Carrie's been gone for awhile, what seems like an eternity. Quinn lays in the bed thinking of everything that could have gone wrong, while trying to gather the strength to get up, take a piss, assess the damage.
He feels like his mind working in overdrive is what's making him sweat excessively, tries not to think about the other option - that infection's already set in. But Quinn's a soldier, has seen a lot of wounds go bad. So there's only so long he can ignore the thought, blindly hope that he isn't as fucked up as he feels.
By the time he's managed to push himself to sitting, Quinn's gone through every possibility of disaster at least three times, wonders how long to give it before he attempts to go find her.
Not that he'd get very far considering how weak he feels. But he would still try, at least go to Astrid's, see if Carrie had even made it there.
Finally Quinn pushes himself to his feet, takes a moment to steady himself before starting the slow shuffle to the toilet. Manages to make it half the distance and pick up his gun along the way, feels better just with the heft of the weapon in his hand. But then the bullet wound starts screaming at him and he's almost doubled-over in pain by the time he makes it to the john, has to steady himself for awhile before managing to relieve himself.
Mission number one accomplished, he takes a long break, leaning against a wall for support. Thinks to himself he's really fucked it up this time - is really not feeling so good, and a hospital is out of the question.
Quinn takes a deep breath, gathers his strength again. Makes the slow agonizing trek over to the mirror, grabs a smaller mirror along the way to help with the process.
Standing at the mirror he starts by slowly shrugging his blood-covered shirt off on his injured side, wincing as every movement sends a sharp throbbing pain throughout his body. He wavers slightly, has to catch himself against the table for another moment before managing to peel off the blood soaked bandages, the soppy medical dressing covering the wound. Grimaces in pain again as he pulls the wet pad off and feels another surge of searing heat press through his torso. Picks up the little mirror, angles it so he can examine the exit wound.
It looks extremely angry and bloody, likely already infected. Quinn groans inwardly at the sight, then feels a wave of weakness flood through him at the effort of it all. He leans against the table, takes a few pained breaths as the fever sweat drips off his forehead. Thinks how he's glad to have checked it out for himself first; knows he's going to have to try to hide it if Carrie ever makes it back.
Almost exactly on cue, he hears the door rattle, the lock turning. Which either means Carrie's finally back or something's gone to shit, his hideout compromised.
Quinn picks up his gun, wipes the sweat off his forehead as he pulls his shirt back on, hoping to hide the wound. Then he quietly steps into position, barely able support his own weight, sweating like crazy and covered in pain. Has to hold onto a metal beam for support, as he aims the gun into the entryway, in case it isn't Carrie.
He's holding his breath as she walks into the room, turns and gives him an appraising look.
"He rises," she says with a little glad smile and a nod, in a way that is so Carrie it makes a little dent in him.
Quinn breathes a silent sigh of relief, thanks a god he doesn't really believe in. All of his anxieties of her being captured and killed suddenly gone - at least for the moment.
"You were gone a long time," he comments, wonders if something went wrong.
"Apparently Astrid likes to sleep in," Carrie replies. "I waited for almost an hour."
She walks into the other room, unties her hair and puts her bag down. Quinn follows, does his best to maintain form, stay upright and functional.
"Was she able to ID our guy?" he asks. Walks up and stands beside her, puts the gun down.
"Not off the top of her head," Carrie replies. "But she said she'd do some looking. For your sake."
Quinn thinks to himself how talking to Carrie about Astrid is something he never thought he'd be doing, that the mere fact they know about each other is already unlikely in the extreme. And yet part of him hopes that Carrie knows exactly why Astrid dislikes her, is so territorial about him.
"She likes me," Quinn says. "What can I say."
"Her one redeeming quality as far as I can tell," Carrie replies, in a tone that expresses exactly what she thinks of all of Astrid's other qualities.
Quinn almost laughs aloud thinking about Astrid and Carrie talking to each other, can only imagine the level of disdain on both sides. Then groans loudly and has to catch himself on the table as a spasm of pain shoots through him, weakens him at the knees.
Instantly Carrie's hands are all over him, on his shoulders, pressed against the bare skin of his neck. And he thinks fuck, he has to stay strong, resist the desire to fall into her touch.
"Jesus Quinn, you're burning up," she says, one hand still on his neck, the other running down his back.
"I'm fine," he lies, knows she isn't going to buy it.
"No, you are not," Carrie replies, turning to look at him, grabbing him under the shoulder.
And then he knows he's outed, that Carrie's about to take over. Thinks how he didn't want to get her involved in this, that there's not a hell of a lot she can do for him now. But then again it is Carrie, full of semi-magical abilities, endless determination.
#
"I'm fine," Quinn says, still trying to play his role.
And Carrie thinks fuck. He is really not fine at all, is shaky and hot beneath her hands. Has probably been faking good all along, the willful fucker that he is.
"No you are not," she says, turns to look at him with a worried eye.
She grabs him under the shoulder, steadies him as he moves towards the bed, almost going down as he stumbles. She manages to hold him up with a hand on his chest, then lower him into the bed gently, until he's curled up in pain, his expression making her innards crawl.
"Let me see," she says, as Quinn still tries to squirm, resist.
"No," he gasps, in that way that makes her scared. She knows it must be really bad if he's expressing this much pain, exposing weakness.
