Trusting You to Catch Me - Chapter One
Title: Trusting You to Catch Me
Author: Sio & Maura
Rating: NC-17
Length: 7,294
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), possible later Rachel/unknown (not sure who yet)
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 1
It had been nearly a week since Quinn's accident and Santana hadn't been to visit her friend since the first day when she was in surgery, because… well it had been too hard. She was torn apart. Quinn was her oldest friend and the one who had always been there even when they were fighting.
Santana curled up into herself as she sat in Glee thinking about her friend who was laying in a medically induced coma. She glared over at Rachel who sat fretting about how many "I'm sorry" cookies she should make for Quinn when she finally woke up. Quinn being hurt, her being in the hospital unable to move was all Rachel's fault. Her and her oaf of a fiance Finn's fault. Quinn was lying in a ditch bleeding half to death while Rachel almost made the biggest mistake of her life.
"San?" The other blonde in her life shook her out of her daze, "San, why are you ignoring me?" Brittany asked as she ran her hand over her girlfriend's back.
"I'm not. I'm just thinking," Santana said as she rubbed her eyes and looked softly at her. "What were you saying?"
"I was asking if you wanted to come with me and Rory after school," she smiled as she looked over to the awkward Irish boy lurking near the edge of the riser of chairs.
"Where are you going?" she asked as she asked disinterestedly as she tugged her letterman jacket around her shoulders.
"To the pond. I'm gonna walk my sister's hamster," she beamed, "Come with us, San!"
"That... sounds," Stupid Santana thought as she looked the girl, "nice. But I think I'm going to go see Quinn."
"Oh." Brittany said, "But she's sleeping. She won't be any fun."
"She's not sleeping, she's in a coma!" Santana snapped, startling everyone into staring at her. Standing up, she snatched her backpack out from under her chair. "Fuck. It's not like any of you care about her anyway."
She stormed off, hating the feeling that she got from all of her friends in Glee and trying to ignore the shocked expression on her girlfriend's face. They couldn't care less about Quinn for all their talk. They only ever cared about themselves.
At the hospital nothing had changed except that Judy was noticeably absent. Again. Probably off getting drunk, Santana thought bitterly, slipping into the room as if she was afraid she'd wake Quinn up if she was too noisy.
She hated seeing her like that. So small and fragile in the hospital bed with tubes and wires running every which way. Her face was nasty shades of green, black and yellow from the bruises surrounding her eyes from her broken nose with it's bandage across the bridge where they'd had to stitch the torn skin closed. A gauze tinged with pink from blood seeping through from the gash on her forehead stood out in harsh white comparison to her pale hair and skin.
She just looked so broken that Santana couldn't bear it. Reaching over, she wrapped her fingers around Quinn's limp ones and stared at her as if she could will her eyes to open. After a few moments though she had to drop her gaze back down to the fingers she was toying with. If she just looked at her hand, she could almost pretend like they weren't in a hospital at all. At least, she could until the heart monitor beside her chirped again.. Damn thing.
Santana had fallen asleep with her head rested next to hers and Quinn's conjoined hands. The soft beeping of the machines rung though the room and echoed in the stagnant air. She breathed softly as she cradled the blonde's battered hand between hers close to her cheek.
For the first time in over a week, Quinn's fingers twitched feebly on their own as she struggled up through the muffling layers of medication they had only finally reduced that morning. The first thing she was aware of was her eyes being slightly gummed shut with sleep and hard to open. The second was that there was something filling her throat and she couldn't breathe or even swallow with the thing in her mouth holding her tongue down. She panicked, her hand tightening reflexively on the one gripping it as she tried to fumble for her face only to be impeded by the cast around her right arm.
At the flinch, Santana grumbled. "Sleeping," she said softly before she finally realized that the movement was coming from Quinn. "Q..." she whispered, as she brought her head up and looked at the blonde. "You're... you're awake!"
She whimpered past the ventilator tube, trying desperately to breathe around it and getting more and more distressed by not being able to move the way she wanted.
Santana felt the tension in the other girl and she stood to lean further on the bed next to Quinn. "Quinn... Listen to my voice okay? Don't be scared," she whispered. "You have a tube helping you breathe in your mouth, alright? You can't talk because of that. You following me?"
Hazel eyes rolled to meet brown, fear and panic evident in them. She clutched at Santana's hand, needing the tube out so she could breathe but unable to tell her.
