Author's Note: Yes, you guessed correctly...written for the Quartie ficathon. Yesterday, I posted about dreams, today about a waking nightmare. Please read and review! Feedback is always greatly appreciated!
Nightmare
The waiting room was crowded. Too crowded. A screaming child jarred Quinn from her stupor and she lifted her eyes, glancing at the little girl whose mother was desperately trying to get the girl to calm down.
Beside her, Artie squeezed her hand, reassuring her that he was there, no matter what.
Even though she knew that, she still felt sick being there, waiting for the doctor to call her name.
What if the tests were negative and she was worrying for no reason?
But what if they were positive?
Fear gripped her at the thought.
Pulling her legs up, she tucked them under body, facing her husband. He didn't seem terrified, just by looking at him, but she knew he was, even more so then her, if that was possible.
Leaning forward, he captured her lips, softly kissing her, ignoring the craziness around them.
"I love you," she whispered, not sure what else to say, not sure that anything else mattered.
She could tell it was hard for him to respond but he did, choking out an, "I love you too, Quinn."
Holding back tears, she buried her face in his sweater, the scratchy material not bothering her. She adored the scratchy material of his sweaters. She adored everything about him.
"Oh God," she whispered, inaudibly. "Oh God…" It was the only prayer she could muster.
Then she heard her name, the deep voice of the male nurse sounding out.
"Quinn Abrams."
"Baby…" He nodded at the unasked question and she spilled into his lap, letting him carry her to the room in the back.
In the clinically clean room, the doctor was waiting, file in hand, bright smile on his face. That had to mean good news right? No cancer?
Swallowing, she waited again.
He said they were positive.
Putting a hand to her mouth, she almost began to cry. She was too young to have cancer, too young to die. And her marriage to Artie was only six months old. How could this be happening?
But…why was Artie grinning like that? Why did he look so terribly happy?
Something was wrong.
"Mrs. Abrams," the doctor was saying. "We'll have to do some follow ups, just to make sure, but it looks like the cells weren't cancerous after all."
He had said the tests were negative. Not positive, as she mistakingly thought, but negative
Relief flooded her being and she clung to Artie, his arms circling around her, kisses sprinkling across her face.
It had been a nightmare but it was over.
Thank God.