Her body feels heavy.
Moments passed and she finds herself wondering where she is, what time is it now and why is she here, in the dark. Alone.
Wasn't she with Sam? They were walking together, weren't they? On the sidewalk, hand in hand and basking in warmth despite the cold autumn wind after Sam told another 'funny' story to Quinn, who was too used to his lame jokes that she started laughing instead of rolling her eyes as normal people would.
There was a bright light.
Yeah, now she remembers.
There was a bright light and Sam shouted—.
She opens her eyes, confused.
Everything is blurry and her memories are hazy at the same time. She tries to speak, to call out someone, anyone, but her throat feels dry and useless.
Panic seizes her for a moment, but then a seemingly familiar voice drifts in from her side.
"Quinn...? Quinn! Oh God, you're awake...!"
She blinks repeatedly until her vision clears up and she can finally see... but the view stuns her. She thought she heard her sister. But Francesca Fabray is a young woman in her early thirties, while this woman in front of her...
As if sensing her confusion, she leans closer and strokes the side of her face. "Quinn..." She cries, an unmistakable mix of relief and joy visible on her face. "Quinn, it's me. Frannie."
...But how is that possible? The lady in front of her must be around fifty years old. It doesn't make sense.
Of course it's Frannie's voice coming out of the old lady's mouth. Now she can see the features of her older sister, now with lines and wrinkles that weren't there. How did Frannie age so much all of a sudden?
Unconsciously, she tries to lift her hand towards 'Frannie' and is surprised when she finds that it hurts to move. But her curiosity gets the best of her and she wills the pain to go to the back of her mind as she reaches for her.
Eh?
Her hand...
Her hand is wrinkled.
Realization washes over her and she senses dread lurking around the corner. There can only be one explanation for this. Time had passed. A lot of time.
"You were in an accident, remember?" Frannie, not 'Frannie', reminds her carefully. "You've been in a comma for more than twenty years, Quinn."
Accident. It was an accident. A car was driving too fast. She couldn't warn Sam soon enough— Sam. Where is he?
WHERE IS SAM?
"Sshh... sshh... the doctor said you won't be able to speak yet when you wake up... I know, you're asking about... about Sam, right?" She grows somber as she takes a deep breath. "Listen, Quinn... Sam..."
She shifts her gaze past her, towards the bed next to her and she turns her head with difficulty.
The bed is empty.
"Sam passed away two days ago."
The words sink to her, sinking her, like a huge wave drowning her until she can't breathe and Frannie's voice sounds distant, far above the surface...
"Sam passed away two days ago."
But she's still alive, still breathing, still feeling Frannie's consoling hold on her hand. She's not drowning, she's not dead.
Sam is.
It wasn't until Frannie wipes her tears with her other hand that she realizes that she has been crying. She wants to scream but her broken state doesn't allow her. Frannie is holding her now, knowing how much pain her sister is in.
She cries for a very long time and Frannie lets her.
When her tears stop flowing outside and continue on the inside, Frannie speaks again in an even softer tone than before, as if afraid her sister would shatter and disappear.
"He visited you every day, you know. Not a single day he missed out," she smiles. "He would tell you stories about what happened that day, about how you would react if you were there, about how much he wished you can experience the day with him. Sometimes he went silent and stared at you while holding your hand. Sometimes I saw him cry. But he never gives up on you."
"He would bring the books you liked and read them to you. Other times he brought flowers because he knew you hated them. He said, who knows, maybe you would wake up and scold him for that."
Sam would do that. Sam knew her so well that he knew when to be sweet and when to make her even angrier... just to get Quinn to talk to him again.
"He never got married and his parents had passed away for a while. There's nothing he wants other than staying by your side," Frannie continues, knowing very well that her sister is listening although she doesn't take her eyes off the empty bed. "So when he fell sick around a year ago, he insisted to be placed next to you. He never left until the very last day of his life."
"He left a letter," her sister says and she slowly turns her head back to her. She's holding a piece of folded paper in her hands. "Do you want me to read it for you or...?"
Her raised hand is enough answer and she hands it over immediately after unfolding it so it's easier for her. The writing is unmistakably Sam's, still ridiculously neat although with less smoothness bound to dwindle with age. There are no scratches, telling her that Sam knew exactly what he wanted to say...
