Hello everyone! I wrote this one-shot in the middle of writing "The One That Got Away". Though it is a one-shot, I have been urged by others on Tumblr to write an epilogue for it. So we'll see!
Anyway, I will be writing the 8th chapter to "The One That Got Away" after posting this. Hopefully I'll get to update that fic tonight as well.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: OH GOOD GOD LOLOL! Being the dork that I am, I accidentally posted the file with the epilogue (which is still a work in progress). So I'm sorry Ann and Dogluvertoo for my mistake. I hope that didn't confuse you :S The problem is fixed now lol. Thank you for letting me know!
It was as if it were only yesterday that Sam Evans asked for Quinn Fabray's hand in marriage. The happiness that they both felt at the thought of being together for as long as they both lived. They went through high school, with all the drama that came with it, and survived. They were separated for a while when Quinn attended an out-of-state college. He would write her letters, go on the internet to chat with her and even surprise her with random visit at times. The moment he knelt down and proposed to her when she returned from college, she knew that her life was just beginning. And, yet, there was Sam sitting beside a hospital bed, looking at what is left of his wife.
Quinn had become pale and frail in a matter of a month's time. Chemotherapy does that to you, they said to the both of them. Nevertheless, Sam made sure that she lived the rest of her remaining years, months, weeks and even days as normally as he could make it. They bought a house relatively close to their friends and family. One with a picket fence, lush green grass, a stunning flower bed and two rocking chairs on the front porch. They once imagined their future children playing in the front yard while they sat on those chairs. Unfortunately, all of their hopes and dreams for the future were put on a permanent hold. All they wanted were more tomorrows together.
Surprisingly enough, she managed to fight through the pain. Quinn rarely complained of any pain and wore that bright smile of her's every single day, while Sam would leave their bedroom at times to cry out his frustrations. The world is not fair, he would tell himself out of anger, God is not fair. But every morning, as he sees Quinn waking up for another day, he thanks that same God for giving them one more day.
"Mrs. Willems from across the street told me to give this to you," he told his wife with a forced smile on his face. He handed over a plastic container with food inside, his hand shaking for some unknown reason.
"W-What is it?" she asked with curiosity as she opened the lid with as much as strength as she could muster. It took all of Sam's might to stop himself from intruding. He knew that she was physically weak but, knowing Quinn, she will not let him. Out of all the women in the world, she was the strongest one he knew – body and mind. As she successfully opened the lid, a huge smile appeared on her face. "It's porridge," she said with joy, "How did she know that I like porridge?"
"I don't know," Sam said with a shrug, "Guess she can read your mind. I mean, she usually looks out her window whenever we're outside on our porch. Maybe she was reading your mind from afar." She looked at him with a stern look on her face, while placing the container on the table beside her bed. Then a burst of laughter escaped her mouth uncontrollably. "H-How are you feeling today?" he asked her, changing the topic.
"I'm okay."
"Just okay?"
"Okay as I'll ever get, Sam."
"Right."
Feeling the tears creeping in, Sam instinctively looks away from Quinn. Repeatedly telling himself to stop. Just then, he felt her hand on his. He sat still, head looking down, holding back his tears. "H-How are you though? Are you okay?" she asked him with her voice full of concern. He refrained from replying to her question. Afraid that he might lose it then and there. "Sam... Sooner or later, I'm going to die."
"Stop," he finally tells her, his tears rolling down his face, "Don't say that." She holds on to his hand as tightly as she could. "I can't lose you. I don't want to."
For the first time since her illness had crept into their lives, Quinn was in tears. "I'm afraid too, you know."
"I know you are."
"Do you want to know why I'm so afraid?"
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to have a longer life. So that we could be together. Grow old together."
"We could still have that."
Her heart ached for the man sitting beside her. His optimism was still in tact even though the inevitable was coming closer than they ever expected. "Listen to me," she tells him firmly, "I know it's hard, but, you need to hear me out. I don't have much time and -"
"No, it's not -"
"Let me finish. Please. When I die... you will mourn. And when you do, quickly find yourself and fight the sadness away. I want you to be happy, Sam. Even if it means that I'm not with you. If being happy means... getting married again, I won't be upset. I'll actually be very proud of you."
"Quinn..." he said as his words were being pulled apart by his tears, "I can't."
"You have to."
He stood from his seat at that moment. Walked around the bed and laid beside her. Tears falling from the both of them. Then there was silence, followed swiftly by the sound of a flatline. She was gone.
