It's like the longest week of his life. He hesitates not to call her. Only just once to confirm he's coming. Occupies his time with anything, some days being with Franny; taking her to the park, the zoo. Maggie really likes him. The day she goes with Maggie to see her, he wanted so badly to come along. Just to see what they were doing with Carrie. Wondering how much she smiled when they came.

The day he gets to see her, it's like a brick hit him. It was the day he'd been waiting for. His cooler filled and her food with a hot pack to keep it warm for her. He'd brought her a little something extra for dessert too. He was so sick of her being that thin. Seeing the life drained out of her to that extent. At least she'd looked somewhat healthy in Islamabad.

When he gets there it's everything he'd ever imagined. She greets him with a smile and they eat dinner together - that alone making him happy. She starts talking to him about her days there. It's almost like he didn't want to say anything at all, just listen to her forever. Until she asks what he hadn't expected.

"So how are you? What have you been up to?" She asks.

She's never asked him how he was or anything like that. He only says what's on his mind.

"Thinking about you."

"Oh... But how are you?" She asks again.

"Good," is all he can come up with, taking a bite of his food. He can sense the disappointment from her with his answer. "I'm looking for a job," he says shortly after.

"Like what?" She immediately asks him because he's finally talking about something other than her.

"I don't know... anything."

"Well what are you good at?"

He sits awhile thinking.

"I'm good with my hands," he says and she gives him a serious look down. "Well, I can maybe... I don't know Carrie."

She doesn't know what to make of this. He had to be lying about it.

"I brought you more," he says changing the topic, reaching into another cooler.

"You didn't have to."

The first thing he pulls out is a cannoli, insisting that she try it.

"Really?"

"Really," he says. "They ship their cream in from Italy."

"Fine, I have to try it now."

"Good, but that's not all," he pulls out a giant bottle of dry white wine, Chardonnay to be exact.

"Now that I'll keep," she laughs.

"Do you share?" He asks, pulling out two styrofoam cups .

"Well you did buy it."

"True."

Before they know it, it's gone and he helps her into bed.

"I want to see you again next week," he blurts out.

"Me too," she says as their eyes lock.

He parts her lips with his, quickly diving in his tongue, needing for this to happen. There's no asking first. She does enjoy it though; how he slowly sits on the bed, kissing her passionately, touching her face and neck. To feel wanted at a time like this is unreal. After a minute she releases herself from him as difficult as it is, pressing her face to his clavicle.

"I'll see you next week?" She says.

"Yeah," he takes the brief moment to memorize her scent. A whole other week to pass by.

He can't even drive right now with his heavy eyes, yet he took her advice and left. Though leaving half in the bag wasn't the best idea, he'd see her next week and maybe he'd stay a bit longer - the night maybe. He liked today, no loved today. Going back home just wasn't about to happen. He needs to stay close for now.

He picks up a six pack and gets a hotel room next door and thinks about her. Opens the door still thinking about her. He guzzles down a few beers in attempt to extend the buzz he got while being with her. Now undressing himself to shower, it's all he can think about. Not a second that it stops. It's impossible for him not to. The throbbing pain beneath his boxers was not doing much to help the situation.

The steaming water comes out fast, pounding his face and it felt so good hitting the rest of him sending a tingle to his spine. Fucking ironic. He thinks. It feels good being this close to her for the night. Her scent washing slowly away from him and he doesn't want to forget it. His self control is completely obliterated when begins stroking himself. The mental image of her smile plastered dead center in his brain. Remembering their last time and how bad it was that she hadn't remembered. But next time, he'll make sure he's good. Making sure her needs are met before any of his own. Do anything for her.

When he comes he still thinks of her and doesn't stop. He does it over and over until the water runs cold and he realizes how long he'd been in there. Until he's drained and falls into bed naked, face first into the mattress wishing she was beside him. Wishing that he'd tell her he loved her once more, for real this time.

God he'd never felt so good about something. Tonight was different - she was different. Nobody could ever convince him that it wasn't real.

Carrie lies awake completely restless thinking about him too. Except she's think about how he's going to get hurt. Trying so hard to think of a way to end this before he doesn't. There's no way he wasn't going to. Everyone in her life a target. No way around it. She can't see how he's any different. But how did it get this far?

It's so hot and she's sweating. She throws the blankets to the ground and takes a real hard look below, wishing she could just get up to open a window or anything. Quinn would do it, if he was here. He'd have to.

She starts to think about the possibility of not getting better, why she hasn't yet, and what that would mean. About what that would do to her, how she'd ever get past that. What her options would be. She hates thinking like this, but this is what happened when she really thought about herself lately. The times that she ruled everyone else out, just her.

For now she gives in calling the nurse for a couple ambien and asking them to open a window. A quick remedy to dissolve herself for the night. The drugs easily overpower her anxiety, and sleep comes.

Seconds turn into hours, minutes into days, days into years. He doesn't know how he's managed a whole week. She's constantly flickering into his thoughts, invading his life. This week he brought her something new that he remembered she'd like. He heard her say if at one point or another along with more wine and dessert.

"Hey," is all he can say when he walks in, though she doesn't look at him. "Carrie?" His second approach is much more cautious.

She sitting next to the window, just glaring ahead at nothing, possibly a raindrop.

"Not now Quinn," he can hear the depressive tone in her voice.

He pulls up a chair next to her and she doesn't try to stop him.

"Bad day?" He asks.

"Yeah," her head falls down. "Week actually."

He lifts her chin up needing desperately to look at her face, to see if she's still there.

"You're doing great Carrie," he says earnestly.

There's a spark in his eyes and he's not saying it just because.

"Why me Quinn?"

"Bad luck."

"No. I mean... you. Why me?"