Chapter 4
"Are you gonna freak again, or can we actually talk this time?"
Quinn opened her mouth. "How…?" she asked, or rather croaked, from the dryness in her throat. She tried to swallow and speak again.
"How-"
"-how is it that you can see me?" Santana cut in, "How is it that you can hear me?" She unfolded her arms and threw them up. "Because I don't know how the fuck is that possible, either."
While still irritated that she got interrupted, Quinn fought to remain calm and tried again.
"How did I get here?"
"You mean you don't remember," Santana tilted her head downwards.
"It'sss…" Quinn squinted and shook her head. "... foggy."
Her memories were fragmented and there were definitely pieces missing. When she tried too hard to fill them in, her head hurt. She touched her fingers to her temple and pressedlightly to make it go away.
Santana crossed the room and sat at the edge of her bed, her voice softer with concern.
"How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," the blonde groaned.
"Almost. It was a Honda."
Quinn rolled her eyes, because she absolutely needed that information corrected. Not.
Santana wasn't deterred. She only grew more serious.
"What do you remember, Q? I mean, you clearly recognize me."
Quinn took a deep breath, "I remember speaking to Sylvester. And then the fall;it seemed endless and it hurt, S. It tore off my wings, burned the rest…" she looked away.
"… then me falling suddenly became me running at I tripped and… and and," Quinn tried to remember, tried to clear her throat by swallowing again.
Santana's gaze was steady, never once leaving Quinn's. "And you fell in front of an incoming car. I would've laughed at the way your clumsy ass stumbled, had the impact not chugged you a good ten feet like a limp ragdoll. You really had me scared, Q. She saw it too, you know."
Quinn's throat grew impossibly dry. "Is she-?" her voice broke. She looked around for something to drink, the thirst too strong to ignore. A plastic cup with a slim black straw and clear liquid sat on top of her bedside table within arm's reach. She grabbed it, almost too eager to take a sip, silently grateful she didn't have to move her other arm with the IV still attached to it.
Santana waited patiently for Quinn to finish drinking before she spoke.
"Rachel? Yeah, she's fine. She was in shock, but it was actually her that called the ambulance. She visited you twice. Sat by your bed, even brought you that water. But you were out cold, so…"
Her voice got quiet, to an almost awed whisper. "You saved her, Q. I know I didn't believe you could, but you did it. You stopped her."
Santana's gaze dropped to the hospital blanket, staring hard at the green fabric. Quinn knew she was trying to save face. She joined her, staring at nothing in particular, worrying how much trauma she may have caused the petite brunette by making her the eyewitness to her accident.
The lull in the conversation was interrupted by the door opening.
Quinn's heart sped up with the anticipation of finally getting to meet… a nurse.
"Ah, you're finally awake I see," the nurse, an older woman with a good-natured face and thick-rimmed glasses, said in a friendly manner. She walked across the room to Quinn, checked the monitor and IV, making small talk along the way, "Slept well, I hope? I heard you were a little restless when you woke up but you don't seem distraught now,"she prattled on as she fluffed the blonde's pillow."I also see you drank some water. That's good. Good. There. Done. Better?"
Quinn tried to nestle into her newly fluffed pillow, but the wiggling set off a dull stinging in her back and she grimaced.
"Ohh I'm sorry, I forgot about your back," the older woman apologized. "Let me up the painkillers for you."
She reached towards the IV but Quinn raised her hand slightly, halting her. "N-no, thank you. I think I'll manage."
"Well ok then. Since you're awake I'll go tell Doctor Reese and he will come examine you as soon as he can, Miss...?"
Quinn looked at the nurse in confusion. The nurse looked pointedly back over the rim of her glasses.
"Your name, staff that brought you in never gave us one."
"Oh! It's Quinn."
"Quinn…?"
The nurse was obviously waiting for a surname. But Quinn didn't have one to give. "I… don't know?"
The nurse frowned. "Well that's… peculiar. I'll go get the doctor."
