Here's the next chapter! Thanks again for your support! Stay high, my friends.
Chapter 10. G.O.A.T
Upon entering the Fabray house, Quinn immediately trots up the stairs to her room and shuts the door behind her, leaving the others staring after her worriedly. Judy sighs softly as she deposits her purse on the couch and tiredly rubs her temples, the doctor's words playing in her head over and over again.
She might need surgery.
Quinn's injury is more severe than they initially thought, falling on an outstretched limb plus the added weight of another heavily muscled individual spelled disaster for said limb. Luckily, her shoulder was not broken, only dislocated with several torn ligaments. However, said ligaments connect the shoulder to her collarbone, and the impact severed those ligaments, leaving her collarbone slightly deformed.
Putting the bone back in place had eased some of the pain, but it will be horribly sore for a few days, and will take weeks to months to heal. Judy glances at her purse, seeing Quinn's ruined jersey peeking out from inside the red leather. She runs gentle fingers over the soft fabric, feeling a wave of nostalgia sweep over her.
Basketball is Quinn's entire life.
Her youngest daughter has been playing ever since she could walk. She lived, breathed, and loved the sport more than anything. Judy often wakes in the middle of the night for a midnight snack, sauntering tiredly down the stairs and into the kitchen. When she peeks through the curtains above the sink, her full lips curl into a genuine smile because she sees Quinn clad in her pajamas, shooting a basketball from impossible angles on the court she'd begged her mother to buy.
Judy doesn't have the heart to tell Quinn to put the ball away and come inside. She knew it helped with the young blonde's insomnia, tiring her out immensely until sleep claimed her the second she returned to her bed.
An injury like this can change Quinn's life as well as her ability to play. If the shoulder didn't heal right, Quinn wouldn't be able to play like she used to before the injury occurred, especially since Quinn's left-handed. Judy closes her eyes and leans back against the soft cushions of the leather couch, crossing her legs and folding her arms neatly across her abdomen as she ponders methods that would assist Quinn's recovery.
The girls all shift uncomfortably, feeling the effects of Quinn's devastation swarming around the quiet house. Brittany's lively blue eyes have darkened and her dampened spirit on display as she clutches onto Santana's hand. Santana's unusually quiet, her beautiful face is troubled and she appears deep in thought.
Dallas's hair is mused; the effect of having ran her hands through it so many times, a nervous habit. She runs her fingers over the tattoos on her wrist, another nervous habit. Frannie distracts herself by idly playing with Dylan, but even the child senses the tense atmosphere and begins to whimper in discomfort.
Rachel clears her throat, "I'm going to take Dylan with me."
"I think that would be best. She needs time to herself for a few hours. She'll come around." Judy agrees, rising from the couch and standing in front of Rachel. She kisses her granddaughter on her slightly flushed cheeks. She pulls Rachel into a strong, but gentle embrace. "Will you return in the morning?" Rachel nods. "Excellent."
Frannie smiles at her niece before she hands her over to her mother. Brittany hugs them as well, Dallas gives Rachel a gentle smile and ruffles Dylan's hair, and Santana meekly nods her head in farewell.
With one last glance at the staircase, Rachel retrieves her keys from the table she left them on earlier and exits the Fabray house. "I'm going to go too." Dallas says a few minutes after Rachel's car can no longer be heard.
"I'll walk you out." Frannie says.
Judy looks at Santana. "I suppose you're staying the night?"
Santana gives a tiny smile. "You might as well let me move in."
Judy chuckles as Frannie desperately shakes her head. Brittany giggles and pulls Santana by her hand up the stairs. She gives her older daughter a peck on the cheek and briefly hugs her companion as she to retreats to her domain.
Frannie follows Dallas outside, her cherry red '72 Camaro gleams brightly under the florescent street lights. She twirls the keys around her middle finger idly, shivering slightly as the cold night air assaults her bare arms. When she reaches her car, she leans against the driver's side door, staring at Frannie expectantly. The little blonde looks like she wants to say something.
"I'm sorry for punching you. You just make me so mad sometimes." Frannie says, flexing her sore hand unconsciously.
"It's cool. I mean I did call you a bitch, I deserved it." Dallas says apologetically.
"No, you did nothing wrong. I am a bitch. I treat you like shit; I just don't understand why you put up with my shit." Frannie replies, feeling somewhat sentimental. The whole situation with her feelings towards this girl was emotionally exhausting, but she just couldn't imagine herself being happy without her.
