A/N: next installment. You ready? And that everyone for the reviews and follows. I went way off course with this one, but it's something you'll never get to see in the show.
"Why are you here?" She's furious and keeping her eyes glued on the crack in the floor.
"Carrie I-"
"I told you that I don't want to see you. Did you not get that!?"
"I'm your ride," he says quietly.
"My ride!" She darts her attention back to him. "My fucking ride?"
"Well I'm taking you whether you want to go or not."
"Is that so?" she annunciates.
"Yeah I owe your sister a favor, so don't flatter yourself."
Her eyes widen. "Pff. I don't even want to know."
"Well I'll tell you all about it. If you get in the car."
"No!" She resists.
"Yes!" He practically demands.
She sits contemplating, longer that he'd expected. Though he's not willing to give up at anytime.
"Well I need a ride. Where'd you park?"
"Uh, the street."
"Okay this is what you're going to do. Pull it in the driveway, not halfway, all of the way. Get out. Come in. Then don't come back out for 5 minutes. Okay?"
"Whatever you want."
He knows exactly why she wanted him to do this. She didn't want his help or for anyone to see her.
"So my sister huh? I mean I know I'm crippled but..."
He almost can't believe she's making a joke about all of this and it doesn't make him feel any better about what happened.
"She bailed me out of jail," he says bluntly. "I called you when I got arrested, but she answered. Then came an got me."
"When the fuck was this? You are aware that I no longer drive right?"
"It was a bad day Carrie... about a week ago."
"What the fuck Quinn, what did you do?"
"Uh..."
"Don't take your eyes off the road!"
She swats his eyes away from looking at her.
"Beat the shit out of Dar. That's not why I got arrested though."
"Quinn!?"
"I had a few too many drinks let's just say that," he glances over at her utter confusion. "I'm out Carrie. Out of all of it!"
"You... oh."
"And just so we're clear this is what I want," he puts his hand over hers, a bit more confident than before.
"Quinn I don't even know why you are doing this. I don't want your pity okay?" Her voice rings with sadness, manifesting into his conscious.
"But I have to," he justifies.
She doesn't probe into his reasoning, because she know why. Putting him through this though, then she knows the next step - let him walk away. If it wasn't her pushing him away, it would be him not being able to take it. First mental illness strikes - now this! No way he'll stay.
"So we have to discuss the past month you've missed, okay?"
"Sure," she's nervous now.
"Why have't you been making it to your therapy sessions or appointments?" He begin.
"I was busy."
"Ahh. I see. So busy lady, what medications are you currently taking?"
Carrie lists off a laundry list of medications, spying on Quinn in the corner of her eye to determine his expression. She's surprised that he doesn't even flinch.
"Any alcohol?"
She's silent.
"Any alcohol Carrie?" He asks again after a long silence.
"Uh, Quinn can you give us a moment?"
"Sure Carrie."
She waits until she hears the door completely shut and his shoes clomping down the hall until answering.
"I was drinking, heavily the first few weeks," she admits.
"It's not an uncommon thing to do with your condition Carrie."
"Which one?" She spits.
He flips through the clipboard, pin pointing her revelation.
"Are you currently seeing your psychiatrist?"
"Yes I have one... but No I'm not."
"Any feelings of self-harm?"
"No!" She fires back.
"Others?"
"No," she calms herself.
"Anything unusual that you noticed?"
"Except the fact that I can't fucking walk?" She snaps again, trying her best to compose herself, breathing deeply. "Like what?"
"Anything getting easier? Worse? That sort of thing."
She suddenly recalls something. Something that didn't seem to matter at the time.
"Am I suppose to feel cold?"
"Excuse me?"
"I... I dropped an ice cube, right here. And I could swear I felt the cold. Not the cube though," she frowns.
"You what?" His questioning persists
"I don't know. Probably just imagined it," she dismisses it.
His hands scurry through the paperwork searching for answers.
"L5. Anterior. Complete. June 1st," he mutters facts off the chart.
He looks at her bedazzled, like it's his first day on the job.
"I need a minute Carrie. I'll be right back," he lifts his finger.
Great I'm dying. She thinks.
The door clicks open and in walks in a fleet of staff.
"Carrie I'd like to give you another MRI today. In fact, I'm telling you that any other plans you have today she be completely forgotten about," he practically forces her.
"Okay? Well can you tell me if this is god or bad? Please?" Her voice is filled with uncertainty.
"We'll find soon okay?"
"Okay," a tear escapes her.
"Quinn!" She screams his name as they wheel her out, immediately capturing his attention.
"Hey," he runs over to walk with them.
"Quinn I can't do this anymore," she cries.
"Everything is going to be fine Carrie," he takes her hand.
He reads the doctor's face for approval before he makes matters worse.
"Where are you taking her?"
"MRI scan. You're free to come... Of course if she wants you to."
"I do! I want him to come!" She becomes hysterical.
Carrie relaxes rather quickly with him there as they begin to conduct the scan. She just wants it done an over with.
"Try not to move, okay?" The technician asks politely.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She can't help but ask.
Quinn's devastated that he can't hold her hand the whole time. He can see a fear that he's seen before a few times. One he'll never get used to. But each time he's also seen her get through it. This was however vastly different.
"You get the shots... how many... 30?" The crew communicates.
"We're done?" Carrie asks.
"Lots of pictures! All done," the doctor smiles.
"Here we are. Back in your office. Now can I please just know what that was all about?"
He lowers his bifocals, preparing himself to deliver the news.
"I don't know how to say this, you were misdiagnosed."
"I don't understand!" Her hands fly in the air. "How do you misdiagnose this!" She points to herself.
"It's not extremely uncommon, but it is uncommon. You were previously diagnosed with an acute complete spinal cord injury, when is in fact incomplete..."
He spikes her attention and she braces herself for the words about to leave his mouth.
"... meaning your chances of recovery are significantly higher," he nods, "but not ensured.
She's shaking but doesn't know it. She wants to be angry, rip someone's head for their mistake, but how could she? After all of the hideous things she had done how could she be so lucky?
Words aren't forming, just manic like cries escaping her. Her world taking a slight shift from despair to hope. A chance to not only get better, but to heal relationships with the people she had hurt.
"Carrie I need you to understand that this is not a guarantee."
Carrie nods still shocked.
"Now you can continue coming here to be treated, but I must let you know that you do have options that are far more superior okay?"
"Okay."
"There is a rehabilitation facility located in Charlotte, North Carolina. One of the best in the country. I have the paperwork all ready to go. Is that something you need to sleep on?"
"No, no," she whimpers. "I'll... I'll go."
"You're still here?"
"Ready?" Quinn awaits her exit.
"Yeah... never been more."