And she was gone.
Santana, who had been silently sitting on the other side of the bed throughout the whole exchange, finally spoke up.
"And this is where it starts to get messy."
"What should I tell them?" Quinn hissed.
"Well," Santana beganwith an air of nonchalance, "you definitely cannot tell them you're a fallen angel, because as much as white is your color a straight jacket definitely wouldn't become you."
"Then what should I do?!"
"You know, I've kinda been looking forward to this moment my whole existence. You coming to little ol' me for advice.I just cannot believe it's happening so soon."
Quinn folded her arms and glared.
The devil leaned towards the blonde, smiled sweetly and batted her eyelidsexcessively. "It's real. Simple. You. Lie."
Quinn's stony glare remained unwavering.
"Oh you're no fun," the brunette rolled her eyes.
"Lying won't cut it, Santana."
"O- oh?" came the half-choked-from-disbelief response.
"It needs to be believable. I cannot just make up an will see right through that!"
Santana considered this for an entire three seconds before- "That's it!" she stood up.
"That's right..." she paced around, finally placing her hands on her hips and facing Quinn."… because you won't have one."
"Excuse me?"
"Amnesia, Quinn. You don't need to provide an identity if you can't remember one."
Quinn pressed her lips together as she thought about Santana's suggestion.
It took another 20 minutes for the door to her room to open again and in strode a tall, lanky man, probably mid-30s with a stethoscope draped around his neck. His eyes landed on apprehensive hazel ones.
"Hi, I'm Doctor Reese," he spoke evenly, almost calmingly. "And you must be…" he glanced down at his clipboard, "Quinn."
The way he stressed her name set the blonde even more on edge. Despite his seeming gentleness, she could sense an undercurrent of suspicion.
"How are you feeling?"the doctor asked, but then shook his head, adding "I'm sorry. That's probably a dumb question. What I mean is, how does your breathing feel?"
"What-uhm," Quinn took a deep breath and sat up, "what happened to me?"
"You mean you don't remember."
Quinn shook her head.
"What do you remember then?" he pried.
Hazel eyes began to blink and dart around the room frantically. How much could she sayshe remembered? How much should she pretend she didn't? How long could she toe the line between too much and too little before her cover would be blown?
Anxiety threatened to take over once again, her breath coming short and fast.
She hissed as one deep inhale caused pain to flare up her side.
"Ok, calm down. Take a few slow breaths," the doctor tried to calm her.
"Look," he pulled the stethoscope down from his neck, "I need to check whether everything is healing properly. Why don't we start with that and in the meantime I'll fill in some blanks for you."
He sought her gaze questioningly and Quinn returned the nod.
The doctor then proceeded to carefully check the bandages on her side and back, listened to her breathing, asked her what hurt and how and what didn't. And, as promised, in between and suspiciously without disclosing too many details, he explained to her how she got hit by a car,how the impact broke three of her ribs, but she was incredibly lucky, because none of them punctured her lung. Being thrown back against the coarse asphalt also caused two more lacerations on her shoulder blades. The baffling part was that they were almost symmetrical in shape and position and entirely too deep for mere scrapes. The stitches would heal over time, but scars were a given.
"…Finally you must have hit your head,which caused you to black out. Thankfully, the paramedics arrived before it could cause any severe damage. Aside from some slight bruising and scrapes on your vertex, there is no major trauma. We performed a standard CT scan, just to be sure, but it all came out fine."
Doctor Reese paused to write some notes on her chart, before leveling Quinn with a look.
"So you have to understand that your… lack of recollection comes as a surprise, Quinn.
The blonde held his gaze, aware that any wavering would mean admitting her ruse.
"Well," he relented and brusquely stood up. "but I am no expert on these matters. We'll just have to wait until Doctor Maynard is available tomorrow morning. He's a neuro specialist and he may require a few more tests but we'll see what he says."
Before he left he gave her a reassuring smile.
"You get some rest now."
But that night Quinn got anything but.