A/N: I realized, almost immediately after I published the last chapter, that the arc wasn't done. I've been trying to write each encounter as a full story arc, rather than giving you a short series of chapters that build one. This is my longest chapter to date… please excuse the length of time its taken me to update. I know I need to tend to SB, too. That's in the works as well.
To my Anonymous Friend, I am not from Ohio. I've spent maybe 2 weeks there in my life. But, I lived in both Michigan and Indiana for several years. And, I have a few good friends in Ohio who unwittingly pass me information.
When she hung up her phone call with Sebastian, she knows three, indisputable truths:(1) Sebastian Smythe is in trouble, (2) He called her for help and (3) She cannot rescue him alone. She wishes she was still the free girl who could climb in her little red Bug and have her freedom. Once again, she feels useless. She's walking mostly unaided today (the braces that foot drag) but Sebastian's voice makes her legs go numb again, and her knees collapse.
Mr. Chang is there to catch her before she falls. (Liz is informal; her husband is not. They're a strange couple, that way.) He is passing through with a glass of iced tea, going ... somewhere.
She's been staying with Tina's parents for more than a week. And, she's almost comfortable with them. Her mother had to go out of town, and since the accident, Judy Fabray doesn't trust her youngest daughter alone. She supposes her sister, Avery, could have come to stay with her, but she and Avery aren't on great terms. So, when Liz Cohen offered (even though Tina is in New York, visiting her uncle), Judy agreed gratefully. She has to admit, Tina's parents aren't bad. Strict, but not bad.
"What's wrong, Quinn?" He asks, gently. "Is the heat too much?"
Tina's father is the chief of the physical therapy department at Lima General. He knows as much about her body, and her limitations as she does, possibly more. Even though she doesn't want to think about it, she remembers once again, that the nerves in her body aren't fully recovered. And, although she's fully continent (the accidents were the fault of the high dose of morphine, not her accident), she wasn't completely honest when she said she had full sensation. She can feel pressure. She can feel pain. But, she cannot feel texture, anymore. She cannot identify hot and cold. And, because of that, she cannot sweat below her injury. Heat is more dangerous for her than for other people.
"No," she says. She tries to keep her voice even. "A …" her voice trials off as she searches for the right word for Sebastian. "A friend just called. He's in trouble."
Mr. Chang nods, and hands her the tea. "What kind of trouble?"
"I'm not sure," she admits. Thad bangs into the house, sighing with relief from the heat. When Liz found out that he was alone in his big house and that he was afraid of storm, she took him in. And then, she put him to work: driving around Lima with food, water, and rides to cooling stations for the elderly.
"What's up, Quinn?" Thad asks.
She shrugs. Mr. Chang's hand is on her shoulder, in a gentle, almost fatherly way. It makes her think of her own father, back when he still loved her. "Sebastian called me and asked for help."
Thad whistles loudly. Blaine wanders out from the bedroom where he has been resting. He's got a bandage around his head, and a cross (for Blaine) look on his face. "Will you shut up?" He asks Thad, punching the older boy lightly on the arm. "I'm trying to sleep."
"Sebastian just called Quinn. He asked her for Help." Blaine raises his eyebrows at the significance. Apparently this means more to him, and to Thad than it does to her.
"I can't drive," Blaine points out. "And neither can Quinn."
"Hold up," Mr. Chang brings the teens back to reality. "What's the problem?"
Quinn sighes. "I don't know," she admits. "He called, and asked me to come help him. He's here." She holds out the paper where she has hastily scrawled Sebastian's current location.
Thad shakes his head. "Sebastian doesn't ask for help," he says. "He and Nick lived together for a year, and even when things got bad, he never asked for help."
"He asked me," She insists. A fire glows in her eyes. "He needs help. And, it sounds like he needs it now. Let's go, dammit!"
Thad turns to Mr. Chang, looking for guidance, perhaps. "Take some water with you," the man advises. "And Quinn needs AC."
"I'm coming, too!" Blaine is insistent. He heads off to get his leather satchel and unplug his cellphone from where it is charging. Thad goes to the kitchen for a sandwich and to collect more water bottles. Quinn and Tina's father stay where they are sitting. His gentle hand still rests on her shoulder.
"Take what you need," he says, quietly.
Her pride gets her. "I don't need anything," she says. She stands, gracelessly, and takes a few, tentative steps. She manages to hold herself up and ambulate, but it isn't fast or efficient.