What he would never say to her in person because now he's gone.
Dear Quinn,
If you read this, that means I miss my chance to meet you again. I'm very sorry that I have to leave first, but know that it's not what I wish for. I begged God every day to give me more time, because I knew you would wake up. But maybe He thinks it's better for us to meet in heaven, later. In a way, it's probably better, so you don't have to see me so weak and old. I always have to look my best in front of you, you know that, right?
I just want to say how much I miss you. Even though you were there, you weren't talking to me. I miss your voice, your bright eyes, your smile. The days are dull without you, Quinn. Our apartment is too big, too empty, so I'm sorry to say that I sold it many years ago. I decided I would deal with your wrath later when you wake up. You can yell at me now, I would listen from above, I promise.
Hey, Quinn, don't cry, okay? We will meet again. I will kiss you lots and lots then, and you better kiss me back.
I always love you.
She can't breathe. She really can't breathe. Grief, regret and pain suffocate her and she really can't breathe.
Frannie is screaming her name and calling the doctor.
But even though Sam had told her not to cry, she's crying so hard and this time she wants to drown because she needs to see Sam, she has to see him now, not later. She doesn't want to live, she doesn't want to be saved.
She needs to—.
She has too—.
...Q.
Quinn...!
"QUINN!"
At first it feels like a rewind.
She's back in the disoriented state, blurred vision and hazy senses. Her body is heavy and it hurts worse everywhere. But this time it feels like she has just woken up from a very long dream...
There's a palm resting on her cheek.
Then her sight clears up just when the palm is replaced by a gentle, familiar pair of lips.
There's no mistaking it.
Her eyes open widely as he takes in the person hovering above her.
"You're awake! Quinn... Q... Thank God! I'm so— You're awake—."
Sam.
Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam.
Again her throat is dry, but she forces himself and she manages to call out hoarsely. "Sam..."
"Yes, yes, I'm here." Sam holds her hand and rains her face with kisses, comforting not only Quinn but also himself. "You're awake, Quinn. You're alright..." He chants, grateful and blessed.
"Sam..."
"Yes, Q?"
"Sam..."
Sam stares at her questioningly, worry causes him to furrow his brows when he sees that Quinn starts to cry again before she grips Sam's hand as if her life depends on it.
"Hey... What's wrong?" Sam asks softly. "Why are you crying?"
She stares at Sam for a while and then tries to sit up. Sam panics and tells her to stop, but she ignores the pain, the real pain, and finally gets to sit without suffering too much as Sam raises the head of the bed and pleads for her to lean back on it.
Now she can feel really awake. This... this is real... right?
"Is this a dream?"
Sam blinks and shakes his head. "Of course not. This is real. You're back with us— with me."
"...You're alive."
Sam chuckles bitterly, "What are you saying? You were the one who hasn't been conscious for four days since the accident and—."
"But I just dreamed that you died," she whispers and Sam is at loss for words. "You left me alone."
"I'm sorry," Sam kisses her again. "I'm so sorry, okay?"
"How could you...?" She sobs and whimpers. "How could you leave me like that?"
"I... would never..."
"You left...!"
"Ssh," Sam wraps her in an embrace and his heart breaks when he notices the uncontrollable trembling and harsh breath. Seeing Quinn acting so out of character, so desperate, makes him miserable in turn. It's his fault, despite the fact that the whole thing happened in Quinn's dream. "It wasn't real, alright? It was just a dream. I would never do that to you, you know that. I would never make you cry..."
It takes a while until Quinn's body stops trembling. She has calmed down considerably, but only because Sam tirelessly strokes her back and whispers sweet nothings to her ear while delivering kisses now and then.
"...Sam..."
"Yes?"
"You're not allowed to die before me, okay?"
"Okay."
"Promise?" Desperation still laces her voice and again Sam's heart breaks.
"Promise."
He seals the vow with another kiss.
Quinn clings to him and doesn't let go even in her sleep. Not that he's planning to go anywhere.
Hello, there! I have this story ready for a while and figure I can post this now. Just a tiny one-shot and I'm sorry if it's a bit depressing :\ Well, read away and leave some reviews. Tell me what do you think of this one. Whether you like it or hate it. I'll meet you with another update real soon. See ya! :)