"Just stay calm okay? I'll get the nurse," Santana said softly as she pressed the call button that was next to the bed. A portly, red-headed nurse stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. "She's awake. Can that damn tube come out now?"
"Hold on, miss," the nurse said as she looked at her chart. "We need to check the ventilator."
Quinn shook her head, squeezing Santana's hand as she fought against the panic choking her. She whimpered around the tube, gagging on it.
When the nurse realized that Quinn couldn't breathe and her heart rate had quickened, she carefully unhooked the breathing machine and opened the tube allowing Quinn to breathe naturally. "Take a few breaths , dear," she instructed as she called for the doctor to come and take the tube out. Santana watched nervously.
"Breathe normally, the doctor's coming to take it out okay?" she said softly as she rubbed the blonde's hand.
Quinn didn't like not being able to swallow or talk, but at least she could breathe. Her hand loosened it's death grip on Santana's, but didn't let go. She looked at her friend confusedly, trying to understand what was going on. The last thing she could remember was driving to Rachel's wedding, but this... this definitely wasn't part of any ceremony she was aware of.
"There you go, breathing is important, Q," Santana tried to joke, "Don't go suffocating."
Something was wrong. She didn't know what it was, but something was definitely wrong. She didn't know where she was or what was happening. She just kept looking at Santana, needing some explanation for why her arm was in a cast or there was a tube down her throat or - worst of all - why she couldn't feel below her stomach.
Santana leaned over and pushed a darkened peice of blonde hair off Quinn's face. "You are going to be okay." She said softly, "You need to work hard to get better okay? No stupid car is gonna take down the epicness that is Quinn Fabray."
Car? What car? She was shaking her head in confusion when the doctor came in.
"Ms Fabray, I need you to relax now," he murmured, checking her throat with his penlight before gloving up to remove the tube. "Can you do that for me?"
She nodded slowly, but her hand tightened on Santana's.
The darker girl stroked Quinn's hand and watched her before closing her eyes when the tube was taken out of her friend's mouth. She needed to not get faint at any of the medical procedures now that Quinn was awake. She needed to be strong from her friend. The nurse came over with a straw and a cup of water.
"You'll need some water, sweetie," she said, as she helped the straw into Quinn's mouth and let the blonde drink. "You've had that in your throat for a few days now. You'll have to rest your voice, okay? Are you in any pain? If you are you have a button in your hand that you just press and it won't hurt anymore."
"I don't," her voice cracked and she had to sip a little more water to clear the cottony dryness in her throat and mouth. "I don't understand... what... what happened?"
The realization washed over Santana. "Oh god," She muttered as she closed her eyes and took a breath. "You don't remember?"
"R-remember what?" she was confused and sore all over and couldn't feel her legs. "What's wrong with my legs? San... what happened?"
"You... you got in a car accident," she said softly as she ran her fingers carefully over the girl's hand. She was too scared to touch her anywhere else. "On the way to the town hall."
"What do you mean?" she whispered her voice hoarse and faint with disuse and soreness, searching her memories. "I was going to R-rachel's wedding. I... I was texting her I was on my way..."
"After that... you got hit. A truck hit you, they blew threw a stop sign and you didn't see them..."
"No," she shook her head with a disbelieving smile on her battered face. "T-that's not possible. I was going to Rachel's wedding. She said I could be in it. I'm... I'm going to Yale, Santana. Things are supposed to be good now..."
"I know." Santana whispered, "You're still going to Yale, Quinn... The only bad thing that happened was that you got hurt, okay? You saved the day actually," She said, hoping to lighten the mood. "You stopped the wedding."
"I did?" she swallowed harshly. "She'll never speak to me again after that," she whispered, finally looking around the room. "Where... where's my mom?"
"She was here all night," Santana lied, knowing Judy hadn't been in today. "I think she maybe went to get some rest. You know, food and praying." She said as she rubbed her hand. "Are you cold? I can get you a blanket or something."
She shook her head. "Why... why can't I feel my legs?" she finally asked in a tiny whisper, even for her damaged throat. "I can't feel them, San..."
Santana swallowed. "You... you hurt your back, Q," she whispered and forced herself to look at the girl. "You... you hurt a few nerves and they need to get better so you can feel again."
