A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews last chapter, they made my week! I've always thought that the show kind of downplayed the consequences of Quinn's crash, so I'm hoping to explore a lot of that here. I couldn't find many fanfics where she didn't recover fully, so I decided to try to write one myself. Quinn may be in a wheelchair, but that doesn't mean she can't have a fulfilling and romantic life :D

I did a little bit of research, but I don't know a ton about wheelchairs or spinal cord injuries so please feel free to correct me if I'm portraying anything inaccurately (it doesn't really come up in this chapter, but it will in the future).

This isn't a terribly long update, but I promise there will be more Faberry next chapter (yay!)

Any type of constructive criticism is welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own glee

Chapter 2 – I can't do this

Quinn watched helplessly as Rachel Berry's limp body fell to the stage with an audible thump. The rest of her production crew were still glued to their seats, confused looks on their faces. Coming to her senses, Quinn rolled over to where they were sitting.

"Don't just sit there, you idiots!" She practically hissed. "Go help her!"

They stared, surprised at this show of anger. This was a side of Quinn Fabray they had never seen before. Ever since Quinn had started hanging out with the theatre group in her first year of university, she had been nothing but kind, though sometimes a little distant. Any anger she felt was normally conveyed through a stern look, not this type of angry outburst.

When she first came to NYU, Quinn had been fairly reclusive, keeping to herself in her residence single room and avoiding other students in the building. Social interactions had been limited to nods and smiles in the hallway, or saying hello while brushing her teeth in the bathroom.

That had all changed one day near the end of her second month in New York.

An urgent knock on her door momentarily brought Quinn out of a doze. She had fallen asleep reading her chemistry textbook, again. The knock came again, louder and more insistent this time. Strange, Quinn didn't really know anyone on campus – she considered it a good day if she could remember the names of her next door neighbours. Still, it would be rude not to answer. Quinn opened the door to find a skinny boy her own age with a stressed look on his face.

"Can I come in?" He looked down the hall, where the stairway door was starting to open. "Shit, there's no time – please?" His big, puppy dog brown eyes pleaded desperately for her help.

Quinn barely had time to let out a hesitant, wide eyed nod before he was bolting past her, diving under her bed. Mere seconds later, yet another boy was at her door, trying to peer into the room.

"Can I help you?" Quinn asked dryly, confused yet strangely amused by the series of events unfolding before her.

"Uh yah. Did another guy come by here just now? I mean, is he hiding somewhere around here?" He scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.

Quinn gave him her best 'What the hell are you on?' look, one eyebrow slightly raised above the other. For some reason, she had a huge urge to help out the strange boy with the courage to barge in and dive under her bed.

"No…" She kept the look on, her jaw creaking as she tried her best not to break into a smile and give it all away.

"Oh." The boy looked disappointed. "Well, thanks for your help anyways." He gave her a half-hearted smile before wandering down the hallway.

Quinn closed the door, helplessly chuckling as she turned around to find her fugitive crawling out from underneath her bed. He was covered in dust, but grinning hapily.

"Thanks for helping a desperate guy out. It's Quinn right? I'm Chris." He struck out his hand.

She shook it somewhat warily. "So, what was that all about? If it's safe to ask that is." She teased gently.

He laughed "It's just this game we're playing in res. It's kind of like a giant game of tag, and that guy has my name – I've been avoiding him for days. He can only catch me if no one else hears though – maybe you can help keep me safe?"

"Deal."

She had quickly become good friends with Chris, and eventually many of the other theatre and drama students in her residence. With their encouragement, she had become involved in the production and direction of various productions put on by different groups from the university.

Although Quinn considered these people some of her best friends, they had never seen her angry like this before. Fear of this new, scarier Quinn quickly overcame any remaining shock, as they jumped up and ran towards the stage. Satisfied that her directions were being followed, Quinn went about the painful process of making her way there herself.

This was one of those situations where being in a wheelchair was just plain inconvenient. To get to the stage, Quinn had to go to a far corner of the room and get out a special key that allowed her to use an elevator to get up the equivalent of half a storey. By the time she made her way to the center of the stage where Rachel had collapsed, her friends had already formed a small circle around the brunette. Quinn nudged several of them aside so she could get a better look.

