A/N: only a few chapters to go...

They wake pretty earlier the next morning, full rays hitting their faces, gradually giving them sunburn The quality of sleep had done them some good, possibly the first full night for them both. His arms are still settled around her, never leaving her. He's mostly just glad that no one interrupted their sleep.

"I need to shower," she tells him as he breathes into her hair and she knows he's awake too.

"So do I."

At first he actually does start washing her on the shower bench, his hands all over her body. But it becomes more difficult now that she touching him. Her hand cups over his length and it's as if he never really completely settled from the night before. He lathers her hair with shampoo while she stokes him, his cock achingly throbbing in the potent sheath. The rush of blood surges and he has to hold himself up against the wall - now the one needing support. One second of opening his eyes and he breaks, surrendering to her how he knew he would.

"Will you stay today?" She asks him as they dress for the day.

"You uh... have therapy," he says.

"Come. You can come. Lots of people come."

"Okay."

He sticks around all week and even decides to work with her. His presence is more of a motivation than anything. When she has those moments where she feels the urge to give up, she looks at him and tries again and again. She gets stronger each day, almost regaining complete sensation - though her lower legs still not particularly functioning. It all becomes possible when she wears the braces and he holds her upright with her feet just barely touching the floor and she takes her first couple of steps.

At night he stays across the street to keep them from each other. He's not sure exactly what he'll do and she's still very much recovering - not to mention the fact that overnight visitors are against policy. After a week of sticking around, he tells her that he has to go home for a few days. She doesn't ask why, just tells him to come back - though she knows he will.

A few days pass and she goes to therapy like she does every morning. Same routine day in and day out eat; therapy; session; nap; eat; therapy; session; eat; shower; bed.

It seems strange when no one is there for group session. She was really in the mood to talk today. It's just an empty room, so she enters the space and sits wondering where they are. Sitting there alone in that room feels better than nothing. It's the nothing she fears now. She expects to go back to her room for a few hours to watch some mindless comedy show on television, then head back to physical therapy after lunch. So much for her day, she thinks.

When she heads back to her room, the idea of deviating from her schedule feels unthinkable, especially today. It had become so monumental to her recovery. Doing the same thing every day over and over and expecting different results was anything but insanity, things did change. The routine has become necessary. She wants something to occupy her mind. Anything. Every time she hears footsteps making their way down the hall she wants it to be Quinn or Maggie or even Saul for that matter.

It's been a whole year since the first time she'd laid eyes on her child, today about this very time. The day's mostly one giant blur to her. Relief is still fresh, she remembers that. And that fear is vivid too. The fear of making all the wrong choices for somebody who she didn't want to claim, who she couldn't because of who she was. This one person who has made her feel so sad and also so happy, sometimes at the same time.

She rests her head on the pillow, in dyer need to to be asleep so that the nothingness goes away. The light is hardly peeking in, but keeping her awake. What she would do to make herself get up and shut the blinds. But she's smiling thinking about what Franny's doing. Possibly trying a new food for the first time or maybe babbling some sort of gibberish, trying out her first word. She does know that she wants to be apart of it - and soon. Of all the sadness that engulfed their relationship, their few moments of happiness are the ones that remain fresh, that are something. And finally just as her she shuts her eyes, a pair of footsteps stop at her door.

She knows it's him even without seeing his shadow or hearing his voice. He leans against the doorway and she can tell by the weight of his body it's him. She doesn't pretend to be asleep, yet doesn't turn.

"Let's go for a walk," he says, knowing that there's not a chance she's asleep.

And as hard as it was just minutes ago to think about moving, she pops ready to go. Within seconds he takes her in his arms and she holds on tight, even though there's not chance he's letting go.

"What floor?" She says.

"You hungry?" He asks.

"Yeah," she remembers she hasn't eaten today and it's almost three.

"First," he says.

He grabs her walker almost not believing how far she'd come and how hard she was working for this. She did this, no one else. His hands lock under her arms to support her, but she takes each stride without complaining.

In the elevator she's struggles as they're at a stand still, but refuses to give up.

"What are you going to get," he occupies her attention.

"I don't know... Quinn let go," she insists.

When he does she slips. His grip is ready and he catches her. It's like she knew it was going to happen, but had to try, even if failure was imminent. She had to see what would happen. He holds her back up and the doors open.

Carrie's movements are slow, glacial. Not once does she stop or change pace, continuing to move no matter how difficult it became. Quinn holds on tighter as they get to the doors and he knows what she sees when she goes completely limp for a moment. She should have known.

"You brought her," she says, hardly able to speak.

A few staff members and patients are playing with her, passing her around like a trophy. She's content with all of the attention, but it's obvious that she's searching the room for a familiar face.

Carrie had slowly rationed pieces of herself to Quinn, he took piece by piece until he made her move, until he found just the right crack. But this is all at once and different, and she crumbles. Her foundation gives and it goes. The weigh of her body lies entirely in his arms now, stooped all over again. It quickly regenerates - fortifies this time - and she gives everything she has to move. She wants nothing more right now then to make her legs work just to make it into the next room.

He does the work for her knowing it had to be now, understanding her immediate needs. Franny eventually sees her and waves, flagging her down like she's been her target all along. A domain so primitive that it can't be explained. Eyes open wide and alert waiting to see what she does, to see if she sees her too.

She finally takes her in her arms, overcome by her laughter. One laugh unexplainably healing her body, another making her forget about the pain and guilt. Not a shadow of restlessness, just wanting more of it.

Carrie kisses the back of her head between her miniature pigtails and it's the first time she has. But she doesn't feel regret for it, it will happen again. Franny touches her hair too when she does, like it's a game.

"Hi. Hi baby," Carrie speaks delicately. Her voice is unrecognizable, even to herself. "Happy birthday."

Franny climbs up her mother, standing upright in her lap while Carrie supports her, hanging on good. She examines Carrie's face with her hand like she's trying to be sure that it's her. They're kind of the same right now, both just curious about what happens next. Mine, Carrie thinks.

The lights go dim and Franny is in a slight panic. She stares into Carrie's eyes begging them to respond, and they do. Carrie guides her attention to what's going on, the something going on.

"It's for you baby," she tells her.

They bring out a small pink, circular birthday cake with a one in the middle. Carrie sings - because she wants to - and it is less than mediocre, but Franny doesn't seem to mind. Franny claps along with everyone when it's over, content with the celebration. She then seeks approval before digging her hands into the cake.

"Thank you," she mouths to Quinn as he looks over them. There wasn't a better way that he could think of to let her spend this day than without her.

And when it's time for her to go at the end of the night, Carrie doesn't dwell over it. She says goodbye to them and it's all okay. Okay because she knows she'll see them both again and again. Okay because it's what she wants.

"You took your first steps today, all on your own."

"I did. I did it," Carrie says with a smile that she can't seem to wipe away, it' chronic these days.

"You can't stop, can you?" Dr Whitmer says . "It's not over yet."

"I know. I know. I'm ready though."

"I know you are. You'll be out of here before you know it."

Carrie nods.

"What do plan on doing when you get out of here?"

"Just... go home." Is all she has in mind. "Can we cut it short today? They'll be here soon."