"I'm going to get better though right?" Quinn smiled but her eyes were scared. "I'm not going to be like Artie... right?"
"I'm gonna make sure of it," she said softly. "I'll help you okay? and even if your in a chair for awhile? We can make sure you get all like badass and shit."
She shook her head and relaxed back into the pillows. "Just when things started to go right," she whispered, turning her head to stare blankly at the door.
Santana sighed, she knew that Quinn had every right to up upset. "C-can I do anything? Do you want me to get you anything from home?"
"Like what? The Cheerios uniform I only just got back?" she asked bitterly. "Oh wait... they probably don't need a cripple."
"Stop, Quinn," Santana snapped. "I know you're pissed and you can be, just... please don't be like that. I can get you your bedspread or like your redic lamb toy."
"I don't want any of that," she muttered. "None of it matters anyway."
Santana sighed and sat back down in the chair she had occupied for the last few days. "Okay. If that's what you want."
"It is." After a few minutes of silence, she huffed out a sigh. "Why are you even here, Santana?"
"Because I've known you since you moved to Lima." She said plainly, "You're my friend."
"Sure," she laughed dryly, stopping when it dissolved into coughs that had her fumbling for her water cup. "It's been so obvious over the last few years. Look, if you're just here cause you feel guilty or whatever, just go away."
"Be careful! Jesus," she scolded as she reached to help the girl. "I don't feel guilty. I'm worried so I'm here. Sue me for caring."
"Caring? That's a laugh." She sighed, turning away from Santana again. "I don't need your pity."
Santana shook her head and sighed, "Quinn, do you really want me to leave you here, alone in this hospital room?"
"I have been alone for the last three years, so I really don't think a few hours or days or whatever in a hospital is going to make much of a difference, now is it."
After a few minutes of silence that followed that outburst, Santana stood up. She looked at Quinn and then scuffed her feet. "Visiting for non-family is going to be over soon and they're gonna kick me out so I guess you'll get what you want," she said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Don't bother." Quinn wouldn't look at her. She wanted to roll away and turn her back to the other girl, but her injuries and the wires and tubes wouldn't let her. It wasn't fair. She was supposed to go to Yale. Supposed to get out of this God forsaken town, not get hit by a truck! Hadn't she been through enough already?
"I'll see you tomorrow." Santana stated again before picking up her bag and heading out the door. She took several deep breaths before heading out to her car and driving straight to the Fabray residence. She knocked on the door and waited for Judy to open the house so Santana could grab a few things for Quinn and maybe force the woman to go see her daughter.
Judy peeked out around the curtain of the window beside the door but quickly let it fall back down to pretend like she wasn't there. She wandered back over to the sofa and dropped down on it, picking up her glass and taking another drink of the amber liquid before peering at it and deciding it needed a refill. The crystal clinked almost musically against the edge as she poured the last of the decanter into her glass, the ice long since melted.
Santana sighed and leaned up on the tips of her toes and grabbed the spare key from the top of the lamp. She carefully unlocked the door and slipped inside. "Mrs. Fabray?" Santana called out, "It's Santana Lopez."
"Oh, hello, Santana. Quinn's not here I'm afraid," Judy slurred out from the sofa. "If you came for a drink, you'll have to get more from the cabinet. I'm afraid I'm all out of brandy though."
"She's in the hospital, Mrs. Fabray... You know that," Santana said as she crossed her arms. "You should.. I don't know visit her. She's really hurt."
"She doesn't need me," Judy smiled vacantly, taking another sip of her drink. "She never has."
"Her back is broken!" Santana exclaimed, "She needs you more than ever! How the hell is she going to be able to come home if you can't take care of her!"
"Stop yelling," Judy frowned. "Russell used to yell. You should have a drink and calm down, Santana. Quinn will be fine. She always is."
"You're a horrible parent!" Santana exclaimed as she headed up to Quinn's bedroom. She closed the door behind her and sighed heavily. She carefully picked up the discarded clothing that Quinn had thrown on the floor in her haste to change for Rachel's wedding. She grabbed a zipper-up sweat shirt and a few pairs of sweatpants for Quinn followed by pulling the purple and pink bedspread off the girl's bed. She folded it all in a Cheerios duffle bag and sighed. She rummaged through the girl's drawers and picked out some socks before grabbing the stuffed lamb off the nightstand.
