"Name?" asked the doctor, wheeling Quinn down the bustling corridor of the packed New York hospital.
"Quinn Fabray," said the paramedic, gazing over the girls salvaged passport. She was so pretty… yet here she was, strapped to a bed, with a ventilator down her throat, and a head board strapped over her now shoulder length blonde hair.
"Age?" asked the doctor again, wheeling her into intensive care.
"17," replied the paramedic, stopping the bed in the allocated spot, and quickly attaching Quinn to a number of different wires.
"Right, can you get someone on the desk to get me her medical records pronto, and call next of kin please. Was she here with her parents?"
"I doubt it, the male she was with looked to young to be her Dad, but I'll get onto it," said the paramedic rushing down the corridor quickly- doing all he could to ensure Quinn would be okay.
/
"Hello?" said Judy Fabray down the phone, blowing a stream of cold air onto her perfectly manicured nails.
"Is that Mrs. Fabray?" asked the voice of the kind medical secretary.
"Speaking," Judy replied, rolling her eyes at the sound of the woman's voice.
"Mrs Fabray, I'm sorry to have to inform you that your daughter Quinn has been in a car accident in New York and is currently in intensive care," said the secretary softly.
"Oh," said Judy, her knees buckling slightly, and her hand coming to clamp her mouth. "Is… is she going to be alright?" she asked timidly.
"I don't know any more Mrs Fabray," she replied. "I know you live in Ohio, are you there currently?"
"Yes… Um, Quinn is… was on a school trip to a show choir competition," Judy fumbled, her eyes falling on a picture of Quinn and her heart sinking.
"OK, is there anyone here we should contact?" replied the receptionist.
"Um, her teacher is William Scu… Schuester," said Judy, trying to gather her thoughts.
"Oh," said the receptionist, remembering the name of the body that was brought in with Quinn. "He unfortunately didn't survive the crash."
"Oh, then phone…" Judy tried desperately to think of that boys name. The one she went to prom with. Tall, gangly fellow. Knows his way around a cummerbund. "Finn, call Finn Hudson. Do you have her phone?"
"Yes," replied the secretary, digging her hand into Quinn's bag that was gotten from the floor of the car.
"He'll be in there," Judy replied, gathering her thoughts. "Tell Quinn if she wakes up that her mama's coming."
"Okay Mrs Fabray," replied the receptionist, finding this Finn boys number of Quinn's phone and calling him, putting the phone down on Mrs Fabray- ready to tell him the exact same news.
/
"Where the hell are they?" demanded Puck, pacing up and down the departures lounge at JFK airport. The rest of the group had been waiting for Schuester and Quinn for a long time now, and they were about to miss their flight.
"Maybe they got caught in traffic?" asked Finn, peering into the corridors to see the familiar blonde running up to him.
"When none of us did?" questioned Mercedes, casting an eye down to her watch.
"I don't know," sighed Finn, throwing an arm casually around Rachel, fidgeting nervously.
"Well what do we do?" asked Sam, peering up at the screens- telling them to board.
"We can't go without them," said Rachel.
"Um, yeah we can," said Lauren, crossing her arms over her chest.
"We can't just leave though," said Tina, spinning on her heels to look for them.
"Check phones again," said Santana, flipping out her Blackberry to check from a text from Quinn.
Just as Finn pulled his out, it began to ring and a tune rang out through the departures lounge.
"Is it her?" asked Santana questioningly.
"My phone doesn't recognise the number… hello?"
After hearing a few words Finn's phone dropped from his hands and the screen smashed on the floor, leaving shattered glass lying on the floor of the departures lounge, showing the pieces of his heart that were held by her smash.
"there's been an accident"