"Take what you need," Tina's father repeats. His voice remains gentle, but the polite tone that bordered on impassivity has gone. Quinn wonders if he is seeing Tina in her place as he offers a piece of fatherly advice. "You can't take care of your friend if you're worried about yourself."
She sighs, and acquiesces.
The trio pull up to the gas station in Liz's Prius twenty minutes later. Thad drives a hand-me-down minivan that is only a few years younger than he is. The passenger side is scratched from hood to trunk, thanks to an unfortunate incident between the previous owner's daughter and a parking garage pylon. Thad is as proud of the beat up van as though it had been a Ferrari (and she suspects he's driven a Ferrari or two). He borrowed the money for it from his father, and is paying it off month by month. Even though it's Thad's baby, air doesn't circulate well through the boxy van, though. And, Quinn has trouble getting into the front seat. So, Liz graciously volunteered her car.
She sends Thad and Blaine ahead to find Sebastian, and then goes through the awkward motions of standing in the braces. She won't tell Mr. Chang, but he was right: she is still unsteady on her feet. Of course, Blaine is weaving more than usual, so her limp won't stand out. She wonders how hard he hit his head. She and Thad have been working together long enough that he has a sense of her limitations, but she doesn't want anyone from McKinley knowing. She wants them to think that what they saw at Nationals and Graduation is her reality, and not this daily fight with pain and mobility.
It's too hot in the full sun, and too humid. She glances over at the little black Saab Sebastian drives. She knows it because she's seen it around the parking lot a few times. Once or twice, they've gone to coffee together. Normally, they end up arguing afterward. She can't say our here, she realizes. So, she makes her slow, purposeful way into the gas station.
The boys are frozen. Thad's mouth is moving silently, and Blaine is unconsciously worrying at his bandage. She understands why when she sees the tall boy. He's perched precariously on a stool, his head resting on the pillow of his arms. She limps closer, and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. She can feel him breathing. It's deep and low, as though he's filling his whole lung with the breath, and not just the fraction she's used to using.
"Sebastian?" She asks. She breaks the spell. Blaine moves closer to Seb, and Thad moves back toward the coolers. They have their own water, but it seems like a good idea to buy something from the gas station to appease the employees.
Sebastian stirs, and lifts his head off his arm. His cheeks are rosy against his pale skin. He looks younger and more vulnerable than she's ever seen him. She moves closer, using the counter for support. She's not sure if the weakness in her knees is from her injury or concern. He manages to get his head all the way up. He rubs a hand across his face, re-enforcing the impression of youth. Blaine puts a steadying hand behind his former competitor's lower back. As she draws closer, something changes in Sebastian. He jerks upright for a moment, ram-rod straight and pale. Then, he doubles over. A pile of acrid smelling vomit barely misses her tennis shoes.
Thad hurries over with supplies he's purchased. He hands Seb a large cup of fountain drink. "Take it slowly," he advises. "It's Gatorade and water."
Sebastian grunts and pushes the cup away. "Water!" He gasps. His voice sounds dry as a leaf. "Please, the water."
Blaine shakes his head, and pushes the cup back into Sebastian's hands. "You need salt," he insists.
Sebastian doesn't fight this time, just takes the cup, and takes a long pull on the straw, then another. "Locked my keys in the car," he says, finally. He sounds better with the liquid in him. "Didn't know who to call."
As he talks, she notices that Sebastian's breath smells… odd. Like cheap fruit flavored gum, maybe. It's not a good smell.
Blaine goes outside to call Hummel Tire and Lube, and Sebastian takes another long sip of the watery sports drink. Then, moving faster than she would think possible, the tall boy with the pale brown hair bolts across the gas station to the men's room. Thad trails after, giving the attendants an apologetic look. She hopes he makes it to the toilet.
Blaine comes back in the gas station, his face shining and his dark curls damp. He wipes his face across his arm. "It's damn hot," he comments. He settles himself on Sebastian's abandoned stool, and puts his head in his hand.
She leans against the counter, her legs shaking from the stress. "Yeah," she agrees, half her mind on the conversation. She prays that she can keep her feet under her and that Blaine doesn't notice the quiver in her knees. She's noticed Sebastian shaking a few times before, but it's so subtle that no one else could see it. But, he doesn't have her problems. He's healthy. Finally, it's too much, and she is sure that her knee will give out if she doesn't sit. She eases herself onto the stool, perching on the very edge. Then, she wiggles herself back. She tells herself to relax. It's just Blaine. He's attacked the bottle of sports drink sitting between them, and she sips the water. She supposes he needs to keep hydrated, considering how much he sweats.