"Let me see," she repeats, feels him relent under her touch.
Carrie lifts his shirt, ominously already soaked in blood. Sees that the wound is a mess, dark and bloody, probably infected.
"That does not look good," she says, worry really starting to build.
"I'm first stage septic," Quinn mutters. "Fuck me."
Carrie thinks it's pretty ominous if Quinn's admitting that it's bad, realizes she's quickly running out of options.
"Tell me what to do," she says, wonders if he has any bright ideas, tricks up his sleeve.
But when Quinn suggests armed robbery, blinks at her with feverish eyes Carrie knows it's time to pull out the last card she has, the one thing short of taking him to a hospital. Because she doesn't want to have that argument yet, knows it will be a spectacular one if it comes to it.
It's not like she's exactly looking forward to this option either though, has been avoiding calling Jonas for more than one reason. How they left things, the shit she said to him, both of them running off pissed off. And up until now she'd still been thinking she could just fix it all, set it back to normal before having to deal with him again. But now there's no choice, Quinn needs help now and she knows Jonas can get the supplies.
So she turns to go get her phone, thinks about what she's going to say to him, knows she's going to have to do a good job of it.
"What are you doing?" Quinn asks in the pained raspy tone he's developed.
"What I should have done last night," she says. "I'm calling Jonas. His sister's a doctor."
Carrie grabs her phone from her bag, looks at it for a long second, exhales all her anxieties. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she tells herself as she dials, puts the phone up to her ear.
Jonas answers on the second ring, says her name in a tone of half panic half concern.
"Yeah, it's me," she replies, doesn't bother keeping the waver out of her voice.
"What the hell, Carrie, where have you been?" he asks, now somewhere between worry and anger.
"Listen, Jonas," she says, ignoring his question entirely. "I need your help. It's an emergency. I'll explain everything later."
"What?" Jonas asks, sounds completely bewildered. "What emergency?"
"I need medical supplies," she says, a little desperation in her tone. "IV antibiotics, saline, wound dressings. Can you ask your sister to get it for you? I need it as soon as possible."
"What?" Jonas exclaims yet again, surprise changing to panic. "Are you hurt? What the hell happened?"
Carrie bites her lip, knows she will just have to go for it, suffer the consequences later. There's no way Jonas will do this unless she lies, and she doesn't have the time to explain anyway, even if she could. So she does what she has to do, what Quinn needs her to do.
"Yes, I'm hurt," she says, thinking to herself she just wants him to get moving, get the supplies from his sister. "Pretty seriously. I'll tell you what happened when you get here okay? How soon can you get the stuff from your sister?"
Jonas is definitely in panic mode now, tells her he will get the supplies right away, takes down the address.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promises, the worry obvious in his voice. "Tell me you're going to be okay, Carrie."
Carrie takes a deep breath, closes her eyes. Thinks what she's about to say is a lie in every way. Because physically she will probably be okay, but in every other way she thinks maybe she won't be okay ever again.
"I'll be okay, Jonas," she says as sincerely as she can. "Just come as fast you can. Please."
With that she hangs up, drops her phone back into her bag tiredly. Thinks how pissed off Jonas is going to be when he gets there, then remembers it's worth it a thousand times over if it ends up saving Quinn's life.
With that Carrie shakes her head, accepts that she's just going to have to deal with it when Jonas shows up. Walks back over to Quinn, who's still huddled in the fetal position on the bed, clearly in intense pain.
And ever since he's been wounded Carrie's found she can't quite keep her hands off him, wants to remove his pain with just her touch. It's not like her, especially not with Quinn. But she thinks he really needs someone right now, that he is somehow both harder and more fragile than before.
So Carrie doesn't resist her urge, puts a hand on Quinn's shoulder, the other on his back. Tries to hold him together as he shudders in pain, tells herself not to panic about how feverish he feels under her palms, gives him an exasperated sigh when he tries to argue with her through gritted teeth, obvious bouts of pain.
"You didn't have to do that," he mutters through a gasp. Looks at her with those fluttery eyelashes, in that way that makes him seem much more innocent than he is.
"It was that or the hospital," she replies, figures that will put the argument to rest.
Quinn scowls and it turns into another grimace of pain, tension in his skin.
"You know that can't happen," he growls, obviously still ready to do battle even in his weakened condition.
But Carrie just shakes her head, gives him a worried smile.
"Just get better okay, Quinn?" she says, patting him on the shoulder lightly. "Then we won't have to worry about it."
Quinn nods and winces, then convulses and moans for a long tense moment before finally settling again under her hands, a slight tremor in his body.
Carrie looks at him, trying her best not to freak out. He's not doing well, eyes fluttering yet again.
But then he looks up and blinks a couple times, gives her a little smirk.
"He's going to be really pissed off when he gets here," he says, somehow managing to look wide eyed and sincere while still being his sassy self.
And that at least makes her half-laugh, look at him sardonically.
"Yeah he will," Carrie replies with a sarcastic oh-shit look, a little nod.
Quinn smiles weakly at that and she realizes that she's started absently rubbing his back, that he's almost fallen asleep under her thumb.
And there's something about a sleepy Quinn that makes her remember how endearing he can be. But right now all she can think of is Quinn's last comment, how pissed Jonas will be.
Because there's no doubt he's going to be angry. Especially when he gets a look at Quinn.