"What else?" Santana said to herself as she looked around. She saw a book next to the bed and smiled and then picked up the iPod and put them in the bag too.
Judy stumbled up to Quinn room and pushed the door open. "I think you should leave, young lady," she insisted, doing her best to look intimidating but actually drunk enough to look as drunk as she was. "You can't just come into my home and insult me and," she looked at Santana with a vague sneer, "steal my daughter's things."
"I'm taking Quinn some things to the hospital, since she's awake now," Santana said as she finished packing. "I think you should sober up and maybe go see your scared, injured child."
"You can't tell me what to do, young lady. Now leave before I call the authorities," she tried to glare over the rim of her glass.
"If you call the cops, I'll call DCFS," she challenged as she picked up the lamb in her arms followed by Beth's blanket from the hospital that she knew Quinn had been sleeping with. "Later, Mrs. Fabray." She pushed past the woman with the bag handing her her hands and headed down to her car.
"Don't you come back here!" Judy yelled after her, closing the door and locking it again before going back to her drink.
Santana headed back to the hospital with the bag. She slipped into Quinn's room and sighed when she saw that the blonde was sleeping.
"She got agitated and she had to sedate her." The nurse explained as she looked up from checking the stitches and bruising on Quinn's stomach. "She's going to take some time to heal."
"Yeah," Santana sighed. From everything else in her life too, she thought as she put the bag down and started unpacking. She pulled the socks out and carefully slipped them over the girl's cold feet before moving back to the bag. She pulled the blanket out and gingerly draped it over her small body before tucking it in the best she could. "She's not going to be easy," she said distractedly as she put the baby blanket under Quinn's chin cradling her head.
"And you know we have to actually have access to all of her injuries? Which putting a heavy blanket over her makes a bit difficult and you know she can't feel that, right?" the nurse asked with a raised brow as she gestured towards the socks.
The girl glared at her. "She's stuck in this God forsaken place. Why can't she have something to make her more comfortable?"
"She is stuck in this place, as you put it, to get better," the nurse responded mildly. "Making it harder to treat her makes it more difficult for that to happen. You really should have cleared it with the duty nurse before doing that."
The girl hastily pulled the blanket off and folded it up and shoved it in the bag but took out the book and iPod and the magazines she bought for Quinn. "I'm leaving the small blanket. Don't touch it."
"If I need to move it to tend to her dressings, I will touch it, young lady," she pointed out. "Her care is my priority, not her things. I'm sorry if that bothers you, but that's the way it is."
Quinn groaned in her sleep, trying to shift but unable to do much more than twitch her upper body. She mumbled something unintelligible, her good hand grasping for something that wasn't there. A tear trickled down from beneath one closed eye.
"Poor girl's pain dose must be wearing off," the nurse muttered, glancing at the clock.
Santana leaned over and wiped Quinn's tear, "She's strong."
"Strong or not, I wouldn't want to be going through what she is," the nurse murmured, toggling for a fresh dose of morphine so Quinn could rest. "Lord knows it hurts now, but the real pain will start when therapy does. Look, you're not supposed to be in here, but keep quiet and I'll let you stay with her for a bit. Alright?"
"Thanks," Santana whispered, as she sat back down and took Quinn's hand again. "You're gonna be okay, Quinn. I promise."
Quinn's hand tightened on Santana's even in her sleep and she seemed to relax a bit.
Santana toted the extra bag with all the school work that Quinn's been missing since her accident. She also toted a card signed by the glee club into the blondes hospital room. She heard the soft murmur of a daytime talk show through the door before she walked in the door. She knocked softly, "Q?"
"Yeah?" she called, staring blankly at the idiotic programming that seemed to be all the tv picked up. "Who is," she trailed off as she turned her head to see Santana. "Oh. It's you. Back to watch the look at the stupid teenager who texted while driving and got hit by damn truck show? I feel like a walking - well, obviously not walking - PSA."
"Uh..." Santana said as she thumped her backpack down. "No?"
She raised a brow, "Then why are you here so much? I'm sure your girlfriend is missing you. Where is she anyway? I thought you two were attached at the hip after last summer."
The darker girl fiddled with her backpack and turned away from Quinn. "She's been busy," Santana stated, "We haven't really been seeing each other outside of school. I've been busy working on college crap and she's doing her thing."
"Oh." She blinked, not seeming very interested. "I guess she's not graduating after all. Surprised they let her keep the class president spot... but it is McKinley."
