we got to her.” I nodded, feeling my heart weighing heavy like a stone in my chest.
“I guess,” he said, easing past me to leave the room, “all we can hope is that she’s happier where she is now.”