"Quinn, can I ask you something?" He sounds sincere. When she doesn't protest, he continues. "Why have you been avoiding us this summer?"
"I'm not avoiding you," She shrugs. "I'm busy with work."
"You work thirty-five hours a week," he says. "And, even assuming you sleep a lot, you still have about sixty hours that are free. You don't have a couple every week to hang out with us?"
She wants to snap. The old Quinn would have. The one before Beth. Maybe even the one after Beth. "My mom wants me home." Again, not a lie. Her mother has been more protective since the accident. But, also not the real reason. She can't drive. She can barely walk. It's easier to just sit at home and watch Daniel Radcliff, Rupurt Grint and Emma Watson grow up.
Blaine looks taken aback. Maybe she sounded a little harsher than she intended. Maybe the heat, or the pain, is getting to her. She tries to steer the conversation to safer topics, like religion, politics or Cooper Anderson's career.
Thad and Sebastian emerge from the bathroom at around the same time the locksmith from Hummel Tire and Lube arrives to open the black Saab. Kurt jumps down from the big tow truck, and walks inside, while Thad heads out to direct the locksmith.
"Thad, can you bring me my bag?" Sebastian asks. "The one in the front seat." His voice is dry as a whisper. He looks longingly at the half-full bottle of water she has drained. He is worn out, and there is a tiny crust at the corner of his mouth that she suspects is vomit.
She lowers herself from her perch slowly, almost sliding down. The impact jars her, and her brace locks as her left ankle begins to collapse. She steadies herself against the counter.
Kurt crosses quickly to embrace Blaine. "Yuck," the taller boy complains as he lets go of the shorter one. "You're all wet."
Blaine blushes. "Kurt, we've talked about this," he says, quietly. It's almost a bedroom voice with just a hint of a whine. "You glisten. Quinn and Rachel glow. People like Sebastian and Thad perspire. I sweat like a pig."
Sebastian snorts into his sleeve. Blaine glances over, and then hands him the big cup filled with water and sports drink.
"No!" Sebastian weakly puts the cup on the counter. "I'm okay. I just need my … medicine."
Blaine helps the taller boy back up onto a stool. "Just drink something," he prods, gently.
"Like Sebastian needs an excuse to drink," Kurt says, snidely.
She and Blaine exchange looks with each other. Their thoughts ran in parallel directions: heat exhaustion, dehydration, and danger. Sebastian was showing signs of the condition: thirst, exhaustion and vomiting. Mr. Chang had briefed them all that morning, reminding them that the weather was perfect for the dangerous condition.
"At least I can hold my alcohol, unlike some people who are always the designated driver," Sebastian shoots back, snatching up the cup and taking a gulp. If there is a slight delay in the comeback, well, no one says anything.
Thad returns with Sebastian's leather satchel, which the tall boy clutches close. "Kurt, do you mind driving Sebastian's car?" He asks. Kurt looks up at the former Wabler council member with wide eyes. "Quinn and Blaine don't have their licenses, and Sebastian probably shouldn't be driving."
Kurts face pales a bit, but he takes the keys and his sweaty boyfriend's hand. Outside, she sees the two talking hurriedly. Kurt runs his hand over Blaine's forehead. The curly-haired boy shields his eyes against the sun, and responds just as fiercely.
Sebastian's bag is transferred from the Saab to the trunk of the Prius, and the boy's cellphone is pressed into his hands. Thad makes a quick phone call while she sits with Sebastian, rubbing his back gently. Thad hangs up as Kurt and Blaine return.
"Does his breath smell funny to you?" He asks her in an undertone.
She nods. "Yes, almost fruity." Her response is not good, she can tell almost immediately. Thad lets out a frustrated curse, and goes to the counter to buy another big bottle of water. He pays for his purchase with a twenty, and refuses to take the change, although he does ask for a few extra plastic bags.
Kurt and Thad help Sebastian out to the Prius. They practically carry the larger boy between them. Blaine gallantly offers Quinn his arm. "Can I be your escort, my lady?"
She accepts the offer. And, if she leans a bit more heavily on Blaine than his joking attitude suggests, he doesn't say anything.