Rachel Berry had changed a great deal from the unpopular young woman Quinn remembered from high school. Along with more fashionable clothes, her eyes and face were covered in much more makeup than she had ever used in high school, giving her a much more mature look. Somehow, Quinn had imagined that the way Rachel looked would never change, that she would continue wearing reindeer sweaters and knee high tights her whole life.

Chris took Rachel's head into his lap, searching for any signs of injury. "I think she's fine Quinn. I didn't see her hit anything when she fell."

"Did she come with anyone?" Quinn's tone was terse, her eyes still focused on Rachel.

"Uh I think so," her friend and assistant for this production Brandon hurriedly flipped through the audition signup sheet he had on his clipboard. "Ah yes, she did. Should I get him? Or maybe we should just call an ambulance? I know Chris thinks she's okay, but this whole situation makes me really nervous…" He trailed off as Rachel started to stir. "Nevermind."

Everyone looked at Quinn for direction in what to do next. Outwardly, she was still staring at the young actress lying at the floor, like she was in some sort of strange trance. Inside, Quinn was panicking. This girl represented a part of her life that she had successfully avoided for the past three years. She wasn't about to stop now. She couldn't stop now.

She looked over at Chris, eyes pleading "I can't do this. Brandon, go find the boy she came with, make sure he takes care of her. Chris, you're in charge overseeing the rest of the auditions for today. I just, I can't do this right now."

"Quinn?" Rachel was becoming more aware of her surroundings now, her eyes starting to flutter open as she tried to focus on the image of Quinn in her wheelchair.

"Goodbye Rachel." Quinn's tone was cold as she quickly turned her chair and started to leave.

"Quinn, wait! What do you mean you can't do this? Are you okay?" Chris tried asking as she made her way off the stage, but Quinn was determined not to look back. She had to get out of here.

Quinn could feel the eyes of her crew on her back as she wheeled towards the doors, but she didn't look back. There would be hell to pay for this later, but for now she had to leave.

Rachel pushed herself up on her elbows, still feeling weak as she strained to get a better view of Quinn leaving the theatre. Part of her was convinced that her brain had made up that view of Quinn rolling into the room in her wheelchair. Rachel couldn't count the number of times over the years that she had 'seen' Quinn in a crowd, only to discover seconds later that it was just her overactive imagination.

If there was one person who shaped Rachel's teenage years, it was Quinn Fabray. They had both gone to the same high school in Lima, Ohio, Quinn playing the part of popular head cheerleader to Rachel's unpopular musical theatre geek. The head cheerleader had tortured her relentlessly for years before they eventually became friends through their participation in glee club.

Rachel hadn't seen Quinn for over three years, but not a single day had gone by where she didn't think about her.

Quinn had disappeared from sight now, the theatre door shut behind her. Rachel tried to get up and failed, still feeling weak. She could feel her arms shaking, in effort or shock she couldn't tell.

A tall, lanky man with a mop of brown curls and big brown eyes helped her to her feet, looking a little anxious.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, still trembling. "I uh, I have to go after Quinn. She's upset and she's in a wheelchair, and…" she trailed off in a whisper, her eyes starting to water a little. She just kept seeing that image of Quinn in her wheelchair. A part of her had always feared that, but for some reason it was still a huge shock.

The man gave her a sympathetic, although still somewhat confused look and took her hand, looking at Rachel earnestly.

"Ok, I'm Chris, choreographer. I can see you're upset, but Rachel you just passed out in the middle of an audition – I can't just let you leave. My friend Brandon just went to go get the guy you came with so he can make sure you get home."

Rachel took a deep breath, trying to get her tears under control. "But…Quinn…" she gestured towards the door helplessly.

"Can take care of herself." Chris assured her. "But, I have to admit, I'm a little confused about what's going on here. I don't get it. How do you know each other? She seemed like she recognized you, but then she just said 'I can't' and left. No offense, but I don't think she wanted you to follow."

Rachel sighed sadly, running a hand through her hair before turning to look him in the eyes.

"Of course she didn't want me to follow. After all, it's my fault she's stuck in that wheelchair."