"That's because it's not public knowledge yet." Santana sighed. She and Brittany had found out a few weeks ago that the tall blonde wouldn't be graduating. Santana grabbed her textbook and notebook and sat down next to the bed. "How you feeling today?"
"That's stupid. Anyone who has a class with her knows she's not passing," Quinn huffed, and shook her head, ignoring the question.
"Yeah..." Santana sighed, "I brought some of your homework so we could work on it..."
"Oh yes. Because I have any chance of graduating after this," she snorted, turning her attention back to the tv.
"Whatever," The darker girl rolled her eyes, "You and I are at the top of the class. All the substantial shit's done for the year now it's just dumb ass reading and busy work. You are graduating so don't even pull that shit."
"Whatever," she groused, not feeling like pretending to be doing work she couldn't even do with her arm in a cast.
"How about I just read you the questions and you answer them?" Santana offered, "I can write them down."
"Oh goodie," she turned her head to glare at Santana. "Just what I wanted! To be dependent on you because I can't even wipe my own damn ass right now. It's my assignment, Santana. I can do it on my own."
"Wow..." Santana said, closing the book and putting it down. "Here I thought I was just being a good friend. Like you were when I broke my left arm freshman year and couldn't write so you helped me out."
"This isn't freshman year and last I checked, we weren't friends." Quinn wanted to cross her arms over her chest and glare menacingly, but that was hard to do with raccoon eyes from her broken nose and a broken arm. "Things change, Santana. Didn't you get the memo?"
"That you reverted back into a bitch?" Santana countered, "I guess not, whatevs... Your prob not mine."
"Why are you being so damn nice anyway?" She looked disgusted as she could. "Did you pay the driver of the truck to run me over and are just disappointed he didn't do the job right or something? Not as much fun to tear me down when I'm a cripple, huh?"
"Nah, I'm not being nice. You're just being a bitch and go for it. I'm not going anywhere so take your shit out on me. I've heard worse from Becky these days."
"Oh boo hoo," she huffed. "I'm so sorry Sue's protege has been hurting your poor little feelings. Why not go bother her instead and leave me alone?"
"I get to be their bitch later for practice," she shrugged. "Now, I'm yours," she said before turning back to her book and starting reading through her assignment.
"Ever think maybe I don't want a bitch?" Quinn growled. "Maybe I'd rather be alone? You don't see all those other little idiots from Glee tromping in here after all, do you?" Her voice lowered to a barely audible whisper as she turned away from Santana to glare at the wall, "They were all over Kurt's dad even after Kurt told us to leave him alone but can't even freaking visit me."
"They're worried that they'll overwhelm you. They're working on Nationals... and they all suck," she sighed. "Berry feels really bad. She and Finnept are falling apart... It's just a hot mess."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't care about any of them. It's not like I'll be at Nationals anyway, so... whatever. Good luck not being disqualified again this year."
"Yeah..." she sighed, "You're gonna be there. We can keep you in a chair if need be but you should be there... you worked too hard."
"Yeah," she shook her head, "not happening. I don't need to be the poster child for why people shouldn't text and drive tagging along to Nationals as some sort of pity nod."
"It's Glee... were all pathetic poster children for something." Santana said, "Fat, homeless, asian, gay, jew-midget or the caveman that lived."
"And you've already got one wheelchair. I'm not balancing the scales," she scoffed, refusing to meet her eyes. "Or would you suggest I let Finn lead the club in a rousing set of songs designed to make me feel even worse about myself while actively mocking their meaning?" she asked mock brightly.
"I've been at the receiving end of a very special glee lesson," Santana reminded her, "I wouldn't let them make a fool out of you, too."
"Like you had so much say in anything they do," Quinn laughed unamusedly. "You do realize most of them hate you, right?"
"Why thank you Quinn for pointing that out," she said looking up from her book.
Quinn smiled, but it wasn't nice or friendly. "You're welcome. Enjoy your little club, Santana, but I'm done with it."
"Okay." she said as she continued reading.
"Ugh," she slapped at the bed with her good hand. "I hate this! Why are you even here still?!"
"Because," she said, "I want to keep you company."
"Why?"
"We're friends and you'd do it for me."
"You sure about that?" she asked with a raised brow. "Maybe I'd just do what the rest of those little idiots are doing and pretend like you don't even exist."
