A/n: Things get interesting again...

She's much lighter than before, but it had been expected. He's not sure what changed, but here she was letting him put her in the car. Quinn doesn't care either way, just that she's letting him come around. Except at the moment he can't stop himself from smelling her hair. He doesn't whack her head, but his own on the car, almost dropping her.

"Fuck Quinn! Am I that heavy?"

As soon as she's fully into her seat, he feels for the damage.

"Oh my god! You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine," he brushes it off letting it go. "You're hair... it smells good."

She can't help but blush as he circles the car, thankful that she had began to bathe daily. How can she tell him about today? How?

"Look at me," she says grabbing a tissue out of her purse. She slowly wipes the blood off of his forehead, careful not to smear it.

"There. Now you don't have to drive with blood getting into your eyes."

"Thanks," he checks the mirror as he takes off.

"So how did everything go?" He chooses his words delicately.

Shit he's asking already.

"Fine."

"So is this going to be a weekly thing?"

"I don't know Quinn."

"Okay," he says in a voice she's familiar with. The one that says I know you're shutting me out and I'm only trying to help, but I'll let it go.

"Look I'm sorry. It's... hard."

Quinn exhales, turns to see her state.

"I shouldn't have let it happen," he says to her for the first time.

"I should have fought Quinn..."

"I should have stayed-"

"...for any reason. I did this to myself."

He considers what she says, still not accepting it.

"I don't want to hear you say that again," his voice is now stern, clear cut and she's listening. "You didn't nothing to deserve what you got."

She's tired of talking. Tired about talking about that day. It's now all about focusing and getting better.

She allows him to bring her in, but he refuses to leave when no one is home.

"Quinn I'm fine," she tells him.

"Did you call?" He orbits the front window, slowly circling it's perimeter.

"Yes, no one picked up. Can you at least sit down? I doubt my sister wants to be stared down when she walks into her own house."

"She should," he says.

"Quinn!"

"Fine," he finally breaks his stance. "But I'm not leaving until someone gets here.

"Really?" She folds her arms.

He plops next to her, sitting sloppily. "Really."

"I don't need a chaperon. You know I can be alone right?" She's now starting to convince herself that Maggie said something to him, but most likely not.

"You don't have to be," he moves his hand onto her knee, sitting up straight.

She can't feel it, but it's strange. Her brain is making her work in ways she had never before experienced.

"Good you're going to help me then," is all she can say, actually needing it.

"Okay... what?"

"They said I need to 'exercise'," she puts in quotations. "I need to move them."

Quinn nods, gets up and slowly helps her lay down on the couch.

"Like this?" He's quiet about it.

"Mmmmmhmm."

She's actually glad he stayed to keep her company and wonders if it's because he has no where else to go.

His hands are around her now depressingly thin ankles, pushing up and flexing her knee. They make their way up her calf, but he's not sure of himself entirely. He doesn't want to hurt her frail body, mostly wishes she hadn't lost so much weight.

"Where can you feel?" It eventually slips out of his mouth as he's curious as ever.

Carrie hasn't actually pinpointed an exact location. Hasn't even wanted to or tried. Just a basic idea. Her hand starts at her rib cage, trailing past her waist, then stopping at the beginning of her thigh. Quinn watches diligently, nodding when she stops. He ends does the other leg next and stops shorty after, allowing her to relax.

"I'm tired Quinn," her arm rests over her eyes.

Quinn kneels, eye level. "I'm going to make you something to eat."

"I'll eat later."

"Carrie?"

"I promise!" She's defensive. "They gave me Somas."

"Fine can I sit then?"

"If you can find a spot."

He unexpectedly hoists her head, she still doesn't flinch or care, and takes a seat resting her head in his lap. She's comfortable and he knows it. Her arm still lies over her eyes, until he levers it away exposing her entire face.

His gaze is now synchronizing with her equally long stare. The scrutiny becoming mutual, impossible to look away. Then she feels his lips clinging to hers.

There's a collective need, dependent on each other in the moment. She can't quite remember kissing him the last time, too drunk. The sensual nature of it alone though, is simply arousing for both of them. She embraces him, needing it. A way to feel again.

The length of her hair seems unmeasurable as his fingers run through it, cradling her head with the other hand. Her own free hand smooths over his newly shaven face, capturing his ear with her finger tips, pulling gently. Both triggers erupt a whirlwind and he begins to re-explore the rest of her. The knock occurring at the door does the work for her, immediately ending the session.

"Help me up Quinn," she says.

The door opens and all Maggie sees is the distance between them.

"Hello," Maggie greets them. "I didn't know who's car that was. I don't know why that I wasn't thinking that it was you," she directs toward Quinn.

"He was just leaving," she says abruptly.

Quinn gives her a conspicuous glare, as it was not the case. Maggie doesn't allow herself to delve into it while he's still there.

"Here," she attempts to hand Franny over.

"I just took a muscle relaxer."

"Oh, okay. Will you be up for dinner?"

"Pff. Probably not."

Quinn is secretly stunned with her, but not as stunned as he is to finally see Franny. Up close that is. He'd never vocally bring it up though. Confused for the time being, he excuses himself as politely as possible.

"Well," he rises. "I'm going to take off," he gives a pathetic wave.

"Wait! Won't you stay for dinner?" Maggie asks.

"No, but thank you. I'll call you Carrie," he says as he leaves.

Maggie waits until he gone to say anything else.

"Who is he Carrie?"

"I work with him," she states the obvious.

"That's not what I meant," Maggie narrows her eyes at her and forces her to hold her daughter.

Carrie takes a second to adjust. It's still difficult, but she knows she needs to be as responsible as she can for her. Their connection is still rather shaky and she wonders, if ever, if that will change. She does wants it to, eventually.

"How'd it go," Maggie asks her as Carrie is unsuccessfully trying to conversate with Franny. She diverts her attention quickly.

"So... I have to leave," she tells her.

"What do you mean leave?"

Carrie breathes as she's still trying to accept it herself.

"There's a facility in Charlotte. I already made up my mind, I'm going."

"What about her?"

"Maggie... they said I can get better."

Maggie takes a seat, her interest peaked.

"Go on."