The emergency room waiting area is crowded when they arrive. Women sit in chairs together, fanning themselves with magazines. Sweaty children play at their feet, listless in the heat. Quinn and Sebastian cling to each other as Thad scouts out seats. Their gate is awkward and slow. They make their way to the check-in line.
Despite the fact that he has been barely conscious, Sebastian rallies at the desk. He's not his usual, haughty self, striking out with barbs against everyone. But, it's also hard to believe that he's been vomiting on and off for the past thirty minutes. Or that he drifted into semi-consciousness in the car.
Thad can only find one seat. She goes through the mental debate. It's good for her to stand. It's exercise her body needs. It takes energy, and it hurts. She lets Sebastian take the chair, and finds a place to lean against the wall. She focuses on two things: standing and making sure that Sebastian is still breathing.
Quinn starts when the triage nurse calls Sebastian's name. He stands, slowly. She recognizes something in his face, and stays back. Luckily for the people around him, there is nothing in Sebastian's stomach. She offers Sebastian an arm, but he ignores it. She wishes he would take her arm. She's feeling unsteady, thirsty and uncharacteristically weak.
The triage nurses looks between the two of them. "You can't both come back here," he says, briskly. She is a bit more used to male nurses after her fortnight in the hospital and rehab following the accident. But, with his tattoos, bulging muscles, and shaved hair, this man looks more like a member of the security force than a medical profession. "We have to treat patients separately."
"I'm not here as a patient," she protests. "But, my friend is confused."
The nurse glowers. She wants to shrink into herself, and reclaim Sebastian's seat. But, she steels herself, and gives her best "bitch stare". It's a look that has saved her reputation in more situations than she cares to admit. Well, her bitch stare and the ability to cry on demand. But, this behemoth doesn't seem like the type to acquiesce to tears.
Sebastian gives her a dark look. "Go sit down, Quinn." He says. "You look like you're going to fall down. And, we don't need two people having accidents." His voice is shaking again, but there is a quality she recognizes. Sebastian is trying to keep control of the situation. He is trying to convince everyone that everything is all right. He is the only person who believes his rouse, though.
She lets him go back, and walks slowly back to the seat. Her gait is more clumsy that usual, and she stumbles over the tiles. Someone else, even the girl she had been just four months ago, would have been able to catch themselves effortlessly. As she sprawls on the dusty, hard linoleum tiles, she is once again reminded that she will never be that girl again.
At least the floor is cool under her sweaty upper body. She stays prone for a minute or two, just breathing. She is panting shallowly, the way she remembers her father's English Bulldog, Monty, breathing in the heat. Lying there, she becomes aware of the wet patches under her arms, and the sweat at the underwire of her bra. If she was alone, or at least not in such a public place, she might just stay on the floor. Instead, she goes through the motions for righting herself. They were some of the first things the physical therapist had made her learn, right after he had trained her to fall safely.
Getting onto her back, and sitting slowly, she is quite certain her legs will not hold her. The dull pain she has been pushing from her mind has exploded into the forefront. Her left leg begins trembling of its own volition. It's the precursor of an attack; the tremors will make standing almost impossible.
Still on the floor, she scoots like a child. She is careful to avoid Sebastian's pile of puke. She can handle most emergencies, but bodily fluids make her … uncomfortable. She doesn't like blood, urine or vomit. A pair of strong hands steady her as she carefully lifts her body into the low plastic chair. She looks up into Blaine's sweaty face. Kurt hovers just behind.
Thad comes over with one of the hospital wheelchairs. "Sebastian will be back in a minute or two," he says in an undertone.
When she doesn't make any movement toward the wheelchair, Kurt flops down. He pats his lap, invitingly, and Blaine settles down. He fits perfectly against his boyfriend's chest. Her emotions vie between jealously and happiness for her friends. This time, happiness at their joy wins out.
"Remember that week we spent in these?" Kurt asks Quinn, mischievous smile turning up his lips.
"Proud Mary," she grins back, despite her exhaustion. "I was so sore afterward!"
Kurt laughs. Blaine and Thad exchange quizzical looks. "I was so hungry afterwards," Kurt admits. "And, I kept eating Puck's cupcakes."
"I didn't know you ate cake, Wa-Kurt," Thad quips. "Even when David made his amazing gluten-free, egg-free, diary-free, soy-free, sugar-free cake."