"Well... That's up to you. I'm doing what I want to do. Fuck everyone else," Santana replied, not loving that Quinn was lashing out and picking at her insecurities.
"Well, you'd certainly know about that," she muttered, turning her attention back to the wall. "Figures you'd decide to inflict yourself on me when I can't even leave the room. You're worse than Berry sometimes, you know."
The girl flinched, "You really want me to bounce?"
"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying for the last two damn weeks, Lopez?!" Quinn growled. "I don't need your fucking pity company! I don't need your help! And I don't need you! So go back to your stupid club and sing your stupid songs and leave me alone!"
"Fine." Santana pulled out the books and homework for Quinn and the detailed explanation of the assignments she wrote up. She pulled her bag over her shoulder, "Check ya later, gimp," Santana said as she headed to the door trying not to feel hurt by Quinn being so mean towards her friendship.
"Just stay away," she barked at her back. "I'm freaking sick of seeing your face all the damn time."
The head of dark hair dropped as she heard the words, she just continued out the door and to her car. She slid in the driver's seat and looked through her phone. It was nearly five, which meant her Abuela would be at her house for dinner. Santana had been uninvited to her family meals with her grandmother since she came out, she had hoped to spend the evening with Quinn like the week before but that ended up falling apart.
She quickly punched out a text to her girlfriend hoping for her to be free. Britt? Can I come over?
Brittany's text came back quickly. Everything ok w/Q? Im at Arties
Santana sighed and hastily wiped at her eyes, preventing the tears from falling. Shes tired. Want 2 get our cuddle on?
That sounds super nice but Arties helping me w/homework. Maybe later?
I can do ur homework...
Ty but Arties super smart too &Im alredy here :)
Britt.... I'll do it naked?
Why? Its homework. :?
NVM... i'll ttyl
Ok ttyl Sanny <3 u :)
I love you too
Upstairs in her room, Quinn tried to curl in on herself only to be frustrated by her inability to move freely with her legs basically dead and her right arm in a heavy cast. Sniffling, she reached for her lamb and buried her face in its soft wooly coat. It wasn't long before her resolve crashed around her and hot tears started soaking into its wool.
It wasn't fair.
Santana could walk out. She could go anywhere she wanted. She actually could go see those idiots in Glee and sing and dance with them. Even if they did hate her, at least they let her be there. Be part of the group.
But they wouldn't even see her. Not even one of them. Just Santana. The girl everyone almost deliberately excluded. Of course that's who'd get sent. Nevermind that they all crowded into Burt Hummel's room after his heart attack. Or how they'd gone to visit Blaine after the rock salt slushie...
But her... Quinn Fabray. She was too much of a bitch. Too crazy. Too worthless...
Her thin body shook with sobs that she desperately swallowed down into silence as she clutched the lamb to her face to hide her tears as best she could from anyone walking by who'd happen to look in. She might be broken, but she was still a Fabray. No one would see her cry if she could help it.
Once Santana gathered her emotions and tried to not fixate on the fact Brittany was hanging out with Artie for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few weeks, she got out of her car and headed back into the hospital. She bought herself a coffee and slid down the wall next to Quinn's door and sipped at the hot drink.
About fifteen minutes later the evening nurse came by and noticed the girl on the ground and furrowed her brow. She was used to seeing her in her patient's room, she shrugged and headed into Quinn's room to check her wounds. "How are you today, sweetie?" She smiled, noticing that the blonde was trying to hide tears. "No need to be wary of crying. I can give you more pain medication to help you with the pain alright?"
"I'm not crying," she growled defensively, wiping at her eyes, "and I don't want any more medications. I'm sick of feeling so fuzzy all the time."
"You will be in quite a lot of pain," she remarked as she moved to check Quinn's legs and stomach.
"It's nothing I can't handle," she insisted. "I'm sure I've been in worse than I am now."
"You can talk to your doctor about it tomorrow during your fitting for the back brace," she remarked before marking her findings on the chart and changing Quinn's IV and catheter bag. "Your little grumpy friend is full of personality today..." she said, trying to make conversation as she changed the linen under Quinn's back carefully.
"I don't have any friends," she grumbled, biting her lip as an accidental jostle sent a jolt of pain through her. "She's just comes 'cause she pities me."