Dallas reaches out and hesitantly pushes Frannie's bangs out of her face so she can see her eyes. "You're my best friend, dude. You do dumb shit, I do dumb shit, and together we do even dumber shit. But no matter what I'm going to love and be there for you even if you constantly berate my tattoos and music choices."
Frannie laughs, "It's not my fault you choose to listen to devil shit."
"Immortal Technique and Necro aren't devil shit. They talk about real life shit."
Frannie gives her an impeccable eyebrow. "So 'Kill People, Burn shit, and Fuck school' is real life shit?"
"Oddfuture are visionaries who make fun of rappers and provide their own philosophical views on life."
"So killing Bruno Mars is a philosophical view on life?"
"He needs to go."
Frannie slaps Dallas's arm as they both share a laugh. "Go home, loser."
Dallas gives her a wide, dimpled smile as she climbs in her car. She rolls down the windows and deliberately plays the Oddfuture track that talks about killing Bruno Mars as she speeds off. Frannie merely shakes her head as her heartwarming smile slips from her lips and she walks back into the house, head down, and eyes watering.
Quinn sits on her bed, her face buried in her right hand. Every single shot of pain that surges through her shoulder a reminder of what happened. She sniffles softly, feeling tears leak down her cheeks. She bites her lip to keep the sobs at bay, her entire form shaking with despair.
She knows her season's over, but she doesn't know how many seasons she'll probably miss with this injury.
She might need surgery.
The doctor's words replay in her mind over and over again.
This isn't happening to me. This can't be happening to me! Quinn desperately hopes this is all just a bad dream, a paranoid figment of her imagination. There were scouts at that game! Some who were looking at the seniors they'd like to recruit, but all eyes were on her. After all, it was not often a sophomore was the starting point guard and team captain of a very capable Varsity team.
Derrick Rose, Brandon Roy, Greg Odin, Alana Beard… All the NBA and WNBA stars who had their careers cut short because of injuries and lingering injuries invade her mind and her paranoia grows.
Kobe…
She's full on crying now when she thinks of one of her favorite players. He came back, but a few games later he went down with another injury to that same previously injured leg. Brandon Roy hurt his knee, tried to come back but suffered the same injury that ended his promising career. Alana Beard is back, but she's still suffering from her injury! Magic Johnson's career…I haven't even gone to collage yet, how can it be over so quickly?
She cries quietly, but strong enough to where it's hard to breathe. She tries to calm herself, not wanting her anxiety to get the better of her. Onyx's cruel smile flashes into her mind, Rachel's horrified look, Spencer's determination, and her team's crestfallen expressions. She clenches her fist. A new wave of anger surges through her.
She blinks open her red rimmed hazel eyes, staring directly at the beautiful face of Lisa Leslie, the greatest female basketball player ever. Her brown eyes seem to bore into Quinn's, challenging her, taunting her. Quinn growls to herself as she shakes her head.
"I'll get through this! I'll come back stronger and better than ever. There's no one who'll fucking stop me. I'll be the greatest of all time." Quinn whispers to herself.
She looks at all the posters in her room.
Kobe Bryant, Magic Johnson, Lisa Leslie, Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman, Yao Ming, Shaq, Dr. J, John Stockton, Larry Bird, Hakeem The Dream, Patrick Ewing, Shawn Kemp, Dianna Turasi, Elgin Baylor, Clyde Drexler, Kareem Abdul-Jabar, Bill Russell, Robert Parish, Kevin McHale, and the greatest…Michael Jordan.
Quinn flexes her hand on her injured shoulder, feeling the stiff muscles twitch ever so slightly. "Its not ever." She whispers, staring at Michael Jordan.
Rachel's father meets her at the door as he takes his granddaughter. He's heard about what happened to Quinn as he's thoroughly disgusted. He sets a big, beefy hand on her shoulder.
"She'll be back."
Rachel looks up, tears in her eyes. "How can you be certain?"
Leroy glances at the TV, where the San Antonio Spurs celebrate their fifth championship.
"Never underestimate the heart of a champion."
This was simply the aftermath, There's a lot more to come. Next chapter, Quinn learns what happens to Onyx, She and Rachel grow closer, The team tries to find a way to survive without their leader, Finn becomes more persistent, Alex is up to something, Santana's causing trouble, and Dylan begins to show signs of something nobody was expecting.