Blaine groans. "That was not cake!" He declares. "That was lemon flavored cardboard!"
It's her turn to laugh. "Maybe it would have been better if David used Puck's secret ingredient."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Do I even want to know what Puck's secret ingredient was?" She shakes her head and mimes locking her lips. "Was it like Finn's vitamin D?" She laughs, again.
Thad and Blaine exchange puzzled looks, again. "Are these OG things?" Blaine demands. It's Quinn's turn to look puzzled. "OG," Blaine explains. "Original Glee."
"Yes, dear." Kurt plants a long, lingering kiss of his boyfriend's mouth. The scale tips toward jealousy. As much as she is loathed to admit it, she hates being alone.
Just then, Sebastian returns. He looks cross. "Legs stop working, along with your mirror, Hummel?" He snaps. He still clutches his bag in the same way a child might hold onto a security blanket.
"Jesus, why did we come?" Kurt demands of Blaine, ignoring Sebastian.
The sweat tenor plants a quick, possessive kiss on his boyfriend's glowing face. "Because you're a wonderful human being." He leans in and whispers something in Kurt's ear, then looks at the older boy with large, pleading eyes.
She wonders how Kurt can resist anything when Blaine looks at him that way. She doubts she would have that kind of self control. Kurt apparently doesn't have the self control he needs, either, because after a minute, Blaine climbs off of his lap and the pair vacate the wheelchair.
"Show us your Proud Mary moves, Quinn," Thad prompts. He pats the back of the chair.
At the same moment, the ex-marine triage nurse comes and calls her name. She finds herself in an awkward position. "I'm not here as a patient," she hisses at Sebastian. He gives her an impassive look."
"Just go see the damn nurse," he says. "Standing by you is like standing next to a fucking oven. And, you're all flushed."
She's surprised he doesn't make any references to buns. Sebastian is snarky enough to bring up her pregnancy, but he doesn't. He must be quite sick, she decides.
Following the nurse presents a problem, though. Her lower body is listening to her less than usual. But, her pride will not let her show weakness. She is an ice queen. She is a bitch. She was the only sophomore to be named captain of the Cheerios in McKinley history.
"Quinn Fabray?" The nurse calls again. Sebastian gives Thad a significant look, and the swarthy boy whispers something in Kurt's ear. She decides she can keep some dignity if she moves over the wheelchair under her own power. Otherwise, the boys might try to force her to move.
She lines up for an efficient transfer, and Sebastian practically falls into her vacated seat. Then, she wheels herself quickly over to the nurse. "I'm fine," she says insistently.
The man shrugs, and takes the handles at the back of her chair. She hates the nurse, already. In the little room, he takes her temperature and blood pressure. The questions come quickly. She answers detachedly, rattling off her medical history and the medications she is taking.
The last question the nurse asks her is surprising, though. She's pretty sure it's illegal. But, that doesn't stop him. "Your friend who was just in here, he's 17?"
She tries to think about it. "I-I think so," she stammers. "He just finished his sophomore or junior year of high school."
The nurse thanks her, and sends her back out to the waiting room. She finds Kurt and Sebastian engaged in their favorite activity: verbal sparring. Thad is standing against the wall, his mouth moving silently and his eyes closed. She recoginizes prayer when she sees it. He fingers a small coin at his throat. Blaine has gone for something, probabably more water. Someone appears to have drained three bottles while she was gone.
She listens to the two boys for a few minutes. Sebastian's razor wit is a bit duller, and a bit slower than usual. Even so, their bitching is making her headache. "Will the two of you just shut up?" She finally snaps at them.
Both look up in shock. But, they stop. Sebastian curls into a smallish ball, impossibly compact for someone that size. He cradles his bag to his chest. He rests his head in his hand, and closes his eyes. Kurt walks over to Blaine, and whispers something in his boyfriend's ear that cause the curly-haired boy to swat at him.
Blaine takes the opportunity to press a cold water bottle against her neck. She jumps a little, and glares up at the curly-haired boy.
"That was cold!" She complains.
"That's the point," Blaine retorts. She gives him one of her trademark glares.
Before she can protest any more, a new nurse emerges from the double doors leading to the Emergency Room, the Promised Land. "Smythe," she calls.
Sebastian stands, slowly. All of his movements have been slowly, recently, she notes. "Might as well come back with me, Fabray," he says in his dry voice. "I doubt Hummel has a stomach for blood."