"I doubt that. She's been here since her father saw you in the emergency room," the nurse commented. "She's been reading to you and talking to you while you've been asleep and recovering. If that's not a friend, I don't know what is."
"Oh, because that's not creepy at all," she sneered. "She feels guilty or something and is just here cause unlike the other people who were supposed to be our friends, she's actively hated by the group. As long as I'm another cripple, she can look down on me and feel better about herself."
"You have some serious hostility..." The nurse said, "Dr. Lopez's daughter is not the easiest kid but she means well when she wants. She's been a pain in the ass on my ward for years and I've never seen her actually care about someone in here."
"Great. You be her friend and maybe she'll finally leave me the hell alone."
"Fine, I'm just here to make sure you don't get infections," she stated before heading out and leaving the door open.
"Good!" Quinn called after her, sighing in frustration when she couldn't lay on her side like she preferred. "I don't need anyone..."
Santana heard Quinn and sighed, her day couldn't get worse and she had nothing else to do but pathetically sit outside the door of someone else who hates her.
Inside the room, Quinn couldn't stop the first sniffle as she reached for her lamb, only to have it tumble off the bed out of reach. She hated feeling so weak and useless, her hand slamming onto the bed in frustration when she realized she couldn't reach it. It was gone, just like everything else. Just out of reach, she stared at it and couldn't stop the tears trickling down her cheeks or the broken gasp of a sob that escaped before she could pull it in.
"No one wants me anyway," she whispered, rubbing at her eyes and trying to stop crying.
Santana heard the whack of something on the bed and peeked her head around the frame. She saw the lamb fall and sighed, slipping in the room to pick it up and put it back on the bed. "I'm not here..."
"Bullshit. My legs don't work not my eyes," she gasped, doing her best to wipe the tears away. "I thought I told you to go away."
"I had nowhere else to go..." Santana said honestly, her fingers toying with the lamb's ears.
Quinn snorted, "Oh, that's great. So you're just here cause you have nowhere else to go. Glad to know how right I was about you. Why not just go fuck your girlfriend?"
"Because she's busy..." Santana said, not wanting to arm Quinn with any more insults. "I planned my night around being here and you kicking me away didn't really fit into my plan."
She rubbed at her cheeks, hating being caught crying not once but twice. "So I'm the distraction when your girlfriend is busy." She snorted, trying to hide her embarrassment in getting caught in lashing out, "I feel so much better now! You're not here out of pity. You're here out of boredom."
"No, I'm here because I wanted to be. You kicked me out so I tried to see if someone else actually wanted me around." she spat, "Turns out, I'm not so I'm just gonna stay here where I planned to spend my night."
Quinn sneered. "So I'm the throwback you turn to when no one wants you. Great. Maybe we should start a freaking club."
"I want to be here. I planned on being here so just shut up and let me stay."
"Do whatever you want," she snapped, turning her head to face the opposite wall again. "It's not like I can make you do anything trapped in this freaking bed anyway."
"Truth," Santana crossed her arms and plopped down. She glared at her phone, wishing for once her girlfriend would say she loved her. That someone might actually want her around.
After several long minutes of oppressive silence, Quinn spoke, idly playing with the button for her morphine drip. "Sometimes," she spoke softly, as if she was just talking to herself, "I wonder if I can press this enough that I won't feel anything anymore. Then I realize it's probably monitored or regulated or something and it wouldn't work anyways..."
"It only doses you once ever like four hours or something," Santana replied, "but, that shit they give you is pretty good. I doubt you could feel it hurting if it wasn't so wrapped up in your mind."
"Not what I was talking about and who asked you anyway?" she snapped. "It's not like anyone'd miss me if I'd died in that stupid crash anyway. I should have just been one of those creepy memorial pages in the yearbook."
"I'd miss you," Santana admitted softly. "You're too good for a memorial page, they would have had to get a tree or a new gym and name it after you."
Quinn rolled her eyes, "Like that's so much better. Instead I get to be a rolling memorial. Yay. And why would you miss me? You've got a blonde to distract yourself with. Give it a couple years and you probably won't even remember me."
"I doubt that," she replied. "You are my only actual friend... or I think's my friend."
"Why would you want me as a friend? I'm a bitch and a cheater and I lie... there's nothing good about me. Everything that's happened to me I deserve. All of it."
"I'm a slut, I made an enemy out of everyone and I got dropped from most popular girl in school to a joke in a 30 second comercial." She retorted, "I deserve everything I got, and I disagree. You are the strongest person I know. You took everything that came at you with grace."
"Um, I lied and schemed my way into not one but two houses after I got disowned. I also orchestrated the torture and humiliation of my biggest rival for someone I didn't even want not to mention my biggest supporter - though I suppose she finally figured out I'm not worth it." Quinn shook her head, "I've yoyo'd between popular and bottom of the barrel for the last two years, gave my baby - my one perfect thing that I didn't screw up - up to a crazy bitch who abandoned her own daughter, I actually moved back in with my drunk mom and eventually ended up being yelled at by Will freaking Schuester about how selfish and immature I am. Yeah. Grace."
"I would have cut his balls off," Santana said. "He does that to me like once a month." She looked at Quinn, "Look, this really fucking blows but like everything else... you'll get through it."
"Or I won't and I can finally stop getting shit on by the world because I won't be here to catch it."
"Bitch, if you even try to pull a Karofsky," Santana warned looking seriously at her. "You made me sit on the phone with you after my business got vomited all over Ohio... you asked me not to touch the razorblade.. I'm doing the same to you."
"Yeah, well unlike me, you have a future," Quinn ground out bitterly. "You're not stuck in a damn bed for God only knows how long unable to freaking move..."
"You're getting a back brace tomorrow! And starting physical therapy."
"And how does any of that keep the cheer scholarship Sue got me that I need to afford Yale?!" she growled. "I'm not getting out of this town, Santana! I'm going to me a wheelchair bound Lima Loser at best for the rest of my life!"
"Yale doesn't even have a good cheer team. The Cheerios who got recruited went to University of Miami! Sue got you that grant because you were a cheerleader not to be one. You don't have to cheer at Yale."
"Don't try to make me feel better," she muttered, palming at her face. "There's no way I can go to Yale in a wheelchair anyway."
"Why the fuck not? If you still need one by then?" she asked. "Where does it say that you can't roll into the stuffy halls of the Ivy League on wheels?"
"No, you don't get it. I can't. Me, Santana. I'm not Artie. I'm not like him. That's not my life."
"Well... suck it up for a few weeks while you get your legs back on right," she stated. "No one is saying this shit's forever."
"And what if it is?" she asked softly, looking down at her hands, unable to meet Santana's eyes. "What if I never walk, never dance again? I don't want to live like that..."
"You learn that that's what God gave you, you deal with it and move on." Santana sighed, "Look, it's gonna be hard. No matter what, but you shouldn't give up on fighting. Not now, not until you try."
"God," she shook her head, reaching up to yank the thin gold chain off her neck and throw it across the room. "I'm just a plaything if he exists. By now, I really doubt it."
Santana picked up the chain. "I know... but, it's the only thing I know," she swallowed. "Just... I think maybe you should rest. It's... almost time for Nurse Ratchet to kick me out and I want to make sure you fall asleep first."
For the first time since she'd demanded Santana to leave, she felt a twinge of panic at the idea of her actually leaving. She shook her head. "Don't go," she bit her lip anxiously, "please? I know I'm a self-obsessed bitch right now but... please don't leave me alone tonight?"
The girl nodded slowly and pulled her chair over. She sat down and tucked Beth's blanket on Quinn's shoulder to hold her resting head. "Okay," Santana replied, "I'll stay."
"I'll ask for a cot for you," she offered. "I know they have them cause I used to be asked if my mom would need one... but she never came so," she trailed off with a shrug. "It'll be more comfortable than that chair."
"I'll be cool for now," she said. "Want to watch bad TV until they come?"
"It's all bad," Quinn whispered with a tiny hint of a smile, handing her the remote, "I think this thing gets like three stations." After a little while, she leaned her head over to rest a greenish-yellow cheek on Santana's head, "Thanks for staying..."
"I'll bring my laptop tomorrow so we can watch a movie, okay?" she offered softly.
Quinn nodded, "That sounds good. I'll... I'll try to be less of an angsty bitch tomorrow."
"It's never stopped you before," Santana teased before settling onto a re-run of Friends.
She chuckled with a vague hint of humor, "I'll keep that in mind."
Settling down, the two girls watched tv together until the evening nurse came by to check on Quinn and went to get a cot for Santana at Quinn's request with a knowing smirk.