She waits outside in the hall as Sebastian changes out of his street clothes into the dull hospital gown. Although he's tall, the garment is too big.
"Turn around," she orders in a no-nonsense tone.
He glares, but comes around the bed so she can tie up his back. Her slender fingers nimbly tie up the back of the gown. "I could have done it myself," he announces, petulantly.
"Shut up," She rolls her eyes expressively. "And sit quietly."
The nurse comes in, another ex-army drill sergeant, comes in and writes his name on a white board. She glares and the board, and mutters something under her breath. The nurse glances at Quinn. "I need to get a urine sample," he tells Sebastian.
The boy holds his hand out. She imagines he's waiting for a cup to deposit his sample in. She has her suspicions about the way the urine will be collected. She knows from experience that catheterization is both painful and embarrassing. "I'll wait in the hall," she offers, trying to be magnanimously.
The nurse lets her back in after a few moments. He has to open the door so she can come through. Sebastian is sitting on the gurney. With the nurse's back turned, there is no one to see the grimace of pain and humiliation etched onto his face, or the dead exhaustion that shadows his eyes. His even features rearrange themselves into his normal cocky look as soon as he notices her looking. His eyes betray him, though.
She wheels carefully over to the bedside. The bulky chair makes maneuvering awkward, but she manages to wedge herself between the gurney and the wall. Her maternal instinct has kicked in. Sebastian shoots her a look of dark fury as she brushes sweaty locks of hair from his forehead. The nurse hands her a wet paper towel, which she rests on the boy's forehead.
Using her as a distraction, the nurse seizes an opportunity to stick an IV in Sebastian's left arm. "Shit!" He swears, squeezing his eyes tightly closed in pain. "Fucking vampire!" The nurse just laughs, and draws blood out of the IV port. Then, he hangs an IV bag, and leaves the room quietly.
They wait in silence. Sebastian keeps his eyes closed, and his deep breathing becomes even. As he falls asleep, his features relax from the haughty mask into an expression that isn't exactly peaceful, but is more comfortable than anything she's ever seen. She finds herself relaxing as well, even if the wheelchair is uncomfortable and the room bright.
The noise wakes her. She tries to keep her eyes closed and pretend that nothing is wrong. Her whole body hurts, though. It's not the pain that she's grown used to over the months since her accident. That's a dull ache she has almost learned to push to the back of her mind. Instead, her shoulders and back ache and her legs are on fire with a thousand tiny pins. She has to keep still, though. She cannot interrupt. Sebastian and the doctor are arguing.
"I'm fine!" The boy insists. "I'm not vomiting any more. I can treat the rest at home."
The doctor sighs. "I can't release you," she insists. "Not until you're below 200 and you don't have any more ketones."
"That's not what you're treating me for!" Sebastian retorts. "My friends brought me in for heat exhaustion!" She's pretty sure she can hear the doctor roll her eyes. Its more than obvious that Sebastian isn't here because of heat exhaustion.
"That may be why you came in," the doctor responds, "but I can't, in good conscience, release you if you're still sick."
"Can I at least go to the bathroom?" Sebastian demands. This is a more reasonable request than the last, because a few minutes later, she's alone.
She shifts in her seat, which only exacerbates the pain in her back. The pins and needles in her legs press at her consciousness, distracting her. A whimper escapes her throat. She can't help herself. It's all she can do to keep from screaming.
Sebastian returns, settles on the gurney, and reaches for the IV line. He fiddles with the tubing for a while, and then throws it down, frustrated.
"Do you want help?" She asks, praying that he will say no.
Sebastian surprises her. He moves over on the gurney. "Come up here," he suggests. "I'm going to call someone to reconnect this." She hangs back, though, as a tech comes in and re-connects the IV line. He hands Sebastian a Styrofoam cup with a glare and a quiet reminder.
He motions for her to sit with him on the gurney, "Come up here," he orders again, once the orderly is gone. "And drink this water. I'm not allowed."
She wants to, so badly. Although it seems counterintuitive, putting her feet up is one of the few ways to relieve the pain. On bad days, she lies in bed for hours, praying for sleep to claim her, and deliver her. She is suspicious, though. "Why?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Because the wheelchair can't be comfortable."
She looks at him skeptically. If this were one of her romance novels, he'd be doing this to win her love. But, she's relatively sure Sebastian is gay. He flirts with Kurt and Blaine shamelessly, and she remembers his conversation with Trent. He's not doing this because he could be interested in her, which means he must be doing this because he's a decent human being. It's hard to imagine the Sebastian Smyth she knows doing anything because he's a decent human being. But, there's more to him than meets the eye. There has to be.
"Fine," she agrees. She transfers from the wheelchair up onto the gurney. It's been a while since she did a full-on transfer, rather than standing and sitting, but her nerves are on fire with pain and aren't responding well. She winces again as she settles herself. She fishes in her purse for the vial of ibprofuen she keeps there, questioning whether the medicine will even work. At this point, even a placebo will set her mind at ease.
Once she settles, she turns to him. "I know something is wrong, here. Thad and Blaine and even Kurt were freaking out, bending over backwards. Kurt doesn't even like you."
"It's nothing." He says, brushing his now lank hair off his pale face.
She stares at him with an expression that has caused lesser men to turn tail and run. "That's bullshit. Why is the doctor making you stay if you're fine?"
He shrugs, but doesn't back down. "It's really nothing. I just had a … bad reaction to some, umm, medication."
"What medication?" She demands, feeling bold. There is something he's not telling her. She's determined to find out.
"Umm… Novolog." He says. She curses under her breath, and pulls out her phone. You can find anything on the internet these days.
"Sebastian, how long have you been diabetic?" She queries. She's trying to think if he's ever acted sick before. If there was any sign of the disease.
He's proud, or as proud as someone in a hospital gown with an IV line in their arm can be. "Since I was eight," he spits out. He's angry. "And, don't say you're sorry, unless it's your fault. Don't tell me about someone you know who has the disease, and how they lost their leg or went blind or something. I've met plenty of crips, already." The word stings her a bit. "And please, for the love of your child, don't you dare tell me you know what it's like. Because you can't imagine."
She feels like he slapped her in the face. But, she can't back down. "I had a spinal cord injury," she challenges. "Try me."
"Yeah, but you're getting better," he retorts. His face falls, collapsing into an expression of fear and mistrust. "You can fucking get better."
"I have good days and bad days," she says, quietly. Some days, she is entirely without pain, and she can walk. Others, she can't get out of bed. Surely, it can't be that bad. "And, at least you don't have cancer."
He slams his hand against the bed. "That might be better," he says. "At least without chemo, you have time." She can't help staring at him. "Without insulin…" his voice trails off, and he fiddles with his hospital bracelet. "Without insulin," he tries again, "I'll die in a day. Maybe two, if I'm lucky. I'll starve to death. And, eating will only make it worse."
He turns away. There isn't much room on the narrow cot, and he's restricted by his arm. But, he rolls over onto his bad side. She can feel the heat and anger radiating off his back.
The weak maternal instinct inside her flares to life. She wants to wrap him in her arms, and tell him that she'll take away his pain. She wants to show him how to fight his demons, the way she's fought most of hers. She wants to make everything better, just for a little bit. But, she can't. So, she tries rubbing his back. She can feel him trembling under her hand.
Sebastian sleeps fitfully on and off, and she pretends to be asleep whenever he stirs. She wishes she could actually sleep; it's one of the few ways she knows to escape pain. But, in a classical catch-22, her body won't relax enough to let her fall asleep because of the pain she's experience. Never mind that her head is buzzing, half with anger half with curiosity. She does a few secretive Internet searches when she's sure Sebastian is out. They leave her more confused than when she started.
Finally, Liz and Sebastian's father come to pick them up. John Smyth does not look entirely the way she expected. He is every bit in control, but the lines around his eyes are more from laughing than frowning, she suspects. He is shy, she suspects, a strange trait in a lawyer. And, just a bit reserved with his son, as though he doesn't know how to express his feelings. She remembers the rumors that Sebastian grew up in France, she wonders if his parents are separated.
She hates going back into the hospital wheelchair, but she doesn't have a choice. Like Sebastian said, she has good days and bad ones. Today is a bad day. Although, it seems that she is not alone in that. Clearly, diabetics can have bad days, too.
Thad and Blaine wait in the Prius. She can see her wheelchair in the backgate of the car. She could almost kiss Liz on the spot. Almost, because now Blaine knows she needs it. And, she knows that once she gets back to the Cohen-Chang household, there will be questions.
The adults say friendly goodbyes, but the teenagers don't speak as they part ways. This has been a strange encounter. It could be the end of their friendship… or the beginning.